"I don't blame you. Sessily is a charmer; no doubt of it! Be off with you, and need I say " "I already know, or at least I think I do."

"Just as you like."

Glawen paused by the door.

"Whatever else, don't tell anyone, especially Aries!"

"Naturally not. Do you take me for a fool?"

"No. But you've taught me yourself never to take anything for granted."

Scharde, laughing, squeezed Glawen's shoulders.

"Absolutely right! Just don't get caught!"

Glawen laughed nervously and departed the chambers. He descended the staircase and stepped out into the night. On feet charged with energy he half walked, half ran to Veder House; then, making a wide circuit through the meadow, he approached the rose garden. He passed between a pair of great marble urns, pale in the starlight and trailing fronds of dark ivy, and so entered the rose garden. To right and left heroic statues stood in a pair of opposing rows, with beds of white roses between. Beyond loomed the towers and tiers, bays and balconies of Veder House, black except for a few random rectangles of soft yellow glow across the streaming stars of Mircea's Wisp.

Glawen walked up the central way to the far steps. He paused to listen, but the garden was silent. The scent of the white roses hung in the air; and forever after, the scent of roses would remind Glawen of this night.

' Originally "Ain-Milden" (literally "this day of silver"), equivalent to contemporary "Saturday." The word Am gradually dropped from usage and only the metal name remained. The days of the week, beginning with Monday: Ort, Tzein, Ing, Glimmet, Verd, Milden and Smollen. Translated:

iron, zinc, lead, tin, copper, silver and gold.

He was alone in the garden except for the statues. He went quietly to the place of rendezvous. Sessily had not yet arrived. He went to sit on a bench in the shadows and composed himself to wait.

Time passed. Glawen looked up at the stars, many of which he could name. He found the constellation known as Endymion's Lute. At the very center, a telescope of sufficient power would discover Old Sol ... He heard a faint sound. A soft voice called: "Glawen? Are you here?"

Glawen stepped from the shadows.

"I'm here, by the bench."

Sessily made a small wordless sound and ran to meet him;

they embraced. Intoxication! Overhead: the flow of Mircea's Wisp streaming across the void; in the garden the pale roses and the marble statues silent in the starlight.

"Come," said Sessily.

"Let's go over to the arbor, where we can sit." She led him to a round open-sided pergola with vines growing up the pillars. The two seated themselves on an upholstered bench which went halfway around the inner circumference. Minutes passed. Sessily stirred and looked up.

"You're very quiet."

"I was thinking some rather strange thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts? Tell me!"

"They are hard to describe: more a matter of mood than thoughts."

"Try anyway."

Glawen spoke haltingly.

"I looked up at the sky and the stars, and I felt a sudden openness--as if my mind were aware of the whole galaxy. At the same time I felt all the millions and billions of people who had spread through the stars. Their lives, or the people, seemed to give off a whir or a hum, really a soft slow music. For just an instant I could hear the music and I felt its meaning and then it was gone, and I was looking at the stars and you asked me why I was quiet."

After a moment Sessily said: "Thoughts like that make me gloomy. I like to pretend that the world started when I was born and will go on forever, and never change."

"That's a very mysterious universe."

"Who cares? It works nicely enough, and suits me very well, so I don't worry about the machinery." She sat up and twisted around so as to face Glawen.

"I don't want you thinking peculiar thoughts or humming weird music to yourself. It distracts your attention from me. I'm much more fun than the stars--I think."

"I'm convinced of it."

In the eastern sky a flush of pale vermilion announced the coming of Sing and Lorca, the other two stars of the system.

As they watched, first Sing, then Lorca bumped up over the horizon: Sing like a wan

orange moon; Lorca, a very bright star flashing prismatic colors.

Sessily said: "I can't stay out late. The committee is meeting at our house, and your Great-aunt Spanchetta is on hand. She and Mother always quarrel, and the meeting breaks up early."

"What committee is this?"

"They're planning the Parilia program. There's to be less entertainment at the Orpheum, and they are dealing with Master Floreste right now, which will be a trial for everyone since Master Floreste can be remarkably single-minded. The dream of his life is a new Orpheum directly across from the lyceum, and every sol from the Mummers' off-world tours goes into his fund."

"Have you told him that you are resigning?"

"Not yet. He won't care. It's something he expects. He just adapts his material to the talent, which is why he is so successful. At Parilia he'll have three short presentations and I'll be involved in all of them:

musical novelties, Verd and Milden evenings and a spectacle Smollen night, when I'm to be a butterfly with four wings.

I'd like to make my own costume, out of real butterfly wings."

"That sounds complicated."

"Not if you help me. Are you allowed to fly?"

Glawen nodded.

"Chiike signed off my advanced novice rating as of last week. I'm checked out on any of the Mitrix trainers."

"Then we can fly down to Maroli Meadow and gather butterfly wings."

"I don't see why not if your mother will approve of the idea, which somehow I doubt."

"I doubt it too if I asked in advance. So I'll tell her after we get back, if she asks. It's time that I was developing independence, don't you think? But not too much;

I'm happy to stay a little girl for a while yet ... I must go in, before Mother comes looking for me. She has her own ideas about independence."