The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Wayfarers #4)(65)

‘Can I help?’ Speaker said.

‘Oh,’ Ouloo said, surprised. ‘Um – you know what, if you don’t mind—’

‘I don’t,’ Speaker said.

‘Well, I can’t be the only one sitting around eating cake,’ Roveg said.

Speaker eyed both his cake and the quarter-full bottle lying beside him. ‘I think that’d be the best task for you right now,’ she said without judgement.

Roveg started to argue, but felt the fledgling sentence crack, crumble, and dissolve. He had no idea what it was he was he’d wanted to say. He reached out and took a second piece of cake for later. ‘You’re probably right,’ he said.





SPEAKER


There was something strange about Ouloo’s home, and Speaker couldn’t place it. She thought at first it was the decor, which was low and curving and unlike anything she’d ever seen. But in that, the home should’ve been no different than a mixed marketplace or any other environment in which Speaker could expect to encounter dozens of things she’d never seen before. No, there was something else making the back of her neck prickle. She just didn’t know what.

‘Sorry about the clutter,’ Ouloo said with resignation. She stepped carefully around the scattered belongings in the hallway, shifting her tray of cakes this way and that as she rebalanced. ‘I told Tupo to pick up this afternoon. Not that I was planning to have any of you over, but it’s just the principle of the thing.’

‘It’s okay,’ Speaker said. She operated her controls deftly, taking care to not make her suit step on anything. ‘I’ve seen worse.’

‘Yes, well,’ Ouloo grumbled as she made her way to the kitchen. ‘I don’t want you to think I don’t keep a clean house.’

Speaker’s hand froze on her controls. That was it. That was what was weird.

She’d never been in a terrestrial home before.

Had she been in spacers’ ships? Yes, of course. That was all she’d ever lived in. Shuttles like Roveg’s? Not like his, no, but small craft serving as temporary homes on long hauls, yes. Buildings? Absolutely. Often. Anytime she was planetside.

But never a house.

‘Kitchen’s this way,’ Ouloo called. ‘Can you move around okay in here? Is there room for your suit? I know our ceilings are a little low for bipedals.’

‘Yes,’ Speaker said. ‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head and continued to follow her host.

It was funny how a kitchen could be so different from what she was used to and yet completely recognisable as a kitchen. Speaker didn’t know what most of the gadgets were, and she’d never seen a stove in a shape like that, but it was still undoubtedly a stove, or at least, a hot thing for cooking food on. There was a worktable of sorts as well. The remnants of that day’s baking were still scattered about it, coated in flour and smudged with frosting. Speaker felt slightly sad over the effort Ouloo had made, only to walk into a fight between the people she was trying to please.

Not that Speaker regretted anything she’d said to Captain Tem. Not even remotely. She had no cause to. All she’d said was the truth.

Ouloo put her tray of cakes in the stasie (Speaker recognised that appliance, at least). ‘Here, I’ll take those,’ Ouloo said, retrieving the tray from the suit’s hands. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ Speaker said.

‘Oh, oh – but before I do.’ Ouloo set the tray in the stasie with the door open, then darted around looking for something. ‘I’ll box some up for you to take back to your ship.’ She paused. ‘Will they be all right for you to eat?’

‘I don’t know. What’s in them?’

‘Well, let’s see – sun beans, sugar, baking syrup, teth flour—’

‘Ah,’ Speaker said regretfully. ‘I know teth flour, and I’m afraid I can’t eat that.’

‘Oh, no!’ Ouloo said. The Laru became a portrait of disappointment. ‘I’ve done such a bad job looking after you.’

‘It’s all right,’ Speaker said. ‘You’ve never met one of me before.’

‘True, but that’s a reason, not an excuse.’ Ouloo tapped a paw on the floor, thinking. ‘Does your species have dessert?’ she asked. ‘You know, as a concept?’

‘Yes,’ Speaker said. ‘We do.’

Ouloo’s neck corkscrewed lightly behind her head. ‘Any you know how to make?’

‘Oh,’ Speaker said, surprised by the question. ‘Um, yes, actually. Not many, but …’ She rifled through a mental list of recipes she could reliably succeed at. ‘I guess you’d translate it as rest-day custard. I know how to make that.’ She cocked her head. ‘Are you asking me for a recipe?’

‘Yes. And if you’re keen, I’d love for you to teach me how to make it,’ Ouloo said. ‘Just in case any more of you come by.’ She looked Speaker in the eye and smiled. ‘Or if you come back.’

‘If I’m travelling this way, I absolutely will,’ she said. She meant it. ‘So. Custard. I doubt you’ll have all the ingredients.’

Ouloo’s paws bounced with excitement in a way not entirely unlike her child’s. ‘Does that mean you’re going to show me?’