	   Tesleheim Moragain stood at the prow, the wind whipping his
dark hair about him.  Behind him, the mast creaked slightly, and
Mikhail's voice called instructions, though the exact words were kept
from Tesleheim's ears by the wind.  One of the sailors would handle
it; that was, after all, what they were for.  Tesleheim thought of his
voyage, the sudden squall, and his father's likely reception, and
smiled.  Then he laughed aloud into the wind.

	   The ship, Arianda, seemed to skim over the waves, her long
thin lines leaving rather little wake.  The darkish blur ahead began
to resolve itself into the city of Tabolport.  The harbor was, as
usual, crowded, with the masts of the galleys at anchor swaying on the
waves, and numerous punts and skiffs moving about, between the docks
and those ships unable to get berthing, and moving from one dock to
another.  Fortunately, the Arianda was not going through the harbor.
The somewhat run-down warehouses and other buildings on the seaward
side of the breakwater resolved themselves; Mikhail shifted the rudder
and the Arianda swung more northward, heading now for the inlet that
led to the House of the Moragains.

	   Once his ship had reached the family docks, Tesleheim jumped
onto them, carrying a smallish bag almost jauntily over his shoulder.
He left the others to tie his boat in, acknowledge the salute of the
men-at-arms standing watch, and went in search of his father.

	   The Moragain was presiding over one of the family dinners, in
celebration of Raphael's brief return to the House from his duties as
a Quantum.  When Tesleheim entered the banquet hall, his father had
apparently finished reciting the Grace and toasting his eldest son; he
caught sight of Tesleheim and paused, not sitting down.  So, of
course, neither did the others, and Tesleheim, salt spray still on his
doublet, was soon the center of attention.  

	   "Tesleheim.  You're late," Sir Gregory Moragain said.  The
voice was soft, but it carried to the corners of the hall.  "And
you're hardly dressed for dinner.  I believe I did remind you of this
appointment, did I not?"

	   Tesleheim shrugged and said, "I was detained.  But I did bring
you a present, of sorts."  He tossed the bag he was carrying to the
head table, where it landed with a dull thump.

	   Gregory's face darkened as he lifted the bag, still looking at
his son.  "You were detained, and found a present, while sailing on
the open waters?  And this is hardly the time--"

	   He paused, having finally glanced into the bag.  "What is
this?"

	   Tesleheim smiled.  "Why, father, it's a human head, of course.
I believe it once belonged to that Flanis idiot... Jasper, I believe
his name was.  His ship had a little trouble in that squall; he was
actually quite glad to be rescued by me.  Or at least he was for a few
moments."

	   The silence was absolute, and Tesleheim gloated silently as he
turned to change for dinner.
