"What will happen next?"
"That will be decided after Parilia. Right now all Yips except domestics are confined to the compound. Chiike wants to send them out to Rosalia with indenture to pay their fares. It seems that Namour is already keeping a business like that in operation."
"It sounds like a sensible idea."
"Decisions like that come from Stroma, where nothing is ever simple. It seems now that there's a faction, the Freedom, Peace and Mother-Love Society, or some such title, that won't allow anything done which might hurt the Oomphaw's feelings. Well, we'll see. Incidentally, good news for you!"
Glawen looked up in apprehension.
"Oh? What?"
"You've been assigned some important official duties over Parilia."
Glawen's heart sank.
"I'm to guard Yips at the compound."
"Quite right! That's good thinking! Additionally, you'll have a most prestigious post. The new Conservator is named Egon Tamm. He wiB be residing at Clattuc House over Parilia, until the old Conservator moves out of Riverview House. He will bring his family, which includes two children: Milo, a boy about your age, and Wayness, a girl -somewhat younger.
They are pleasant intelligent young people, very well-mannered. You have been selected to take them in charge and do your best to keep them amused during Pariiia. Why were you chosen? Be ready for a compliment. Because you too are considered pleasant, intelligent and well-mannered."
Glawen sat limply back in his chair.
"I'd rather have fewer compliments and more free time."
"Put all such thoughts aside."
"My social life is ruined."
"A Clattuc is not only reckless and brave; he is resourceful and bides his time. At least, that's how the tradition goes."
"If I must, I must," growled Glawen.
"When does this activity start?"
"As soon as they arrive from Stroma. They are probably modest and conventional; do not get them drunk so that they make themselvess public spectacles; the Conservator would not like it and he would form a poor opinion of you."
"All very well," muttered Glawen.
"But suppose they are the unruly ones: who will protect me?" | Scharde laughed.
"A Clattuc is a gentleman under all circumstances."
CHAPTER 2
On Verd morning the satyr Latuun jumped upon an abutment near the lyceum, jerked his knotted brown arms, stamped goa tish legs, then blew a skirling flourish on his pipes, to signify the beginning of Pariua. Jumping down into Wansey Way, then, blowing a melody of reedy phrases and rasping ground tones, he led a parade up Wansey Way, kicking out his hairy legs, leaping, stamping, strutting like a young animal. Costumed celebrants followed close behind, jigging and cavorting to the urgent music of Latuun's pipes, along with a score of decorated wagons, mechanical monsters, gorgeous ladies and stately gentlemen in sumptuous carriages. Musicians accompanied the procession, marching or riding on wagons; a phalanx of eight Bold Lions in costumes of tawny fur reared, charged and pounced on pretty girls along the way. Lines of gleeful children: small Pierrots and Punchinellos ran back and forth throwing handfuls of flower petals, darting sometimes under the rearing legs of Latuun himself. And who might be this satyr under his leering mask?
Latuun's identity was supposed to be a profound secret, but clearly Latuun and the man who represented him were quite comfortable with each other's personalities, and it was generally suspected that Latuun was none other than that gallant scapegrace Namour.
So began the final three days and nights of revelry, pomp, feasting, along with amorous titillation and giddy dalliance. On Verd and Milden evenings Floreste's Mummers would present one of their little interludes, which Floreste called Quirks, and on Smollen night a more extended Phantasmagoria. Then: the climactic Grand Masque, until midnight when the bittersweet music of the pavane brought an end to Pariiia, amid unmasking and tears of emotion, sometimes for the sheer tragic glory of life, and the wonder attendant upon its coming and going.
Such was Pariiia, in the form now conventionalized after a thousand years of celebration.
Glawen's plans for Parilia were disrupted by a pair of unrelated circumstances, both surprises, both irksome: the discovery of the Yip arsenal and the arrival of the new Conservator and his family at Clattuc House.
As a result of the first case, Glawen found himself, in his capacity as a Bureau B cadet, assigned to a three-hour nightly patrol of the fence surrounding the Yip compound.
The patrol was intended to counter the possibility that the Yips, drawing upon other caches of weapons, might still attempt a violent episode: in Glawen's opinion, an extremely farfetched hypothesis.
Scharde emphatically endorsed Glawen's thesis.
"You are exactly right! The chances of a sudden Yip attack are remote indeed: probably, on any given day, not more than one in ten thousand. This means that twenty or twenty-five years might pass before we are surprised and murdered by raging grinning Yips!"
Glawen grumbled: "Now you're making fun of me. I'll be patrolling with Kirdy Wook, which makes it worse."
"Oh? I thought that you liked Kirdy."
"I have nothing against him except that he's a bore." The Yips reacted to the surveillance with what seemed no more than bemused bewilderment but seasoned Yip-watchers thought to sense bitter disappointment beneath the usual affability.
Not everyone admitted even the slight possibility of a bloody Yip rampage. Namour, cool and sardonic, commented:
"I'm glad I'm not in charge around here. If I laid down decisions like this, I'd be laughed out of my job."
Chiike chanced to hear the remark.
"You're not surprised by that pile of loot out yonder?"
"Of course I'm surprised."
