In the two weeks following the speech of the new bishop, Palmaris had changed considerably. Every fourth day, St. Precious was filled to overflowing, more than two thousand people at a time celebrating the holy rituals. Few dared question why those rituals involved several collec-tions of the silver and gold bear-stamped coins of the kingdom, or even, if the person had no money, a piece of jewelry or clothing.

Outwardly, there were few signs of discontent. The Bishop's show of power - monks and soldiers parading the streets daily - kept the peace, kept a smile, however strained, on the face of every member of the congre-gation. In the words of Pony, it was "faith by intimidation."

For the Behrenese in the dockside neighborhood, the situation wors-ened. Since De'Unnero had taken charge, the soldiers and monks had been given free rein to harass them, but now even the common Palmaris citi-zen thought nothing of hurling an insult, a ball of spit, even a rock, at the "foreigners." The Behrenese, with their dark skin and different manner-isms, were easily identifiable. Convenient targets for De'Unnero's scape-goating, Pony noted. She spent many days by the docks now, watching and studying; and it seemed obvious to her that the Behrenese, though they showed no outward signs, had begun to put together an organized plan of common safety. Before the soldiers and monks arrived on any given day, though they followed no schedule, most of the weaker Behrenese - the elderly, the infirm, a woman great with child - seemed to have disappeared.

And always, Pony noted, the same handful of men and a pair of women were about, accepting the insults to pride and to body.

Another fellow caught her attention, and Pony watched him more closely. He was a tall, dark-skinned sailor, commanding a ship called theSaudi Jacintha - a man of some renown, apparently, one even the monks did not bother. Pony knew Captain Al'u'met by name, for he had been the one to ferry her and Elbryan, Bradwarden, and Juraviel across the Masur Delaval on their return from St.-Mere-Abelle. They had gone to him onMaster Jojonah's recommendation; and with that monk's writ in hand, had secured transport with no questions asked.

Al'u'met was much more than a pirate, Pony and the others had realized, and much more than captain of a ferry for hire. He was Jojonah's friend; the Master's recommendation had been of the highest order, words based more on principle than on pragmatism. Now, it appeared, the captain was again showing courage. Outwardly he appeared removed from all the tur-moil, walking the decks of his ship, but Pony saw him exchanging knowing nods with the leader of the Behrenese on several occasions.

Pony's work with Belster was going fairly well - most of his substantial network were, to Pony's relief, not enamored of the new bishop - not at all. Now she dreamed of linking her group to the Behrenese, but that, she knew, would prove a far more difficult task.

That captain of theSaudi Jacintha might prove to be the key.

"I shall accompany you personally this day," an agitated De'Unnero explained to Brother Jollenue and several soldiers as they prepared to leave the abbey on their daily rounds of the merchant quarter in the relentless search for gemstones. The night before, the Bishop, with his garnet, had detected some fairly powerful stone usage from a particular mansion, a house the monks had visited before. The merchant there had sworn he had no magic stones.

Brother Jollenue eyed De'Unnero suspiciously and fearfully. Jollenue had been Bishop De'Unnero's leading collector of stones. There had been whispers in the abbey - though mostly from brothers jealous of the atten-tion Jollenue was receiving from the new bishop - that Jollenue had been making deals with the merchants, allowing them to keep their more pre-cious stones, surrendering only those of lesser power.

"I shall not fail, my lord," the monk, a fifth-year brother, remarked. "I have been most thorough."

De'Unnero's look was incredulous.

"It d-does not please me to bother a man as important and busy as you," Brother Jollenue stammered, melting under that gaze. "I endeavor to fulfill my duty."

De'Unnero continued to stare at the man, enjoying watching this under-ling squirm. His decision to accompany the monk had had nothing to do with distrusting him but was more a matter of his own boredom - the chance to make an example of this lying merchant.

"If you have heard something less than exemplary concerning my perfor-mance in this most vital mission you have assigned - " a nervous Jollenue started.

"Should I have heard such?" De'Unnero interrupted, unable to resist. The young brother was trembling now, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"No, no, my lord," the man replied immediately. "I mean . . . they are just the false accusations of jealous brothers."

De'Unnero was enjoying this; in truth, he hadn't heard a single complaint against Jollenue.

