 
### The Sixth Discipline

### by

### Carmen Webster Buxton

Copyright © 2011 by Karen Wester Newton

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Smashwords Edition: March 2011

THE SIXTH DISCIPLINE

A Cracked Mirror Press novel

Cracked Mirror Press

Rockville, MD

### Contents

Other Cracked Mirror books by Carmen Webster Buxton

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Acknowledgments

Other Cracked Mirror books by Carmen Webster Buxton:

No Safe Haven

Tribes

For John

Oh, how I wish you were here to read this!

### Chapter One

On the morning he was kidnapped, Ran-Del Jahanpur stepped out of his great-grandfather's house and stretched to his full height. The sky above, just visible through the leafy canopy of blackwood trees, glowed golden with morning light. The spicy scent of a nearby tea vine promised it would be a warm day.

Ran-Del grasped his bow, checked that his dagger was in its sheath and his quiver full of arrows, and set out.

He hadn't gone three steps when his grandmother came around from the back of the house carrying a leather bucket half full of water. Her brown eyes brightened when she saw him. "So you're off, are you?" She glanced around as if expecting to see someone or something. "You're not taking Buster?"

"I'm hoping for a tree bear," Ran-Del said. "Buster would just scare him off."

"Well, try to bring back _something_ for the pot," she said. "I'm tired of trying to make vegetables taste like stew all by themselves."

Ran-Del gave her a quick, one-armed hug. "I'll do my best."

"A couple of day bats would be plenty," she called after him as he walked away. "Don't stay out all day. You didn't let me pack you any food, and you'll get hungry."

He waved a hand but picked up his pace, jogging along the beaten path between the leather and wood-frame houses. People were out hoeing their gardens or hanging laundry, but Ran-Del didn't stop to chat, not even when his grandfather waved to him. He ran steadily until he was deep into the forest.

He slowed his pace, walking silently, his moccasins soundless, his movements careful. Once he was off the path and moving through the trees, he watched for any sign of game.

All around him the Sansoussy Forest loomed. The light filtering down through the canopy made flickering shadows. Wherever a shaft of sunlight made it to the ground, the copper moss gleamed with red glints. Flowering vines scented the air with their light, familiar fragrance. Only the hum of tree borers drilling into the tree trunks broke the silence.

Ran-Del had just sighted a furry shape moving among the waving branches of a lace palm when a sudden surge of warning overwhelmed him. Something was wrong.

Ran-Del stopped in his tracks. His psy sense had never told him what would happen, but it had warned him of trouble in the past. He stepped back against the bole of a lofty blackwood and surveyed his surroundings. Trained in woodcraft since he took his first tentative steps, he responded to every nuance of the forest around him—every swaying leaf, every twitch of a branch, every faint scent on the breeze.

Silence. Even the tree borers had stopped. No sound, no movement. Ran-Del sniffed. From somewhere nearby he could smell an alien, metallic odor.

Suddenly the very air seemed to split open. What had been a clear space between two trees instantly filled with strangely dressed people and oddly glowing metal boxes. Ran-Del stood frozen, stunned by this disruption of reality. Only when one of the strangers pointed something at Ran-Del did he think to move. Just as he reached for an arrow, something sharp stuck him in the chest. He looked down to see a tiny red dart lodged in his bare flesh.

Ran-Del fell to the ground, suffering the pain of the impact but unable to move even his eyes. He lay face down, one arm trapped under his chest, and fought to maintain awareness. Mentally reciting the mantra for the Second Discipline, he kept himself from sliding into unconsciousness. The strangers' feet scuffled through the copper moss and leafy vines toward him, but Ran-Del couldn't move his eyes to look up.

Four sets of ankle-high boots approached. The man who had shot him came closest. His boots looked too smooth for leather, and Ran-Del saw no sign of stitching.

Ran-Del tightened his mental control as fear gripped him. Could this be a raiding party from the Horde? If the fierce People of the Mountains had acquired new and powerful weapons, the Sansoussy would suffer.

The man who had shot him spoke. "Well, Baron, will this one do?" His voice had the peculiar, clipped accent of a city dweller that Ran-Del had heard from the traveling peddlers who traded with his village.

