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Half
a
dozen
guards
were
gingerly
trying
to
restrain
the
creature
,
in
whose
slow
brain
the
realisation
had
dawned
that
it
should
be
in
its
familiar
stable
,
with
plenty
of
hay
and
water
and
time
to
dream
of
the
hot
days
on
the
great
khaki
plains
of
Klatch
.
It
was
getting
restless
.
It
will
shortly
become
apparent
that
another
reason
for
its
growing
friskiness
is
the
fact
that
,
in
the
pre
-
ceremony
confusion
,
its
trunk
found
the
ceremonial
chalice
containing
a
gallon
of
strong
wine
and
drained
the
lot
.
Strange
hot
ideas
are
beginning
to
bubble
in
front
of
its
crusted
eyes
,
of
uprooted
baobabs
,
mating
fights
with
other
bulls
,
glorious
stampedes
through
native
villages
and
other
half
-
remembered
pleasures
.
Soon
it
will
start
to
see
pink
people
.
Fortunately
this
was
unknown
to
Cutwell
,
who
caught
the
eye
of
the
High
Priest
’
s
assistant
–
a
forward
-
looking
young
man
who
had
the
foresight
to
provide
himself
with
a
long
rubber
apron
and
waders
–
and
signalled
that
the
ceremony
should
begin
.
He
darted
back
into
the
priest
’
s
robing
room
and
struggled
into
the
special
ceremonial
robe
the
palace
seamstress
had
made
up
for
him
,
digging
deep
into
her
workbasket
for
scraps
of
lace
,
equins
and
gold
thread
to
produce
a
garment
of
uch
dazzling
tastelessness
that
even
the
ArchChancellor
of
Unseen
University
wouldn
’
t
have
been
ashamed
to
wear
it
.
Cutwell
allowed
himself
five
seconds
to
admire
himself
in
the
mirror
before
ramming
the
pointy
hat
on
his
head
and
running
back
to
the
door
,
stopping
just
in
time
to
emerge
at
a
sedate
pace
as
befitted
a
person
of
substance
.
He
reached
the
High
Priest
as
Keli
started
her
advance
up
the
central
aisle
,
flanked
by
maidservants
who
fussed
around
her
like
tugs
around
a
liner
.
Despite
the
drawbacks
of
the
hereditary
dress
,
Cutwell
thought
she
looked
beautiful
.
There
was
something
about
her
that
made
him
—
He
gritted
his
teeth
and
tried
to
concentrate
on
the
security
arrangements
.
He
had
put
guards
at
various
vantage
points
in
the
hall
in
case
the
Duke
of
Sto
Helit
tried
any
last
-
minute
rearrangement
of
the
royal
succession
,
and
reminded
himself
to
keep
a
special
eye
on
the
duke
himself
,
who
was
sitting
in
the
front
row
of
seats
with
a
strange
quiet
smile
on
his
face
.
The
duke
caught
Cutwell
’
s
eye
,
and
the
wizard
hastily
looked
away
.
The
High
Priest
held
up
his
hands
for
silence
.
Cutwell
sidled
towards
him
as
the
old
man
turned
towards
the
Hub
and
in
a
cracked
voice
began
the
invocation
to
the
gods
.
Cutwell
let
his
eyes
slip
back
towards
the
duke
.
’
’
Hear
me
,
mm
,
O
gods
—
’
