"That was a nice speech," Lirenna said half an hour later.

      They were circulating through the crowd, sharing pleasantries with the people they knew only slightly. The friends of friends of the people Dallon had really wanted to be there. They'd met most of them at least once or twice before, of course, and knew them well enough to pass a few words with them when they passed them in the street, but this was an opportunity to get to know them properly and make real friends of them.

     "Was it?" replied Thomas, still feeling a little numb and unable to really believe that it was all over. "What did I say?"

     Lirenna laughed, the beautiful laugh that he loved so much, reminding him of the tinkling of little bells. "Come on, I can see the Martaynes over there. Let's go say hello."

     She grabbed him by the arm and steered him over to the dumpy, red cheeked couple, standing all alone beside a table laden with fruit and sweetmeats. Like Thomas, they weren't great talkers, but they were great eaters and were among the class of people who judged the success of a party not by the people they met but by the volume and quality of the food that was on offer. To judge from the expressions on their faces, Dallon had excelled himself this time. Approval was radiating from them in waves as they worked their way slowly but methodically through the contents of the cheese table.

     "Great party," said Gregory Martayne around a mouthful of blue piela in response to Thomas’s polite enquiry. "Haven't had such a good time since Basalto's cousin's Ras-Holl."

     He pointed a pudgy finger at one of the older trogs who was now talking with Dallon in low and serious tones. The Ras-Holl was a party thrown by the family of a young trog when the last strand of hair left his face without the aid of a pair of tweezers. It was an extremely important occasion, full of meaning and symbolism, second in importance only to the Ras-Spar itself, which typically took place a few years later.

     "You attended a Ras-Holl?" cried Lirenna in astonishment. "But I never heard of a human being invited to a Ras-Holl! The trogs are so private about their rites and practices! How in the name of the Gods did you manage that?"

     "Basalto and I go back a long way," said Gregory with a grin of pleasure and pride. "I saved his life once, did you know? It happened about thirty years ago, deep down one of the iron mines of the southern Redburgs..."

     Neither Thomas nor Lirenna had heard the story before, but before the fat farmer had said more than a hundred words they recognised the pattern of it and could anticipate how it would end. Gregory's greater height had been vital in the rescue operation, tying ropes and fixing beams in a region where the tunnel ceiling was too high for the powerfully built but short trogs to reach, and in gratitude for his help, during which his life had been in very real danger, he and his family had been named Rham Amakhi, or honorary trogs. A very rare honour.

     It made the wizards see him in a completely new light, and they felt a little ashamed of themselves for their previous judgement of the fat couple. The trogs would never have bestowed an honour like that on him unless he was a man of genuine courage, particularly considering their customary opinion of farmers. Among the trogs, mining and jewelry making were the highest and most respectable careers to which a man could aspire, and all other professions in their society were followed by those who'd failed to make it in those two professions. Farming was near the very bottom of the list of careers that a trog would follow of his own free will, and those who had to labour on the surface, under the open sky, growing food for the inhabitants of the vast tunnel cities, were almost the unmentionables of trog society. That was why the trogs imported most of their food, trading for it with refined metals, weapons and jewelry, and it said a great deal for Gregory Martayne's standing in the valley's trog community that a farmer had been honoured in this way.

     "To think we've been living less than a mile from him for ten years and we never knew that!" said Lirenna as they moved on again, leaving the Martaynes to their happy gluttony. "Makes you wonder how well we really know anyone, even the people we meet every day."

     Thomas could only agree, and it was a thought they kept in mind as they continued to circulate among the other guests.

     The suns moved slowly across the sky as the party settled into a steady rhythm of food, drink and conversation, and the wizards moved from one gossiping group to another, not wanting to miss the chance of passing a word or two to any of the people who'd taken the time out of their busy lives to be there. Now that the terrors of the speech were behind him Thomas found himself enjoying himself, being good friends with most of the people present and enjoying their company, but suddenly, without any warning, he was face to face with Dallon. The one man he'd been trying to avoid without making it too obvious.

     Despite being over a head shorter than the wizard, with a spindly frame and a reserved, self effacing manner, there was a powerful sense of presence about the shae man and a commanding aura that spoke of a strong personality used to getting his own way. That and the faint but constant sense of disapproval over his granddaughter's choice of husband that he still seemed to radiate despite what he’d said in his speech made Thomas gulp nervously and look for ways of making his escape as soon as possible.

     "I enjoyed your speech," said the shae man with a polite smile.

     Thomas believed him to be perfectly sincere. The nervousness and discomfort he'd been feeling must have been apparent in every word. "Thank you," he said after a slight pause during which he waited for Dallon to elaborate on the bald statement. Dallon liked to get to the point quickly, a rare quality among shae folk, most of whom liked to work their way slowly and carefully through a conversation, picking each word with exquisite care to make sure it meant exactly what they wanted it to mean. The contrast with the valley's more verbose occupants was something he still hadn't fully gotten used to. "What you said was very kind as well. The sentiments you expressed touched my heart."

     Dallon's smile broadened as he recognised the wizard's attempt to mimic the shae manner of speech. He appreciated the courtesy. As a man, Thomas suspected that the shae liked him better than most humans. It was only as Lirenna's husband that he had trouble relating to him.

