You know I am!
Why, you're the best super in the barony! Everybody knows that. I was
only kidding. You know that."

Before Anketam could say anything, the old man said: "You can bet your
life that no other super in this barony would put up with your
laziness!"

"Now, Blejjo," said Anketam, "leave the boy alone. He meant no harm. If
he needs talking to, I'll do the talking."

Basom looked gratefully reprieved.

"Sorry, Ank," said Blejjo. "It's just that some of these young people
have no respect for their elders." He looked at Basom and smiled.
"Didn't mean to take it out on you, Bas. There's a lot worse than you."
Then, changing his tone: "Sure you don't want to come with us?"

Basom looked apologetic, but he stuck to his guns. "No. Thanks again,
but--" He grinned self-consciously. "To be honest, I was thinking of
going over to see Zillia. Her dad said I could come."

Anketam grinned at the boy. "Well, now, that's an excuse I'll accept.
Come on, Blejjo, this is not a sport for old men like us. Fishing is
more our speed."

Chuckling, Blejjo shouldered his fishing pole, and the two men started
down the dusty village street toward the road that led to the river.

* * * * *

They walked in silence for a while, trying to ignore the glaring sun
that brought the sweat out on their skins, soaking the sweatbands of
their broad-brimmed hats and running in little rivulets down their
bodies.

"I kind of feel sorry for that boy," old Blejjo said at last.

"Oh?" said Anketam. "How so? He'll get along. He's improving. Why, he
did as good a job of transplanting as any man this spring. Last year, he
bruised the seedlings, but I gave him a good dressing down and he
remembered it. He'll be all right."

"I'm not talking about that, Ank," said the old man, "I mean him and
Zillia. He's really got a case on with that girl."

"Anything wrong with that? A young fellow's got a right to fall in love,
hasn't he? And Zillia seems pretty keen on him, too. If her father
doesn't object, everything ought to go along pretty smoothly."

"Her father might not object," said Blejjo, looking down at his feet as
they paced off the dusty road. "But there's others who might object."

"Who, for instance?"

Blejjo was silent for several steps. Then he said: "Well, Kevenoe, for
one."

Anketam thought that over in silence. Kevenoe was on The Chief's staff
at the castle. Like many staff men--including, Anketam th