Contrarywise

by Zohra Greenhalgh

  Proud of your 'field trip' to Suxonli.» Cobeth started laughing. «You can't tell me a thing about Suxonli that I don't already know. You see, Rowen—I grew up in that village.» «I don't believe you.» «Then that's your foolishness,» said Cobeth tapping the Trickster mask beside him with his fingers. «I even had another name there: Yonneth.» Rowenaster said nothing, his expression unconvinced. «All right,» said Cobeth amiably. «Let's assume you don't like me, professor. Let's assume that the entire house has taken sides with Janusin against me—often happens when a relationship breaks up. Especially a Jinnjirri one. We're such a passionate people, we tend to cause others to feel their own emotions as strongly as we feel ours—» «I don't see what this has to do with anything,» said Rowenaster, yawning impolitely. And obviously. «Well—it's like this, professor. I think you were so busy disliking me through the play that you missed the point of Rimble's Remedy.» Rowenaster said nothing, his eyes angry. «I shall now tell you the point,» continued Cobeth cooly. «I shall spell it out for you, old man. See if you can catch it.» The actor picked up the Trickster mask. «There's a time coming. A wild time, a Trickster time. No broken people will survive it. Only those who become whole through the sting of holovespa will know what to do when this time comes. Only those who can stand the sting of the 'whole wasp' will survive the chaos of Trickster's shifttime. They will be called Contrarywise, and they alone will hear the hiss-whisper of Greatkin Rimble. And do his bidding.» Rowenaster frowned. Was it his imagination, or was Cobeth lapsing into some kind of singsong trance state? He sounded almost Tammirring. Was it possible that Cobeth had been telling the truth about where he had grown up? The professor crossed his arms over his chest. Something about Cobeth's manner was definitely Tammirring. It looked very strange on a Jinnjirri born. And very wrong. Cobeth continued his monologue with increasing fervor. «The Contrarywise will gather in every city, in every town, and in every village. They will answer Rimble's call to revolution. They will be Merry Pricksters all—prancing and dancing and goosing the politicians. Beware the flashing of their smiles, the brilliance of their eyes—for they will have looked upon the Shining Face of Greatkin Rimble and found the ecstasy that has no words. They will have incorporated the Wasp's Sacrament into their very bodies—and soared!» Rowenaster cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was the kind of talk that had made Gadorian start swearing during the play. The Guildmaster had been sure that Cobeth and his merry band were plotting civil unrest and possibly political overthrow of the existing structure—namely him. Cobeth's hair turned milky white, his eyes glittering with a feverish fanaticism. «Now do you get it, professor? Now do you get the big picture? The whole vision—from the Whole Wasp?» He pointed at the bloated leather dildo sitting on the chair next to him. «Think it's empty? If you do, you're wrong. It's filled with holovespa. And you know where I'm taking it, professor? To the cast party. I'm going to initiate some people. I'm going to create me some Contrarywise.» Rowenaster smiled thinly, thankful that neither Sirrefene nor Gadorian would be attending this Jinnjirri farce. «And I suppose you'll be 'initiating' people in Rimble's name?» «But of course,» replied Cobeth. «I certainly wouldn't do it in my own. That would be egotistical.» Rowenaster met his eyes squarely. «I'm glad you're so clear about what credit should go to whom, Cobeth. In light of this, I'm sure you intend to write Janusin a full apology for the mistake on last page of the playbill. You know—the one where you appropriated Janusin's series title? I'm sure you'll want to draft letter right now, Cobeth. You wouldn't want Janusin to lose any sleep over your mistake.» Cobeth crossed his arms over his chest and smiled innocently. «What mistake, Rowen? I don't recall there being any mistake at all.» Chapter Twenty-Four Timmer and Mab hurried along the crowded streets in the theater district of the Jinnjirri Quarter. Timmer felt conspicuously out of place, being of a non-Jinnjirri landdraw. For Mab's part, she wished Timmer would slow her brisk stride. Piedmerri were notoriously short in the leg and ample of weight, and Timmer's pace was more than Mab could presently handle. Worse yet and unknown to Timmer, young Mab lacked an accurate sense of direction. The northwest Jinnjirri border had scuttled it. In such a shifting region, the four cardinal points lost their value. Fine for