"Don't be so impatient, Toth," a deeper voice with a similar accent answered. "I need to look at what we've caught."

Alarm filled Ran-Del's mind. He couldn't go above the Third Discipline and stay aware of his surroundings, so he forced himself to ignore his growing dread. He concentrated his psy sense on the one called Baron and felt no hostility from him, no anger, only excitement and apprehension.

"He looks the right age," the deep voice said, "and his hair is still long, so he's not married. I didn't see a braid, so he's not betrothed, either. Let me see the caste bracelet, Toth."

Why would it matter if he were married? The one called Toth gripped Ran-Del's right wrist and pulled his hand out from under his body. Ran-Del could feel the man's anxiety as he did it. Were the strangers afraid, too?

"See that?" the deep-voiced Baron spoke again. "The red bead means he's a warrior who's killed in the service of his clan. The three blue beads mean he's from a family of high status, and that golden-colored glass bead means he has some psy gift, but not enough to make him a person of power—he couldn't be a warrior if he were. The carved stone is a clan totem, but I don't know the clan. Are there two black beads or three?"

Ran-Del felt a tug as the leather thong of his caste bracelet twisted around his wrist. He raged at his helplessness. This must be how a timber cat felt when it fell into a Sansoussy hunter's pit.

The Baron let out an exclamation. "A silver bead and two black beads, one with a silver inlay!"

"What does that mean?" asked the unseen Toth.

"Sansoussy men wear a black bead for every living male ancestor on the paternal side. The silver bead is a marker, to hold the father's position, so this man's father must be dead, but his grandfather and great-grandfather are alive. The silver inlay means the great-grandfather is a shaman, a clan leader. He must be pretty damned ancient."

The accuracy of the Baron's reading took Ran-Del's breath away. This stranger knew Sansoussy ways.

"So is this one acceptable, or do we give him the antidote and let him go like the others?" Toth said insistently.

Hope surged, but the Baron didn't give a definite answer.

"I don't like the shaman business, but if he has brothers or male cousins, it shouldn't matter too much. Other than that, he looks damn near perfect. Let me just confirm his age and health. Give me the medi-scanner, will you, Quinn?"

Ran-Del couldn't so much as blink. What was a medi-scanner? He heard a faint sound—almost a humming except that it wasn't that distinct—but felt nothing. There was another startled exclamation.

"What?" asked Toth's voice. "Is he the wrong age?"

"His age and health are fine. Damn it, the bastard is conscious!"

"What?" A new voice, female this time. "I saw the dart go in, Baron. It hit dead center."

Ran-Del felt something press against the flesh of his upper arm. It tingled for a moment. What were they doing to him?

"I can see that, Quinn," the Baron said. "He's got more than enough juice in him to put him out cold. He must have the constitution of a prairie ox or a will of iron—or maybe both."

"So what do we do?" Toth said. "This is taking too long. More of these folks could come along any time."

"He's the best we've done in a week," the Baron said, his voice grim. "And as the Sansoussy say, there's more than one way to skin a day bat."

Something cold and hard pressed against the back of Ran-Del's neck as he struggled to move. The browns and reds in front of his eyes blurred into blackness, and he felt nothing.

### Chapter Two

Ran-Del awoke suddenly, to find himself lying on his back, staring up at a pale green sky. He frowned. The sky should be golden, not green. He became aware of walls around him—not hide walls, like in a normal house, but pale green, solid-looking walls. He sat up abruptly. He was on a bed, and the bed covering was a smooth, shiny blue cloth, smoother than any cloth had a right to be if it had been made on a loom. Two large chairs and a small table stood across the room, and a large window filled most of the opposite wall.

Ran-Del dashed to the window and tried to climb out, but he hit his head hard. An invisible _something_ covered the window! He could see out quite clearly, but he couldn't put his hand through the opening. Panicked, he pounded on the transparent surface and ran his hands over all of it. Finally, he noticed when he tilted his head, he could see a glare, like water reflecting the sun. He turned his attention to the view.

