Baptiste quickly forgot his own distress. “What the hell are you?”
“A Kziznvxrfn. My name is Svkszvhgfh Ezhrozprh, but you can just call me Ezra.”
“Uh, all right, Ezra.” Baptiste glanced over his shoulder at the malfunctioning tube that had dumped him here. “I"ve never met a real Kzizn.”
“We"re really an affable bunch, once you get past the smell.”
“And the sound.”
“Yes, well, that too,” Ezra said. The tendrils waved in unison in what looked to be a shrug.
Baptiste decided to venture a hunch. “So why"d you bring me here? How"d you bring me here?”
“You"re a sharp one. Hmm, yes, the why and the how. You"re one of the caretakers for Princess Cybill Zenon. She calls you Bap.”
“It"s the only part of my name she can remember.”
“A terribly impaired young woman. Tragic, what happened at h
