So, in the end, he decided to accept Muub's invitation.

The Stadium was a huge, clearwood-walled box fixed to one of the City's upper edges. The Committee Box was a balcony which hung over the Stadium itself from the City's upper surface, and to reach it Adda had to travel to the uppermost Upside, to the Garden surrounding the Palace itself. Feeling more out of place than ever in the opulent surroundings, he Waved past the miniature, sculpted Crust-trees, brandishing his begrimed bandaging like a weapon. He was subjected to scrutiny by three layers of contemptuous Guards before he reached the Box itself; he enjoyed insulting them as they searched his person.

At last he was ushered into the Box, a square platform twenty mansheights on a side domed over by clearwood. Neat rows of cocoons filled the platform, bound loosely to the structure by soft threads. About half the cocoons were already full, Adda saw; courtiers and other grandees nestled in the soft leather of the cocoons like huge, glittering insect larvae. Their talk was bright and loud, their laughter braying; there was a heavy, cloying scent of perfume.

Adda was escorted to the front row of the Box by a small, humble-looking woman in a drab tunic. Muub was already there. He rested in his cocoon with his long, thin arms folded calmly against his chest, and his bare scalp shone softly as he surveyed the Stadium below. He turned to greet Adda with a nod. With ill grace Adda let the woman servant help him into a spare cocoon; his legs remained stiff and his right shoulder barely mobile, so that, embarrassingly, he had to be levered into the cocoon as if he were a statue of wood. Another woman, smiling, approached him with a box of sweetmeats; Adda chased her away with a snarl.

Muub smiled at him indulgently. "I'm glad you decided to come, Adda. I believe you will find the Day interesting."

Adda nodded, trying to be gracious. After all, he had accepted Muub's invitation. But what was it about this man's manner that irritated him so? He nodded over his shoulder at the sparkling ranks of courtiers. "That lot seems to agree with you."

Muub regarded the courtiers with aloof disdain. "Games Day is a spectacle which does not fail to excite the unsophisticated," he said softly. "No matter how many times it is viewed. And besides, Hork is absent. As you know very well. And there is something of a vacuum of authority, among my more shallow colleagues, until the Chair's return." He listened to the jabber of the courtiers for a moment, his large, fragile head cocked to one side. "You can hear it in their tone. They are like children in the absence of a parent." He sighed.