"Every stone collected," Jollenue went on, a hint of desperation in his voice. He grew more animated with every word, waving his hands. "Never would I allow a man not of the Church to keep even a tiny diamond, even if his house was bereft of candles," Jollenue declared. "Pray in the darkness, I would tell him. Reveal your sins to yourself. Let God - "

The man's words turned into a groan as De'Unnero caught one of his swinging hands and bent his thumb back. Faster than the brother could react, the Bishop stepped beside Jollenue's shoulder and drove his index finger up under poor Jollenue's ear on the pressure point.

Paralyzed with agony, poor Jollenue could only whimper and beg for mercy.

"Why, dear Brother Jollenue," Bishop De'Unnero remarked, "it never occurred to me that you might be cheating me and cheating the Church."

"Please, my lord," Jollenue gasped. "I have not."

"Are you lying?" De'Unnero casually asked, pushing so hard with his finger that Jollenue's legs buckled.

"No, my lord!"

"I know the truth," De'Unnero declared. "I give you one last chance to speak that truth. If you lie, I shall push my finger right into your brain, a most painful death, I assure you." Jollenue started to answer, but De'Un-nero pushed harder. "One last chance," De'Unnero repeated. "Have you cheated me?"

"No," Jollenue managed to say, and De'Unnero released him. He fell over, curling up on the floor, groaning and clutching the side of his head.

De'Unnero raked his eyes over the soldiers, and each of them backed away respectfully.

That reaction pleased the new bishop immensely.

After Jollenue recovered, they set off - a half dozen soldiers and the two monks. At first, Brother Jollenue remained a respectful stride behind De'Unnero, but the Bishop beckoned the man to his side.

"You have been to this house before - or perhaps it was one of the other groups," De'Unnero explained. "It does not matter," he quickly added, seeing the man grow nervous, probably formulating some excuse for his failure. "This merchant is cunning, it would seem. I am not certain if he surrendered some stones, keeping his most prized, or if he somehow managed to elude us altogether."

"But only for a short while, it would seem," Jollenue said hopefully.

De'Unnero's lip curled, as much a snarl as a smile, and he glanced at Jollenue. He picked up the pace, walking determinedly. Soon they were in the merchant quarter, walking along a cobblestone road, neatly trimmed hedgerows to either side and great stone houses set far apart, each a fortress of its own, complete with a surrounding wall.

"That one," De'Unnero explained, pointing to a rather plain brownstone dwelling.

Brother Jollenue nodded and lowered his gaze.

"One of your inspections?" De'Unnero asked.

"Aloysius Crump," the monk replied. "A boisterous man, strong of body and of spirit. A trader of fine cloths and furs."

"He refused your right of inspection?"

"He allowed us entry," one of the soldiers explained. "The man cooper-ated fully, my lord, as much as a proud man like Master Crump can coop-erate for such an indignity as an inspection."

"You speak as if you know the man," he accused.

"I guarded a caravan on which he was a principal," the soldier admitted. "A journey to the Timberlands."

"Indeed," said the Bishop. "And tell me of Master Crump."

"A warrior," the soldier said, obviously impressed by the merchant. "He has seen many battles and never shies from a fight, no matter the odds. Twice he was left for dead on a field, only to walk back in hours later, very much alive and seeking revenge. They call him Crump the Badger, and it is a name, I assure you, that is well earned."

"Indeed," the Bishop said again, obviously not impressed. "You trust and respect this man?"

"I do," the soldier admitted.

"And so, perhaps your judgment of the man hindered Brother Jollenue's inspection," the Bishop surmised, putting the man on the defensive. The soldier started to protest, but De'Unnero held up his hand. "Our discus-sion of this matter will wait until a more convenient time," he said. "But I warn you, do not hinder my inspection. Indeed, you shall wait out here in the middle of the street."

The man bristled and squared his shoulders, puffing out his chest. De'Unnero marked his defiant attitude and realized he could enjoyably put that pride to the test later.

"Come along, and quickly," the Bishop ordered the others. "Let us pay the merchant a visit before he has the time to hide his precious gemstones."

"Master Crump has dogs," Brother Jollenue warned, but that hardly slowed De'Unnero. He rushed to the gate, leaped and grabbed its top, then pulled himself over in one fluid motion. A few seconds later the baying of hounds began, and the gate swung open wide. Jollenue and the soldiers ran to join the Bishop, but De'Unnero didn't wait for them, rushing into the open yard, in defiance of a shouting guard and the two barking dogs, their short black coats shining, their white teeth gleaming.

