They tried to educate her. Oh how they tried. They lectured her on every subject. History, Geography, Literature, even Economics. But the result was always the same: Luna sitting perfectly upright, hands clasped together in front of her, saying “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I think I missed it,” as many times as they tried. She was mocking them, and there was only so much of it they could take. She knew it. So why continue?
“You should know,” said Pek-Tchat to her after nearly three weeks of this had come and gone, “that you’re making your own position here very precarious. There are people in this city that would rather see you exiled.” They were in the cavernous Library of Scrolls, each one secure in a square shelf of its own in the wall of Tchat’s house. Luna had never found a way out, or even a way down. She wondered if anyone here had ever been to the surface. She had seen walkways from the windows, reaching between the tall, tall houses. The people below must live their whole lives in the shadow of these houses. Do you know they’re there? Or do you just assume the food comes from the kitchens like magic?
Luna said nothing. Tchat sat down opposite her at the reading table. “What is it you want?” he said. “I’ve tried to help you. To lift you up to our standards. The best tutors in Tond have been brought before you, and you’ve sent them all packing. What do you want?”
“Listening to me would be a start,” Luna said. “I’ve never hidden what I wanted from you. I want to leave, I want to go to my ship, and I want to get home. I don’t care about becoming a citizen. I don’t care about your rich history or your literary tradition. I want to go home. And I want my Asta back.”
“Hm.” said Tchat. “I might be able to arrange a visit with your friend. She’s with the Philosopharium for study (literally: house of philosophy). From what I’ve heard she’s a lot more… compliant.”
Luna surged forwards. “What kind of tests have you been running on her?” she hissed, grabbing the man’s hand with a vise grip. She felt bones shift.
“Relax,” winced Tchat. “She hasn’t been harmed. We’re not tribals. They’ve been asking her questions, and she’s been asking them back. Exchange of ideas, Lyonna. It’s the basis of any free society.”
“I’ve got an idea for you,” said Luna, letting go of Tchat’s hand. “Let me go!” She stormed to the door. “And stop calling her my friend! Just because you people can’t wrap your heads around it. She’s my woman. I just want to see her.”
And she was gone. Tchat rang a bell that he carried with him, and a servant was at his elbow in a moment.
“Send somebody to the Philosopharium,” he said. “See if we can get them to make a swap.” Then he got up and went to the shelves and selected a scroll. A History of the Gnarcs, Part Nine flew into his hand.
It was times like this the council was almost more trouble than it was worth.

When she got back to her cell there was something laid out on her neatly-made bed. It was an evening dress, the kind that the ladies wore on the society outings she was occasionally wheeled out for. A man she didn’t recognise was suddenly outside the bars.
“I hope you like it,” he said.
“What is this?” said Luna, poised for a fight, her fists balled.
“I had hoped that would be obvious. It’s a dress.” The man smirked. He had an easy charm that made Luna instantly suspicious. “But I’m being incredibly rude. Please allow me to introduce myself: Fil Vo-Vakis. His Grace’s tailor,” he added when the name passed over Luna without changing her expression. He smiled winsomely and went on: “I do hope the dress is to your liking. I had to estimate the measurements, of course. We can make adjustments before the ball tomorrow.”
“Ball?” Luna said. “I don’t dance. Not at formals.”
“I understand,” said Vo-Vakis. “I hate them myself. All those stuffed shirts who think they own the place, just because they – well – own the place.” Luna laughed. Vo-Vakis carried on: “Unfortunately, both of us have to be there, on orders from His Grace and the council.”
“Isn’t he on the council?”
“Pek-Tchat, on the council?” said Vo-Vakis as if the thought itself was amusing. “He’d rather die. He’s no friend of the council. Says they’re too…” he struggled for a word Luna would understand. “Too nice, I suppose. Too… forgiving of the underclass. If he had his way, I think he’d stamp them out.” Vo-Vakis related this as if it was as normal as talking about the weather.
“And you work for him?” said Luna. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
Vo-Vakis shrugged. “Got to work for someone,” he said. “I can’t exactly change his mind. Try it on,” he said suddenly, pointing to the dress.
“Right now?” said Luna, looking pointedly at him.
“I need to know what adjustments to make,” he said. “I’ll turn my back.”
He did so. Luna, after double- and triple-checking to see there weren’t any mirrors or secret devices he could sneak a peek with, peeled off the functional servant’s clothes that she was furnished with for day to day use. The dress was held together with a couple of straps that tied off behind her. It was a muted dark blue, almost purple. Casually, Luna wondered what they used for dyes on this planet. Beetles and flowers? Some kind of mineral? She tied the straps and passed them over her head. The dress fit perfectly, although Luna felt absurd. She coughed politely, and Vo-Vakis turned around.
“Hm,” he said. “Not bad.” He looked pensive, one hand on his hip while he tilted his head side to side. “I think I can make some adjustments.”
“Really?” said Luna. Vo-Vakis nodded, walking around her.
“Now that I look at it – can I?” he asked, gesturing towards a place where the smooth, soft fabric was rumpled by the curve of Luna’s torso. She nodded, and he began to point out every imperfection in the garment. “See – this isn’t supposed to pinch like this – this should be flat – I’ve made a real hash of it here-” he paused, looked up. “-None of this is your fault, I have to stress – see this hemline is uneven? – My job is to flatter what’s there, not wish for a different model – still, I have to say, for a first attempt… not bad.”
Luna looked at the strange, energetic little man. He was a little bit out of breath, so frantic had been his frenzy of self-correction.
“Now, um. I’ll have to take it with me to make the adjustments,” he said. “All filed away up here.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “I’ve been doing this a long time.”

When Vo-Vakis had gone, as rapidly and abruptly as he had appeared, Luna sat back on the bed. A ball? Tomorrow? Hadn’t she done enough to convince them that was a bad idea? Did she have to start biting people?
But what Pek-Tchat had said about tribals, what Vo-Vakis had told her about the so-called ‘underclass’, was starting to make her blood boil. Confirmation of her suspicions about this tower, this city. She felt a sudden, unexpected pang of nostalgia for Shten and Vich-Clac and Ren and the farmer and drinking root moonshine until sunrise and playing dice. Where were they now? Part of that dark underclass that never saw sunlight in the shadow of the likes of his so-called ‘Grace’ and the council.
She started to form a plan, or the beginnings of one anyway. The council would be there, right? Her heart was in her mouth as Vo-Vakis coaxed her up the steps to the door of the manor. Was this all the ruling class here did – go to each other’s parties? She looked around. Faces her near-perfect recall recognised from the garden party, and the others that the lady of the house was given to hosting.
The dress which had felt perfect now felt like a prison that she couldn’t escape from, exposing her to the judging eye of anyone who cared to look.
She pulled back. Ahead, Pek-Tchat and his woman continued up the long staircase towards the red and gold entryway. Vo-Vakis stopped, grabbing her hand.
“Luna, I know you’re nervous. I am too. Trust me,” he said. “You look perfect.”
That was the least of her worries really, but the platitude salved her for a moment which the man seized on like the best street hustler. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go and find Asta.”
As they entered the cavernous reception hall of the house the echoing voice of a servant rang out ahead:
“Fil Vo-Vakis and the ALIEN!” and the second set of doors began to open.