The window looked out on a flower garden, laid out with a stone pathway and two stone benches, and surrounded by a tall wall. It troubled Ran-Del not to recognize the spikes of blue and yellow flowers that grew near the wall, or the feathery multi-colored blossoms that lined the walkways. The stems and leaves were a familiar russet brown, but the blooms themselves were unknown to him. Above the tall garden walls, the late afternoon sun had dipped low in the pale yellow sky, the only familiar thing in sight.

Ran-Del looked down at himself. He still wore the loose breeches and open vest that a man of the Sansoussy would wear in the summertime. He still had the supple moccasins his grandmother had made for him, but his dirk was gone from its sheath on his belt, and his bow and quiver of arrows were nowhere in sight.

Ran-Del turned back to the room in which he stood. There were two areas that might be doorways, one in the far wall across from the window, and one to his right. Neither one had a curtain; instead each was a smooth featureless white rectangle with a gray square on the wall next to it. Ran-Del prowled the room looking for something that would tell him where he was or who his captors were, and found nothing. Even the space under the bed was empty.

Suddenly, he felt an impending presence, much as he did when Great-grandfather came into a room. He waited expectantly, and then the rectangle across from the window slid into the wall without any sign that anyone was manipulating it. Ran-Del got over his surprise to find that three men had come into the room. The door slid closed behind them. A little under average height, the man in the middle had a stocky build and angular features. His black hair was just going gray, and his brown eyes studied Ran-Del intently.

As soon as he spoke, Ran-Del recognized him as the Baron. "Good afternoon. I'm impressed that you recovered consciousness so quickly."

Ran-Del began formulating ways that he could kill without weapons. The other two men were taller, but less powerfully built. One of them carried something in his hand that looked as if it might be a weapon. The other had an identical device in a sheath on his right thigh.

"In case you're harboring thoughts of mayhem," the Baron said, "I should warn you that my companions are well armed. I would advise against any attempt at either escape or vengeance."

Ran-Del knew the stranger spoke truthfully. Oddly, Ran-Del still sensed no hostility from him, no anger, only an eagerness that approached elation.

The Baron smiled. "Well? Don't you have any questions?"

Ran-Del hesitated, unwilling to cooperate even that much. Still, he needed information. "Where am I, and why have you brought me here?"

His captor nodded approval. "Very good. Straight to the point." He moved a little more into the room and gestured at the window. "Out there is the city of Shangri-La. My home is near the outskirts of the city, and you're in a room in my house."

Ran-Del had heard of Shangri-La. The largest city on Haven, it was more than two hundred kilometers away from the forest of the Sansoussy. How long had he been unconscious? He hid his apprehension and tried for a stern countenance. "Why have you brought me here?"

The Baron smiled again. "I'm afraid I can't answer that completely. For now, I'll just say that I have a use for you."

Ran-Del felt a growing unease as the other man spoke. He might never see his home again—might end his life here within the walls of this city. His breathing and his pulse quickened.

The Baron's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Let me go!" Ran-Del's anger boiled to the surface. "I never harmed you—I never even saw you before."

The Baron's alarm melted into a guilty expression, and indeed, Ran-Del sensed regret. "You're quite right that you had never seen me before this morning. And from your point of view, I had no right to steal you away. But in Shangri-La I have many rights, and you have none."

"The others called you Baron. Are you a leader of this city?"

"You heard that, did you?" His captor didn't seem pleased. Remorse faded to irritation. "Well, we might as well finish the introductions. I'm Stefan Hayden, Baron of the House of Hayden. By what name are you called, my young friend?"

This claim of friendship by someone who held him prisoner made Ran-Del seethe. "I am not your friend. And I don't make a gift of my name to thieves."

"You think I'm a thief?"

The man's amusement grated on Ran-Del like a metal scraper on a fresh hide. "I had a dirk, a bow, and seventeen arrows. Where are they?"

"I'm sorry, but it didn't seem advisable to leave your weapons within reach. You'll get them back, eventually. Now, what is your name, young man?"

Ran-Del returned only a scornful look for an answer.

"See here," Baron Hayden said, "we can't keep calling you 'young man.' If you don't answer my questions, then Toth will break out his medkit, and we'll force the answers from you with a truth drug."

Ran-Del remembered the dart that had made him unable to move. Much as it pained him to cooperate with this despotic city dweller, it would be better not to be made helpless again. "I'm called Ran-Del."

