I was in no hurry to seek out my fellow crew members and hasten the painful post mortem on the events of the previous day. I made myself look human, and began the somewhat lengthier task of making myself feel human again, and I waited for the knock on my door. It seemed to be a long time coming, and when it did come, it was not who I expected. It was, in fact, the Gallacellan Ecdyon. He introduced himself formally but I could tell by his clothes that he wasn’t Stylaster, and so far as I was aware we had no other Gallacellans on board yet. “Stylaster wishes me to ask whether you are fully recovered,” he said, once I’d got over my surprise and he’d had time to turn his back. “I’m not as bad as I might be,” I told him. “Stylaster wishes me to ask when you will be ready to make another attempt.” I narrowed my eyes. I knew this wasn’t on the level. Stylaster might well have asked of Charlot whether I was fully recovered, and Charlot might well have referred the interpreter to me.
