San, the Amphibian

morriss003

San, the Amphibian
By Stan Morris
Copyright 2013

San's Morning

After a vigorous workout San swam around the intricately created structure of rocks hiding the entrance to his home and slipped into the tunnel separating the salty sea from his family room. The glowing phosphorous stones lit the room where tiny tentacled plants covered comfortable lounging rocks strategically placed in a circular pattern for the communal family meetings that were often held after frolicking in the depths or shallows of the warm sea. Brightly colored inedible fish drifted slowly through the stubby black coral growing from the walls, or flicked their tails as they searched for a morsel of food. The artful column of shells, rocks, and opals created by his clever daughter stood next to his wife’s ceramic platter of garden seaweed; also inedible.

San paused in the watery room to make sure the tides had not damaged his daughter’s fragile school work, before swimming up to the higher levels of the underwater portion of his home. He broke through the surface of the water and entered the rinsing room. A servant was waiting to spray his body with a combination of fresh water and a thin solution of soap. When San was satisfied that he was cleansed of the salt and minerals he had picked up from the waters below, he motioned the servant to turn off the spray and lead the way along the inclined stone tiled path to the drying room. In the drying room the servant toweled the fresh water from San’s body, and then turned on the air vents sending jets of warm dry air to flutter against the amphibian’s body.

When he was dry, San left the drying room and proceeded up to the main level of his home where the kitchen, den, his office, and the visitor’s parlor were located. In his den was a closet containing underwear, silk shirts, and the elegant three piece suits; the clothes in which he dressed before leaving for work. Properly clad, San exited through the huge double doors of his home, down the granite steps, and past the tall stone columns that supported the highest tier of his manor where the ballroom was located. The servants had hitched the equines to his carriage, and the driver was waiting atop the high seat. San climbed in the carriage and shut the door. As he did this, he glanced at the row of low inexpensive houses across the cove with their one or two rooms above the water line.

San sometimes felt a twinge of sadness and guilt when he thought about the hopeless desire of the lower classes to reach the upper echelons of society. Most lived their whole lives and never understood the futility of this desire. It was not just about the ability to completely dry one’s body, or the daily application of the expensive oils by the personal masseuse which was necessary to keep the dry skin from cracking. It was not just about the extravagant clothing, or the money that was needed to clean the expensive oils from the extravagant clothing; it was the also about the height and size of the dry land levels of the homes, those parts that were built above the waterline specifically for social occasions where the rich could indulge the vanity of exclusivity and the belief that the elite were better than their wet workers and damp middle managers, because they socialized while dry.

Author's note: This is the first part of San' the Amphibian. If I post more, it will be under this thread

morriss003

San's Inconvenient Acquisition

When Kool cleared his throat, San knew his house manager had something else on his mind. San was not surprised, because Kool had been fidgeting like a sand scrambler caught in very shallow water with hungry waders circling in the sky above.

“Sir, one other thing?”

“Yes?”

San pretended not to know Kool was agonizing over his next words. Kool had been in the family since before San had been born, and whatever he was about to say would not affect his position, though it may get him a thorough tongue lashing. Kool’s gills fluttered nervously and then he blurted it out.

“We have… I mean I have… We have a new servant, Sir.”

The thick folds over San amphibious eyes lifted. Puzzlement filled his tone.

“A new servant? We were short in some position?”

Kool’s flat face grew flatter as his thick nose was sucked back into his head in anticipation of his master’s anger.

“Not exactly, Sir. I acquired her to help in the library.”

San was completely bewildered. His thick lower lip turned outward and folded over.

“Of what possible use could she be in the library?”

“She could shelve books?” That Kool had turned a statement into a question at the last moment was telling. San felt a flash of irritation.

“I read one book at a time. You know that. Stop splashing around and just tell me what’s going on.”

“An interstellar landed this week. They had sentients on board. I happened to be passing the auction, and I stopped to watch. One was a young female from a planet the purser called, Earth. Lutz was bidding on her.

“Oh, water muck,” San replied in disgust.