Jinn, but devastating for a Piedmerri. Losing sight of Timmer for the countless time, Mab swore softly. Then the swing of Timmer's striking pale blonde hair caught her eye, and Mab turned to follow. When Mab finally caught up to the musician, she said, «Where is the opening night party?» «At Rhu's house. This street dead-ends in a cul-de-sac at the bottom of the hill.» She pointed. «See where all those happincabbies are? That gothic two storey is Rhu's place.» Mab squinted into the darkness, just able to make out the softly glowing coach lights of the well appointed carriages. She slowed, her eyes widening. «Will you look at this mist pouring in? And at this time of year, too.» She shook her head in amazement. «Must be on account of it being so warm. Land meeting water.» Timmer nodded. «Lake Effect.» In Speakinghast, anything and everything could be reduced to one cause—Lake Edu. If it was forty below—not uncommon in this part of the world during winter—with a wind chill of minus sixty, the residents of Speakinghast blamed it on the large lake due east of the city. If they woke with sinus headaches and a bad case of the grumps—this was the fault of the lake's changing pressure systems. Of course, colic, oil that smoked too much, and burnt food were also the result of the «Effect.» In this city, one might even hear: «Not tonight, dear—the tide's out.» Timmer watched the mist sweep down the street in front of her. She seemed to lose her previous self-consciousness regarding her draw. Doing a small, dancing turn, Timmer breathed deeply of the scent of fresh water lake—raw with a slightly fishy smell. The Dunnsung lifted her gray shawl above her head, making the hand-dyed material ripple like a gossamer veil in the gentle Trickster Summer breeze. She looked like a will o' the wisp, her footsteps silent, her pale hair damp from the caress of the mist. Mab regarded Timmer with fascination, wishing she could get her round Piedmerri body to move as gracefully as Timmer's. The Dunnsung waited for Mab to catch up. When Mab did, Timmer remarked, «I adore nights like these. They make me think of Jinnjirri, and what it must be like in that fabled land. Soft and shimmery and—» «Weird,» said Mab bluntly. She was getting very tired of Timmer's constant romanticizing about Jinnjirri. Likewise, Timmer was becoming increasingly irritated with Mab's narrow cynicism—it ruined the fantasy. Timmer scowled and said nothing further. She decided to dump Mab as soon as they got to the party. After all, thought Timmer, Mab grew up in Jinnjirri, so surely she could handle a simple Jinn cast party on her own. Timmer pulled her shawl across her chest angrily. Mab turned to Timmer as they approached the gabled house at the end of Renegade Road. «Do you think Barlimo believed that story about you and me grabbing a late night snack on the way back to the 'K'? I mean, do you think she'll put it together that I went to the party after all?» Timmer glared at Mab. «What if she does? You're a big girl, Mab. You reached your majority three years ago. That hardly makes you in need of a chaperone.» Mab nodded, wincing at the tone of Timmer's voice. She appreciated the older girl's confidence in her ability to handle her own affairs, but Mab didn't want to get to the party and find herself abandoned, either. She also knew that Barlimo's concern for her well-being had been genuine. Somehow, she wished Timmer hadn't lied about their destination to the Jinnjirri architect. Not that she needed someone to rescue her or anything dumb like that. The Merry Prickster party was just that—a fun, theatrical party. Furthermore, it wasn't in Jinnjirri, so the land would stay put. Mab smiled. A Jinn party in Saambolin might be enjoyable. Mab walked resolutely up the front steps to Rhu's communal household. She stepped aside for two elegantly garbed Jinnjirri women who were both crossdressed as men. Their hair sprayed out of the top of their heads, falling in different lengths to their shoulders. One smoked a small briar pipe. The other carried a hooded bird with a brilliant display of tail feathers on her crooked right arm. The two women walked past Mab in stately procession, their voices deep, the
