"Good-night Roger. Good-night Caroline."

"Very nice," Vasilis said approvingly. "Yannis, do you want a boost?"

"Nuh-uh," the boy said. Stepping to the tree, he wrapped his arms around the trunk. Pressing himself against it, he melted into the bark and vanished.

Roger let out a huff of air. "Whoa," he murmured. "That's... really weird."

"I suppose," Aleksander said with a shrug. "We're used to it ourselves, of course."

"Yes," Roger said. "Vasilis, what did you mean about a boost?"

"That's his branch up there," Vasilis said, pointing to a large limb veering off from the main trunk about eight feet from the ground. "I'll be lifting Phyllida up to hers in a minute, but Yannis prefers to climb up for himself."

"From inside the tree?" Caroline asked.

"It's tricky for a seven-year-old," Vasilis said. "But he's always been a little chipmunk, and he enjoys the challenge." He turned to his daughter. "Your turn, Phyllida."

He gave her one last hug, turning the embrace into a lift as he caught her under her rib cage and hoisted her up to a branch coming off the opposite side of the trunk from Yannis's and a couple of feet lower. He spun her halfway around to face the branch, and she wrapped her arms and legs around it. For a moment she stared solemnly at her father, and Caroline again felt the sense of communication as they apparently shared some private joke together. Then, crinkling her nose at him, the girl melted into and through the branch the way her brother had.

"Clothes and all," Roger murmured. "Special material?"

"Special material, special preparation, special weave," Iolanthe told him. "We used to have to do everything by hand, but now we own a small manufacturing plant where one of the lines makes clothing for all of us."

"That whole line handled by Green Laborers and Manipulators, of course," Vasilis added. "Do you want to stay, Iolanthe, or would you rather go back to the apartment and our conversation?"

"Actually, we need to be going," Caroline put in before Iolanthe could answer. "Thank you for the wonderful dinner."

"Yes, thank you," Roger added, frowning a little at Caroline. "We enjoyed spending time with your family and learning more about your culture."

"It was our privilege," Vasilis said. "Would you like me to escort you home?"

"No, that's all right," Roger said. "We'll be fine."

"As you wish," Vasilis said. "Let's go back to the homestead—I believe you left your purse there, Caroline—and we'll say good-night."

"I'll say good-night now," Iolanthe said. She reached out and took Caroline's hand, squeezing it gently rather than shaking it, then did the same with Roger. "I'll see you soon, Vasilis," she added, giving her husband a kiss. Stepping to the tree, she wrapped her arms around the trunk and melted inside.

They passed again through the trick gate, and after another roundabout path they were back at the apartment. "Again, we're glad you came," Vasilis said as he ushered them into the living room.

"Please feel free to drop by anytime you're in the neighborhood."

"We will," Roger promised. "I'd like to try one of your restaurants sometime, too. Do you have a list of their names and addresses?"

"I have one," Aleksander said, reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out what looked like a business card. "In fact—just a moment." Turning the card over, he pulled out a pen and wrote briefly on the back. "Here you go," he said, handing it to Roger.

Caroline peered over his shoulder. Beneath two lines of cryptic symbols were two more lines written in English: The bearer is entitled to two meals. It was signed Aleksander.

"That's great," Roger said. "Thank you."

"What's this other writing?" Caroline asked.

"It's Kailisti, the language we spoke back on our own world," Aleksander identified it. "Not much use here, of course, but we still teach it to our children."

"In some homesteads, the adults insist they speak it at home for a few years to make sure they don't forget it," Vasilis added.

"Did Melantha's homestead do it that way?" Caroline asked, thinking back to Melantha's accent.

"Probably," Aleksander said, smiling. "Melantha's maternal grandmother was a Pastsinger who felt very strongly about maintaining our ties to our heritage. I doubt she let Melantha and her brother even learn English until they were three or four years old." He shook his head. "She's gone now.

Two years ago."

"I'm sorry," Caroline said automatically.

Aleksander shrugged. "In general, we live longer than Humans," he said. "But in the end, death comes to us all. At any rate, thank you for coming tonight. Now that you truly understand the stakes involved, I hope you'll do the right thing if Melantha comes back to you."

"I hope she will," Caroline said. "Good-night."

Roger didn't say anything as they stepped out into the darkened street, but Caroline could sense the familiar tension in his stance and walk. They'd made it a quarter of the way down the block, and Caroline was trying to figure out how to break the ever-thickening wall of silence when he finally spoke. "There he is," he said quietly, nodding back over his shoulder. "That car pulling out—see it?"

She pretended to look at something on the ground and caught a glimpse of a car easing away from the curb. "Yes," she said. "I hope you're not too mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you at all," he said, his voice puzzled but definitely not angry. "Why would I be mad?"

"You were obviously having a good time in there, and I pulled us out," she said, feeling a sense of relief as the imaginary wall melted away. "And you were so quiet on the way out."

He shook his head. "You know, Caroline, I'm not angry with you nearly as often as you seem to think. I wasn't talking as we left because I wasn't sure who might be listening. I didn't want anyone eavesdropping while you told me what was bothering you." He looked sideways at her. "Or was I wrong about that?"

"No, I wanted to get out of there," she confirmed. "There's something wrong about all this, Roger."

He was silent for another three paces. "Can you give me a hint?" he asked. "Sorry—I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was, can you narrow it down?"

Caroline chewed at her lip, trying to put her uneasiness into words. "Maybe it's the stiffness of the whole culture," she said slowly. "The children seem almost too well behaved, the adults a little too upright and noble. And it seemed like Aleksander and the others were bending over backwards not to talk about Melantha except when we brought her up."

"Well, of course they were putting their best foot forward tonight," Roger said. "They want us to like them."

"Yes, but why?"

"Well, for starters, Velovsky's not going to live forever," Roger pointed out. "Maybe they want to establish another friendly contact in the human world for after he's gone."

"Or maybe they're just trying to manipulate us onto their side so we'll give Melantha to them if she comes back," Caroline countered. "Because they're still hiding things, Roger. That business about Persuaders not being able to order people around, for starters. I was there; I know Melantha was under Cyril's control until I snapped her out of it. And I know he was trying it with me, too."

Roger was silent a moment. "If that's true, a Persuader ought to be able to order her to reveal herself, too," he pointed out. "In which case, why wasn't Aleksander out helping with the search?"

Caroline shivered. "Maybe because he already knows where she is."

"In which case, you can say good-bye to any peace treaty," Roger said. "Hell."

"There's something else about Aleksander," Caroline went on. "There at the end he was talking to someone with that telepathic or empathic thing they do. It seemed to be something very serious or urgent."