"Angelo, you churl, sir! Do you know how long I've been working on that line? You know how difficult it is for me to get a decent trochee when I'm--oh, company? Capital! 'Come fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring--'" "Please, Forsyth. These men are here on business. They want you to do them a favor." Resignedly, Forsyth kept quiet. And listened for good measure. He listened for ten minutes. And then the leader was finished and Forsyth said "A pox on't!" "Please, Forsyth--" "He's _right_!" came Tharn's voice. "I told you I didn't like it, and I _don't_, and--" "_He_ doesn't like it?" bellowed Forsyth. "Then by Heav'n, I'll _do_ it! Teach you, sire, to make charcoal caricatures of _me_ on a day when I'm not lampooning _you_! Very well, but I don't think I've got too many apprentices that aren't engaged right at the moment. Nonetheless, if--" The leader was beyond control. "_Apprentices_, did you say?" he croaked hoarsely. "Why, you--" "What in Dante did you think, man-child?" shot back Forsyth. "You don't suppose I'd give you finished, creative _writers_ for the job of a trained ape, do you? _Some_ apprentices I've got, and _some_ apprentices you'll get--and only because Dean Angelo here says so." * * * * * The three men from Earth strode with military precision back toward their ship. The leader was in the center, and his subordinates, each with bulging briefcases in both hands, were on either side. A large group from the colony walked at a slower pace behind. Angelo, as usual, was at their head, and flanking him were Tharn and Forsyth. "Another whole _week_ wasted!" lamented Forsyth. "Not that the time means anything, but those sensitive young boys and girls of mine will never be the same! One of them, just this morning, told me she was thinking of taking up _politics_ as a hobby! The tortures I go through for you, Angelo--" "I _still_ don't like it!" Tharn cut him off. "And I don't like them! And, Forsyth, I saw what you had your precious little apprentices doing! You had them writing _exactly_ the same tripe they wrote for that _other_ crowd that landed two weeks ago!" "Tharn, you certainly aren't the only one who has no use for that barbaric breed. So--as long as they remain equally matched, they'll eventually, uh--" "_But that means_--" "A Fundamental Law of Order, of course, my dear Tharn. _Balance_, as I think I may already have pointed out...." Forsyth quoted something from on obscure source about the importance of artistic integrity, and then they watched together as the ship from Earth blasted homeward.