Talahran stared at tge screen thoughtfully, idly drumming
his fingers on the workstation's case.  "N'derrach pethan," he said,
just as thoughtfully.
        Kathalla dropped her paintbrush and looked up with a start.
"You'd better not mean that...  And since when did you know how to
swear in Deralli, anyway?"
        "Oh, that?  That's just something Freyhla said last time I
dropped him.  I asked him what it meant, and he told me.  I wish he
hadn't, but it seemed apropriate to the moment," said Talahran,
gesturing towards the screen.  "Read this."
        Kathalla got up and walked over to the computer.  She read
the mail on the screen, idly rubbing Tal's shoulders.  After a few
seconds, she stopped.  "Shit," she said simply.
        Talahran nodded.  "I know Adrian's bean meaning to clear up
that confusion over who's who, but this time...  It may have been a
minor act of forgetfulness on his part, but I think we're going to
have to hurt him."
        "Is someone going to get hurt?"
        All heads, except Spot's, as he was crashed out on the couch,
turned towards the human as he came down the stairs, grocery bags in
hand.
        "You are!" chorused Talahran, Kathalla, and Zalth.  Spot
stirred on the couch, jogged out of sleep by the noise, and brought
fully awake by the smells eminating from the paper bags Adrian was
holding.
        "Uh, guys?" begged Spot in a tired voice, "Can't we hurt him
_after_ dinner?"
        "I thought we were going to do that anyway, this being our
weekly Journal Entry re-enactment night..." mused Adrian.  "But Spot's
right, food before fun!"  He put the bags on the table and started
rummaging through one.  Pulling out a pair of carry-out boxes, he
called, "Who ordered the barbeque shrimp?"
        Spot raised a hand, "It's not that $1.49 special again, is it?"
        Adrian laughed, "Would I do that to my star performer?"  He
tossed the cartons toward Spot who, quickly shaking off the last traces
of sleep, managed to catch them.
        "Mmmm..." Spot mmmm'd, sniffing at them.  "This almost makes up
for the work schedule you have me on for the new story."
        "What?" mocked Zalth, "Playing the Mighty Wizard (TM) too hard
on you?"
        Spot flipped Zalth the bird, tracing a few runes in the air with
his outstretched finger.
        "What theaaaereeech!"
        Where Zalth had stood now sat a smallish, confused-looking hawk
with blue feathers.  Applause burst out from the other three in the room.
        Spot stood up and bowed, then sat down to eat.  "You know," he
said around bites of sauce-covered shrimp, "the only problem with that
spell is that I can never quite get the target's intellect back all the
way when I reverse it."
        Kathalla snickered, "Given what Zalth had upstairs in the first
place, will we even notice the difference?"
        Spot started to chuckle, then to cough violently, spraying bits
of shrimp all over.  "No, he said when he'd recovered, "probably not."
        Adrian grinned and fished another carton out of the bag.
"Okay, vegie stir-fry?"
        Talahran raised his hand and Adrian tossed him the box and a pair
of chopsticks.
        "Let's see...  Next we have three pounds of raw steak."
        Zalth let out an indignant squawk and winged across the room to
land on the table.
        "Take that tone with me again and it'll be birdseed for you,
draco..." warned Adrian, wagling a finger that Zalth had the sense not to
bite off.
        Adrian took another pair of boxes out, read the labels, and gave
Kathalla a steady look.  "Are you sure about this order, Kath?"
        She nodded, grinning.
        "Then on your head be it.  One order of Meenzal chow mein, extra
spicy."
        Talahran gagged, coughing.  "Great," he muttered, "I had to fall
in love with a suicidal bat."
        Spot nodded sympathetically, "Bob's gonna be pissed."
        Kathalla just laughed.  "Somehow I don't think he'll mind.  If an
individual Meenzal is weak enough or stupid enough to end up in the meat
section at Safeway, who's to mourn the loss?"
        Adrian thought for a bit, "I'm still a tad skeptical, but I
guess...  Okay, now let me guess: the chocolate cake and multivitamins
goes to Ebony?  Where is she anyway, she never misses a J.E. night..."