The lead dog sprinted for the Bishop and, barely ten feet away, leaped high for his throat.

De'Unnero quickly dropped into a sudden squat. Over his head went the the dog, and up snapped De'Unnero's hand to grab its hind leg. Up went the bishop and out snapped his other hand, catching the dog's other hind leg. His hands were crossed, left holding the dog's right leg, right holding the left. He lowered the dog down to its front paws, the beast trying to turn and bite him.

De'Unnero pulled his arms back, forcing the dog's legs wide, beyond the tolerance of its pelvic bones. Hearing the crack, De'Unnero dropped the howling, crippled dog to the ground and spun in time to react to the second dog, flying like an arrow for his throat.

Up snapped the Bishop's forearm, under the dog's snapping jaw, turning the dog in the air. The beast slammed into him and managed to nip his forearm, but De'Unnero's free hand shot out to clasp the dog's throat.

With a feral growl, the Bishop held the hundred-pound dog out straight with seemingly little effort.

Behind him, Brother Jollenue and the guards gasped in amazement; before him, the lone guard slowed his charge to a walk, mouth open.

De'Unnero held the pose for just a moment, then crushed the animal's windpipe. He tossed the dying creature to the ground at the feet of Crump's guard.

The man uttered some low threat and advanced a cautious step, sword extended.

"Stop!" Brother Jollenue yelled at him. "This is Marcalo De'Unnero, the bishop of Palmaris."

The guard stared hard at the man, obviously unsure how to proceed. De'Unnero made the decision for him, walking boldly to the man and slowly pushing him aside. "There is no need to introduce me to Master Crump," the Bishop explained. "He will know of me soon enough."

Up to the door he went, Brother Jollenue and the soldiers falling into line behind him, the guard still standing in the courtyard, staring blankly at the intruders. A kick had the door swinging wide, and the Bishop walked right in.

Servants, who had come into the foyer to see what the disturbance was about, scrambled to get out of the dangerous man's way. Then another man, a huge, ruddy-looking fellow with thick curly black hair sprinkled with gray, entered from a door across the way, his face a mask of outrage.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

De'Unnero glanced back at Brother Jollenue.

"Aloysius Crump," the younger monk confirmed.

De'Unnero turned slowly, a smile spreading over his face, to regard the man, who was now approaching as if he meant to lift the Bishop and throw him out into the street. Certainly this Crump was an impressive specimen, closer to three hundred pounds than to two, De'Unnero estimated, and the lines of several garish scars were clearly visible, including a scab on the side of the man's neck, a very recent wound.

"Meaning?" De'Unnero echoed softly, with a chuckle. "There is a word heavy with connotation.Meaning. The meaning of this, the meaning of life. Perhaps the wordpurpose would have better suited your intent."

"What nonsense do you spout?" Crump retorted.

"Does not true meaning come from that which is holy?" De'Unnero asked.

The guard from the courtyard rushed in then, and ran right by De'Un-nero and his entourage, up to his master, whispering - the identity of the intruder, the Bishop knew.

"My lord," Crump said a moment later, offering a bow. "You should have warned me of your visit, that I might have properly - "

"Hidden your gemstones?" De'Unnero finished.

Aloysius Crump nearly choked on that choice of words. He was a strong man, a fighter who had forged his business in the toughest regions of the Timberlands and the Wilderlands. Once he had been a trapper, but then he learned how much more money he could make as a middleman for the other trappers and the markets in Palmaris and the more civilized lands.

"I have already answered the questions of your Church," Crump insisted.

"Words," De'Unnero said quietly, waving his arm. "What useful tools these words be. Words for meaning, words for lies."

Crump's face screwed up at this confusing response. He was not the most articulate man, but it was clear to him that he was being mocked. His huge fists balled up at his sides.

But then, without warning, De'Unnero closed the five feet between them in the blink of an eye and drove the point of his index finger under the man's jaw. "I was here last night, fool Crump," he snarled into the man's face.

Crump reached up and grabbed De'Unnero's wrist, but found that moving the stabbing finger was no easy task.

