Maske: Thaery Read Online Free PDF

Jubal. “There stands His Excellency. If the matter is critically urgent, take your message to him yonder. Otherwise you must wait until after the ceremony.”
    Jubal found himself in a delicate position. Vaidro had counseled him to crafty maneuvers; Nai the Hever was now preoccupied and certainly unable to discuss Jubal’s future in that mood of relaxed and constructive concentration which would produce optimum results. Jubal said thoughtfully: “I will wait.”
    He looked around the box and seated himself on a long couch of purple cushions.
    Mieltrude spoke to Sune in a mutter of hushed amazement. Both turned to look at Jubal, and Sune’s barely suppressed amusement exasperated Mieltrude; she flung herself down upon the couch and sat in tight-lipped silence.
    From a gong high in the cupola came a shimmering mellow reverberation. Four men came out upon the rostrum and seated themselves at four ebony desks, identified by iron emblems: a gryphon, a fer, a fish, and a flying two-headed snake. The animate murmur of the chamber became an almost palpable hush.
    The Parloury Nunciant stepped upon the rostrum and flinging wide his arms rendered a declamation: “Magnates of Thaery! We have suffered a loss! One of our great leaders is gone. His wisdom guided us across the years; his generosity was a balm and a blessing; he is sorely mourned by all the folk of Thaery.
    The Grand Unctator of the Natural Rite will conduct the eulogy and guide his monic spire toward the Lambent Nescience. Revered Unctator, we hear you!”
    The Grand Unctator stepped out on a balcony above the rostrum. In one hand he carried a crystal orb to represent the cosmos, in the other a lavender lulade blossom signalizing the fragility of life.
    The ritual proceeded the stipulated twenty-three minutes, the Unctator calling out the challenges and the audience singing the rebuttals and finally uttering that aspirate ascending call signifying the lift of the deceased into the Diffusion 14 . The Unctator, doffing his white and black mitre, then spoke the Seven Words. With orb and lulade blossom he departed the balcony.
    The Nunciant returned to the rostrum and continued his declamation. “I speak again of the Ymph ilk! The lulade blossoms are fresh on the grave; the mourning knots are not yet unbound; still they will not renounce their famous program of Servantry. Again they dedicate their noblest and best! Who is this nominee? He is a man of caste and substance. He understands the lot of a Servant: the lonely burdens, the unrequited toil, the hours of soul-searching, prayer and creative vision; he does not shrink back.
    “I refer of course to Ramus Ymph. He now comes to state his aspirations to the four surviving Servants; they are obliged to weigh his fortitude, zeal and vision.” The Nunciant paused in his declamation.
    Stepping forward, he held up a solemn finger. “We rightly reserve infallibility to the Tendrils of the Ineffable Mist! A single act of urging therefore is sufficient to seat Ramus Ymph upon the seat of the Fifth Servant. Should the four Servants agree that Ramus Ymph somehow falls short, perhaps in trivial degree, then Ramus Ymph may not be seated, and the Four must urge another Ymph whom they deem more suitable.
    “The Servants sit at their deliberations. At this very instant they weigh and ponder. Shall Ramus Ymph become the Fifth Servant? Or will they sadly insist upon another even more excellent? Approach, Ramus Ymph! Present yourself, make known your concepts and hear the decision!”
    From the central adit under the boxes came three men in traditional vestments. They paced forward, using the interrupted half-step step , half-step step of immemorial custom. At the rostrum the gentlemen to right and left halted to stand in rigid postures of awe and respect. The third, Ramus Ymph, strode deliberately up on the rostrum. He turned and for a hushed minute gazed across the auditorium: a striking figure, tall, resolute, magnificently