He swept the assembly with his eyes.
His left arm—or what appeared to be a left arm, so covered with the cape was it—fumbled at his right wrist.
He said once more, gutturally, "Yes, poor Tantalus."
He stepped down from the rostrum, and with slow dignified step left the conclave room.
The hundred odd members of the Conclave settled back in their seats after Olduk had gone. The session was resumed.
The Speaker, listening to the monotonous reading of a bill, reached absently for the water carafe, tilted it. The water did not pour. The Speaker tilted the carafe further—and further—suddenly the water made its exit.
It fell from the carafe, the entire contents, struck against the glass, knocked the glass over, bounced off the table into the air, and thence to the floor.
There the water, a half-gallon of it, tightly rolled into a neat, compact sphere, bounced up and down several times, and then subsided on the floor as clear and flawless as crystal glass.
The Speaker stared at it.