"He's seen it all before. He's an ardent Mummer, if you can believe it. So is Kirdy, for that matter."
"What about you?"
"I've never had the urge. And you?"
"There aren't any pageants or performances at Stroma."
"Why is that?"
Wayness shrugged.
"I suppose that the folk at Stroma don't care Kt sit like clams and watch other people perform."
"Hm. I must think this over a bit."
The banquet proceeded, while on the Orpheum stage Florestt!
presented his Phantasmagoria: a potpourri of pantomime, frivolitys ballet and sheer spectacle, controlled by a loose weft of ideas. 2 The production was entitled The Charming Antics of the Bugtowa Folk, and dealt with the affairs of assorted insects, all dressed as peasants. Foliage and painted scenery indicated a village of sma] cottages and shops in a dark nook of the forest, with a broken pedesta of gray-green marble to the rear. Insects scurried here and there;
transacting bits of business, usually with droll consequences. ^ company of small beetles danced to the chirping, scratching, honking music of an insect orchestra. A white chrysalis hung on a tree to the side; from time to time the sides bulged and jerked as if from activity within. The bugs gathered to watch, in awe and reverence.
The activity inside the pale shell became more urgent, and the orchestra began to accent the thrusts and bumps with plangent guttural tones.
The chrysalis began to break open; light focused on the activity and left the rest of the stage in darkness.
The chrysalis broke open; instantly the orchestra became still. Out of the aperture hopped a horrid little white imp, with distorted features defined in black. It made gleeful chittering sounds, then went fleeting from the stage in bounds and jumps, while insects and orchestra produced sounds of consternation.
The light shifted from the broken shell and for a moment die stage was passive. Then: a sudden splash of new light to the top of the pedestal, and there stood Sessily the butterfly, body encased in a soft gray stuff, antennae sprouting from her forehead. The wonderful wings waved as if of their own accord, in exact gentle rhythm.
Sessily turned slowly upon the pedestal, wings beating continually, her face a study in entranced concentration.
She sank to a cross-legged sitting pose, the wings quivering and vibrating, to show off their startling color: purples and greens, deep reds, burning dark yellows, velvet black, as rich as any of the colors.
Sessily slowly rose to her feet, as if lifted by the wings.
She stood smiling a rapt half-smile, delighted with the easy movemect of the wings. Every eye watched her in fascination;
she made an image of irresistible appeal and Glawen's heart seemed to contract in his chest.
Other parts of the stage had gone dark. From the side came a grinding roar. The lights fled from the pedestal; white glare picked out a band of imps armed with grotesquely tall halberds. The insects recoiled in confusion, then rallied and attacked with all ferocity. The imps were stung, rasped, pinched by mandibles, constricted by centipedes, gnawed by beetles. The stage spotlight, wan and diffuse, swam here and there about the stage. It touched the pedestal; the butterfly was gone.
From the orchestra came an outburst of frenzied polyphony which almost at once went quiet; except for a white spotlight wandering here and there the stage was dark.
The insects, glimpsed in the moving light, had become busy.
With huge mallets, presses and rollers they flattened the imps to thin stiff sheets, distorting the features into near-abstract patterns.
From the direction of the pedestal came the sound of pounding.
The light, straying upon the pedestal, discovered insects nailing flattened imps into a crude representation of a white and black butterfly.
A curtain of opaque air swept down to conceal the stage.
Floreste came briskly out upon the proscenium.
"The Mummers and I hope that you have enjoyed our efforts. As you probably know, all our talent is recruited here at Araminta Station; they work with great dedication to produce our effects.
"Now I will make my pitch, but it will be short. This Orpheum has given us many hours of pleasure, but it is small and sadly obsolete, so that every production played here becomes an adventure in itself.
"Many of you know that we are planning a new Orpheum. When the Mummers play off-world all proceeds go into a fund to build a new Orpheum, the finest such complex in the Gaean Reach.
"Shamelessly I request your contributions, that we may bring the reality of the New Orpheum closer. Thank you."
Floreste jumped down from the stage, and was gone.
Glawen turned to Wayness and Milo.
"And there you have it:
one of Floreste's inventions. Some like them; others don't."
"At the very least, he holds your attention," said Wayness.
Milo grumbled: "I'd like it better if I knew what was going on."
"Most likely Floreste doesn't know himself. He improvises left and right and devil take the hindmost."
"There is certainly something to be learned here," mused Milo.
