"You will sit there, next to your Great-aunt Clotilde. I will be at your other side.

Lead the way."

Glawen set his coat, squared his shoulders and advanced into the dining room. The company on hand stilled its talk;

flippant remarks hung in the air; chuckles and titters dwindled into silence; all heads turned to stare at the new arrivals.

Looking neither right nor left, Glawen marched around the table, with Scharde coming behind. There were mutters and whispers; clearly rumors regarding Glawen'sSI and his imminent shock had already

seeped around the table. Such an hem of news, with its implications and scope for tragic drama, was too choice to be contained. All now awaited the moment when Fratano's announcement would blast Glawen's life and everyone covertly studied the victim-to-be. Schardc smiled his faint smile.

Glawen arrived at his place, with Scharde close behind. A pair of footmen pulled back their chairs and slid them forward after GlaweB and Scharde had seated themselves. The company resumed its previous occupation; all was as before, and Glawen was ignored: an almost insulting indifference, in Glawen's view. The dinner, after all, was in celebration of his personal birthday. He turned a haughty glance around the table, but no one noticed. Perhaps some grotesque and splendid vulgarity might be in order, after all.

Glawen put the idea asade; it had no real temptation for him, and his father would be embarrassed. He studied the company: his uncles:

aunts and cousins of high and low degree, together with a single great-grandparent. All were arrayed in fine garments and stylish ornaments, and seemed to take pleasure in the act. The ladies wore gowns of rich fabric and feather-weave, and many displayed their jewels;

alexandrites, emeralds, rubies, and carbuncles, topaz and purple tourmaline from sites about Deucas;' sphanctonites from dead stars, and Maidhouse crystals, found at a single sate in all the expanse of th Gaean Reach.

The gentlemen wore coats and tight trousers of soft twill in contrasting colors: often dark buff and blue, or maroon and cedar green:

or black and deep mustard ocher. Among the young gallants, white shoes were all the rage, and the more dashing clasped the left sidi of their scalps with silver mesh from which lifted clusters of silva prongs, to striking effect. Among this latter group was Aries, who sat six places around the table from Glawen, with Spanchetta beside him.

There could be no question as to Spanchetta's intense and pungent vitality. Not the least of her attributes was the remarkable mass of raven-black curls, barely disciplined, which surmounted her head and swayed perilously as she looked this way and that. The placement of her glittering black eyes, close by the bridge of her nose, accentuated the expanse of her marmoreal cheeks. Today she wore a mageoti gown, cut low to display the white pillar of her neck and a good deal of what depended below. Spanchetta had darted a single glance toward The Conservator ignored the almost universal passion for gem collecting, so lonj as no significant mining operations were attempted.

Glawen which assimilated every detail of his appearance;

then, with a faint sniff, she looked away and paid him no further heed.

Next beside Spanchetta Sat Minis, her mild and diffident husband, distinguished principally by his drooping ash-blond mustache. He was now concerned with the problem of drinking wine without wetting his mustache.

Fratano stood at the side table reserved to retired Clattucs, making polite conversation with his father, Damian, a long-retired Past Master, now well over ninety years old. Resemblance between the two was striking; both were gaunt, pallid, high of forehead, long of nose, upper lip and chin.

The table was almost full. Only Garsten and Jalulia, Glawen's grandparents, were not yet present. The footmen poured wine for Glawen and Scharde, Green Zoquel and Rimbaudia, both Clattuc wines, and prizewinners at last year's Parilia. Glawen essayed a goodly gulp of the Zoquel, which caused Seharde surprise and mild alarm.

"The wine is strong! Much more and you'll be snoring on the table with your hair in the soup!"

"I'll be careful." Glawen shifted his position and tugged at his new coat, which felt stiff and tight, while the new trousers not only constricted his shanks, but rode high in the crotch, causing him acute discomfort. Such, he told himself, was the price one paid for the enjoyment of high style, and little could be done about it. He forced himself to sit quietly, hands in his lap. Aries bent down his head and turned him a pursy grin. No matter if Housemaster Fratano fixed hi sSI at 50. Glawen swore that he would betray emotion by not so much as a twitch.

Minutes went by at a slow march. Fratano continued to chat with Damian. Garsten and Jalulia still had not arrived.

Glawen sighed. Would dinner never be served? He looked around the table. Never had his senses seemed so alert, nor his perceptions so keen! He studied the faces of his kin.