Lutz was not invited to most functions in society due to the genetic modification perversions in which he engaged, usually with unwilling off-worlders.

Kool sighed. “All right, I suppose we can use another servant. For some reason, now that the girls can produce eggs they’ve lost the ability to clean their rooms. She can be their maid.”

“Uh…” Kool sucked his nose in farther and spat out a series of incoherent grunts. San’s slits narrowed around his large irises.

“There’s something else?”

“She can’t breathe under water.”

San wide mouth opened so far his nose almost disappeared.

“Are you telling me you bought a servant that can’t access four fifths of our household? Has your brain completely dried?”

Kool’s expression was a mixture of chagrin, unhappiness, and embarrassment. He did not answer. San seethed for long moments until his skin cooled and he remembered how valuable Kool’s advice had been over the centuries. He sighed.

“Very well. She can sleep in the kitchen. Find a corner and get her some kind of bedding.”

Kool let out an air breath. At least he was not going to be filleted. “Perhaps she can learn to swim,” he suggested.

morriss003

San’s Servant Girl

Absently San smoothed back his gills and turned away from the girl sitting on the plush half shell. He hoped the music emanating from the speakers set in the upthrust ends of the resting bench calmed the young human. She was covering her milk sacks with one arm and protecting the entrance to her birthing channel with her other hand.

“She looks uncomfortable, Kool,” he remarked.

“She is,” his home manager replied. “I’ve been able to make out a few words. She doesn’t like being unclothed.”

“Even indoors?”

“Even then. It’s the custom of most humans to remain clothed outside or inside. Many even wear clothing when they sleep.”

“A strange custom,” San said.

“Different styles for different species,” Kool replied, quoting an old Tern adage.

“I guess. How long before she understands our language?”

“I gave her the pill this morning. Maybe late tonight. She didn’t like swallowing the language synthesizer. She fought like a blue bog. I think she thought I was trying to poison her.”

“Is she frightened?”

“Very. She’s afraid we intend to kill her, and she’s afraid you’re going to have intercourse with her.”

“She’s frightened of intercourse? Why? Has she not passed into that stage?”

“As far as I can tell, to her kind intercourse with other species is taboo.”

San’s astonished eyes turned from the girl to his house manager.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I know it seems strange, but I’m reasonably sure that’s what she said. There is another possibility, though it seems unlikely. She may have never met another sentient species.”

“That’s ridiculous,” San stated flatly.

“It would seem so,” Kool admitted. “But her star system is far out on their galactic arm. It’s possible they haven’t been visited, or if they have, that whoever came by didn’t bother to make contact.”

“Why wouldn’t they have made contact?”

“Her species is primitive. The only sentient spaceflight they’ve managed is with chemical rockets, and even then they’ve traveled only as far as their single large orbiter which they call their Moon.”

“I see. That makes a certain amount of sense. Who would bother stopping? You couldn’t even refuel.”

“Exactly.”

San had noticed that the longer he stared at the young human girl, the more nervous she became, but she was so exotic he was having a hard time keeping his eyes away.

“We haven’t harmed her, so why is she so frightened.”

Kool flapped his gills uncomfortably and a thin trickle of water spilled out.

"Something else happened last night as we were putting her into the resting chamber. When I started to insert the waste evacuator, she became hysterical. She wasn't familiar with that type of procedure. Apparently they evacuate solid waste by sitting on a round piece of flora or plastic and letting their waste drop into a tub of water."

San wrinkled his air nostrils. "That's disgusting. I had no idea they were that primitive. She will have to be trained away from that. I won't have a pet in the house that doesn't know what to do with its filth."

“That is another point we need to discuss. I’m sorry. I let it slip when I was trying to reassure her as to her fate. Her kind abhors personnel ownership.”

San turned to his house manager. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“They abhor personnel ownership. The word she used was ‘slavery’.”

If San was puzzled before, he was totally bewildered now. The protective folds over his eyes widened.

“Why would they object to that?”