Baron Hayden looked pleased at his compliance. "What family and what clan?"

"My family name is Jahanpur, and I was born to the Falling Water Clan."

"And how many brothers do you have?"

"Two." Ran-Del didn't mention that they were half-brothers, born after his mother's remarriage. He remembered the Baron's interpretation of his caste bracelet. How had this stranger learned so much about Sansoussy customs?

Baron Hayden seemed satisfied. "All right, Ran-Del. That's enough questions for the moment. Let me show you your new home."

Ran-Del suppressed an exclamation of rage; a display of anger would give warning of his intention to act.

The Baron waved a hand around the room. "This is your bedroom. The lights will come on when it gets dark, so long as you're in the room and awake. There are drawers over here." He stepped over to one wall and indicated a column of rectangular panels, each a darker shade of green than the rest of the wall. When Stefan Hayden put his hand in the middle of a panel and pressed firmly, a drawer popped open. "Once we get you some new clothes, you'll have somewhere to put them."

Ran-Del said nothing, but the idea that he would be here long enough to wear out his clothes distressed him.

"Through here," Stefan Hayden went on, placing his hand on a small gray square at waist height near the other door, "is the bathroom."

Ran-Del stared as the door opened, revealing another, smaller room. Ran-Del stepped into it reluctantly, and was taken aback to be confronted with the life-size image of a frowning Sansoussy warrior, his brown hair just brushing his shoulders, wearing a leather vest and breeches, and a caste bracelet on the wrong wrist. In a heartbeat, Ran-Del recognized his own image. The wall in front of him must be the largest mirror he had ever seen. His mother had a small hand-mirror made of polished silver, and his grandmother a slightly larger one, but Ran-Del had never dreamed of a mirror this size.

Stefan Hayden was demonstrating how to use the appliances. Ran-Del watched him but made no comment, not even when the thing called a toilet swirled noisily and the shower spewed a small waterfall. Impressed, in spite of himself, that these people could make immense quantities of hot water flow at the touch of a button, Ran-Del wondered what would happen to the waste that would be flushed away so neatly.

Stefan grew gregarious, offering brushes and other toilet articles, including a tube of creamy paste that he explained to an incredulous Ran-Del would leave him clean-shaven within seconds of putting it on his face and washing it off.

"I'm sorry I can't let you have a razor," Stefan said, "but I really don't want anyone to get his throat slit."

Ran-Del made no reply to this or any other of Stefan's many comments. Anger and fear struggled for control of his emotions, and Ran-Del wanted neither of them in charge of his actions. He wished desperately that his grandfather's voice would awaken him from this terrible dream, but he knew that was a vain hope. All his senses told him this experience was real.

The two other men had waited in the bedroom. Now one of them opened the door through which they had entered and Ran-Del could see a larger room beyond it.

Stefan Hayden led the way. "This is your sitting room, Ran-Del. I hope you find it comfortable."

Dazed, Ran-Del looked around. The sitting room—bigger than the great room of his great-grandfather's house—was furnished with more chairs than he had ever seen in one place. Among the Sansoussy, chairs were reserved for the elderly; everyone else sat on stools or benches. Instead of being plain, carved wood, these chairs were well padded and covered with fabric. Two of them looked large enough for three or four people, more like benches than chairs. Several tables had been placed around the room, and shelves set into one wall contained all manner of things that Ran-Del couldn't identify.

One thing that caught his eye immediately was that the sitting room had a door to the outside. Except for a frame that looked more substantial, the door was every bit as transparent as the windows. Through it and the windows on either side of it, Ran-Del could see more of the walled garden. He judged the wall to be only about twenty or thirty centimeters taller than he was. He could scale it with no difficulty.

"You can go outside whenever you like," Stefan Hayden said, as he pressed his hand to the gray square by the door. "The door will open when you touch the access panel—"

He broke off his directions as Ran-Del raced across the room through the now open doorway and sprinted into the garden at top speed. Ran-Del paid no attention as Stefan shouted a warning. He lunged at the wall, still moving fast, with his hands raised to grab the top edge. Just as he expected to grasp the stone, his hands slammed into an unseen barrier.

