Master of Formalities Read online

  Barsparse put down her pots and walked back over to the plates. “You don’t know what more you can do, but that doesn’t mean that nothing more can be done. You should be thinking of ways to improve each dish right up until the moment that Ebbler carries it away.”

  “Yes, Chef,” Pitt said miserably.

  Barsparse, Pitt, and Ebbler all stared at the four plates of food.

  “And the moment that Ebbler carries it away,” Barsparse said, “should have been several seconds ago.”

  Ebbler leapt as if he’d been prodded with a sharp stick. “Yes, Chef! Sorry, Chef! Sorry, Pitt!” He deftly placed the plates on his grav-platter and left the kitchen.

  Pitt looked delighted as he watched Ebbler scramble.

  Barsparse said, “Dessert course.”

  Barsparse looked delighted as she watched Pitt scramble.

  Wollard cleared his throat.

  Barsparse turned, then nodded. “Wollard. Phee.”

  Phee nodded back, but stayed silent.

  Wollard said, “Chef, I just wanted to make sure the Arbiter’s report on Hahn cooking methods was satisfactory.”

  “Yes, the report was thorough. The Hahn’s cooking methods, on the other hand . . . they have an entirely different approach. The quality of the food is secondary to the presentation.”

  “That’s good news,” Wollard said. “You’ve always excelled at presentation.”

  “But like I said, Wollard, their approach is different. Remember what you told us about how they value inconveniencing others?”

  Predictably, Glaz and Migg entered the kitchen just as Barsparse referred to the Hahn as they. Barsparse looked chagrined, but if Migg was offended, she didn’t show it.

  “Glaz, Migg, this is remarkable timing,” Wollard said.

  Phee was continually amazed at Wollard’s ability to describe an unfortunate situation in a positive tone.

  “We were just discussing Hahn culinary techniques,” Wollard said. “Migg, it occurs to me that you would certainly know more about it than any of us.”

  “It wasn’t my area of expertise,” Migg said, “I mainly just tended to the little tasks the Ruling Family didn’t want to do themselves, but I’m happy to tell you anything I can. What Hahn dish are you making for the feast?”

  “That’s a good question,” Barsparse said. “Wollard?”

  “Her Ladyship intends to broach the subject over lunch, so we should know soon.”

  Ebbler returned to the room just then, looking both embarrassed and angry. His platter floated in front of him. One plate sat facedown, its contents smeared across the platter’s surface.

  Ebbler looked ruefully at Wollard, then addressed Barsparse. “Master Hennik, who we have been instructed to treat as a member of the ruling family, has requested that I inform the chef that her work is unsatisfactory, and hunger is preferable. He requests that the chef report to the dining room to receive some constructive criticism.”

  Barsparse turned to Pitt. “Do you have the dessert course under control?”

  “Yes, Chef!”

  “Good. I’ll try to be back soon. If you need an extra set of hands, Ebbler would probably be willing to help out.”

  “Yes,” Ebbler said. “Yes, I would!”

  Pitt said, “Won’t be necessary, Chef.”

  “I’ll accompany you, Chef,” Wollard said.

  “Thanks” Barsparse said. “On the bright side, we should be able to find out what Master Hennik wants for dinner.”

  “Her Ladyship asked him while I was serving,” Ebbler explained. “Master Hennik said that he wanted something made by his father’s chef, in his father’s palace, on the Hahn home world.”

  As Barsparse, Wollard, and Phee left the kitchen, Barsparse muttered, “Maybe we can accommodate him.”

  “Now, now,” Wollard admonished her, and then the three of them were gone.

  Migg turned to Ebbler, who was still standing with his platter of ruined food. “Let me help you clean that up,” she said, reaching out to take it from him.

  “That’s not necessary,” Glaz said.

  “Please,” Migg said, then stopped, confused. “Is that uncooked meat you served Master Hennik?”

  “Yeah,” Ebbler said. “It’s how the dish is served. It’s called tartare. It dates all the way back to before the Terran Exodus. Ancient dish, probably the most ancient if you think about it.”