ir smiles sensual. Mab watched them disappear into the crowd inside, nodding her head. These Jinn were not like the ones at the Kaleidicopia. These Jinn resembled the kind of people who had raised her—artists of a particular flavor: iconoclastic, flamboyantly decadent, and sexually «on stage.» Timmer stared at the sheer number of people passing through the open front door. She had attended many Jinnjirri parties in the past, but never one hosted by The Merry Pricksters. She wondered if the troupe had an unusually good reputation as party-givers or something; the turnout here was astounding. Eyeing some of the exotic costumes surrounding herself and Mab, Timmer nudged the Piedmerri and said, «You might find some ideas for the Kaleidicopia's Trickster's Hallows. Even feels like a carnival here tonight.» Mab nodded slowly. «It does a bit,» she said more nervously than she wished. «Do you think there'll be intoxicants?» «You're asking me?» asked Timmer in surprise. «I thought you knew all about this kind of party.» Mab shrugged. «I lived in the country. This is a city—a Saambolin city. I understand the Guild regularly raids the homes of drug smugglers. Or users. I just wouldn't want to get caught in something like that. I don't do drugs. I never have—» Timmer put her hands on her hips. «Surely you don't expect me to believe that, Mab. You grew up in Jinnjirri. The Jinn are notorious for their experimentation with 'shifting' states of mind. I'm told their tolerance is draw inherited.» Mab took a deep breath. «Yes—that's true, Timmer.» Mab's voice took on an edge. «But I am not Jinnjirri. I am Piedmerri. And we like our sex and our thinking stable.» «Remind me not to go to Piedmerri,» groused Timmer. Catching sight of several Jinnjirri fondling each other in the corner of the commons room as she and Mab entered, Timmer smiled with relief. «Now this is more like it.» She sniffed the air. The smell of Royal Sabbanac floated out of a back bedroom toward the two women. It was a mild hallucinogenic, its scent acrid and ropy. An Asilliwir incense masked the full odor of this home-grown Jinnjirri weed. Timmer smiled dreamily and added, «I think it's time I lost my virginity.» Mab stared at Timmer in surprise. «My Jinnjirri virginity,» Timmer amended hastily. «You're quite right, Mab—I dumped my Dunnsung one long ago. In the back of an Asilliwir wagon, if I recall correctly. I was drunk at the time—the Asilliwir make a murderous resinous wine called retzin. It's pure rotgut.» She grinned. «Anyway, he had a beard. The moon was out, and we were young and lusty—» Mab rolled her eyes. «You're only twenty-three, Timmer. You make it sound as if you're a grandmother.» Timmer scowled at Mab. Pointing a slender finger in the Piedmerri's round, cherubic face, Timmer retorted, «You know what your problem is? You're a literalist. You have no sense of the romantic. No sense of mood. It's a good thing you aren't an artist. You'd put clay feet on everything you created!» Mab's eyes brimmed with tears. «We're an earthy people, Timmer. I'm—I'm sorry—if I don't—if I'm not—» Timmer swore, feeling guilty for having made Mab cry. «Oh, forget it, Mab. It's not important. Let's get something to eat,» she continued, ushering the little Piedmerri to the sumptuous spread of on the central feasting table. Accented with flowers, the dishes were a varied mix of hot casseroles in cast iron pots, vegetable and meat stews, cheese pastries, tossed salads, and roasted potatoes in butter. On a separate groaning board to their right stood pies, cheeses, and liquored fruits. Jinnjirri servants dressed in white and black served Piedmerri champagne in silver goblets. Timmer grabbed two joblets and offered one to Mab. Mab took it gingerly. Seeing this, Timmer decided it was time to part company with Mab. The Dunnsung had come to the party to play with the natives. As far as Timmer was concerned, Mab was a Piedmerri prude. And no prude was going to spoil her fun tonight! So without a word of explanation, Timmer said, «See ya.» Then she wheeled away from Mab heading for one of the smoke-filled back rooms, certain that Mab would never follow her. And Timmer was right. Mab watched her go, her face scarlet with embarrassment. She liked Timmer. And she wanted Timmer to like her. Mab took a sip of the bubbling drink in her silver goblet, feeling depressed. No matter where she went—she never belonged. She was even an outsider at the Kaleidicopia. And now Timmer was angry with her for being so stolid. Mab wished she were Jinnjirri. She wished she could just let go for once—

