The roar of the crowd. The fabulous clothes. The vicious gossip. It's all an exhilarating dance.
A party of musicians assembled on the gallery above are striking up a dancing tune. The partygoers who don't intend to dance are retreating to the upper gallery or to graze among the somewhat-diminished offerings of the refreshment tables. Servants are pouring more wine and adding ice to the bowls of lemon water that stand ready to refresh the thirsty dancers.
You see familiar faces among the throng. Falathar is staying off the dance floor, apparently declining various offers to dance politely but firmly. He casts glances over his admirers' shoulders at both Liathar and Cenone. Liathar is talking to Pell, who seems insistent about something. As you watch, Pell offers Liathar his hand, nodding pointedly toward the dance floor. Liathar says something conciliatory, and Pell throws up his hands and stalks off toward the refreshment table.
Ezren is here and takes a brief turn around the dance floor with another academic so elderly that a few circles is enough for her to retreat to a chair, fanning herself madly. Ezren fetches her a cup of lemon water but looks distracted the entire time, as if his attention is elsewhere.