He had barely reached the wall when the second vibration came, stronger this time. All around the hall, people threw out their hands for support as the floor beneath them became suddenly unstable. The chandeliers bounced on their mountings, the cut glass ringing chimes across the hall. A single drop shook free, tumbled to the stone floor and shattered in a myriad of crystal shards.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was past. The hall was silent except for the tinkling coming from the chandeliers as they gradually settled. No one moved. Nervously they scanned the ceiling and walls, waiting. Ten seconds. Twenty. The chandeliers stilled.
A collective sigh ran around the hall and one by one, people moved away from the walls. There was slight, nervous laughter and a relieved murmur. It had only been a small one this time. Sandon looked up toward the dais. Men Darnak stood there, not even having bothered to seek anything more solid than the table. He watched the room as all around people smoothed their clothing and moved sheepishly back to their positions. Sandon smiled to himself. Even in a potential crisis, the old man stood strong.
Someone behind Sandon muttered to a companion. "So early in the season. It doesn't bode well, does it?"
Sandon missed the reply; Men Darnak's firm voice rose above them all.
"Now," he said, drawing everyone's attention, "that that's over, I believe some celebration is in order."
More nervous laughter sprinkled the room.
The Principal motioned to someone out of view and moments later, uniformed functionaries filed in bearing trays full of glasses.
#
Sandon circulated casually, catching snippets of conversation here and there. A smile here, a nod there, a carefully worded phrase of greeting, all eased his passage around the great hall as he kept his eyes and ears open. He noticed Men Darnak watching him once. The Principal gave him the barest of nods and then turned to converse with someone obscured behind him. The old man didn't miss a thing.
Knots of well wishers clustered around the three Men Darnak offspring. Sandon skirted the periphery of these groups. He was more interested in the interactions, the snippets of information that passed between individuals in smaller clusters on the fringes: the furtive glance; the hand on the shoulder to draw someone out of earshot; the serious expression and the frown. He was alert to them all.
He snagged a drink and wandered slowly, looking for opportunities. An animated conversation off to one side drew his attention now. The younger Men Darnak boy appeared to be in heated discussion with Karnav Din Baltir. Sandon edged closer to hear what they were saying.
"I don't care about that," said Tarlain. "Can't you see we have a duty?"
The Guildmaster sighed. "You are always so impatient, Tarlain. Why can't you just bide your time?"
"You know damned well why not. Once Roge has his hands firmly on the reins, once he's entrenched, there's not a damned thing I can do, that we can do."
"And I keep telling you," the Guildmaster replied in hushed tones. "Now is not the time to act. Wait until everything's settled. There'll be time enough to test the lie of the land then. You'll achieve nothing by undertaking anything if you're only half prepared."
"And what about the Kallathik meantime?" Tarlain was clearly becoming frustrated. "Don't you think we have a duty to them as well?"
Din Baltir raised a hand to Tarlain's shoulder and spoke even more quietly, as if urging Tarlain to follow his mood. "Quietly, Tarlain. Not here. The Kallathik have waited this long. A few more seasons won't hurt. I know it's frustrating, but if you can't keep this to yourself, you're inviting disaster."
The Kallathik? Again?
Tarlain was still speaking. His voice had raised a notch. "No! It's the common disease, just sitting back and letting things happen. I'm sick of it, always going around in circles. Lots of talk and then nothing happens. You may be happy just to let things happen of their own accord, but I'm not prepared to wait any longer."
Tarlain spun on his heel and stalked off. Karnav Din Baltir watched him go, the hand that had rested on the boy's shoulder closing slowly and moving to tug at his lower lip.
