Noon. The doors opened one final time and an usher came out and stood silently beside the door, holding it open. A few eyes turned to the door, but nobody made any move to enter.
The usher shifted his feet and glanced around the room. “Eloa,” he finally said, perhaps a little too softly. A few moments later, more loudly this time: “Eloa Jevoson Mirentil?”
The quiet conversations in the room stopped suddenly. People looked around, searching the faces of those around them.
Lewserf approached the usher and muttered, “Eloa was here earlier. I saw him step outside about an hour ago. I figured he was just getting a little fresh air. Maybe he’s lost track of time.”
“Go out and see if you can find him. I’ll inform the Triumvirate.” The usher quickly turned and allowed the door to close behind him. Lewserf strode quickly through the room, which was now erupting once more in conversation. He burst through the door and out onto the grounds. He quickly scanned the area. No sign of Eloa anywhere. He couldn’t believe it. How could Eloa just disappear like that, today of all days? He trotted around the perimeter of the building.
If Eloa skipped out on his interview, what would they do? Wouldn’t that disqualify him? Lewserf breathed deeply of the spring air. It was going to be a great day.