  “Yes,” Pitt shouted from across the kitchen. “If you want to learn more about it, you could ask a chef, who actually knows about food.”

  Ebbler gritted his teeth, but his voice remained pleasant. “Of course, Pitt, if you’d like to tell her about—“

  “I’m busy,” Pitt said.

  “You’ve told me enough, Ebbler,” Migg said. “Very interesting. Anyway, I’m sorry for what Master Hennik did to you. Please, I’d like to help clean up.”

  Glaz said, “We understand, but it’s really not necessary. Ebbler, please show Migg how we clean here.”

  “They don’t have utilitics on the Hahn home world?” Ebbler asked.

  Glaz said, “I doubt it.” Migg looked confused, which reinforced the idea that the technology was new to her.

  Ebbler held the platter with both hands and lowered it to the floor, signaling to the utilitics that it was ready for cleaning. The viscous, partially congealed food dripped, then slid, then almost seemed to flow toward the corner of the platter. It poured into a puddle on the kitchen floor. The overturned plate also glided to the floor, landing beside the puddle. Ebbler grasped the plate by a dry corner and slowly lifted it, handing it to Glaz, who held it up to the light to show how spotlessly clean it was.

  Ebbler lifted the now-immaculate platter from the floor. The puddle of refuse on the floor thinned and constricted until it was flat and perfectly round, then moved toward the wall of its own accord, where it thinned into a narrow stream and slunk away as if it were ashamed of itself. When it reached the corner, it disappeared into a small drain.

  Glaz and Ebbler both delighted in the look of astonishment on Migg’s face.

  Glaz explained. “The utilitics are billions of little machines, too small to see. They each have certain abilities and a very small amount of intelligence, but they’re all connected, so they work together as a whole. Every surface and object in the palace is covered with them.”

  “Okay,” Migg said, talking herself through it. “So, these tiny machines. Are some of them carrying the food away, or are they passing it to each other?”

  Glaz shrugged. “That’s a good question. I don’t know. Ebbler?”

  “It works, so I’ve never questioned it.” Ebbler said.

  “Fair enough,” Migg said. “So, they take away the mess, but is it really clean? What about viruses and such?”

  “Oh, they’d never allow a virus anywhere near Her Ladyship. One of the benefits of working at the palace is that the utilitics destroy anything contagious to keep us healthy, because that, in turn, keeps the Jakabituses healthy. You still have viruses at the Hahn palace?”

  “Yes. Her Ladyship, Inmu Hahn, usually has some sort of contagious illness.”

  “Oh,” Glaz said. “The poor thing. She must be miserable.”

  “No, the opposite. She passes them on to the servants for fun. Whenever she falls ill, her goal is to get well in time to enjoy watching everyone else suffer. Then she gets something else so she can be infectious again just when everyone starts to recover. About the food waste, where did it go?”

  “What?” Glaz asked, taking a moment to wrench her mind back to the original subject. “Oh, it’s collected and broken back down into simple molecules for the bulkfabs to use.”

  “Bulkfabs?”

  “Yes, they’re machines that take simple molecules and piece them together into the things we need. Food, drinks, medicine, plates, clot
hes. Most people get entire meals out of them, but chefs like Barsparse only use them for raw ingredients. Shly carries a small one to serve drinks.”

  Migg nodded. “Life on Apios sounds very convenient.”

  “A bit different, I take it, from life on . . .” Glaz paused. “Migg, we really do know very little about your planet. We’ve always referred to it as the Hahn home world. What is your planet’s name?”

  “The Hahn Home World,” Migg said.

  “And we call your people the Hahn.”

  “That is our name,” Migg said.

  “But, your ruling family are named Hahn.”

  “We are all named Hahn. Our name is Hahn.”

  “Your name is Migg,” Glaz said.

  “Yes. Migg Hahn.”

  “Is everyone on your planet truly named Hahn?” Ebbler asked.

