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to each other quietly. Neuptras the Angeluke went to pay his respects to a group of magnates in a box to the left of the rostrum. Nai the Hever remained in his chair.
    Mieltrude mused in bitter amusement: “Our delicate Neuptras passes the bouquet to Father.”
    “He is loathsome! But now; what of your father?”
    “He will urge Ramus; how can he do otherwise? After all, he has created my predicament.”
    “Not truly a predicament!”
    “I am unconvinced.”
    Jubal again stated his opinions. “Ramus Ymph falls far short. He is first of all a flamboyant bluff, and secondly a scoundrel.”
    Sune gave vent to a peal of laughter. “How perceptive! But these are the qualities which endear him to us!”
    Mieltrude smiled grimly. “I’d forgotten you. One moment, I’ll summon Nai the Hever and you may deliver your message.”
    Jubal scowled. “Don’t trouble now. The message can wait until after—” But Mieltrude had called to her father, who rose to his feet and approached the box, a slender man of imperturbable dignity, with silver hair and bright silver-gray eyes. He touched fingertips with Mieltrude and Sune and glanced speculatively toward Jubal. “Are you enjoying the spectacle of Ymph discomfiture?”
    “Not at all,” cried Sune. “Poor Ramus! You will stop it, won’t you?”
    Nai the Hever’s mouth trembled in a thin smile. “I am under pressure. Neuptras should have urged; instead he chose to appease the Mneiodes; he wants a favor from Myrus. Well, it all makes no great difference.”
    “To anyone but Ramus,” said Mieltrude. “And perhaps myself—if you insist upon your scheme.”
    “We shall see,” said Nai the Hever lightly. “Events move at great speeds; some are quite beyond comprehension. As for Ramus, if we make him a Servant, we keep him out of mischief, so to speak. Who is this person?”
    “He is a courier; he came to the house with a most urgent message. I decided to bring him here.”
    Nai the Hever inspected Jubal with mild astonishment. “I am expecting no courier. Where is the message?”
    Jubal reluctantly came forward. “Perhaps after the ceremony—”
    “The message, if you please.”
    Jubal produced a beige envelope.
    Eyebrows raised fastidiously, Nai the Hever broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and read aloud:
To Whom It May Concern:
The bearer, my nephew Jubal Droad, seeks employment…
    Nai the Hever read no further. Raising his eyes he fixed Jubal with a baleful stare. “Why do you bring this here?”
    “My uncle said to deliver it into your hands.”
    Sune put her hand to her mouth to smother a laugh. She failed; merriment spurted past her carnelian knuckle-bands. Mieltrude raked Jubal with a sparkling gaze, then turned a glance toward Sune, who stifled her mirth. Mieltrude spoke to her father. “He is a Glint.”
    Nai the Hever spoke in a carefully light voice: “Glint or not, you should know that one does not bring such messages to one’s home as if it were a social occasion.” He returned the letter to Jubal. “Deliver this to the Bureau of Public Employments at the Parloury offices and they will advise you as to what opportunities exist.”
    Jubal managed a jerky bow. “My instructions were to place this letter into your hands, which I have accomplished. It was evidently a mistake; I will destroy the letter. There is, however, another matter possibly more urgent than my personal concerns, and I feel I should advise you. The endorsement of Ramus Ymph is out of the question.”
    “Indeed?” Nai the Hever spoke in his flattest voice.
    Mieltrude said with great boredom, “Send him away, Father; I want to discuss the fête.”
    “Just two words,” said Jubal, “for your ears alone. Step over here, if you will.”
    Nai the Hever weighed the situation, then followed Jubal to the side of the box. The girls watched, Mieltrude in disgust, Sune in slack-jawed wonder. Jubal spoke a few quiet words; Nai’s shoulders stiffened and his face became suddenly