  A Jinnjirri in a state of half dress interrupted Mab languidly at this point. He smiled at the Piedmerri and changed gender. «Which do you prefer?» asked the randy Jinn, her breasts swelling under Mab's very nose. The Piedmerri swallowed. «So it's men?» continued the Jinnjirri, immediately accommodating Mab by switching back to being a man. The Jinn smiled seductively. «My specialty is virgins.» Mab turned scarlet and downed her Piedmerri champagne. The Jinnjirri chuckled, leaning indolently against the feasting table. «I can always tell a virgin. I can smell them.» He leaned toward Mab and sniffed. «Mmm—Piedmerri wholesome. Mother's milk and soft muscle. You're the kind of young woman I like to get lost in.» Mab took a step backward. Trying to remember what had possessed her to attend this party in the first place, Mab realized she was very alone here. Very. Maybe she should leave. Now. Mab ignored further comments from her would-be deflowerer and set her goblet down on the table. She turned toward the front door and came to a complete standstill as she saw a familiar face enter the front door. It was Cobeth. Dressed in an overtunic of geometric black and yellow, Cobeth swept into the house, his trailing scarf looped artistically around his neck, his makeup perfect. Cobeth accepted a round of spontaneous applause with modesty and returned the hugs and congratulations of his well-wishers with impish smiles. The charisma of the man was so strong, it was like an independent presence. Mab reconsidered her decision to leave. «I can at least tell him I think he did a good job,» Mab muttered to herself. «It's more than anyone else from the 'K' will do.» She nodded. «And after that, I'll go home.» Mab approached Cobeth shyly. The Jinnjirri actor saw her almost immediately. His expression at first startled, then thoughtful, Cobeth gently disengaged himself from his crowd of admirers. He walked toward Mab, Jinnjirri whispering to each other as he did so. Mab twisted a strand of her hair nervously. She felt as if she were suddenly on stage now. It was as if Cobeth's magnetism extended beyond him to include her, too. Mab flushed with the attention. «You're the last person I expected to see here, Mab,» said the actor amiably as he joined her at the feasting table. «Did you come alone?» Mab shook her head. «Timmer's in the back somewhere.» Cobeth nodded, helping himself to some food. He picked out four kinds of vegetables, some mild cheese, and a generous helping of roasted potatoes. «I've stopped eating meat,» he explained. «Came out of a meditation I was doing. Makes me a better channel.» «Channel?» This was a Tammirring term. She wondered how Cobeth meant it. The actor took a bite of potato, chewing with vigor. «Yeah. A channel for Trickster. I get stuff from him all the time now. Even see him on occasion,» he added matter-of-factly. «But you're a Jinnjirri. I thought only Tammirring—» Cobeth made a rude gesture of dismissal with his hand. «We've got to break out of this single draw crap. We've got to start thinking in terms of multiple identity.» Stuffing another potato in his mouth, he added, «Rimble—I'm starved. I haven't eaten since lunch. You?» «I had dinner at the house.» «Of course. Well, Mab—you must have dessert then.» He pointed at a coconut-custard confection on top of the groaning board. «That's fresh Saambolin Silk Pie. Rhu baked it this morning. Tops even Barlimo's good cooking.» He smiled. «I'm very partial to sweets.» Then he added coyly, «Of all kinds.» Mab blushed, catching the obvious sexual reference in Cobeth's last statement. She helped herself to a piece of Saambolin Silk and changed the subject, saying, «Your play—it was very good.» «You liked it?» asked Cobeth, appearing both surprised and genuinely delighted by Mab's compliment. Mab struggled to speak, her mouth full of the sweet, rich pie. «Oh, yes. It was wonderful. I'd like to see it again,» she gushed. «You can really act, Cobeth. I think you made the right decision—getting out of sculpting, I mean. You've really found yourself.» Cobeth smiled broadly. «I'm amazed you think so. I figured you hated my guts as much as everyone else back at the 'K.' Well,» he said touching her cheek, «you've suddenly
become quite interesting, Mab.» «I have?» Cobeth nodded. «I would've paired you with Greatkin Phebene—you know, light, love, and syrup. But here you are. At this party.» Cobeth cast his eyes around the room. «A very debauched, very depraved crew. But ever so loyal to Trickster—and to me. Rimble-Rimble,» added Cobeth, turning his attention back to Mab. His eyes danced with a strange wildness. «Deviance can be fun—oh, yes indeed.» Mab said nothing. Cobeth peered at the little Piedmerri. «Did I say something wrong?» Mab shook her head. «Yes, I did—I can feel your discomfort. What's wrong, Mab?» Mab glared at the actor. Talking to Cobeth was like talking to a blasted Tammirring. What was he—a mind reader? A sensitive? Mab sighed. «I—uh—it's just where I grew up, that's all. I'm just not very fond of deviance. And I don't think it's always fun.» «Sure it is,» said Cobeth. «No—uh—no, it's not.» Mab set her pie hastily on the table. She had already been through one discussion like this with Timmer, and she didn't want a repeat performance with Cobeth. Mab backed away