  “Yes. Centuries ago, when the Hahn family first seized control of the Hahn Home World, they cemented their power, both over the planet and their subjects, by changing all names to Hahn, and the name of the planet to the Hahn Home World. All records of any names used before the Hahn have been erased. It is said that there are those who still know our planet’s true name, but I don’t believe it. Nobody really cares at this point anyway.”

  “That sounds confusing,” Ebbler said, looking up from his work for just a moment. Pitt had finished plating the desserts, and Ebbler was concentrating on arranging them on his platter.

  “It’s an obstacle to our society’s functioning, and any attempted work-around to simplify matters is immediately detected and prevented. It is an awful blight on my people, and the fact that it has been enforced successfully for so long is a testament to the Hahns’ will. Keep that in mind as you anticipate Master Hennik’s reaction to those delicious-looking desserts.”

  13.

  The mood in the gymnasium was tense. Despite the winning streak at the beginning of the previous day’s match, no one was pleased with the outcome. The only thing for it was to train harder. Hartchar had reviewed footage of Rayzo’s final match and listened to Lord Jakabitus explain, at length, what needed to be done to fix the deficiencies in Rayzo’s performance.

  When His Lordship finally tired of explaining, Hartchar summed up his concerns, saying, “If I understand correctly, Milord, you would prefer it if Master Rayzo did not get pantsed in the future.”

  Lord Jakabitus was glad that she understood.

  Hartchar devised a drill to give Master Rayzo the skills he needed to avoid getting pantsed. Rayzo stood in the center of the mat, wearing only his training sports shorts, which were emblazoned on the front and back with the number one, as he was the only active competitor in the palace. Hartchar stood in front of him and tried to get her hands into the waistband of his shorts while he blocked her repeated attempts. Lord Jakabitus assisted, as he always did, by shouting instructions from his mat-side seat.

  “Protect your shorts, son! Block her hands! I said block them! Her haaaaaands!” he shouted, encouragingly.

  Hennik sat beside His Lordship and smiled, in spite of himself.

  Hartchar continued to pose her attack from the same few angles. The goal was to burn the motions required to fend off a pantsing into Rayzo’s muscle memory, much as the experience of getting pantsed was burned into his actual memory.

  Lord Jakabitus took a break from coaching Rayzo to make an attempt at talking to Hennik. He held little hope of success, but he’d promised Lady Jakabitus to try.

  “So, my lad, did you play sports back on the Hahn Home World?”

  “Yes,” Hennik answered. He was too distracted by the spectacle of his adoptive younger brother defending his pants to concentrate on being nasty to His Lordship. “I played lots of sports.”

  “Really? What was your ranking?”

  Hennik puzzled at the question for a moment, then groaned condescendingly. “Oh, I see the confusion. You were asking if I played Apiosan sports. When you asked if I played sports, I thought you meant any of the hundreds of games that the rest of the galaxy refer to as sports.”

  “Oh,” Frederain said. “Yes, I can see where that would cause some confusion. So, did you play Apiosan sports?”

  “No. I’m not Apiosan.”

  Shly entered to deliver His Lordship his training beverage. Normally it was held for the end of training, but His Lordship had requested it early today, fearing he’d need a pick-me-up. She slowly made her way along the back wall of the gymnasium, hoping to escape the younger boy’s attention.

  “We invented Apiosan sports here on Apios,” Lord Jakabitus said, “but the rest of the galaxy knows about it. I’ve never understood why you all don’t play.”

  “Because we play real sports. We didn’t make up our own game, give it a name that makes it sound like it’s as important as all other sports combined, then pretend that because we’re the best at this one thing nobody else cares about, it means we’re the best, period.”

  Lord Frederain was on the verge of responding when Shly interjected, with timing that would have impressed Wollard.

  “Would Your Lordship like his training beverage now?” Shly asked.

  At the sound of Shly’s voice, Rayzo’s eyes darted away from the training mat, finding her in the room.

  Lord Jakabitus said. “Yes, Shly. Please.”