All were strangers. Remarkable! It was as if a curtain had slipped, revealing, if only for an instant, truth not intended for his knowing Glawen sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. An odd but useless notion. Foolishness, of course. He essayed another sip of wine. Scharde made no comment. Voices rose and fell, or lapsed momentarily into silence, as if everyone had decided to use the same instant to formulate his next words. The time was middle afternoon; light from Syrene slanted through tall windows, reflecting from high ceilings and white walls, playing across the tablecloth, glinting on the glass and silver.

At last Garsten and Jalulia entered the room. They paused behind

Glawen, and Garsten touched his shoulder.

"Today: the great occasion,! eh? I remember my own sixteenth; how long ago it seems now! But Pi still remember the tension! Even though I was born A-be, I was stilll in dread of being sent off across the Reach, into some dark cold I hinterland. But the Mad Dog' coughed up a 19, and I was in, and! lucky for you, eh? Otherwise you'd be hunkered down over a plate off beans on some cold far world while the leeches hopped around' the mud and the natives howled, and gargoyle hawks ravaged your flocks."

Jalulia chided him: "What nonsense you talk! If you had actually' failed and had been turned out, we would never have met and Glawen would not be here now."

"All to the same effect! Well, we can only hope that the Mad Dog plays you fair."

"I hope so too," said Glawen.

Garsten and Jalulia went to their places; Fratano stepped down to his own chair. He looked at a slip of paper beside his service plate, read, then turned to inspect the faces around the table.

"Ah, Glawen, there you are. Today you come into the proud estate of provisional! The opportunities of life are now open to you! I am sure that through diligence and duty you will, at the very least, arrive at the condition' of noble and self-reliant manhood, no matter whether your life is to;

be lived here, as an agent of the Conservancy, or elsewhere, in what;

might prove an equally rewarding career!"

Glawen listened, feeling the attention of all eyes.

Fratano proceeded.

"I will today utter no lengthy peroration; should you feel the need of instruction or wise counsel, you need only apply to me, and it shall be forthcoming. Such is my obligation to every- Clattuc of the House, from low to high.

"Now, then: to definite matters. I see no reason to prolong the suspense. I have here the official statement of your SI." Fratano lifted the paper, threw back his head and looked down his nose at the inscription.

"Here, as yielded by impersonal and accurate processes of calculation, is your SI. I announce the number to be--" he raised his head and gazed around the attentive faces-- "24."

Eyes blinked, then swung to fix upon Glawen. From Spanchetta came a startled cry, which she quickly stifled. Aries stared first at Glawen, then turned to gaze numbly at his mother, who sat hunched forward, scowling down into her wine.

Glawen was now expected to utter a few remarks. He rose to his.

' Mad Dog: colloquial term for the Bureau A computer. 34 feet and bowed politely toward Fratano. His voice quavered so slightly that no one noticed but Scharde.

"Thank you, sir, for your good wishes. I will truly do my best to become both a good agent of the Conservator and a credit to Clattuc House."

Fratano asked: "And where will you work, or have you chosen?"

"I have already been accepted into Bureau B."

"A sound choice! We need careful and vigilant patrols if we are to keep Marmion Land' clear of the Yips."

The Yip footmen smiled somewhat self-consciously at Fratano's remarks, but otherwise showed no reaction.

Glawen sat down to a spatter of applause, and footmen began to serve the supper. Conversation once more became general, and all declared that never for an instant had they believed the wild rumor in regard to Glawen, which was on the face of it absurd. Furtive glances were turned toward Spanchetta, who sat like a stone, until suddenly, as if at a signal, she became animated, even ebullient, and conducted four conversations at once.

Now that Glawen was no longer to be considered a pariah, his Great-aunt Clotilde, a tall breezy woman of middle age, condescended to speak with him. She keenly enjoyed the game of epaing, and considered herself knowledgeable in regard to the game's tactical intricacies; she now conveyed to Glawen a number of her opinions.

With Scharde's advice in mind, Glawen carefully suppressed all evidence of independent thought, and later Clotilde remarked upon Glawen's intelligence to her cronies.

The Supper culminated with a festive pudding of iced custard and fruit. The company drank a ritual, if rather perfunctory, toast to Glawen, then Fratano rose to his feet, and the Supper was at an end.