Ran-Del dropped to the ground, stunned by the pain. He lay on his side and invoked the Fourth Discipline to deal with the agony in his wrists. He could feel the reassuring sensation of calmness, the creeping relaxation of his muscles as he achieved samad state and restored control. He shut out the alien sights and sounds around him and concentrated only on his own body.

***

When Stefan crouched down beside the fallen Sansoussy, Ran-Del was staring fixedly at a point some twenty centimeters in front of his face. The Baron sighed. He hadn't expected it would be this difficult to a get a captive Sansoussy warrior to listen to him.

Toth ran up beside him and held the medi-scanner over Ran-Del's body. "Is he going into shock? His pressure and heart rate are down."

"Self-induced trance," Stefan said. "He's probably in a lot of pain right now. He hit the force field pretty hard."

"How does he do that?" Toth asked.

Stefan wished he understood the answer better himself. "The Sansoussy teach their children biofeedback techniques for mastering their own bodies. It helps if you have a psy gift."

"So what do we do with this one now?"

For just a few seconds, Stefan considered ordering his staff to take the Sansoussy back to the forest. He stared at the warrior's caste bracelet, his long shaggy hair, his straight limbs. This particular Sansoussy was too perfect to toss back so quickly. Besides, another warrior might be even harder to handle. "You and Merced carry him back into the house. Put him on the sofa in the sitting room."

"Yes, sir." Toth called out to his companion and the two of them lifted Ran-Del and carried him inside.

***

Ran-Del stirred when they laid him down on the sofa. His eyes came back into focus, and he let out a deep breath. It hadn't been a dream. The pain in his wrists told him that. When he sat up and looked around, the Baron was watching him critically.

"I tried to warn you," Stefan said. "There's a force field that extends more than a meter above the top of the wall."

Ran-Del took a deep breath as he digested this information. Coming out of samad state so abruptly could be disconcerting. Finding out his prison had invisible barriers didn't help. This place grew more mystifying every minute. "I saw nothing. Is it like the windows?"

"Not really. The windows are made of a transparent, high-grade polymer. You can see through the polymer quite clearly, but it's solid matter, just like that sofa you're sitting on. The force field is energy, like sunlight is energy, except that it feels solid. It acts as a barrier so long as it has an adequate power supply."

The Baron might as well have spoken in an unknown language. How could Ran-Del escape a barrier he couldn't see or comprehend? He shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand you."

"You don't need to understand everything all at once," Stefan said. "You'll get it eventually."

Ran-Del turned his head so that he faced Stefan, to be certain whether the man was lying or telling the truth. "You'll use these things to keep me from going home?"

Stefan nodded. "It's possible that eventually you won't want to go home."

Ran-Del recognized not only the Baron's truthfulness but his unconscious arrogance. The man believed he was doing Ran-Del a favor by bringing him to this city. Ran-Del debated his options. This stranger had too many minions, and too many magic-seeming things helping him. Ran-Del was trapped as surely as a timber cat in a pit.

Despair filled his soul at the thought. Confinement among these strangers would be unbearable. To live enclosed by walls, without family or clan, without the forest itself, wasn't living.

A soul-wrenching fear gripped Ran-Del. What did this Baron plan to do with a Sansoussy of the forest? If the outlander could make a barrier from the very air, what hope did Ran-Del have of resisting his plans? The sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him. His life as a Sansoussy was over. He would be better off dead.

Better off dead. He swallowed. He didn't want to die. He breathed in the alien air, felt the strange smoothness of the fabric under his hands. His head reeled; he had nothing familiar to anchor himself. Ran-Del glanced at the two armed men. If he tried to kill them, they would fight back. If the choice was between a quick, clean warrior's death and a life of shame and degradation as the Baron's prisoner, death would be the better choice.

But did the guards have any lethal weapons or could they only make him fall down in pain? The Baron seemed intent on keeping him a prisoner but alive. There was no escape that way.

Then how? Abruptly, the answer came to him. He pushed it away, but it came back, driven by panic and anger. Every Sansoussy learned how to make the choice between death and dishonor. If his family ever found out, they would mourn him, but at least Ran-Del would die a Sansoussy. Not even this stranger could control his mind.

