“Even so, the accomplishment is unusual, Man called Anubis.”

“Aw, shucks. You can call me Lance-Corporal Beta Anubis. You make it sound like there is more to boast of than there is. I learned Greek and Latin when I was young, and I had to learn English and Japanese to study the First Space Age. All educated Chimerae speak Virginian as well as Chimerical. But Virginian grew out of a dialect of Anglatino with many Nipponese loan-words and constructions thrown in. Anglatino comes out of Merikan and Spanish; Merikan came from English and Korrekthotspeek; Spanish came from Latin. So it was not that hard to pick up Merikan and Spanish.”

Preceptor Illiance opened his mouth and made a shrill, clicking squawk of noise.

Menelaus shrugged. “Yes, I can savvy Savant as well. The Sylphs used it to talk to their Mälzels, back when the Giants decivilized the world. I cannot make that modulator-demodulator squeal, because my throat isn’t adapted for it.”

Illiance sang a few chords in a tonal language of the Naturalists, and the babbling of waters, the rustle of falling leaves, the bark of fox cubs, and the cry of the loon were in his words.

“Yes, I speak Natural,” said Menelaus, scowling. “Probably better than you. You just invited me to sexual congress.”

Illiance pursed his tiny lips. “I was taught that was a correct and formal greeting.”

“Among the Nymphs, a correct formal greeting is an invitation to sexual congress.”

“I am a simple man. Our lives conform to an ascetic contour.”

“So, no buggery?”

“Not at this time,” said the Blue Man, graciously inclining his head. “And how is it you are fluent in a language devised long after your recorded interment date, Lance-Corporal Beta Anubis?”

“I wasn’t a medical case. I could thaw periodically, study my surroundings, and reinter.”

“You did not have trouble finding a Tomb once you had left it, or negotiating past the various traps and lethalities?”

“Some trouble. The coffins containing the techs who knew how to repair the worn-out coffin machinery were painted white and marked with big red crosses. They were supposed to keep all this stuff somewhere in the Tomb catacombs, in these big warehouses only they knew how to find—buried stores of gear, whole fabrication plants, nanotech-breaking columns, and other appliances of the lost technology of the Second Age.”

“They? The Knights Hospitalier?”

Menelaus narrowed his eyes. “You know the name?”

“The Sovereign Military Hospitalier Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes, of Malta, and of Colorado. The Maltese Knights. Yes. I happen to know the name. How do you happen to know it?”

“I found one of their coffins once and puzzled out the cycle to thaw the man out safely. I needed his help to reenter the Tombs.”

“What year was this?”

“Why should I answer?”

“As I said, you are under a moral obligation as an academic.”

“And if I do not recognize the obligation?”

“Ah … your father is still your father, even if you do not recognize his face in its sternness.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I will have the dogs tear your body to pieces.”

Menelaus laughed.

“You do not seem alarmed, Lance-Corporal Beta Anubis?”

“You threaten a Proven member of the Eugenic Emergency General Command of the Commonwealth of Virginia! Good thing for you I left my rock outside. Once you give a weapon a name, our customs do not allow us to bear insult or slight within the weapon’s hearing.”

“Interesting! And how did this custom arise?”

“Preceptor, let’s stick to the previous topic for a second. Do you really think you can affright a Chimera with threats?”

“A Chimera? No.”

“They why did you threaten me?”

“I am a simple man, and we make a virtue of direct methods, even if extralegal. We live in the pursuit of an effortless, uncomplicated, unthinking grace of action from an actionless center.”

Menelaus scowled. A moment passed in silence, with both men seated on the carpet, staring at each other, neither face showing much expression.

Illiance sat so still, and with such a look of serenity on his features, that Menelaus wondered if the little man had turned off part of his nervous system. It was like trying to win a staring contest with a cat. So Menelaus broke the silence.

“In my time, the record of the early days was lost, like I said. But there is enough evidence that a sufficiently smart man could piece together the clues.” Menelaus said, “The named weapons of the Chimerae originally came from the days of the Sylphs, the sky-drifting people, but the secret of their making was lost. It was the only part of their silk airskiffs that was nonbiodegradable, and survived to be found in ruins and wreckages. Each serpentine was a self-contained and self-repairing smartweapon, made of contractile metallic fibers studded with processor nodes and sensors. So they could be used as Seeing Eye dogs in the dark. They could be used as spears or lashes or flails depending on the variability settings, or as shock prods to paralyze, torture, stun, or kill. The serpentines were blood-coded to recognize owners. I suppose the early Chimerae lost the ability to change the blood-recognition codes, so the serpentines had to pass from father to son, and no one could take another family’s weapon. In any case, the serpentines could understand human speech, and the onboard weapon-brain would set its own level of lethality depending on its assessment of the nature of the threat.”

Illiance blinked in confusion. “Why are you saying this information? What does it import?”

“You asked me. About the source of the custom. I’m telling you. The Chimerae found out they had to act as if every insult was a deadly threat, or otherwise the serpentines would not fight correctly when nothing but honor was at stake. That’s why Chimerae introduce their weapons first. Usually the weapon was a lot older and scarier than the man carrying it, not to mention a veteran of a lot more duels and battles.”

“You employ suppositious phrasing?”

Menelaus shrugged. “What I am telling you is an educated guess.”

He did not mention that he had worked out the theory while he sat there, organizing the scattered clues into a pattern, based on what little he knew of the Chimera history and customs, and what he could extrapolate from their etymology, and the great deal he knew about the serpentines, whose final and perfect form he had designed.

Illiance said, “Thank you. That account has scholastic value.”

Menelaus said, “Well, no reason to cheat out of a moral obligation if I don’t have to. You’re welcome.”

“And the year you learned the Natural language?”

“A.D. 6064. I would give you the date in their calendar, but every year was Year One to the Nymphs.”

“The Gregorian calendar continues in use by the Sacerdotal Order, who also renounce the Neurosphere, and are nonjurors. It is known to antiquarians for documentary purposes. But in our calendar, the current year is 59485 A.V.”

“Hm. In that case, I learned their tongue in what would have been 55034 of your calendar. What event are you counting up from? The invention of agriculture? The Seven Daughters of Eve? The Extinction of the Neanderthals?”

Illiance smiled shyly. “Oh no, you have reversed your calculation. By our reckoning, you were among the Naturalists in the year 63936 A.V.; which stands for Antevindication, or ‘Before the Vindication.’ You see, we do not count up from a past event. We count down to an event yet to come.”

Menelaus put his hand before his face to hide his expression, but his eyes were wide with astonishment, and wet with tears.

“What if the … event … you hope for never comes?” Menelaus asked, frowning and wiping his face hastily.

“Then our calendar system will be held up to the scorn of whatever creatures possess the mandate of history after we pass into extinction. Or, it may be that they prove to be right-minded creatures, and therefore will admire the serene steadfastness of our hope, even though the hope eventually proved false.”