“You didn’t—?” Palamedes stops dead in his tracks and takes a little notebook and pencil out of his pocket, which he immediately flips open. “Fascinating. Well, it would fit the pattern. Service has been a bit lax this month, you see.” This is what passes for a joke during the month of October on the Serena Eterna. He writes something down, and then puts away the notebook again. “We’ll have to get you a lei. They’re warded, though against what I’ve yet to figure out. Given some of what we’ve come across already, it could be anything.” He glanced at his friend, grim for just a moment. “This ship isn’t safe, you see.”

They reach the ice cream parlor, and Pal pushes aside the partition to go behind the counter. “What can I get you? I don’t recommend the one called ‘long pig.’”

Don’t get complacent, Nav. The density of the post-mortem something or other will come later.