Kool shrugged. “It’s part of their morality code.”

morriss003

San's Daughters

Flippi and Chureta watched the human girl from the safety of the entry pool, their heads far enough out of the water to let their large eyes, filled with childish curiosity, spy on the new servant. The human girl was sitting on her fabric covered rock and staring at a photograph.

“What is she doing?” Flippi asked.

“She’s looking at the thing she brought from her home planet,” Chureta replied. “They always allow the imports to keep one personal item.”

The alien was slightly turned away from them, so they could only see a part of her face. As they watched, moisture began to drip from the human girl’s eye.

“What’s that?” Flippi asked.

“I don’t know, but she does that almost every day.”

As they watched the girl’s shoulders began to shake, and her mouth emitted soft sounds.

Flippi’s wide eyelids lifted. “She’s sad.”

“What?”

“She’s sad. She was looking at something from her home, and now she’s sad.”

The girls watched the human for another minute, and then they dipped below the surface of the water, disturbed by the sights and sounds of the human’s discomfort. Their oxygen nostrils closed, and their gills opened. They flippered down to the bottom of the entry pool and swam into the tunnel leading to the family bedrooms. As they entered the bedroom they shared, Chureta automatically flipped the switch that started the new circulating jets their father had reluctantly purchased for them. He had suspected, rightfully so, that the jets were more needed to keep prying parents from overreading the girls’ conversations than for the health reasons they claimed. Their method of conversation had already switched from vocals to the combination of gestures and body color changes they used when immersed.

~~It’s barbaric~~. Chureta signaled, her color indicating disgust.

Flippi automatically looked to the entry way to make sure a servant or parent had not overheard them, but she did not admonish her sister, for she too thought the capture and retrieval parties sent to other solar systems for the purpose of bringing back servants was immoral.

~~I think a lot of people are starting to feel that way~~, Flippi replied.

~~Not people like Lutz~~.

Flippi’s body color swiftly cycled. ~~He’s a real land rodent~~.

~~Our whole society is barbaric~~.

Flippi rolled her skin color at this outrageous statement. Her sister could be so dramatic.

~~Do you remember Gram~~?

Flippi’s color became fixed. ~~Barely~~.

~~When she died, father and mother lashed a bunch of floaters together and put Gram on them. Then they hauled the raft into the deeps, so a Bighead could find the body~~.

~~That’s how it’s always been done~~, Flippi gestured, trying for a diplomatic answer that would not anger her sister.

~~It’s barbaric. We should put our dead in sea caves and then block the opening with live coral, so it will grow over the opening and become a beautiful memorial~~.

~~The crustaceans would still eat the body~~.

~~Gradually. It’s better than being torn apart by a Bighead~~.

Flippi didn’t really see why that would be better, but she wisely kept that thought to herself. She asked, trying to change the subject, ~~How do you think the humans treat the bodies of their dead~~?
Churta shrugged her body causing the movement of the abutting water to gently wave the seaweed growing from the rocky wall behind her.

~~Who knows~~? Chureta replied. ~~I’m not sure they are that sentient. Do you think she wants to go home~~?

~~Of course she wants to go home. Wouldn’t you~~?

~~I don’t know. It might be exciting to visit other planets~~.

~~By choice maybe. Not by force. And certainly not if I had to be owned by Lutz~~. Flippi opened her wide foot almost a hundred twenty degrees and began to massage the webbing between her toes. ~~He’s such an algae. When I lay my eggs, I’m going to make sure it’s on a day he’s working on land~~.

~~Me too. There’s no way I’m letting anyone like him fertilize my eggs. I’m going to drop over the continental shelf and lay them on a ledge~~.

~~But that’s so far. And you have to be careful not to be antennaed by a Bighead~~.

~~Yeah~~.

For some minutes, the two girls drifted silently in their respective nooks feeling the flow of the water as the jets churned, sucking oxygen through the air tubes down into their bedroom and aerating their sleeping quarters.

~~Is there anyone you wish would fertilize your eggs~~?