        Spot crumpled up his empty carry-out containers.  "She's out,"
he coughed, "entertaining... a trio of furfans she met on the 'net."
        "Which, I would hazard a guess, brings us back to our orriginal
subject...  What was it y'all wanted to hurt me about?" asked Adrian as
he dug into his brocolli beef.
        Talahran got out of his chair and gestured towards the computer,
"Have a seat, human."
        The human sat down at the console, not at all comfortable with
the barely suppressed snarl in the scribe's tone.
        Talahran reached over Adrian's shoulder to tap a few keys,
bringing up e-mail.  "Read that," he growled shortly.
        Adrian read the message, then read it again, relaxing somewhat.
"That's it?  This is merely a minor misunderstanding.  I'll just tell
them we're not the same person; I'm the masochist, you're just
submissive.  She's welcome to visit me any time with that book!"  He
reached for the keyboard.
        "Not so fast," growled Kathalla.  "What makes you think they'll
believe you?  It's common enough knowledge that all our mail goes through
your account, and Brian's convinced my little fox here is in some way
responsible for whatever dirty trick you're planning.  What makes you
think that whatever you say won't just be taken as a cheap effort on
Talahran's part to get out of a flogging?"
        Adrian pouted, "I hope she'd be considerably more creative than
_that_..."  Then he considered, "You're right, of course.  The timing
alone would relegate any attempt at explaination immediately into the
category of an excuse."  He thought for another minute or so, then turned
to Talahran.  "I may not be able to save you from the err... talents of
Lythandi's creative side, but I can make up for it by letting you deserve
it."
        Talahran's ears perked up just a little, "I'm listening..."
        Adrian leaned close and whispered a few sentences, his grin and
Talahran's growing steadilly.
        "Not bad," commented Talahran when Adrian had finished.  "I
believe the Terrans even have a special word for a stunt like that."  he
reached for his Velan-English/English-Velan dictionary and flipped
through it for a few seconds.  "Ah, here it is...  What your proposing is
a 'felony', I believe."  He snickered, "One or two more tricks like this
and we'll have Brian raising his shields every time he sees a priority
mail sticker."  He and Adrian shared an evil chuckle.
        "Damnfool crazy males..." muttered Kathalla.
        Just then a silent form floated, as much as walked, down the
stairs, coming to a stop jut behind Adrian.  The form was gauzy,
indistinct, occasionally translucent.  It appeared to be a robed
felimorph, vaguely feminine and of uncertain coloration.
        "What the Terra is _that_?!?" swore Kathalla, pointing.
        Adrian turned to look.  "Oh, her.  She's an Idea.  She doesn't
have a name yet, but she's basically you, Kathalla, translated over to the
world Spot's been loosing so much sleep working in lately.  To be blunt,
she's beautiful, strong, fast, and deadly, just like our favorite little
Deralli here.  I'm sure the two of you will get along wonderfully."
        "Oh great," quipped Spot, "another mouth to feed."  But he didn't
look at all disappointed as he eyed the new arival up and down.
        "I'm home!"  With a yell, Len threw himself down the stairs,
landing on something bouncy and invisible that was probably all in his
mind.  "It's J.E. night!  What year are we up to?"
        Adrian checked his files.  "844."  Browsing through the text
rapidly, he groaned.
        Len, looking over his shoulder, chuckled lecherously.  "This
looks like fun...  Kathalla, look through the toy box and find the strap-
on.  Ebony's not with us tonight?  Okay...  Now Zalth-"  Len spotted
Zalth's current form for the first time.  "I'm almost affraid to ask...
Anyway, we need another male, so..."  He shrugged and gestured, and
abruptly a 250-pound dracomorph was standing on some raw, peck-covered
meat and a flimsy card table.  The meat survived, somewhat tenderized.
        Adrian shot Len a dirty look, "You're buying me a new table."
        Len just grinned.  "Places, everyone!"