“Offending…?”
“Don’t ask us, Lady,” replied Persun. “There aren’t any hounds in Commons. They can’t get into town, and nobody with any sense goes far out into the grasses where hounds’re likely to be. Close to the villages is fine, no hounds there, but farther out… those that go don’t come back. We really don’t know what would offend a hound. So far as we can tell, the bons don’t know either”
“And vanishment?”
“Just that. Somebody starts out on the Hunt and doesn’t come back. The mount disappears, too. Usually a young rider it happens to. Girls, usually. Rarely, a boy.”
“Someone at the rear of the Hunt,” she said in sudden comprehension. “So the others wouldn’t notice?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the bon Damfels girl?”
“Same as happened to Janetta bon Maukerden last fall, her that Shevlok bon Damfels was so set on. Vanishment. The way I know is, my brother Canon is married to a woman who’s got a cousin, Salla, and she’s a maid at the bon Damfels. Practically raised Dimity from a baby. Last fall Dimity thought a hound was watching her, and she told Rowena. Next time out, same thing. Rowena and Stavenger had a set-to, and Rowena kept the girl from riding any more Hunts that season. This spring, Stavenger took a hand and made the girl go out again First spring Hunt! Poof, she was gone”
“Dimity, did you say? How old was she?”
“Diamante bon Damfels. Stavenger and Rowena’s youngest. Somewhere around seventeen in Terran terms.”
“The bon Damfels had five children?”
“They had seven, Lady. They lost two others when they were young riders. Trampled, I think. I’m sorry not to remember their names. Now it’s just Amethyste and Emeraude and Shevlok and Sylvan.”
“Sylvan,” she said, remembering him from the first Hunt- He had not been at any of the others they had witnessed. “But he wouldn’t come to a reception, because he rides.”
Roald nodded.
“There is the lapse.” murmured Persun.
“I’d forgotten the lapse,” said Roald in a tone of annoyance. “Here I am almost ten Grassian years old and I’d forgotten the lapse.”
“Lapse?”
“Every spring there’s a time when the mounts and the hounds disappear. Far’s I know, no one knows where they go. Mating time, perhaps? Or whelping time. Or something of the kind. Sometimes people hear a great lot of baying and howling going on. Lasts a week or a little more.”
“When?” she asked.
“When it happens. No exact time. Sometimes a little earlier in the year, sometimes a little later. But always in spring.”
“But doesn’t everyone on the planet know when it happens?”
“Everyone out here in the grasses, Lady.Tssf,in Commons we’d pay it no attention. Out here, though—yes. Everyone knows. If no way else, they go out to Hunt that day and no mounts or hounds show up. They know.”
“So, if we sent an invitation, saying—oh, ‘On the third night of the lapse you are invited to …’ “
“It’s never been done,” muttered Persun
“So, who’s to say it shouldn’t be?” Roald responded. “If your good husband is determined, my Lady, then it would be a thing to try. Otherwise, wait until summer when the hunting stops. Then you can have your reception among the summer balls.”
Rigo did not want to wait until summer. “That’s over a year and a half. Terran,” he said. “We have to start getting some information from the bons, Marjorie. There’s no time to wait. We’ll get everything ready and send the invitation as soon as the place looks decent. Undoubtedly I’ll hear from bon Haunser if we’ve overstepped some barrier of local custom “
The invitations were dispatched by tell-me to all estancias. Surprisingly, at least to Marjorie, acceptances were prompt and fairly widespread. She got a bad case of stage fright and went up into the summer rooms to reassure herself.
The chill rooms had been transformed. Though still cool, they glowed with color. From the greenhouse in the village—which had been half ruined until Rigo had ordered it rebuilt—had come great bouquets of off-world bloom. Terran lilies and Semling semeles combined with plumes of silver grass to make huge, fragrant mounds reflected endlessly in paired mirrors. Marjorie had provided holo-records of valued artworks the Yrariers had left behind, and duplicates of the originals glowed at her from the walls and from pedestals scattered among the costly furniture.