Times Without Number by John Brunner Page B

them, and turned in the direction of the

lawn. "Expecting to enjoy yourself this evening, are you, Felipe?"

"Me? I can enjoy myself anywhere. But you look as though the hand of doom's

been laid on you."

"If so, I know exactly where," sighed Don Miguel ruefully, rubbing the seat

of his breeches.

Don Felipe laughed, linked arms with his friend again, and hurried him

up the slope towards the lights of the palace.

II

The main hall of the palace, the focus of the grand reception, was

gorgeously decorated and remarkably warm -- a major advantage, in the

opinion of most of the younger Licentiates, not because they appreciated

the heat themselves but because the pretty girls who'd been invited

could show off in their lightest and filmiest gowns. Already over-warm

from rowing in his own uncomfortable formal attire, Don Miguel was not

impressed. Moreover, his first glance inside informed him that the throng

assembled was milling like a disturbed ants' nest. The chaotic comings

and goings stemmed from the fact that guests were arriving from both

sides of the house: from the roadway as well as from the wharf facing the

river. Consequently every few moments a spearhead of Guinea-men would

lead a surge of notables one way or the other across the floor so that

they could greet newcomers at the door in accordance with the dictates

of protocol.

Paradoxically, the sight of this swirl and bustle raised Don Miguel's

spirits a trifle. With such a confusion of people it was conceivable

that he might contrive to be overlooked, might slip away to a quiet

anteroom and savour his mood of gloom in private with a jug of wine.

He made a meaningless response to some comment of Don Felipe's concerning

the quality of the women here, his eyes roving around in search of a

way to escape.

And then he heard his name called.

His spirits sank again as he turned and saw Red Bear gesturing at him

imperiously en route from the riverside entrance -- where the Ambassador

of the Confederacy had just come in -- towards the landward door. A summons

like that could hardly be ignored. He moved in Red Bear's wake, and Don

Felipe, who had also been signalled to, accompanied him.

"I think we're going to enjoy this," Don Felipe said softly. "Do you see

who that is who just turned up?"

The major-domo at the land entrance had a fine voice, but the babble of

conversation and the noise of the band made it hard to recognise the names

he called out. Don Felipe presumably was referring to the group of three

-- an elderly man and two young girls -- who were pausing in the centre

of the wide double doorway, but Don Miguel did not recognise any of them.

He was about to say so, when Red Bear, having greeted the trio, turned

and again beckoned to them. They strode forward and bowed.

"Your Grace!" One had the feeling that this formality and routine appealed

to Red Bear, with his Mohawk background. "I have much pleasure in presenting

Don Felipe Basso, Licentiate in Ordinary of the Society of Time, and

Don Miguel Navarro, Licentiate in Ordinary, Companion of the Order of

the Scythe and Hourglass. Don Miguel, Don Felipe: His Grace the Duke

of Scania, Ambassador of the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norroway --

the Lady Ingeborg, the Lady Kristina."

His daughters, presumably. Bowing again, Don Miguel took a second look

at them. They were very much alike, and also very much like the Duke

-- tall, slender, with the shining fair hair which on their father's

leonine head was turning to snow-white. Their eyes were large and blue,

their complexions were like milk, and their gowns were clearly designed

by a master. Without ornament or embroidery they managed to look dazzling

and put the baroque finery of most of the other women to shame.

"Honoured!" Don Felipe said with enthusiasm, and Don Miguel echoed him

as convincingly as he could.

"Don Miguel, Don Felipe," Red Bear concluded, "I charge you with the duty

-- which I'm sure you'll find a