"Words," the Bishop said again. " 'Prithee know that these stones, fallen to the ground of sacred Pimaninicuit, be the gifts of the one true God for those of his chosen flock.' Do you know those words, merchant Crump?" He gave a shove with his finger, and Crump staggered back a couple of steps.

"They are from the Book of Abelle, the Psalm of Gems," De'Unnero explained. " 'And God thus did give knowledge to his chosen, that the stones be used to advantage, and all the world rejoiced, for they saw that this was good.' " The Bishop paused long enough to take note that the man's fists were now unclenched.

"Do you know those words? " he asked Crump.

The man shook his head.

"Brother Jollenue?" De'Unnero asked.

"The Book of Deeds," the young monk said, "penned by Brother Yensis in the fifth year of the Church."

"Words!" De'Unnero yelled into Crump's hairy face. "The words of the Church ... ofyour Church! Yet you believe that you understand them better than those who administer the word of God."

Crump was shaking his head now, obviously confused and intimidated.

"My edict was clear," De'Unnero explained. "No, not mine, but in fact the words of Father Abbot Markwart himself. Ownership of the en-chanted gemstones by anyone outside the Church is forbidden by Church doctrine."

"Even if it was the Church who sold - "

"Forbidden!" De'Unnero roared. "Without exception. You were told this, Master Crump, and yet you did not turn over those stones you possess."

"I have no - "

"Those stones you possess," De'Unnero cut back in with that feral growl behind every word. "I was here last night," he said. "I felt the magic in use. Your denial means nothing to me, because I saw the magic."

For a long moment, the two teetered on the edge of disaster; no one there could decide if Crump would attack the Bishop. The big, proud man didn't blink, but neither did De'Unnero, his steely gaze inviting a fight.

"I could burn your house to the ground and sift through the ashes," De'Unnero promised.

Aloysius Crump licked his lips.

"If you do not cooperate, you will be branded a heretic," De'Unnero promised.

"You have no right to come into my house," the man said deliberately. "I was a personal friend of Baron Rochefort Bildeborough."

"Who is dead," De'Unnero said with a chuckle - one not appreciated by the soldiers standing behind him.

Again the two stood staring hard at each other. Then the tension broke, as Crump turned and nodded to his personal guard. The man looked at him skeptically.

"Go!" Crump yelled, and the man ran off.

"A wise choice, Master Crump," Brother Jollenue started to say, but the Bishop silenced him with a stern glare.

The guard returned a few moments later, bearing a small silk purse. He handed it to Crump, who tossed it at De'Unnero. The Bishop's hand snapped up to pull it from the air, and without taking his stare from Crump, he handed it to Jollenue. "I trust that you would not be so foolish as to make me or one of my emissaries take a third trip out here," he said.

Crump glared at him.

"Do tell me, good merchant," De'Unnero went on, his entire demeanor changing abruptly, "what stone did you use last night? "

The man shrugged impatiently. "No stone," he said gruffly. "I do not know."

"Ah, but it seems as if you found a bit of fighting last night," De'Unnero remarked, pointing to the man's scab.

"I find fighting many nights," Crump replied, trying hard to keep his voice level as De'Unnero reached back and motioned for the purse. "Keeps me strong for the journeys north."

De'Unnero opened the purse and emptied the gems - an amber, a dia-mond, a cat's-eye agate, and a pair of tiny celestites - into his hand. He looked at them curiously for a moment, then looked again, suspiciously, at Crump's neck. "If there are any others, your life is forfeit," he stated clearly, drawing a gasp from the soldiers behind him and from Crump's guard, as well.

"You asked for my gemstones - stones I bought fairly - and so I gave them to you," Crump replied. "Do you imply that I am not an honorable man?"

"I imply nothing," the Bishop answered without hesitation. "I call you a liar openly."

Predictably, Crump came forward in a rush, but De'Unnero spun around and kicked the man, sending him staggering backward into the arms of his surprised guard.

De'Unnero stuffed the purse and gems into a pocket of his robe, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, his men following closely. They got to the street, but there the Bishop stopped suddenly.

"Have we more business in this district this day?" Brother Jollenue dared to ask after several long minutes slipped by.

"Do you not understand?" De'Unnero replied. "Master Crump has lied to us."

"And are we to search his house?" asked one soldier.