Ran-Del smiled with triumph, leaned back, closed his eyes, and mentally recited the mantra for the Fifth Discipline. He had used it only twice, and both times Great-grandfather had been right there to bring him out of it. This time there would be no one.

He repeated the mantra again and again, each time making more of his muscles relax. He could feel his breathing slowing, his heart rate dropping, his body shutting down, like a flower that closes in the dark. He shut out all sensation outside of his own body—sounds, warmth, touch, smell. In the whole of his universe there was only him, and soon he would be gone.

***

Stefan studied the Sansoussy. Was he meditating? It might be a good thing. He seemed pretty upset. The Disciplines would bring his anger under control. But why was he smiling so strangely? And why was his face so pale?

Stefan leaned closer, close enough to smell the faint odor of wood smoke that clung to the forest dweller's clothes. The Sansoussy didn't react to Stefan's closeness. Stefan put one hand on the man's neck. His pulse was so faint, Stefan could barely feel it. "Goddamn!"

Toth hurried to the sofa, Merced right behind him. "What now, Baron?" Merced asked. "I thought he wasn't badly hurt?"

"He wasn't," Stefan said. "But now he's killing himself. Get out your kit, Toth. Give him a jolt of empranimine, and do it quickly."

"Empranimine?" Toth asked, as he ripped open the medical kit on his belt. "What good will a pain killer do?"

"It interferes with the brain's chemistry," Stefan said, all but twitching with impatience. "He won't be able to control his autonomic functions. Hurry up, man!"

Toth pressed the hypospray tube against the Sansoussy's arm and activated the switch. After several seconds, Ran-Del began to breathe more normally, and color returned to his face. In a few more seconds, he opened his eyes and moaned. He put both hands to his forehead as if he had a headache.

Stefan let out a ragged breath. "It serves you right if your head hurts! Why the hell did you want to kill yourself?"

Ran-Del groaned. He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth on the sofa, muttering to himself. Finally, he opened his eyes and glared at Stefan. "What did you do to me? I can't achieve samad state—not even the First Discipline!"

Stefan heard the rage and frustration in the other man's voice, but he was unrepentant. "I gave you something to stop you from taking your own life. Why did you do it? Have I hurt you in any way?"

"Hurt me?" Ran-Del's tone made the two words a condemnation. "You shut me in this airless prison, many days' march from my own people, and you ask if you've hurt me? Go away and let me die!"

"No." Stefan said, bending close to make his point. "You may think you want to die now, but you'll come around."

Ran-Del's right hand shot out at him, palm hyper-extended and the heel of his hand aimed at the bridge of Stefan's nose. Stefan jerked back as Merced blocked the blow with a counter punch that drove Ran-Del's arm up harmlessly, and Toth discharged his weapon, swiveling it in the holster so that he could fire without drawing it.

Stefan gasped at the suddenness of the attack. If the Sansoussy hadn't been groggy from the drug, he might well have succeeded in delivering what could only have been meant as a killing blow.

Ran-Del cried out when the force of Toth's weapon hit him. His muscles jerked as his nervous system suffered the assault. He collapsed onto the sofa and lay sprawled wildly across it, gasping.

Stefan laid him more neatly on the cushions. He stood looking down at the Sansoussy. Had he made a mistake? Perhaps, but too much was at stake to give up now. He turned to go.

"Is it safe to leave him, sir?" Merced asked. "How long will the empranimine last?"

"Long enough." Stefan would have to take steps if he was going to keep his prisoner alive. A dead Sansoussy was of no use, and would leave him with a guilty conscience with nothing gained in return. He went out the door into the corridor and gave one last glance back at the man now lying quietly on the sofa.

Toth and Merced headed back to the security office, but Stefan made his way to the private parlor at the end of the corridor. When he opened the door, he found his daughter Francesca sitting negligently in a chair, one hand propping up her chin, the other smoothing her short black hair. She rose as he came into the room and stood defiantly, as if to challenge his authority.

"Well, Pop," she said, "how did it go with my intended?"

### Chapter Three

Her father sighed audibly, and Francesca smiled to herself, pleased to have gotten a reaction.

"I wish you wouldn't call me Pop," he said. "It was funny when you were little. It's not funny now."

