Nightmare by Steven Harper Read Free Book Online

stays untucked," she snapped. "The rope goes around it like a belt. Here—let me tie that. It isn’t a curtain cord, you idiot."
      In short order, she had them shod, shirted, and belted. The fabric was far heavier and richer than anything Lizard had worn in his life and he found he was carrying himself straighter and taller. He caught a glimpse of himself and Pup in the mirror and stared. They looked like completely different people. The heavy mucker tan made a pleasing contrast with the snow-white clothing, and Pup’s eyes shone like a clear sky beneath pale hair. Lizard stared at Pup’s reflection, mesmerized.
    "What?" Pup said, noticing the stare.
      "Nothing." Lizard cleared his throat. "We’re looking good."
      "You look like dressed-up frogs," Tira growled. "But you’ll have to do. Come on. The guests will be arriving in less than an hour, and I still have to teach you how to serve."
      What followed was a whirlwind lesson in service and servant manners. Fortunately, Tira decided to put them in charge of one of the hors d’oeuvre tables in the main ballroom for the drinks and dancing portions of the party, and that meant mostly replacing empty trays with full ones from the kitchen and giving guests directions to the bar and bathrooms. Later, during the dinner portion of the evening, their sole duty would be making sure the guests’ water glasses remained full. Tira made both of them pour glass after glass from a crystal pitcher until she was satisfied with their performance.
      "It’s worth your hide if you spill one drop on guest or tablecloth," she warned, and bustled away. Lizard and Pup gave identical sighs of relief, then laughed. Lizard remembered his first night at the farm when he had heard Pup’s laugh. He still liked the sound, though he had never said so.
      A while later, the first guests began to arrive. Lizard stood behind the hors d’oeuvre table, exchanging nervous glances with Pup and trying not to fidget in his tight shoes on the hard marble floor. The unfamiliar clothes began to feel heavy and confining, and he had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
    Please please please, he pleaded silently, don’t let me screw this up.
      The ballroom was two stories tall and had a pale green marble floor shot with black. A balcony ringed the upper wall with two grand staircases at either end granting access to it. The guests were all human—Lizard hadn’t seen a single alien since the space station—and they wore a dazzling array of glittering jewels, bright colors, and rustling fabric. Several of the women were accompanied by an entourage of gems that orbited head and hair like tiny solar systems. Lizard managed not to stare and instead put what he hoped was a friendly, obsequious smile on his face. A tastefully small orchestra provided light music from the balcony, though no one danced—that would come after dinner. Lizard guessed there were well over a hundred people present.
      A steady stream of guests began to visit the hors d’oeuvre table, and Lizard found himself very busy. He and Pup alternated bringing in food trays from the kitchen, combining half-empty serving dishes, and whisking the dirty dishes away. There was, Lizard found, a certain rhythm to it, and once he got it down, it wasn’t that difficult. Once, Tira came by to inspect their work and grudgingly admitted they were doing "an adequate job." Lizard’s nervousness eased and he began to wish there were something he could do about his sore, pinched feet. He had hoisted yet another tray of empty serving dishes onto his shoulder and was heading for the kitchen when an old woman dressed all in black stopped him.
      "Where’s the restroom, please?" she asked with more politeness than most of the guests.
      Lizard nodded toward one of the staircases. "Directly through the doors under either staircase, Mistress."
    "Thank you, dear." Before Lizard realized what was happening, she reached up to pat his