  As Shly started to fabricate His Lordship’s beverage, Hennik watched Rayzo attempt to split his attention between blocking Hartchar’s attacks and checking to see if Shly was looking at him. His blocks became sloppy, and Hartchar soon managed to get both hands into his waistband. The shorts were set to training mode, so instead of a paralyzing shock, the voltage was tuned to merely cause discomfort. Rayzo leapt straight up in the air, shouting, and grabbed his posterior, where the current had entered his body.

  Rayzo bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, trying to work the pain out of his system. By the time he stopped, Shly, Lord Jakabitus, and Hennik were all three looking at him.

  Lord Jakabitus shook his head. “No, son. You have to block her hands.”

  “Yes, Father,” Rayzo panted as he limped back to the center of the mat.

  Lord Jakabitus sighed heavily. My son needs guidance, and I’m wasting my time playing host to this little snot, he thought. Still, I gave Joanadie my word.

  “Hennik, would you like something to drink? I’m certain that Shly would give you anything you’d like.”

  “Yes, is there anything you’d like, Master Hennik?” Shly asked.

  Rayzo shouted in pain, having lost his concentration again, and received another shock.

  “Block, son!” Lord Jakabitus shouted. “Block! I can’t put it any more simply than that!”

  Hennik watched Rayzo as he limped around the mat again. The younger boy looked at Hennik, then at his father, then at Shly, then back at Hennik.

  Interesting, Hennik thought. There might just be an opportunity to escalate matters here. It would mean being courteous to this fop, which I won’t enjoy, but it will increase the son’s misery exponentially, and when the fop realizes he’s been used, he’ll be significantly more miserable as well. I believe Father would approve.

  Hennik held eye contact with Rayzo and smiled sweetly. “Yes, Shly, is it? I would love a drink. I’ll have what His Lordship is having. He seems like a smart man, with refined tastes.”

  “Good,” Lord Jakabitus said, surprised. “You might alter the formulation a bit, given Hennik’s age.”

  Shly dispensed a second glass, expecting it to be thrown on the floor, the mat, or perhaps even on His Lordship. The last thing she expected him to do with the beverage was exactly what he did, which was drink it, then smile and say, “I was right. Delicious. Thank you, Shly.”

  Shly and Lord Jakabitus looked at each other in wonderment as Hennik held his glass high and smiled at Rayzo. Rayzo did not smile, but instead returned to Hartchar, who was
ready to resume training.

  Having completed her duty, Shly took her leave, and Lord Jakabitus returned his attention to his discussion with Hennik, who was watching Rayzo’s training with renewed interest.

  “So, you say you played other games before you came to Apios. Were you good at them?”

  “Yes,” Hennik said. “I was.”

  “Well, perhaps you’d like to try your hand at Apiosan sports, as you call it.”

  “Perhaps,” Hennik said in a loud, clear voice he was sure would carry well. “I’ve always been a natural athlete. I’d be interested to see how well I stack up against young Rayzo.”

  Again, Rayzo’s concentration slipped, resulting in an invasion of his waistband, a shock, and a pained yelp.

  “Block her hands, son! Her hands!”

  “Yes, Rayzo,” Hennik said. “Do try to block her hands.”

  As training resumed, His Lordship changed the subject. “So, the dish you requested for the banquet tonight. Skolash?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “What is it?”

  “Irrelevant,” Hennik said before he could catch himself. He quickly added, “I’m afraid.” His first impulse was to be rude to whomever he was speaking. It was going to take a while to make the mental adjustment to being courteous to Lord Jakabitus, even if the ultimate goal was to torture Rayzo.

  “I know that all of this is an effort to make me feel welcome,” Hennik said. “Skolash is my favorite dish, but I don’t think I’ll be here to eat it, or to try your sports. Lady Jakabitus is going to talk with my father today, and I expect I’ll be on a transport back to the Hahn Home World before dinner.”

  Lord Jakabitus said, “I doubt that.”

  Instead of saying what he wanted to, Hennik replied, “Well, Your Lordship, if I’m right, I’ll think of you all eating your Skolash as I go home. If you’re right, I get to be here to watch you eat your Skolash. It’s good either way.”

  14.