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“I’m going to have to stay at least a week with Aunt Askush this time,” he told his wife. “Legal matters. I think she’s drawing up a will or some such,” he added, hoping that this would keep Embelsira happy and convinced.

Maybe it worked too well. “But why can’t I come with you? I’ve always wanted so much to meet her.”

“I keep telling you her illness is a disfiguring one; she won’t meet strangers. And don’t say you’re not a stranger—you’d understand, but she’s the one who wouldn’t. Please don’t nag me, Belsir.”

“Sometimes I think you’re a stranger, Balt,” Embelsira declared emotionally.

“Yes, dear, I’m a stranger, anything you say, but let me get packed.” He started folding a robe crookedly, hoping it would distract her into taking over the job.

But she leaned against the lintel, staring at him. “Balt, sometimes I wonder if you really have an aunt.”

The only thing he allowed himself to do was put down the robe he was holding. “Do you think I send expensive toilet sets to myself? You must think Piq’s right—I’m just plain crazy.”