It was certainly a shock to see Maribelle, not least after her untimely death. The Agan had a spectacular funerary rite, laying the deceased to rest in their starship and setting it for a suborbital burn, leaving a fiery trail of immolation and honor.

“I don’t suppose,” Lars said, “that I can ask you anything about what happens afterwards?”

The spectral, serpentine form of his one-time paramour, who everyone had been certain was the love of his life as soon as he and she both figured it out, smiled. “I’m not allowed to answer any questions about things like that,” she said wistfully. “But…”

“But?”

“But I am allowed to ask them, or carry messages.”

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