Chureta’s pale blue skin darkened almost to the color of midnight when she saw her sister ask the embarrassing question. She almost twisted and presented her backside, but then she hesitated and flippered to their entryway. Satisfied that they were alone, she flippered back and using only furtive gestures, replied.

~~Maybe~~.

morriss003

San’s Wife, Splo

“The boy passed the house again,” Splo said as she released the heavy drapery.

San sighed. Splo had mentioned the boy several times already. He got it. The boy driving the fishmonger’s cart had passed the house again. So what? Apparently it was important to Splo.

“Do you want me to have Kool speak to him?”

“No, I want you to speak to him, yourself.”

San sighed again. He had been afraid that would be her answer.

“Very well.”

“Today.”

There was no getting around it. The daily stock report would have to wait until he dealt with the fishmonger’s boy. Mildly irritated he laid the paper down and headed for the entryway. The human girl was wiping a table in the parlor and when she saw him, she ran to the door and opened it. He didn’t smile at her as he passed because his smile always seemed to alarm her. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the sharp teeth evolution had given his watery ancestors, so they could tear apart the skin and flesh of fish and less sentient amphibians. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he passed her.

The boy seemed to be passing at regular intervals, so San thought he had some time to tramp though his garden. He could keep an eye on the tiled roadway from there. As he passed the first fronds, he wondered if the boy came from a middle class or upper middle class family, and if he came from an upper middle class family, how wealthy they were.

At one time fishmongers were firmly ensconced in the lower echelons of society, but as the population increased, the cost of fresh fish had increased to the point that successful fishmongers had become rich, and many had incorporated their businesses and had expanded into closely related industries. They were still not accepted into the finest clubs, and the snootiest of the elite believed they never would be, but though he agreed with this assessment publically, privately San believed that it was only a matter of time before some of the richer fishmongers bought their way into exclusive clubs that had fallen on hard times.

When he saw the cart approaching, San left his property and stepped into the street.

He held up his hand and when the boy slowed he yelled, “You, boy. You’ve passed this way once too often. Don’t come this way again.”

The flustered boy sputtered mucus over the equines and flicked the reins. The animals sprang forward pulling the cart down the street. Satisfied that he had done his husbandly duty, San left the street and went toward his manor door which was opened by the human girl just in time.

“What did you say,” his wife exclaimed. She had been watching through the window.

“I told him to take his cart elsewhere,” San said smugly.

His wife’s round eyes bulged from their sockets. “What? I told you to talk to him.”

Puzzled and irritated once more, San said, “I thought you wanted him gone.”

His wife groaned. “San, will you please pay attention to what is happening in your family? This is not about a boy bothering us, this is about Chureta.”

San was truly bewildered. “What does Chureta have to do with a fishmonger’s boy passing by again and again?”

“Mother Water,” Splo muttered in disgust.

It took more than a few moments for the star to penetrate San’s watery brain cells, but when understanding finally occurred, his eyes bulged much wider than Splo’s had. Then a strong tide of anger overtook him.

“You must be joking,” he said, his nose flattening.

“San, you know all the kids are talking about it. Why did you think Chureta would be any different?”

“Because she’s my daughter,” San roared.

Splo knew it would only make him angrier if she rolled her eyes, so she kept quiet.

San got control of himself. “I will talk to the boy. You speak to Chureta.”

“Don’t you think I’ve already done so?” his wife muttered too quietly for him to hear as he stamped back to his library.

When he picked up the stock report, he noticed the mug sitting next to it. The human girl had filled it with warm sweetened green algae, his favorite drink. It pleased him that she had thought of doing so, and his temper cooled. Though she had been practically useless at first, she was finding more and more ways to help out around the household. To everyone’s surprise, she had used some ordinary household items to manufacture a breathing device and a mask which allowed her to see underwater while swimming in the first water level of the manor. San’s conclusion was that the girl must be an extraordinarily smart human.