from the actor. «Where you going?» asked Cobeth, his expression puzzled. «Uh—home.» She headed toward the front door. Cobeth put down his plate of food. He caught up with Mab, his boyish face apologetic. «Mab—I didn't mean to offend you. Please. Stay.» Mab shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. «You—you don't really mean that.» «Sure I do,» replied Cobeth warmly. He slid his arm around Mab's waist, propelling her firmly toward the stairs leading to the closed off bedrooms on the next floor of the house. Mab was so much in need of even a scrap of reassurance from someone that she allowed Cobeth to guide her up the stairs. She was tired of being friendless and alone. Cobeth was a familiar face—they had lived together at the Kaleidicopia. That made him more than an aquaintance, she thought. Or a stranger. When they reached the top of the stairs, Cobeth said, «Come on.» «Where?» «To my room.» «You're living here?» she asked in surprise. He nodded. «There's a whole bunch of us. Rhu and me share a bed.» He paused, seeing the confused disappointment on the little Piedmerri's face. «What's this?» he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her tearful eyes. «Why, Mab—how dear. I had no idea you felt that way about me.» He kissed her forehead jauntily. «Well, you're in luck, my love. Rhu and I have a very loose arrangement—true Jinnjirri style.» «What do you mean?» asked Mab cautiously. «I mean, child—I'm available.» Then, without permitting Mab to question him further, Cobeth herded her into his bedroom. Seeing the double bed, silk sheets, and tastefully placed mirrors on the ceiling, Mab panicked. Cobeth closed the door behind her before she could flee. He gave her a teasing smile, his waifish charm irresistible. «Mab, Mab—you've got to take chances. Trickster is the Patron of All Exceptions. And sometimes you have to make an exception to your own rule. That is, if you want to grow.» He lifted Mab's chin with his hand. His face was inches from her own. Mab breathed shallowly, her lips parting. Cobeth's Jinnjirri sexuality was so powerful now that Mab felt her body respond to the seduction despite the warnings of her heart and mind. Cobeth kissed her neck, sending shivers down her back. Frightened by the intensity of her feelings for Cobeth—emotional and physical—Mab started to pull out of his arms. «Mab, it's all right.» She hesitated, her eyes searching the utter innocence of his gaze. Cobeth stroked her lips with his finger. «You've been touched by deviance before—haven't you, Mab? Touched deeply by Trickster. Introduced to the Fertile Dark before you were ready.» He kissed her mouth. «But now you're ready, Mab.» Mab caught her breath, her eyes bright and yielding. Cobeth pulled her gently toward the bed. «You're one of the special ones, Mab. I know.» He smiled. «Trickster tells me so. He tells me you're one of his Contrarywise. But you're uninitiated, Mab. And that must be remedied. So come to me, my darling—in his name. Let me bring you home.» As Mab sank into the pillows on the large double bed, Cobeth buried his handsome face in her full breasts. Raising his head and smiling at her, he began untying her blouse. Mab shut her eyes, her face flushed. «Is this really happening?» she whispered. Cobeth breathed the good scent of her skin and sweaty arousal deep into his lungs. He seemed to be revivified by it. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, «Welcome, Mab. Welcome to Greatkin Rimble's ecstasy.» Then Cobeth reached under the pillow to his left. Mab felt the movement and opened her eyes. She stared. Cobeth was holding the wineskin dildo from Rimble's Remedy. Laughing oddly, he squirted some of its contents into his mouth. Before Mab could ask him what he was doing, the Jinnjirri actor kissed her with his tongue. Mab groaned, her entire body responding to the overwhelming push of Cobeth's potent, Jinnjirri pheromones. Her mouth opened. Cobeth never hesitated. Lifting the leather stinger of «the whole wasp,» he shot an ample dose of holovespa into the back of Mab's throat. The little Piedmerri swallowed before she could stop herself. Chapter Twenty-Five Rimble finally found Zendrak—drunk out of his mind—under a spreading oak tree at the foot of the Bago-Bago Mountains in southeastern Saambolin. When Trickster tried to rouse his Emissary, Zendrak muttered sweet nothings and pulled Phebene's rainbow comforter over his head. This was not what Rimble expected. The little Greatkin fingered the comforter thoughtfully. Then, smelling the scent of black currant wine and Utter Chocolate Decadence on Zendrak's breath, Rimble started swearing at the Patron of Great Loves and Tender Trysts. «You