The master of ceremonies faced the two dancers with a cane. They were lost in the ecstasy of the trance and religiously followed the prescribed movements, the wide arms, the vertiginous swirling, the offbeat changes of direction. Swiftly the cane hit one of the two otherwise identical disciples, who fell on the ground with a squeal. Befuddled, a bystander asked the master: "Why him and not the other?"
"One was dancing right, the other wasn't," was the answer.
- THE ZENSUNNI WHIP
Hilom's disconcerted look made the Cordian Ambassador smile. "Do you think there is a cure?" he prodded him. The Commissioner did not answer but continued to look at the dancers agitating within the confines of their glass cell. Jerking moves and bewildered eyes gave them away as practitioners of the deadly Rakian group dance.
"For how long have they been dancing, Ambassador?"
"Since the riot. Weeks."
"How are they still dancing, Keli?"
"They are in a deep hypnotic state," replied the Cordian Ambassador, who felt Hilom's awe and concern started to affect him. "They respond to simple questions but otherwise seem completely absorbed in the dance. They feed on food offerings from the locals. The population considers them sacred. My agents had to be very persuasive with your local folks to be able to extract them to this place."
"I must call the Sayyadina. These people need help!" replied the Commissioner, distraught both by what he saw and by the thought that it was the Cordian agents who had found these people not far from the outskirts of the city of Lat.
"We will leave them in your hands, Commissioner," replied the Ambassador, satisfied.
The Lady Eilanna watched as the Commissioner left the room. "If there was a way to shake up the poor Hilom, that was it."
"If you have spies and soldiers, you better make use of them," replied the Ambassador.