even the air smelled differently.
Glawen stepped slowly forward, looking in wonder from right to left. Had his father gone mad? He entered the parlor, and here he discovered a buxom young woman standing before a tall mirror, apparently making final adjustments to her coiffure before going down to the House Supper. Looking at the reflection, Glawen recognized Drusilla, spouse to Aries and still-active member of Floreste's Mummers.
Drusilla took note of Glawen's reflection and looked around in mild curiosity, as if the image of a strange man in her mirror was neither a novelty nor cause for any great distress. After a moment of puzzled peering, she recognized her visitor.
"Isn't it Glawen? What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask the same question of you."
"I don't see why," said Drusilla with an arch pout.
Glawen explained patiently: "Because these are my apartments, where I live with my father. Now I find a beastly yellow carpet on the floor, a bad smell and you. I can't imagine the explanation."
Drusilla laughed: a rich contralto gurgle.
"It's quite simple. The rug is the color known as Dizzy-flower; the smell is no doubt Gorton. I am my own unique and delightful self. I take it you have not heard the news?"
A clammy sensation gathered along Glawen's back.
"I just got off the ship."
"All is explained." Drusilla put on a solemn face.
"Scharde went out on a patrol mission. This was months ago. He never came back and it is certain that he is dead. I'm sure this is a great shock for you. Are you well?"
"Yes. I am well."
"Anyway, the chambers were empty and we moved in! Now, will you please excuse me? Rest as long as you like, but I must go down to supper or face a stern dressing-down."
"I'm leaving too," said Glawen.
"Already I'm a bit late," Drusilla explained.
"I will thereby annoy Aries, which is the inexcusable crime around here."
Glawen followed Drusilla downstairs to the foyer, where he halted, leaning against the balustrade. It was not possible that his father, his dear father, was dead, lying somewhere with limbs askew, eyes staring blankly at the sky, seeing nothing! Glawen's own legs became loose;
he dropped upon a bench. In all his recent thinking, he had considered nothing so farfetched as this. Even in regard to the chambers, all logic and order seemed to be discarded;
Aries and Drusilla had no right occupying them under any circumstances!
The chambers of course were a trivial matter, if his father was truly dead. He became aware of an approaching presence, and looked up to find Spanchetta bearing down on him. She halted and stood with one hand on her hip, the other playing with the tassel of her purple sash. As always, she had bedecked herself in striking garments, and this evening she had enhanced the effect of her costume with three white plumes waving high above her magnificent mound of curls.
"Drusilla mentioned that you were here," said Spanchetta.
"It seems that she told you the news."
"In regard to Scharde? Is it certain?"
Spanchetta nodded.
"He was flying close by Mahadion Mountain during a storm and was struck by lightning; at least that is the theory. Drusilla told you nothing more?"
"Only that she and Aries have moved into my chambers. They will have to move out again, and at once."
"Not so. Unfortunately for you, Aries and Drusilla produced their son, Gorton, before your cutoff date, and he took precedence over you. You came in with a 21 and failed to gain Agency status. You are now a collateral and have no right to the chambers, and indeed are trespassing in Clattuc House at this very moment."
Glawen stared up at Spanchetta in numb astonishment. She per formed a swaggering little side step, and said: "Perhaps this is not the time to talk of such things, but your lineage was ambiguous in the first place, and you have no cause for complaint."
Through the murk of Glawen's thoughts came the ironic reflection:
Spanchetta at last is having her revenge on Scharde long delayed and, somewhat vitiated by Scharde's death, but revenge nonetheless, and sweeter than none at all.
Spanchetta turned back toward the dining room. She spoke over her shoulder: "Come, Glawen; you roust learn to deal with reality;
even as a child you were given to moping. You will find lodging adequate to your needs at the compound, and no doubt you will be assigned good and productive work."
"You are right," said Glawen.
"I must not mope." He rose to his feet, marched across the foyer in long strides almost at a run, and out the front door. Halfway down the avenue, he halted on sudden thought and returned to Clattuc House. In the majordomo's office off the foyer he asked the footman on duty: "Where is my mail? I should have letters."
"I don't know, sir. There is nothing for you here."
Once again Glawen departed Clattuc House. He made his way to Wook House. The footman on duty at the door, upon hearing Glawen's name, became instantly polite.
"Sir Bodwyn is at House Supper, but he wishes to be notified immediately upon your arrival. One moment, sir."
The footman spoke into a mesh, and listened to the responding voice. To Glawen he said: "Sir Bodwyn asks that you join him at the table."