He tried to concentrate on the stock report, but his mind kept drifting back to his daughter and the troublesome boy. After reading the same page for the fourth time, he gave up and ordered Kool to send a message requesting the boy’s presence the following afternoon. The family ate dry that night; a special fish dish suggested to the cook by the human.

The following day, San was waiting impatiently in his study when the human showed in the fishmonger’s boy. They exchanged some stiff pleasantries, and then San got right to the point.

“I understand that customs and more change with the generations,” San said. “Mother Water knows that my generation insisted on our own differences, and those differences were disliked by our elders. But this radical notion of girls choosing particular boys to fertilize their eggs is insane. It goes against the whole evolutionary process. The gene pool would become contaminated.”

“Not necessarily,” the boy responded eagerly. “At the Institute, scientists who study the matter say there is a critical mass, after which point it doesn’t matter if individualization takes place.”

“And you know this because…” San asked skeptically.

“I’m enrolled in the Institute’s Whole Life Study Program. It might take me longer to earn my degree in paraphyletic genetic management, but I’m going to be the best.”

In spite of his prejudices, San was impressed. Still…

“Look, I’m not a flat fish. I appreciate scientific truth as well as the next progressive, but you need to face the facts here. It doesn’t matter what scientists say, the idea is just not acceptable; not yet, anyway. It goes against spiritualist reasoning and cultural taboos. If it were to get out that you had fertilized a nest of eggs of which you knew the mother, you and the mother would be ruined socially, and so would your families. Man to man, and not to be indelicate, you know your family’s position at present.
The young amphibian’s face puckered in unhappiness at San’s reference.

“But it’s scientifically proven,” he protested.

San did not reply. If this boy was telling the truth about his Institute studies, San knew he was intelligent enough to understand the social repercussions to his family from breaking one of the oldest taboos in their society. Nests of eggs were always fertilized by unknown individuals. It had been that way since the first amphibian drew a breath of unwatered oxygen.

“This is so short-tongued,” the boy groused.

“Perhaps a compromise would be in order.”

“Compromise?”

“Yes, compromise. Just because you can’t fertilized her eggs does not mean that you wouldn’t be welcomed to our social events.”

“Really?” The boy’s belly expanded slightly.

“Certainly. I told you I’m not a flat fish. Any man should be proud to have a scholar from the Institute at his social functions.”

“I’m not in the Fast Tide program,” the boy reminded San hastily.

“Even so.”

The human girl brought in a pot of algae which they drank while San grilled the boy about certain rumored inventions, and then they took their leave of each other on a much more cordial note.

When Splo suggested that the family eat dry again, San vetoed the suggestion firmly and ordered dinner to be served in the old lair which was in the oldest underwater nook in the manor. Splo kept her expression placid, though she was startled by San’s decision. After seeing how the underwater jets had made it impossible to snoop on their children, San had ordered the jets installed in the lair. As she had expected and had feared, he turned them on as soon as Splo, Chureta, Flippi, and San had gathered in the nook. She wanted to demand that he tell them immediately what was so important, but she curled her tongue and kept silent.

After dinner, San addressed his family.

~~I have an announcement~~,” San said. ~~I’m going to free the human girl~~.

There was a moment when their natural perturbations ceased, and they floated motionless, and then there was a flurry of gestures and colors from Splo and Flippi, and Chureta gave a tremendous push with her fully extended webbed feet and flung herself around her father.

~~Are you crazy~~? His wife asked.

~~Dad, you can’t do that~~, Flippi said, and her blue skin turned white from fear.

~~That is the noblest thing ever~~, Chureta said, and to San’s surprise and satisfaction, she emitted her mother scent causing the water to glisten.

His wife gestured violently, ~~San, if anyone found out… You know the law. And where is she to go? There’s not more than five hundred humans on this entire planet, and almost all of them are servants~~.

~~No one’s going to find out~~, he replied sternly. ~~I’m going to make a secret document. The family will know, but no one else will. Splo, you will have to keep the document in the matriarchal chest~~.