can't feed mortals from our table, Phebes!» he cried at the sky and earth. «It's too rich for the poor sods!» Then, spitting into his hands, Rimble grabbed Zendrak by the tunic collar and threw him roughly to a sitting position against the oak tree. Zendrak shook his head groggily. Before he could even open his eyes, Rimble punched him soundly in the stomach. Zendrak promptly lost the remains of his picnic with Love. Unfortunately, he managed to keep his colossal hangover. Zendrak leaned backward against the tree, wiping the vomit off his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes rolled upward in his head, his expression pained. «Don't talk to me, Rimble,» he whispered. «Just don't talk—» «I most certainly will!» yelled the annoyed little Greatkin. Zendrak tried to bury his ears in Phebene's comforter. Rimble ripped it out of his hands and tossed it behind him into a thicket of bushes. «Rimble—» groaned Zendrak, «—have a heart.» Trickster snorted. «Look at you, Zen-boy. You sound like a whining school kid. 'Have a heart,'» he added in derisive mimicry of Zendrak's earlier plea. «You're pathetic.» Trickster crossed his arms over his chest. «I think I should disown you.» «Disown me?» asked Zendrak wincing from the sound of his own voice. «You're a disgrace to the family. Kelandris would never succumb to the wine and food of Love. Never.» Trickster wagged a finger in Zendrak's bleary eyes. «And don't pretend Phebes didn't tell you who Kel was, either. It would be just like her to spoil my surprise—in the name of Truth, you know. Truth is terribly 'in' with the group at Eranossa this year.» Trickster paced back and forth, grumping as he walked. «See—that's the thing about Eranossa. It's the home of the Bright Ones—we're talking light not brains, mind you—and Neath's the home of the Dark Ones. They're obvious, we're subtle. And like I keep trying to tell those Eranossa dimwits, you can't go around exposing everything to the full blast of the noonday sun. Some things have to incubate a while. Not that I have anything against Truth—» Zendrak belched rudely. Rimble ignored the editorial comment and continued his monologue. «—not that I have anything against Truth. It's just that some truths have to become known gradual-like. And you finding out that Kel's your twin is one of them. I don't want the two of you joining forces too soon, see. If you weren't so obssessed with this soulmate thing— Zendrak forced his eyes open all the way. «I am not obsessed—» «You certainly are!» snapped Trickster. «It's all you ever think about.» He made a frame with his hands in the air, «Kel and the Lost Chance.» He rolled his eyes. «Idiot.» The light of the rising moon made Zendrak's eyes glitter coldly. «Phebene was quite sympathetic, Rimble. She understood what it's like to be part Mythrrim—and alone.» «You don't need Phebene!» yelled the little Greatkin, losing his temper with Zendrak entirely. «I'm the Greatkin of Coincidence and the Impossible! I'm hope when there's none to be had! Do you think I'll give you only one opportunity with
Kelandris of Suxonli? Do you?» Zendrak shrugged, his expression skeptical. Rimble pulled at his black goatee. «Even now, Kel makes her way to you, Zendrak. She is on your trail—hunting you with a vengeance.» «So Phebene tells me,» muttered Zendrak, crossing his arms over his chest. «Nice of you to make Kelandris think I was the reason everything went sour in Suxonli. Nice of you to confuse me in her mind with that soul-sucker Yonneth.» Zendrak spat on the ground in front of Trickster. «I've got a good mind to quit being your Emissary.» Trickster raised one of his black eyebrows. «I see. Well, whatever you want.» He shrugged. «You're easily replaced.» «By whom?» asked Zendrak indignantly. «Yonneth. Cobeth. The name doesn't matter.» Seeing Zendrak's consternation and disbelief, Rimble smiled. «He's just begging to work for me, you know. In fact, he's quite convinced he already is.» Zendrak's eyes narrowed. «And is he?» Trickster refused to answer, his pied eyes cool. Chapter Twenty-Six When Rowenaster arrived back at the Kaleidicopia after speaking with Cobeth, he found Barlimo and Tree cleaning up the filth that was in Po's room. Barlimo had removed her play-going clothes and now wore an old smock and apron. Likewise, Tree had abandoned his «autumn regalia.» The green-haired Jinnjirri stood naked from the chest up, his lower half covered by a pair of patched trousers. Po's room was on the first floor of the House. So when the professor opened the front door of the 'K,' he heard the following: «I've found another one. That makes seventeen total, Barl.» «Seventeen what?» yelled Rowenaster as he removed his maroon