Chalk one up for Twirlip of the Mists

I wonder how many more goodies would turn up if I read A Fire Upon The Deep again. This is just from a quote I saw. (emphasis mine)

"May we sit with you?" she asked, savoring the familiar language.

"Please do." The twitterer looked like a small ornamental tree sitting in a six-wheeled cart. The cart was marked with cosmetic stripes and tassels; its 150-by-120-centimeter topside was covered with a cargo scarf in the same pattern as the signet flag. The creature was a Greater Skroderider. Its race traded through much of the Middle Beyond, including Sjandra Kei. The Skroderider's high-pitched voice came from its voder. But speaking Samnorsk, it sounded homier than anything she'd heard in a long time. Even granting the mental peculiarities of Skroderiders, she felt a surge of affectionate nostalgia, as if she had run into a old classmate in a far city.

"My name is—" the sound was the rustling of fronds, "but you can easier call me Blueshell.

Six-wheeled! Haxapodia! (Or hexacyclic, anyway.)