Penþa watches the dancers flow through the final step of their dance, their feet thudding to a halt on the earth of the courtyard.

They climb up on their bench, and stand, starkly lit by the fire.

"That was very well done," they announce, with a nod to the musicians — Artem with a lute and Lhemur with a drum — and to the dancers, now slowly dispersing out into the crowd and gratefully accepting drinks of water. "I think, however, it is time for a break in the dancing, because we have a special treat this year."

"As you all know, I have not yet chosen an apprentice. But I will have to pick someone, sooner or later. So this year, I'm going to be taking one of the story tellings as an opportunity to find potential future organizers. Would the children please come sit near the front, please? Thank you."

"Being an organizer requires many things. It requires a calm temperment, and a good memory, both for facts and for people. It requires being careful, and meticulously keeping our village's records. It also requires not only being fair to everyone, but being known to be fair. Everyone must agree that the organizer will rightly decide the cases brought to them. Which is why this year, I'm going to present to you a case that was heard three sixes of sixes years ago, by the organizer three organizers ago, and see whether you come to the same conclusion that she did," they explain.

"Now, an organizer must also know the laws," they continue. "But of course the youngest among us don't know all the laws yet — and some of the older people could do with a few reminders."

There's a round of chuckles.

"So while I'm telling the story, if anyone has a question about what the law says, put up your hand and I'll tell you. Unlike normally, I won't interpret the law, I'll just tell you the actual words. Doing the interpretation is up to you. And when the story is told, you'll have an opportunity to render judgement, and then we'll see whether you agreed with old Organizer Kastal. Ready?"

Penþa watches the dancers flow through the final step of their dance, their feet thudding to a halt on the earth of the courtyard.

They pull their shawl around their shoulders, climb up on their bench, and stand, starkly lit by the fire.

"That was very well done," they announce, with a nod to the musicians — Artem with a lute and Lhemur with a drum — and to the dancers, now slowly dispersing out into the crowd and gratefully accepting drinks of water. "I think, however, it is time for a break in the dancing, because we have a special treat this year."

"As you all know, I have not yet chosen an apprentice. But I will have to pick someone, sooner or later. So this year, I'm going to be taking one of the story tellings as an opportunity to find potential future organizers. Would the children please come sit near the front, please? Thank you."

"Being an organizer requires many things. It requires a calm temperment, and a good memory, both for facts and for people. It requires being careful, and meticulously keeping our village's records. It also requires not only being fair to everyone, but being known to be fair. Everyone must agree that the organizer will rightly decide the cases brought to them. Which is why this year, I'm going to present to you a case that was heard three sixes of sixes years ago, by the organizer three organizers ago, and see whether you come to the same conclusion that she did," they explain.

"Now, an organizer must also know the laws," they continue. "But of course the youngest among us don't know all the laws yet — and some of the older people could do with a few reminders."

There's a round of chuckles.

"So while I'm telling the story, if anyone has a question about what the law says, put up your hand and I'll tell you. Unlike normally, I won't interpret the law, I'll just tell you the actual words. Doing the interpretation is up to you. And when the story is told, you'll have an opportunity to render judgement, and then we'll see whether you agreed with old Organizer Kastal. Ready?"

Penþa watches the dancers flow through the final step of their dance, their feet thudding to a halt on the earth of the courtyard.

They pull their shawl around their shoulders, climb up on their bench, and stand, starkly lit by the fire.

"That was very well done," they announce, with a nod to the musicians — Artem with a lute and Lhemur with a drum — and to the dancers, now slowly dispersing out into the crowd and gratefully accepting drinks of water. "I think, however, it is time for a break in the dancing, because we have a special treat this year."

"As you all know, I have not yet chosen an apprentice. But I will have to pick someone, sooner or later. So this year, I'm going to be taking one of the story tellings as an opportunity to find potential future organizers. Would the children please come sit near the front, please? Thank you."

"Being an organizer requires many things. It requires a calm temperament, and a good memory, both for facts and for people. It requires being careful, and meticulously keeping our village's records. It also requires not only being fair to everyone, but being known to be fair. Everyone must agree that the organizer will rightly decide the cases brought to them. Which is why this year, I'm going to present to you a case that was heard three sixes of sixes years ago, by the organizer three organizers ago, and see whether you come to the same conclusion that she did," they explain.

"Now, an organizer must also know the laws," they continue. "But of course the youngest among us don't know all the laws yet — and some of the older people could do with a few reminders."

There's a round of chuckles.

"So while I'm telling the story, if anyone has a question about what the law says, put up your hand and I'll tell you. Unlike normally, I won't interpret the law, I'll just tell you the actual words. Doing the interpretation is up to you. And when the story is told, you'll have an opportunity to render judgement, and then we'll see whether you agreed with old Organizer Kastal. Ready?"