but our origins lie far from their birthplace, which is called Koluwai. We are from Great Britain, on the other side of the planet Earth.”
I saw masks turn as the Yatsill looked at one another.
“From the great where on the other side of the what?” Brittleback asked.
There then commenced one of the most frustrating debates imaginable. Again and again, Clarissa attempted to describe our world, but no matter what her choice of words, they were quite obviously lost on the Yatsill, who failed utterly to comprehend even the notion of continents, let alone the idea that Ptallaya was one planet among many.
Clarissa attempted to describe the differences between humans; tried to explain how racial characteristics, or culture, or both, separate the nations of Earth; tried to make it clear that Ptallaya and Earth were globes floating in a vast void; but, plainly, to the Yatsill it was incoherent nonsense.
Somehow, the conclusion was reached that the storm had behaved unusually and had damaged us.
Clarissa quietly spoke to me from the side of her mouth. “The more I talk, the less they understand.”
Yarvis Thayne stood again and was announced by Lord Speaker-Judge.
“So we have welcomed these newcomers among us,” Thayne said. He held out his arms and swept his long-fingered hands around. “And the repercussions are obvious. That we have allowed them to so completely sweep away our old traditions is, I maintain, regrettable and dangerous, for if the storm was abnormal, then might the dissonance not be abnormal, too? And if that is the case, then aren’t all these changes also abnormal?”
The hall rumbled with hums and haws, some in agreement, most not.
“But I see my warnings will be disregarded,” Thayne continued. “So I shall say nothing more on the subject at this moment, other than to table a request.”
The prime minister asked, “And what might that be, sir?”
“I ask that these two be assigned to serve in my household.”
A murmur of surprise rippled around the arena.
A short and bulky Yatsill in one of the front rows shouted, “Objection!” and stood. His mask resembled the face of a goat and had horns curling from its sides.
“Baron Hammer Thewflex,” Speaker-Judge declared.
“I must correct the honourable gentleman,” Thewflex shouted over the general hubbub. “Due to their form, as odd as it is, we keep referring to these newcomers as Servants.” He pointed at Clarissa. “But I would remind you all that this one is an Aristocrat. Indeed! Indeed!”
More noise, and a voice called, “Aye! She must be given an estate of her own!”
“Yes,” Thewflex agreed. “Despite that she is not Yatsill, she must have an estate. By the Saviour, anything but that would be perfectly rotten!”
“Absolutely!” Brittleback agreed.
Clarissa indicated to Lord Speaker-Judge that she wanted to address the Parliament.
“Miss Clarissa Stark!” he announced.
Clarissa cleared her throat. “If I understand it correctly,” she said, “the Servants work in the houses of the Aristocrats.”
Hundreds of masked heads nodded. Someone said, “Until they are released.”
“In which case, if I am an Aristocrat, and, as such, am to be given an estate, I request that my companion, Mr. Aiden Fleischer, be assigned to serve me.”
“I oppose that motion!” Yarvis Thayne shouted.
“I bloody well support it!” the prime minister countered.
“Indeed!” Baron Hammer Thewflex agreed. “Indeed! Indeed!”
Voices were raised. Cheers echoed.
Speaker-Judge banged his gavel until the assembly quietened.
“The motion is passed. A decision must also be made concerning the role Miss Stark will play in our society. The Council of Magicians will take up this matter. Baron Thewflex, will you escort Miss Clarissa and Mr. Fleischer to the Council at once, please?”
Thewflex gave a thumbs-up—such a mundane gesture struck me as incredible, coming as it did from such a bizarre-looking creature—and made his way to the edge of the platform and the narrow corridor that led out of the chamber. He waved for us to join him there.
“Toodle-pip, old things,” the prime minister said to us. “When you’ve settled in, I’ll drop by for a cup of tea.”
“You have tea here?” I exclaimed.
“Of course, old fruit! Of course!”
Clarissa and I crossed the stage and followed Thewflex out of the building.
“So you’ve made me your skivvy?” I ruefully asked my companion.
“Whatever is necessary to keep us together, Aiden. Obviously I don’t expect you to actually work in that capacity. I’m still your sexton.”
“No, Clarissa. I relieve you of that duty. Here, we are equals. In fact, if anything, you are my superior, for you are certainly handling our peculiar circumstances far better than I.”
We passed through the front doors and