Their Majesties' Bucketeers by L. Neil Smith Page B

frightened, a considerable volume of abominable aqueous fluid fell, splattering obscenely in the street. When he was satisfied with whatever measure this accomplished, the mysterious and ugly creature reached beneath the machine once again, made another adjustment, then hopped lightly onto the driver’s bench, and we were off!
    The pace was something unbelievable, perhaps as much as twelve or fifteen fymon per hour, and I was surprised that I was not crushed by the velocity. Then I realized that we were doing nothing, actually, compared to the magnificent Tesret Hurrier by which my surfather used to take me on holidays to North Wyohfats. I relaxed and looked about me in the carriage (which was much preferable to watching streets and citizens and frightened watun stream past in an incoherent blur).
    As one might expect, the vehicle was well done up in perfumed satins, silks, and velvets of the most expensive and…well…lascivious cut. Upon the glass were painted and engraved no small number of elegant flowers and birds. Pulling a tassel that bobbed up and down suggestively, I unfolded a cunningly contrived table in which nestled a kood holder and, beside it, both a gold-framed lacquered treewood juicing box and matching receptacle for several inhaling tubes. There were many such tassels flouncing up and down upon the other two walls within the carriage, but my imagination shuddered to think of what they might conceal, so I refrained from pulling on them, and devoted the remaining minutes of the ride to vainly attempting to fold the little kood table back into place.
    Vyssu kept herself (in a manner of speaking) in Fadet Road near the cornet of Fadyedsu Street, as sinister and gaudy a neighborhood as the city offers this side of the river. Nonetheless, the little lave was nearly as quiet and undisturbed as that in which my parents made their home—if one could disregard the uncouth music blaring up over the housetops from the theatrical district.
    I alighted from the amazing watuless carriage, and Vyssu’s driver led me to the door, took my cloak and hat, and tried to carry off my bag, which I would not permit. Afterward I was conducted into a sitting room where Mav was puffing on his pipe, the very picture of domestic tranquility, and a female, rather more handsome than pretty, and younger than I had imagined, was, of all things, sitting opposite him doing needlepoint.
    “Good evening, Mymy,” said Mav, rising as I entered through the archway. “I don’t believe you’ve met Vyssu before, except by reputation.”
    That person turned upon her settee, crinkled her fur in an unreservedly friendly expression that left me no alternative but to reply, “Good evening, Mav. I’m pleased to meet you, Miss, er…”
    “Vyssu will do nicely, if I’m permitted to call you Mymysiir. Will you have some kood? We’ve just finished a wick, but I can call for—”
    “Please, I have had kood and more kood all afternoon. Nothing will suit me quite nicely, at least for a while. Mav, I’ve so much to tell you, I scarcely know where to begin.”
    Then begin by sitting down, dear Mymy, for I have much to tell you, also, after which we’ll hear from Vyssu on the same subject. Here, you can put your bag beside the door.”
    Vyssu patted the settee beside her so that, in courtesy, I could not refuse to join her.
    “Thank you. Vyssu, I must thank you, also, for inviting me and for sending your driver round. I have never ridden in a watuless vehicle before; it’s rather exciting, isn’t it? And speedy .”
    “You must forgive Fatpa, my dear. He used to be a highwaylam of sorts in Old Niimebye before the Podfetiin moved in. Sometimes he lets a little of it seep into his driving.”
    “A highwaylam? How, er, fascinating. In any event, Mav, I’ve learned from several sources that, were motive alone sufficient for conviction, we’d now have solved the mystery. I know of two, at least, who might wish Srafen ill health.”
    He nodded.