"Why, Master Campbell, that is very generous of you and the Minister. I am completely taken by surprise, as I'm sure Edwin will be. We will certainly review the law as soon as possible, so as to allow its most expeditious implementation."

Dalton grimaced. "Well, the thing is, the Minister just now informed me he is impatient to announce it tonight. I had originally planned to bring you a draft of the law, for you and Edwin to review before it was announced, but with all the Directors here the Minister decided that in good conscience he must act-that he couldn't bear to have those men out of work another day. They need to feed their families."

She licked her lips. "Well, yes, I understand… I guess, but I really-"

"Good. Oh, good. That is so very kind of you."

"But I really should have a look at it. I really must see it. Edwin would want-"

"Yes, of course. I understand completely, and I assure you that you will get a copy straightaway-first thing tomorrow."

"But I meant before-"

"With everyone here, now, the Minister was set on announcing it this evening. The Minister really doesn't want to have to delay the implementation, nor does he want to abandon his desire to have the Winthrop name on such a landmark law. And the Minister was so hoping that the Sovereign, since he is here tonight-and we all know how rare his visits are-would hear of the Winthrop Fair Employment Law designed to help people who otherwise have no hope. The Sovereign knows Edwin, and would be so pleased."

Claudine stole a glance at the Sovereign. She wet her lips. "But-"

"Do you wish me to ask the Minister to postpone the law? More than the Sovereign missing it, the Minister would be very disappointed to let the opportunity pass, and to let down those starving children who depend on him to better their lives. You can understand, can't you, that it's really for the sake of the children?"

"Yes, but in order to-"

"Claudine," Dalton said as he took up one of her hands in both of his, "you don't have any children, so I realize it must be particularly difficult for you to empathize with parents desperate to feed their young ones, desperate to find work when there is none, but try to understand how frightened they must be."

She opened her mouth, but no words came. He went on, not allowing her the tune to form those words.

"Try to understand what it would be like to be a mother and father waiting day after day, waiting for a reason to hope, waiting for something to happen so that you could find work and be able to feed your children. Can't you help? Can you try to understand what it must be like for a young mother?"

Her face had gone ashen.

"Of course," she finally whispered. "I understand. I really do. I want to help. I'm sure Edwin will be pleased when he learns he was named as the law's sponsor-"

Before she could say anything else, Dalton stood. "Thank you, Claudine." He took up her hand again and gave it a kiss. "The Minister will be very pleased to hear of your support-and so will those men who will now find work. You have done a good thing for the children. The good spirits must be smiling on you right now."

By the time Dalton had returned to the head table, the squires were making the rounds again, quickly placing a turtle pie in the center of each table. Guests puzzled at the pies, their crusts quartered but not cut all the way through. Frowning, Teresa was leaning in staring at the pie placed before the Minister and his wife at the center of the head table.

"Dalton," she whispered, "that pie moved of its own accord."

Dalton kept the smile from his face. "You must be mistaken, Tess. A pie can't move."

"But I'm sure-"

With that, the crust broke, and a section of it lifted. A turtle poked its head up to peer at the Minister. A claw grasped the edge, and the turtle hauled itself out, to be followed by another. All around the room surprised guests laughed, applauded, and murmured in astonishment as turtles began climbing out of the pies.

The turtles, of course, had not been baked alive in the pies; the pies had been baked with dried beans inside. After the crust was baked, a hole was cut in the bottom to allow the beans to be drained out and the turtles put in. The crusts had been cut partly through so it would break easily and allow the animals to make good their escape.

The turtle pies, as one of the amusements of the feast, were a grand success. Everyone was delighted by the spectacle. Sometimes it was turtles, sometimes it was birds, both specially raised for the purpose of popping out of pies at a feast to delight and astonish guests.

While squires with wooden buckets began making the rounds of the tables to collect the liberated turtles, Lady Chanboor summoned the chamberlain and asked him to cancel the entertainment due to perform before the next course. A hush fell over the room as she rose.

"Good people, if I may have your attention, please." Hildemara looked to both sides of the room, making sure every eye was upon her. Her pleated dress seemed to glow with cold silver light. "It is the highest calling and duty to help your fellow citizens when they are in need. Tonight, at last, we hope to take a step to help the children of Anderith. It is a bold step, one requiring courage. Fortunately, we have a leader of such courage.

"It is my high honor to introduce to you the greatest man I have ever had the privilege to know, a man of integrity, a man who works tirelessly for the people, a man Who never forgets the needs of those who need us most, a man who holds our better future above all else, my husband, the Minister of Culture, Bertrand Chanboor."

Hildemara pulled a smile across her face and, clapping, turned to her husband. The room erupted with applause and a great groan of cheering. Beaming, Bertrand stood and slipped an arm around his wife's waist. She stared adoringly up into his eyes. He gazed lovingly down into hers. People cheered louder yet, joyful to have such a high-minded couple boldly leading Anderith.

Dalton rose as he applauded with his hands over his head, bringing everyone to their feet. He put on his widest smile so the farthest guest would be able to see it and then, continuing to applaud loudly, turned to watch the Minister and his wife.

Dalton had worked for a number of men. Some he could not trust to announce a round of drinks. Some were good at following the plan as Dalton outlined it, but didn't grasp it fully until they saw it unfold. None were in Bertrand Chanboor's league.

The Minister had immediately grasped the concept and goal as Dalton had quickly explained it to him. He would be able to embellish it and make it his own; Dalton had never seen anyone as smooth as Bertrand Chanboor.

Smiling, holding a hand in the air, Bertrand both acknowledged the cheering crowd and finally silenced them.

"My good people of Anderith," he began in a deep, sincere-sounding voice that boomed into the farthest reaches of the room, "tonight I ask you to consider the future. The time is overdue for us to have the courage to leave our past favoritism where it belongs-in the past. We must, instead, think of our future and the future of our children and grandchildren."

He had to pause and nod and smile while the room again roared with applause. Once more, he began, bringing "the audience to silence.

"Our future is doomed if we allow naysayers to rule our imagination, instead of allowing the spirit of potential, given us by the Creator, room to soar."

He again waited until the wild clapping died down. Dalton marveled at the sauce Bertrand could whip up on the spot to pour over the meat.

"We in this room have had thrust upon us the responsibility for all the people of Anderith, not just the fortunate. It is time our culture included all the people of Anderith, not just the fortunate. It is time our laws served all the people of Anderith, not just the few."