Light with the barsom prophecies of the Medes...." And Makr Avehl led Harvey away into the upper reaches of the house, still talking.
Ellat squeezed her arm. "Don't worry. We have two other couples as luncheon guests."
"Tahiti?"
"Not until much later this afternoon. She is driving down.
Now we will enjoy our lunch. Makr Avehl has told me his impulsive invitation to your brother—no, it is a half brother, only, isn't it?—well, that this invitation brings us a guest who turns out to be unwelcome. I am glad you overcame your dislike of him enough to come. We will stay well apart from him, and Makr Avehl will keep him occupied."
And he did keep him occupied all during lunch, Harvey so far forgetting himself at times as to let his voice rise in tem-peramental disagreement. Makr Avehl received these expostulations gravely, nodding, commenting, smiling. Harvey was certainly not getting the better of the argument, but the sound of his sharp-edged voice made Marianne shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Ellat nudged her knee. "Don't worry about it. So far they haven't gotten past the fifth century A.D. They're still talking about King Khosrow's persecution of the heretics."
"How can you tell?"
"It's what Makr Avehl always talks about when he doesn't want to talk about something else," she smiled. "Even Prime Ministers and High Priests are men, and men are somewhat predictable, you know. Besides, he lectures. He has this dreadful habit of pontificating at great length about things others don't care about. Hadn't you noticed?"
"He does a little," Marianne admitted, "but I don't really mind. The things he has to say are interesting."
"Even if you were not interested, he would still wave his finger at you and tell you all about it. I tell him, 'Makr Avehl, try to listen sometimes. When you cease talking and there is only silence, it is because you have ended all conversation.'
He only laughs at me. Sometimes, I think, he tries to do better, but he forgets. I tell myself it is because he is shy."
"Shy? The Prime Minister? Shy?"
Ellat gave her a conspiratorial look. "Yes. Shy. He talks at such great length about impersonal things to avoid worrying about people. Oh, I have seen him spend great hours thinking up tortuous reasons why people behave as they do, all because he will not admit they are simply ignorant, or silly, or tired.
He is a great one for explanations, Makr Avehl, but only when he must. Most times he would rather not think about people.
They confuse him."
This was a new thought for Marianne, and she glanced at Makr Avehl, catching the brilliant three-cornered smile he threw her way and feeling her face flushing as it seemed to do each time she looked at him. Shy. Well. It was an explanation, though not one she was sure she believed. Perhaps Ellat was only teasing her.
She turned to the guest on her other side and smiled monosyllabic responses to a long, one-sided conversation about politics, turning back to Ellat in relief a little while later. "That poor woman on Makr Avehl's other side isn't getting into the conversation much." She was watching the woman covertly, a quiet woman with a quiet, impressionable face.
"That poor woman is the LaPlante Professor of Archaeology at the University of Ankara. I wouldn't worry about her. She will probably write some paper in one of the journals taking issue with your half brother on some abstruse academic subject."
"Good Lord! Does Harvey know who she is?"
"I doubt it. Makr Avehl introduced her as Madame Andami.
That's her husband across the table from you. He's very deaf and makes no attempt at conversation, but he enjoys food very much. I like them a good deal. She is interesting and he is restful. However, Madame Andami is not the name she uses professionally."
"So Harvey has been set up to make a fool of himself. Do I get the impression you all do not like my brother much?"
Ellat looked shocked. "What would make you say such a thing? I think Makr Avehl knows
Ellat squeezed her arm. "Don't worry. We have two other couples as luncheon guests."
"Tahiti?"
"Not until much later this afternoon. She is driving down.
Now we will enjoy our lunch. Makr Avehl has told me his impulsive invitation to your brother—no, it is a half brother, only, isn't it?—well, that this invitation brings us a guest who turns out to be unwelcome. I am glad you overcame your dislike of him enough to come. We will stay well apart from him, and Makr Avehl will keep him occupied."
And he did keep him occupied all during lunch, Harvey so far forgetting himself at times as to let his voice rise in tem-peramental disagreement. Makr Avehl received these expostulations gravely, nodding, commenting, smiling. Harvey was certainly not getting the better of the argument, but the sound of his sharp-edged voice made Marianne shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Ellat nudged her knee. "Don't worry about it. So far they haven't gotten past the fifth century A.D. They're still talking about King Khosrow's persecution of the heretics."
"How can you tell?"
"It's what Makr Avehl always talks about when he doesn't want to talk about something else," she smiled. "Even Prime Ministers and High Priests are men, and men are somewhat predictable, you know. Besides, he lectures. He has this dreadful habit of pontificating at great length about things others don't care about. Hadn't you noticed?"
"He does a little," Marianne admitted, "but I don't really mind. The things he has to say are interesting."
"Even if you were not interested, he would still wave his finger at you and tell you all about it. I tell him, 'Makr Avehl, try to listen sometimes. When you cease talking and there is only silence, it is because you have ended all conversation.'
He only laughs at me. Sometimes, I think, he tries to do better, but he forgets. I tell myself it is because he is shy."
"Shy? The Prime Minister? Shy?"
Ellat gave her a conspiratorial look. "Yes. Shy. He talks at such great length about impersonal things to avoid worrying about people. Oh, I have seen him spend great hours thinking up tortuous reasons why people behave as they do, all because he will not admit they are simply ignorant, or silly, or tired.
He is a great one for explanations, Makr Avehl, but only when he must. Most times he would rather not think about people.
They confuse him."
This was a new thought for Marianne, and she glanced at Makr Avehl, catching the brilliant three-cornered smile he threw her way and feeling her face flushing as it seemed to do each time she looked at him. Shy. Well. It was an explanation, though not one she was sure she believed. Perhaps Ellat was only teasing her.
She turned to the guest on her other side and smiled monosyllabic responses to a long, one-sided conversation about politics, turning back to Ellat in relief a little while later. "That poor woman on Makr Avehl's other side isn't getting into the conversation much." She was watching the woman covertly, a quiet woman with a quiet, impressionable face.
"That poor woman is the LaPlante Professor of Archaeology at the University of Ankara. I wouldn't worry about her. She will probably write some paper in one of the journals taking issue with your half brother on some abstruse academic subject."
"Good Lord! Does Harvey know who she is?"
"I doubt it. Makr Avehl introduced her as Madame Andami.
That's her husband across the table from you. He's very deaf and makes no attempt at conversation, but he enjoys food very much. I like them a good deal. She is interesting and he is restful. However, Madame Andami is not the name she uses professionally."
"So Harvey has been set up to make a fool of himself. Do I get the impression you all do not like my brother much?"
Ellat looked shocked. "What would make you say such a thing? I think Makr Avehl knows
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