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'Oh, stop grizzling,' said the first, who was robed in brown. 'At least it gets two visits to the House out of the way at once.'

Several of the company nodded in agreement.

'I suppose none of us come home these days except for Loomings and Tombings,' he continued. 'Reckon you're up for anything in Quences's will, Cousin?'

The second, who was wearing a black tunic, shook his head grimly. 'Not a solitary brazen pandak. The Ordinal-General never had any time for me.'

40

'None of us were good enough,' agreed a third. 'The sour old snudge-snout wouldn't even recommend me for a post at the Bureau of Temporal Anomalies. He said Averages Clerk wasn't good enough a position for a member of the Family.'

'He did just the same to Cousins Celesia and Almund,' said Black Tunic. 'Besides, we al know who's going to get the inheritance.'

So it's a funeral, thought Chris. Maybe this Ordinal-General guy's died in mysterious circumstances. Maybe that's the point of the program.

'You can't mean that Cousin Glospin wil inherit everything,' said Brown Robe. He stared round at the gathering.

'He's not even here yet.'

Black Tunic gave a condescending smile. 'He's the obvious successor and heir.'

'And he's Satthralope's favourite,' piped in the third.

Brown Robe laughed aloud. 'Surely that's enough to condemn him completely. Quences would count him out on principle.'

'It's true,' said another bystander. 'But have you heard the other rumour?' He lowered his voice as everyone in earshot clustered round 'I heard that Glospin's post as a Cel ular Eugenicist is a complete sham.'

'Citadel gossip,' sneered Black Tunic.

'No, listen,' continued the speaker. 'Cousin Glospin has been seen on several occasions entering and leaving the Citadel Constraint Block.'

'Great grief,' whispered Brown Robe.

'The Intervention Agency,' said the third.

Chris noted the nervous glances that passed around the group. Even Black Tunic drained his goblet without comment. The Agency's name seemed to cast a pervasive gloom.

'Front or back entrance?' asked somebody brightly, but was ignored.

The lengthy silence was finally disrupted by a hoot of laughter from across the hall. The guests turned to stare in disapproval. 'Who's that?' said Brown Robe.

A young man, podgy with curly brown hair, was helping himself to a plateful of food from the tables.

'Cousin Owis,' said Black Tunic. 'The unspeakable little oik is the Replacement.'

'Why? Who else has died?'

'No, no. He's the Replacement.'

Brown Robe assumed a look of stunned surprise. 'I didn't realize the House had actually. . . Great grief. There'll be all bells blazing in Sepulchasm when the authorities find out. I assume it's the Replacement for...' His voice tailed off and he grimaced.

'Quiet,' hissed Black Tunic. 'Satthralope's forbidden that name in the House. But you're correct: Owis is the Replacement for whom you imagine. They say Quences never got over the disinheritance.'

'Great grief.' Brown Robe glanced around the hail again. 'Our Family real y is an unutterable shambles!' He smirked. 'Five thousand pandaks on Glospin not getting a thing in the will.'

'Done,' said Black Tunic and they linked crooked fingers on it.

Chris wondered how anyone in a family could be a replacement for someone else - was it a recognized job that could be applied for, wherever here was exactly?

He made his way across the room to where a group of guests had gathered to watch the pudgy Cousin called Owis. He had climbed on to a chair to reach the food and was piling it into a precarious pyramid on his plate. As he tried to juggle a stuffed blue fruit on to the side, a woman came pushing through the crowd. She still wore the rust-coloured robes she had worn when Chris had seen her in the study.

'Owis,' she said sharply. 'What did we learn yesterday about No?'

Owis, suddenly crestfallen, studied her over the top of his stacked plate. 'But Cousin Innocet, it's Otherstide. A holiday. Have you seen these dactyl eggs? They've been shipped in especial y from