It was less perfect that year. Because it was then that Rini's brother Irik came back from Barshwat, after a six years' absence. He was very much the city man, far more so than anyone Clarey had seen in Barshwat itself. His tunics were shorter than his fellow villagers', and his cloaks iridesced restlessly from one vivid color to another. He wore a great deal of jewelry and perfume, neither of the best quality, and the toes of his boots were divided. Clarey described this in detail to Embelsira the night Irik put in his first appearance at the Furbush. "You should have seen the little horror!" "That's the way city men dress," Embelsira told him. "It's fashionable." "But, dear, I've been to Barshwat." "You don't have an eye for clothes. You never notice when I put on anything new. And I think it's unfair to take a dislike to Irik just because you don't care for the way he dresses." "It's more than that, Belsira." And yet how could he explain to her what he couldn't quite understand himself, that Irik was vain, stupid, hostile; hence, dangerous? "I swear to you, Balt," Embelsira said demurely, "that whatever there was between me and Irik, it all ended six years ago." Clarey gave a start and then held back a smile. "I believe you, dear." And he kissed her nose. * * * * * Irik held forth in the Furbush every evening of his stay in Katund. He had grievances and he aired them generously. He hated everything--the government, taxes, modern music, and Earthmen, whom he seemed to consider in some way responsible for the modern music, or at least its popularization. "Barbarians--slept completely through my concerts." "But people are always falling asleep during concerts, Irik," Malesor pointed out reasonably. "And how could you expect barbarians to appreciate good music? What do you care for Earthmen's opinions as long as your own people like your music?" Irik hesitated. "But the Earthmen have taken up the new kind of music; they stay awake during that. And--a lot of people seem to think that whatever's strange is good, so whatever the Earthmen like eventually becomes fashionable." Hanxi wiggled his ears. "Fashions change. Well, who's ready to have his mug refilled?" "But the Earthmen will keep on setting the fashions," Irik snarled. "Many people think the Earthmen know everything, just because they're aloof and have sky cars." "Well," Malesor said, "the sky cars certainly prove they know something we don't. Better stick to your music, boy." The smoky little bar-parlor resounded with laughter and Irik's face turned a nasty red. "They don't know anything about music and they don't know everything about machinery. We might surprise them yet. A friend of mine knows Guhak, the fellow who invented that new brake for the track car a few years ago."