Joann had hung lengths of batik fabric along the back and sides of the booth. Displayed on a cloth-draped table at the rear of the space were fifteen or twenty delicately carved animals in a soft-looking wood. They ranged in size from an elephant no bigger than an egg to a cranelike bird that stood two feet high.
A blond girl wearing an embroidered dress and a head scarf came over to them. “Hello,” she said. “You’re visitors of Ned Nickerson, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” Nancy said. She introduced Bess and herself.
“I am Alina Orsulak,” the girl said. “I am watching the booth for Joann. The animals are beautiful, are they not? And very popular. In just one hour I have sold five. One was my favorite, a mischievous-looking orangutan.”
“I’m sorry we missed seeing it,” Nancy said. “I’d love to know more about these figures. Are they all real animals, or are some of them imaginary?”
Alina laughed. “I know very little,” she admitted. “But Joann will return very soon. She was expecting delivery of a package with more animals. Who knows? Maybe there will be another orangutan. If so, I think I will buy it myself.”
Nancy and Bess were taking a closer look at the sculptures when Ned and George arrived.
Ned waved to Alina and turned to Nancy and Bess. “Cyril’s called an emergency meeting of the IFC steering committee,” he announced. “He’d like you guys to be there, too, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Nancy said. “When and where?”
“In five minutes, inside the gym,” Ned replied. “Alina, when will Joann be back? She should come to the meeting if she can.”
“Very soon,” Alina said again. “I will tell her. I can stay here longer if she needs me to.”
“Thanks,” Ned said. “You’re a big help.”
Nancy and her friends followed Ned out through the balloon-arch entrance to the bazaar and down a path to the front door of the gymnasium. Inside was an anteroom lined with trophy cases. Above the cases, framed photos of sports teams and individual athletes covered the walls.
Cyril, Penny, J. P., and Lance were seated around one half of a big round table. Dina was alone across from them. For a moment Nancy was reminded of a prisoner facing a panel of judges. Then she noticed Dina’s expression. She decided it was more likely Dina was judging the others, and not very favorably.
Vlad was to one side, leaning against one of the display cases with his hands in his pockets. Akai, next to him, was reading the plaques on the trophies. A couple of other people, whom Nancy hadn’t yet met, were also standing.
“Pull up a pew,” Cyril said to Nancy and her friends. He waved to the empty chairs and waited for them to sit down. “I called this meeting because I am very concerned. In my view, the very existence of the IFC is under attack.”
“Isn’t that a little exaggerated?” Lance said. “A couple of practical jokes—”
Dina interrupted him. “You call it a practical joke to ruin my goulash?”
“And my stuffed squash?” Vlad demanded.
“And the whole buffet lunch I worked so hard to put together?” Penny cried. “How could you!”
“Hey, all I meant is no one got hurt,” Lance said, retreating. “I didn’t say it was funny.”
“They could have been,” Cyril pointed out. “Someone could have had a bad allergic reaction. Someone could have been hit by that falling tent pole, too. And who can guess what the next so-called joke might be? I don’t know the legalities here, but if someone is hurt, we are responsible morally. We invited people to this event, after all. We have an obligation to keep it safe for them.”
“So what can we do?” J. P. wondered. “Call off the festival? It’s a little late for that. We’re already in the middle of it.”
“I know,” Cyril replied. He paused to nod to Joann, who slipped into a chair. “But it seems to me the root of the problem isn’t the festival, it’s the IFC election. I’m not accusing anyone, but we all know how much tension and hostility have developed around it.”
“We know who is to blame, too,” Vlad growled.
“We certainly do,” Dina shot back.
“That sort of exchange is exactly what I’m talking about,” Cyril said. “It’s dividing the club and poisoning people’s relationships. That is why I’ve decided to ask both you, Dina, and you, Vlad, to withdraw your names from contention. You are both valuable members of the organization, and either of you might make a good president. With things as they are, though, it will be a disaster whichever of you is elected. What do you say?”
“If they withdraw, what then?” J. P. asked. “No one else is running.”
“As president, I have the authority to postpone the election,” Cyril said. “We can put it off until we have someone to stand who’s widely acceptable.”
“Aha!” Vlad said, straightening up. “I see now. This is nothing but an underhanded scheme to keep a Rethal from gaining high office.”
“That’s not so,” Cyril said. “I—”
Vlad’s voice rose to a shout. “I warn you, Cyril. I warn all of you. We are a proud people. We know very well how to deal with insults! You will see, and you will be very sorry!”
He stomped over to the door, slammed it open, and stormed out.
9
Walkout After Walkout
Vlad’s dramatic exit was followed by a long silence. The crash of the door still seemed to echo in the room.
Cyril gave a sigh. “I am sorry he took it that way,” he said. “I suppose I might have expected it.”
Dina stood up abruptly. “How else could he take it?” she demanded. “When faced with a coup d’etat, resistance is the only principled course.”
Nancy stared at Dina, then exchanged glances with George and Bess. They looked as baffled as she was. What was Dina talking about?
“A coup d’etat?” Ned said. “Come on, Dina. Get serious. Cyril doesn’t want to stay president. He simply thinks we need time to cool off.”