"The ruins of it," De'Unnero retorted, and every one of them knew he was not joking. "But perhaps it will not come to that." De'Unnero honestly believed that statement, for the perceptive man had learned much more than Aloysius Crump had intended to tell him. The man had been in a fight that previous night - that much was obvious from the wound on his neck. And it was equally obvious to De'Unnero that the wound had been treated with either powerful herbs or with magic. A soul stone would have left no sign of a wound, for it would not have taken much magical energy to heal such a minor cut as that.

So perhaps it was an herbal concoction. Perhaps.

"Follow," De'Unnero instructed, starting back for the house and pro-ducing a garnet from another pocket in his robe. "And learn." The Bishop stopped in front of the gate - which a servant had closed once more -  pausing just long enough to concentrate on the garnet and to let a smile spread across his face. Before his companions had even caught up to him, De'Unnero was over the wall, and this time, he did not bother to throw open the gate behind him.

He sprinted across the courtyard, ignoring the cries from the guard, who was back outside. Right up to the doors and through them went the Bishop, and there, in the foyer, stood a very surprised Aloysius Crump, flanked by several female house servants, all fretting over the wound De'Unnero had given him - a wound already on the mend, the Bishop noted.

De'Unnero stood perfectly still and took a deep draft of air. No scent, no indication of any herbs. The Bishop did not need to go back to his garnet to figure out his riddle, for he was no novice to the games merchants often played with the sacred stones.

"Remove your boots," he ordered Crump.

The man furrowed his brow. "In the company of ladies?" he asked sar-castically. He raised one eyebrow slightly as he glanced over De'Unnero's shoulder.

Few would have caught the clue, but for De'Unnero, it sounded as clearly as one of St. Precious' massive bells. He spun around, registering the movement of the approaching guard's extended sword, and slashed his arm against the side of the blade. The edge cut the sleeve of his robe and drew a line of blood on De'Unnero's forearm. Now he had the guard off guard. De'Unnero's hand snapped out, wrapping the guard's sword hand. The Bishop jerked his arm back, then drove his shoulder into the man's chest.

He could have rained blows upon the guard's face and chest then, but De'Unnero's focus remained on that sword hand. He grabbed the guard by the wrist with his other hand, then bent the guard's hand, overextending his wrist. De'Unnero felt the man's grip weaken and timed his release per-fectly so that he caught the weapon by the hilt. A deft twist of his wrist, a step away, then a lunge, drove the guard's sword deep into his belly.

A shove sent the dying man sprawling to the floor, and the Bishop let go of the sword hilt and turned back to face Crump, who had barely moved.

De'Unnero was laughing now. He heard his companions bumble into the foyer behind him, but he held up his hand to keep them at bay.

"But, my lord," Brother Jollenue protested. More than one of the sol-diers gasped at the sight of the groaning man on the floor, his blood pooling out around him.

"This lesson is mine to teach!" De'Unnero growled, his tone, as cold as death, silencing the younger monk.

"I will ask you again," De'Unnero said to Crump, "in deference to your position. Remove your boots."

"Murdering dog!" the merchant replied, rushing to the wall behind him and pulling free an old boar spear mounted there. " 'Tis your own boots they'll be pulling from your stinking feet, so as not to waste so fine a pair on a worthless corpse!"

"Bishop De'Unnero," one of the city guardsmen said.

"Hold your ground!" De'Unnero shouted at his companions. "I am the teacher, and Crump the student."

"Go and take back his sword," Crump offered, pointing his spear - a nasty, black metal affair with a second hooked blade just below the head to prevent an impaled animal from sliding down the shaft. "Never let it be said that Aloysius Crump killed an unarmed man."

De'Unnero laughed. "Unarmed?" he echoed. "It would seem that your soldier made the same mistake."

Crump lowered the spear and came forward a cautious step, showing the dangerous bishop due respect. He waved the spear slowly back and forth, showing complete control of its movements, as if to prove that the Bishop could not slip by its deadly point as he had the guard's sword.

De'Unnero started forward suddenly, then retreated quickly two steps as Crump let out a howl and stabbed hard. His spear fell short, and the angry merchant charged ahead, stabbing again for De'Unnero's head.

Down squatted the Bishop, turning and rolling to get far from the blade. Thinking the advantage his, Crump pursued, thrusting again.

