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Sylk reflected on the fact that everyone assumed The Arbiter had been eliminated. As he had walked through the crowd, he had given a dismissive “Bah” to the crowd in response to any question or solicitation from the crowd. Now Sylk realized that it had given The Arbiter the opportunity to leave and not be followed. Brilliant!

He wondered what could possibly be on those sheaves of parchment. And why were they just now called for, instead of at the beginning? More and more questions were being introduced into Sylk’s world and precious few answers. While his mind was thus occupied, his Mentor came into the hut. This startled Sylk, as he had not noticed his Mentor’s approach. And he had been trying to pay attention. Wondering when he had lost track, he decided to go to Moa’qi and ask. But, again, when he approached Moa’qi, his Mentor glided away. Disappointed, he returned to his original vantage point, and waited for The Muktai, like everyone else.

A stirring in the crowd brought him to the present, and he watched as The Muktai filed in. The first Muktai stood and announced “We will vote. Since there are four candidates, the potential exists for a tie. In such event, the persons with the most votes will remain, be that two or three people. The fourth will leave. We repeat until one man is standing.” With a smile for the crowd, and a nod to Steropé, he added, “Or woman.”

He then formally addressed the crowd, “Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Arbiter.”
The next Muktai stood and stated, “Tribe, I of The Muktai select Steropé.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Arbiter.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Herbalist.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Buitre.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Steropé.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Buitre.”

The first Muktai stated “Herbalist, you are not selected.”

Visibly relived, and heaving a sigh of release, The Herbalist rose and eagerly joined the crowd. The Muktai all filed into a different room to re-haggle the vote.

The mood in the Deciding Hut was changed. The crowd had caught its second wind. The tension and excitement was palpable. They would have a First Chair soon, and it would be of these three. As the field narrowed, alliances were shifting. While The Arbiter was still far and away considered the most obvious candidate, he was no longer touted as the obviously better candidate. Both Buitre and Steropé were beginning to have their champions. No one really knew how this was going to turn out, which was a far cry from the morning common wisdom that Moa’qi held an automatic lock on the position. Many felt a sense of ‘good riddance’ toward The Herbalist. Others were dismayed at the fact The Arbiter had not been an obvious choice, and was currently in a three-way tie.

A hush fell as The Muktai filed back in. The ritual proceeded as before, each Muktai in turn calling out their selection.

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Arbiter.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Steropé.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Arbiter.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select The Arbiter.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Buitre.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Steropé.”

“Tribe, I of The Muktai select Buitre.”

The first Muktai stated “Steropé, you are not selected.”

Before she could move from her seat, The second Muktai stated “Buitre, you are not selected.”

Before he or she could move from their seats, the third Muktai bellowed to the room, “Tribe, First Chair; The Muktai summon the Moa’qi and The Nominees to the Deciding Hut at once.” As one they rose and went to the center alcove. Buitre and Steropé sat in some confusion while the New First Chair rose and gave direction to people standing nearby. Runners were dispatched to retrieve the nominees and Moa’qi. Meanwhile, he and Buitre and Steropé brought the chairs of the Nominees into the center Alcove. Sylk and The Herbalist, who were still in the Deciding Hut, were pressed into service to arrange the seating.

The chairs were arranged in a stylized manner. There were three rows, alternating three chairs, five chairs and three chairs. The middle row was extended to allow for more or less even spacing. The top chair of the middle column faced down that column toward the next. That faced the same direction as did the next two. The last face back toward the head. The two outer columns were mirrors of each other. The top two faced each other. The next two face each other as well. The bottom two however were angled such that they faced the very bottom chair of the middle column. The middle column was spaced such that the outer columns could see each other without impediment.

As the Summoned Ones came into the Central Alcove, First Chair ordered the Deciding Hut cleared. This was an unpopular pronouncement. Unrest seethed through the hut. It was late, people had not eaten, it was Deepest Dark out, and the curiosity of the Tribe was bordering on insurrection. Cooler heads managed to clear the hut, but the hubbub outside seemed to just get worse. Inside the Deciding Hut, the mood was a combination of grim and confused, excited and worried.

Buitre asked, of no one in particular, “Why is Moa’qi here? You summoned the Nominees.”

First Chair replied, “Moa’qi was the first Nominee, nominated by you Buitre.”
Buitre opened his mouth, closed it.

Sylk could feel the crowd outside growing more and more restless. He commented to the room that the Tribe seemed angry. Moa’qi spoke up, saying, “Yes, Sylk, we all hear them, but cooler heads will prevail.” Until that moment no one had been paying much attention to the crowd noise, as they were occupied with impending events inside the hut. Had Moa’qi not commented on the noise, and caused everyone to focus, they probably would not have noticed the change in the crowd, and heard Gwadi’s rhyming.
Gwadi, fearing the worst, had determined to make an effort at crowd control. She was waddling about under the burden of an enormous basket of cheese, in itself presenting a comical sight. She had robbed her stores and had virtually any kind of cheese someone might ask for. She walked through the crowd, waving pungent chunks of cheese under the noses of the hungry people. At first she was reduced to just pressing hunks of cheese into people’s hands, bidding them, “Eat!” Finally people’s hunger, aroused by their olfactory sense, crowded out any sense of outrage, and they began clamoring for this or that type of cheese. Responding to her captive audience, she began singing a kind of sing-song rhyme, somewhat suggestive as all her rhymes were, and of course somewhat diverting.

“Thootr Thootr
“Rhymes with Hooter
“How could anything else be cuter
“Than a bright red rigid Thootr?”