     "Thank you for arranging this occasion for us," Thomas continued. "It was very thoughtful, very kind of you. Everyone's having a great time, Lenny and I most of all."

     Dallon inclined his head a little, accepting the human's gratitude, and took a sip from his glass of wine. From the way it reflected the sunlight, Thomas guessed it was Duni wine. A weak but sweet tasting beverage that the shae folk brewed for themselves. It was too sugary for the tastes of humans and trogs, but they exported a good deal of it to the nomes, who loved it.

     The shae man stood there silently for a few moments, looking a little awkward. Thomas suspected that he was feeling the need to make some attempt to get along with him for Lirenna's sake but was torn by his conflicting feelings towards him. He knew that Thomas knew how he felt about their marriage, but it was nevertheless something that neither of them would ever bring into the open, even by implication. The shae man would be trying to think of something nice to say to him instead, Thomas knew. The sort of thing that friends and family customarily said to each other. Judging from what Lirenna had told him about shayen society, though, he was probably afraid that his words would sound insincere. The shae folk were polite to a fault and would die with shame if they inadvertently said something to cause offence.

      Eventually, Thomas spoke, just to break the awkward silence. Silence, after all, could be just as bad as the most direct accusation when you knew the reason for it. "We've been thinking about Derry's future," he said, with a glance over at where the youngster was playing with a group of other children.

     "His future?" said Dallon gratefully, following the wizard's gaze.

     "Lenny and I both think he has a good chance of becoming a wizard. We're thinking of taking him to Lexandria University to be tested."

     Dallon nodded. Much though he disliked the idea of any Havenite leaving the valley, Derrin's wellbeing had to come first, and if there was any chance at all that he could follow the same career as his parents then he deserved to be given that chance. That kind of education simply wasn't available in Haven, though. All of Haven's wizards were Lexandrian graduates, and it had been Dallon himself who'd sent Lirenna to the University when her own aptitude in that direction became obvious.

     Part of him was pleased by this news, therefore. Wizardry was something of a custom in Lirenna's family, and it would be wonderful if the newest addition to the family could carry on the tradition. Dallon's father had been a wizard, as had both his children, but it had skipped over Dallon himself, to his great chagrin. If Derrin also turned out to be wizard material, then Dallon's family would be further confirmed as a family of magic users. Balanced against that, though, was the danger that the boy would be seduced by the wonders of the outside world and wouldn't want to return to the dull and uneventful confines of the valley. That was a chance they would just have to take, though. Dallon supported the right of any citizen of Haven to leave any time they wanted, subject to some precautions to make sure they didn't deliberately or accidentally betray the secret of the hidden valley.

     "Lirenna tells me he has exhausted the ability of his teachers to teach him," the shae man said, returning his gaze to Thomas. "It would be wrong to end his education simply because he is cleverer than his teachers. We must find him some cleverer teachers. To do less would be a great disservice to the young man. I think Lexandria University is a good idea, and I think he should remain there to be educated even if he turns out not to be a potential wizard."

     Thomas nodded, delighted by the shae's agreement. He'd been afraid he'd try to talk him out of it, and had been preparing himself for an argument. He sagged in relief. "Since we both agree on this, therefore, is there any point in waiting? Lenny and I were thinking of taking him to Lexandria straight away. After all, if he'll get a better education there, it makes sense for him to begin it as soon as possible."

     Dallon frowned. "I had hoped to using the next few years to further impress the young man's culture upon him," he said. "The time to confirm his loyalty to Haven and to his people is now, while he is still at an impressionable age. Have you thought carefully about this?"

     "We're still thinking about it," said the wizard. "It won't mean you'd never see him until he returns. Now that I can teleport, I can bring him back now and then. Lenny's very keen on the idea. She agrees with you that it's very important for him to learn about his shayen heritage."

     "Teleporting," said the shae man, and there was a weight of disapproval in the word. "Teleporting is dangerous. I still find it hard to believe that my granddaughter allowed you to learn that spell. I have trouble with the idea of my great grandson being exposed to those kinds of dangers."

     Thomas tensed up with irritation. He didn't want to go through that argument all over again. He thought it had all been settled a year ago. "The only alternatives mean a journey time of days at least, and that's assuming we can lay our hands on a flying carpet or something like that. If we have to go on foot, it'd be months. It would mean his staying there continuously, maybe for as long as ten years. Longer, if he has to re-sit his exams. If you're agreed that he has to go to Lexandria, and if you want to go on seeing him, then teleporting's the only answer."

     Dallon stared at the wizard, letting silence speak for him, and Thomas felt himself growing awkward. "We will, of course, do nothing without your full consent and approval," he said. "You're right. Derrin's safety is the most important, the only, consideration."

     Dallon inclined his head again, accepting the concession. "We must speak of this at length," he said. "We will arrange a date for a full discussion of all the relevant facts. In the meantime I will speak to the Elders. Their permission will also be needed. Will you excuse me?"

     He waited for Thomas to nod before moving away, and the wizard knew that he would have stood there all day if he hadn't given that nod. The wizard shook his head in bemusement as the shae man threaded his way through the crowd. How any race could be so eternally polite, and yet at the same time so firm and stubborn, was beyond him.