De'Unnero twisted fast to the side, slapping his forearm against the spear, half deflecting the blow. Crump was fast, though, and strong enough to reverse the momentum in the blink of an astonished eye. He let the spear fly out.

De'Unnero hardly seemed to move from the waist up; his legs bent under him so efficiently that the swishing blade passed beneath his feet before Crump or any of the onlookers realized that he had dodged. When he finally did understand his obvious vulnerability, Crump gave a yell and backpedaled desperately. To the merchant's surprise, the Bishop did not leap inside the reach of his weapon but rather stood gingerly on one leg, wincing as if he had injured himself.

Another yell, this one of victory and not of fear, and Crump skidded to a stop and leaped ahead once more, his spear driving fast for the apparently vulnerable Bishop.

De'Unnero doubled over as the spear came in; behind him, Brother Jollenue screamed, thinking him impaled.

But the tip never dug in. De'Unnero somersaulted right over the thrust-ing weapon. He drove his hand down, pushing the spear lower and clasping the haft. Then he used Crump's forward momentum, kicking both feet out, one of his heels smashing the merchant in the face, the other hammering into Crump's chest.

Crump simply stopped cold, and his arms fell to his sides. The spear would have fallen to the floor, except that De'Unnero now held it fast. Agile and acrobatic, the Bishop came off Crump as cleanly as if he had leaped against a wall, turning and twisting to land gracefully on his feet at the same time that the dazed Crump crashed to his knees.

De'Unnero tossed the spear aside. He grabbed Crump's hair, jerking his head back, exposing his neck, stiffened fingers of his other hand ready to strike. He could have put his fingers right through that neck, but his better judgment made him merely leave Crump gasping for air but very much alive.

De'Unnero looked around at the spectators, savoring the victory. Then he placed his foot on Crump's shoulder and unceremoniously kicked the man to the floor. He went and knelt over the man.

"I told you not to make me return," he said to the still-gasping merchant. "What clearer warning might I have given? Ah yes, but they are justwords."

De'Unnero moved down and reached for Crump's boot, but the ever-stubborn merchant kicked at him. Up went the Bishop to his feet, slam-ming his foot right into the merchant's groin.

Crump howled and doubled up in agony.

"If you kick at me again, I will castrate you, here and now," De'Unnero calmly promised. Crump offered no resistance as the Bishop pulled off his boots. There, on the second toe of Crump's left foot, was the item the Bishop had suspected, a gold ring set with a small hematite.

"Witness the resilience and innovation of merchants," De'Unnero told Jollenue, reaching down and yanking the ring from Crump's toe. "Once a simple soul stone, of which there are dozens at St. Precious alone, but through the cleverness of an alchemist and a powerful monk of some long- past century comes this: a ring that will begin a slow but steady healing process on the wounds of its wearer. A magnificent little item, one that has allowed our Master Crump here to build an impressive reputation of walking off battlefields on which he was left to die, seemingly mortally wounded.

"So ends the legend, the mystery explained," the Bishop said to the sol-dier who had first told him of Crump's exploits, the man having followed the others into the house this time.

The soldier glanced at his companions, obviously nervous, as was everyone in the foyer, not knowing what the volatile Bishop would do next.

De'Unnero let them linger in that uncertainty for a few long moments, then said suddenly, "Take him to St. Precious! To the same dungeon that held the outlaw centaur!"

Two soldiers jumped at the order, rushing to Crump, hooking their arms under his broad shoulders and hoisting him to his feet. De'Unnero was right there. "One bit of resistance," he warned . .. and he held up his hand, now the limb of a tiger, claws extended. "Castration."

Crump nearly swooned, then moved along limply as the guards pulled him away.

De'Unnero looked at the guard on the floor. "Bury your dead," he instructed the servants, "facedown and in unconsecrated ground."

One woman cried out. By the measure of the Church, De'Unnero had just ordered the greatest affront that could be offered to this man and to any surviving family he had.

"Cover his grave with a blocking stone," the merciless Bishop went on, taking the insult even farther, "that his demon-filled spirit cannot escape the realm of the underworld."

De'Unnero's eyes narrowed as he considered each of the servants, letting them know that their fate would be equally grim if they failed.

Then the Bishop swept out of the house, taking up brother Jollenue and the remaining soldiers in his wake.

It was a lesson, he knew, that none in attendance would soon forget.