Splo understood. Even the Servant Police could not get a warrant to open a matriarchal family chest. The human girl would be free within the family household, but not in public. Chureta’s glee diminished a bit, but she did not repent releasing her scent. What her father was doing was still a noble act in her grey eyes, and she was old enough to know how dangerous it was. Freeing servants was strictly forbidden.

~~I want to speak alone to Chureta~~, San said.

When his wife and Flippi were gone, San said, ~~You know the consequences for our family if this ever gets out~~.
Chureta changed colors several times in agreement.

~~If I’m going to do this, there must be no hint of any other scandal around our family or around those closest to us~~.

For a moment Chureta wiggled, uncertain as to what her father was referring, and then she stiffened, and her color changed to neutral.

~~You spoke to Todd~~.

~~Yes, I told him that he is welcome in our home~~.

Chureta was old enough to know that sacrifices sometimes had to be made in a good cause, and that sometimes those sacrifices had to be personal.

~~I understand. Thank you for freeing the human. I’ll never forget it~~.

Once his daughter had left the lair, San flippered into his favorite spot and floated as he contemplated his decision. He would never complete the emancipation document, of course. His wife was right. It would be insane to do so. But Chureta would never know, so her eggs were safe. And even though he could not free the human, he could organize a family visit to a free star system where he could arrange for the girl to “escape” and be delivered into the hands of the Freedom’s Stairway people. They would return the girl to her homeworld, if possible.

morriss003

San’s Vacation

“I have a complaint,” the officious looking amphibian stated.

Its belly was flat, indicating that it was irritated.

“Yes?” the attorney replied.

“I wish to complain about your firm’s attempts to evade the law you are sworn to uphold.”

The attorney was certain what was coming next.

“Specifically, it is common knowledge that you are helping servants to escape their duties.”

“To escape from their masters, you mean.”

“Their lawful masters. Do you deny it?”

“I don’t deny that we’ve helped servants file suit in court seeking to be declared free citizens.”

The amphibian waved his padded hand impatiently.

“I’m not referring to those ridiculous courtroom attempts. I’m referring to the help you give runaway servants trying to contact those idiots who run Freedom’s Stairway.”

The attorney’s reply was cautious. “My firm does not admit to helping any legally bound servant engage with the courageous people you mentioned.”

The amphibian snorted. “Courageous, hah! Thieves you mean.”

The attorney was becoming irritated. “If you have no further business…”

“That’s the problem with everybody these days. No one takes the time to listen to reason. It’s,’ state your business and get out’. Can’t you see that we are doing the less sentient a favor? Take the girl I brought to help out on this trip. Practically useless. Can’t even breathe underwater.”

More irritated, the attorney asked, “Well, then why did you buy her, since you’re from a water society?”

“Some pervert wanted her for his genetic experiments. Couldn’t let that happen.”

The attorney sighed. “I see. I suppose that was somewhat decent of yo−”

“Useless, as I said. And now all these ‘servant hunters.’ More idiots. Chasing after runaways without a by-your-leave from the owners. I would never deign to use one of those scoundrels. If my girl ran away, I would follow the proper process. Wait until I got home to my own world, and then file a complaint. That’s the way it should be.”

The attorney leaned back in his huge swivel chair, amused at the silliness of his visitor. “You would wait until you got home to file the complaint?”

“Of course. Exactly as it should be. I would never call upon some alien sentients to find my own property. Let the people I pay taxes to, do it.”

“I follow you. That’s the traditional thing to do.”

“Correct. The traditional thing. All this nonsense about hiring servant hunters. Ridiculous. They run all over the city trying to find these stupid Stairway people and never succeed. Can’t imagine how the runaways find the Stairway.”

The attorney leaned forward and stared at the amphibian. “Perhaps the Stairway people find the runaways.”

San frowned. “They find the runaways? I see. But the runaways must have some kind of identifying mark.”

“Probably. Maybe it’s a pinwheel or a certain flower or something that resembles a stairway. Like a steam engine track.”

San nodded. “Yes, it must be something like that.”

“Yes. You say the girl accompanied you? That’s surprising considering that this planet bans the servant trade.”

