He was surprised to see that, although both were wearing long academic robes and looked so frail and ancient that a strong wind might blow them over, they were very different to each other. The scholar who had spoken had a large, bulbous head, wrinkled with papery purple skin, and ringed with blinking eyes. He stood slightly taller than the second, a frail, six-armed female who was hunched over, John assumed from the weight of her years. So thin, she looked almost like a walking skeleton, she leaned on the purple-skinned scholar’s arm as she shuffled forward. “Welcome to Kerallin. I am Socrat,” wheezed the purple-skinned scholar, as the two stopped before the class. He inclined his head towards the other scholar. “This is Aristil.” “It appears Sergeant Jegger has done a commendable job educating you in Space Flight,” said Aristil, looking along the row of students. John leaned forward, straining to hear her soft voice. Aristil’s eyes, he noticed, glittered with intelligence.
