"Two items of business before I leave you to your…work," she says distastefully, swirling her hand in the air. "This Sunday shall His Grace host an assemblage of dignitaries provincial and foreign. A splendid board is expected, and fine entertainment; therefore shall this full company perform together for the pleasure of the esteemed multitude."
"Sunday?" Gilbert says with a start.
"…All of us?" says the younger tumbler Aaron, pointing at his chest. His sister Gitel listens closely.
"Yes, yes, neophytes and old hands alike," the Steward says, tapping her toes. "The greater the affluence of His Grace's Court in the eyes of his guests, the stronger his reputation becomes. Besides, it is high time you infants should begin earning your keep."
"We've scarcely begun joint rehearsals," begins Millicent in a powerful voice before the old jester stops her.
"Leave it to me, 'centavo," he says with a wink. "Your servant Timshel has it in hand."
"Second! There is the new one," Malodoro says, swiveling to you. Seemingly as one, the rest of the company follows suit.
"Bandochel, I believe…unless that was someone else. At any rate, this specimen is to be lurking about you, supporting from the shadows the efficient and effective comportment of this company."
"What?" says Aitoko the illusionist, his drooping mustachios echoing his frown.
Malodoro sighs. "Explain what it is you're to be doing."