“Bans the importation for sale, but you people don’t ban individuals bringing their servants.”

“So far,” the attorney mumbled.

“Correct. Yes, the girl accompanied us, but I’m not worried that she’ll run away. She’s human, so she’s probably not smart enough to find the Freedom’s Stairway crowd. That’s why I don’t mind her accompanying my girls when they travel about the city.”

“You have children?”

“Yes. Girls. Would you like to see a photo?”

“Certainly,” the attorney replied politely.

San removed his wallet from the safety pocket under his armpit and opened it. He leaned forward over the desk. “Here.”

The attorney leaned forward also and perused the picture. “Lovely,” he said, though he had never really found amphibians to be all that attractive. “And that must be the human girl just behind them.”

“What. Oh. Yes, yes, that’s her.”

“It must be nice to have someone to travel with the girls on their visits around the city.”

“Just the older one. Chureta. Flippi, my youngest, never goes along.” San chuckled. “That Chureta. Imagines herself as a free thinker. She’d free all the servants if it was allowed.”

“A lovely girl.”

“Yes. But I’m a little worried. I wish I knew what parts of the city these Freedom’s Stairway people congregated in, so I could warn Chureta about them.”

The attorney leaned back and gazed thoughtfully at the amphibian.

“The southern marketplace is a good place to stay away from. There is a handmade rug section with thousands of rugs hanging from racks. It runs for over a mile. A person could get lost in there. Warn your daughter about that place.”

“Thank you, I will. I must be running along now. Remember what I’ve said. Act responsibly.”

“I will remember.”

The next day, San’s wife Splo reluctantly allowed her oldest daughter to visit the huge marketplaces in the city.

“Your father said you can go, but take the human girl with you.”

“Yes, mother,” Chureta replied, eager to get started.

“I’ll go too,” Flippi said.

“No not you,” her mother said. “I have some errands, and I want you to go with me.”

“I never get to have fun,” Flippi whined in dismay.

Accompanied by her human servant, Chureta had a busy day visiting markets. In the afternoon, she decided to purchase a rug for her father’s study. When they arrived at the location, she was amazed to see the huge number of stalls selling rugs. She and her servant moved through the maze of hanging cloths marveling at their complexity. At some point along the way, the human girl became separated from Chureta, and when the amphibian girl found her servant, a strange man was trying to sell the human a broach. Her servant kept shaking her head, confused by the stranger who had affixed the broach to the plain shift she was allowed when she left Chureta’s home.

“I’ll pay for it,” Chureta said impatiently.

After that, the two girls continued their search for the perfect rug. They were both tired when Chureta spied a vacant bench.

“Let’s sit down and rest,” Chureta said.

They had set for only a short time when Chureta said, “I see a rug I like up ahead. You stay here until I come back for you.”

The human girl nodded obediently.

Chureta returned much later than she had anticipated. The human girl was gone. Chureta uncurled her tongue a short way to indicate her exasperation, but her belly expanded a bit before she sucked it in. She returned to the hotel and reported to her father.

“The human girl is missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes, she must have gotten lost while I was shopping.”

“Very well. The local authorities will probably return her when she comes to their attention.”

“What if she ran away?” Flippi asked.

“She didn’t run away,” Splo retorted sharply. “She’s missing.”

“But−”

“If she doesn’t turn up by the time we leave, I’ll make a report,” San said placatingly.

Their vacation ended without any further sign of the human girl. A few days after they returned to their home world, San finally remembered to ask Kool to file a report.

“I wish you had asked me yesterday,” Kool replied. “It’s is a holiday. The Servants Bureau won’t be open for another three days.”

“That will be sufficient,” San said, and he left the drying room where Kool was in the process of rubbing oil on his daughter.

“Kool,” Chureta drawled hesitantly.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Do you ever think about being free?”

“Free? Of course not, Miss. What would I do with freedom?”

After Chureta left the room, Kool remembered the girl’s words.

Every day, Miss. Every day.

The end of San’s Saga