Harry Turtledove - Down in The Bottomlands (and Other Places)

“I know that now. So does Kuurikwiljor, and we honor you for it. But we only learned the truth in the past few days. At the time — at the time, Judge Scoglund, all we knew was that you had not come. My sister was not pleased.”

“I see. I was afraid of that. I’m sorry. I did try to get in touch after I left, but I had no luck. But if she isn’t angry any more, Pauljuu, perhaps-”

“I am sorry too, Judge Scoglund, but I fear you do not see yet. A few days after you — well, after you disappeared, as we thought then — a noble named Kajoo Toopa made an offer of marriage for Kuurikwiljor. The rank of our family, which is higher than his own, made him willing to overlook her being a widow. After some thought, she accepted. The ceremony was performed eight days ago. Patjam kuutiin, Judge Scoglund.”

“ ‘The world changes,’ ” Park echoed dully. “Uh-huh.” After a moment, he remembered enough manners to add, “I hope they will be happy together. Thank you for letting me know, Pauljuu.” He hung up. Dunedin came in, saw his face. “Bad news, Judge Scoglund? The lady is ill?”

“Worse than that, Eric. The lady is wed.” He had the somber satisfaction of watching Monkey-face’s jaw drop.

“What now?” his thane said.

“That’s a good asking.” Park slowly walked into the kitchen, Dunedin tagging along behind. When he opened the pantry, his eye lit on a jug whose shape he knew. He undid the stopper, sniffed, nodded. This was the stuff, all right — one whiff was enough to make his eyes cross. “Here’s what now, by God.”

Thane’s thane that he was, Monkey-face had already found two mugs. Park poured. Both men drank. Both men coughed. After the coughing was done, though, the pleasant glow remained in Park’s middle and rose rapidly to his head. He poured again.

After three or four shots, Dunedin said, “Judge Scoglund, do I rickly recall you teaching me some song-?”

“Hmm?” Then Park remembered too. “So you do, old boy, so you do.” He took a deep breath, turned his baritone loose: “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer! If one of those bottles should happen to fall-”

Monkey-face chimed right in: “Ninety-eight bottles of beer!”