As the sun shone down brightly, the crowd at the base of the fountain was growing. Some people perched on the edge of the fountain, looking at the radio sitting nondescriptly on the stone lip, or up into the sky. Others milled about, passing fliers between them, not seeming sure what they were waiting for.

Behind the crowd on the edge of the plaza sat a strange low building with waterfalls pouring down over it, flanked on the front two corners by huge statues of fish-like creatures that curled over its eaves.

< Absolutely not. >

The sun shone into the room from above, over another huge statue of a humanoid figure and the water running down the wall behind it; this statue was made of some brown material, their head covered with a carved orange cloth. A crack ran down their center from their forehead, branching out and brightly glowing like frozen lightning.

< This is unacceptable--a complete breach of procedure! >

< What gives you the right to buck thousands of years of tradition?! >

At the base of the sitting statue, a group of spirits crowded furiously around Cynn Numair as he set up his equipment on a small table. He ignored them, though Sraddi, who sat on his shoulders, looked around at the other spirits mutely.

< Assembly hearings have always been a venue in which we could speak freely, > a grey-skinned, bald spirit clad in deep red robes said angrily. The Cynn was a head shorter than them--and most of the rest of the crowd--and they nearly bent double to talk at the Cynn's level. < Exposing them to the public would create a chilling effect! >

A couple of other spirits murmured in agreement. The Cynn, quite unperturbed, adjusted a large glass bowl which he'd set up on a stand to sit at a particular angle. He didn't look around, but said mildly, < If the public will dislike whatever it is you'd like to say so freely, perhaps it's better left unsaid, eh? >

The bald spirit started to snarl, < How dare you-- > but another voice interrupted them.

< Your arrogance really is quite galling, grandchild. >

This voice broke the calm the Cynn had effected. He didn't look back at the speaker--a slim older spirit with long grey hair, and a nose button connected to their earlobe by a thin, unobtrusive chain--but he felt his hackles rise.

< And misplaced, > the spirit added. < But your sire was the same. >