"I don't do it to be funny," she said. "I do it because it annoys you."

A pained look crossed his face. "Why do you feel a need to irritate me? You're my daughter, and I love you. Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do, Pop." She crossed the room to give him a hug. He might be a nuisance sometimes, but he was all she had. "But you insist on running my life for me—like this foolish scheme to drag a poor unsuspecting savage here and make him into a loyal consort for me. I could have you committed if I were willing to make that one public."

He frowned, unwilling, as usual, to admit she might be right. "I hardly think so, Francesca. And it's not so foolish."

So he was going to go through with it. She would have to work fast to get him to change his mind or she would find herself trapped in a ridiculous situation. "I concede your point on marriage; we need to continue the House. But you could find someone for me—a real person, not some anonymous aborigine."

"This man has a name. He's Ran-Del Jahanpur, a warrior of the Falling Water Clan."

She laughed without any humor in her voice. Didn't he realize how absurd it sounded? "I'm sure I'll look delightful introducing him at the next spring festival. 'This is my fiancé, Ran-Del Jahanpur. Don't you just love the bone in his hair?'"

His mouth twisted in annoyance. "Stop it, Francesca. The Sansoussy don't wear bones—in their hair or elsewhere. Besides, by the time spring rolls around again, I hope to have you safely married—maybe even with a kid on the way."

Have a child with some nameless savage? Not bloody likely! She frowned back at him. He could be stubborn, and he had the law behind him. If he persisted in this plan, her only choices would be to opt out of the House of Hayden—giving up her inheritance altogether—or to go along with his decision. "I'm not going to marry some wild man just because you've gotten paranoid in your old age."

His expression turned suddenly dour, his eyes darker than ever. "I only wish it were as easy as that, sweetie. I wish it were all in my head."

"Don't call me that," she said, irritated that he had succeeded in making her afraid. "I'm not a child anymore. And don't look at me like that—as if someone were walking on your grave or something."

"For all I know, they are."

Francesca tried and failed to repress a shiver. "You're doing that on purpose, just to scare me."

He shook his head. "I'd never scare you without reason. And I would never have dragged that poor man out of his forest unless I had no choice. Hayden is the only independent Great House left in Shangri-La. The others have all been swallowed up by the cartels."

She snorted. "Like I don't know that?"

He clenched his jaw as if he were barely holding on to his patience. "If I don't get you safely married to someone who can't be used against you, then it leaves us vulnerable. If I were to get taken out tomorrow, there'd be a line of men at the door eager to marry you. Some of them would plan on selling Hayden to the highest bidder, and some might have dreams of maintaining control themselves, but not one of them would care a whit what happened to you."

Francesca couldn't argue with his facts, but his solution still appalled her. "I'd turn them all away. I could run our House myself. You've taught me how, ever since Mom died. Even Nisa says I have a good head on my shoulders."

"I know you could do it." His tone was placating now, like she was fourteen and asking to go out without her security detail. "That's one reason I need to find you a husband who won't get in the way."

How like him to twist her argument to support his own. "I always expected you to arrange a marriage—but why some uneducated boor who can't even read and write?"

His voice still held a coaxing note. "Who in this city could it be? If we proposed an alliance with a young man from another Great House, we'd be inviting a takeover. And if I were to break with tradition and pick an ordinary man from a reputable profession, how could we be sure he couldn't be bought? The Sansoussy believe in a kind of honor that we left behind a long time ago. If we can win him over, we can trust this man."

He made it sound like he was hiring an assistant. "And I won't have to worry about him reading my messages."

He smiled as if she were the one being unreasonable. "Ran-Del isn't really uneducated. He knows quite a lot of things that you and I have no knowledge of at all. And he can learn to read and write. Besides, I'm not certain this man is the right one yet. I have hopes, but I haven't finished testing him."

Francesca saw a glimmer of hope. If Pop decided to toss this one back, it would at least buy her more time. "So how did it go? Is he housebroken or does he need to learn that, too?"

Her father blinked. He looked suddenly tired. "I don't really know yet. I suppose the next few hours will tell." He seemed to come to with a start and sat down at the desk. "I almost forgot. I need to make a call."

Francesca watched as he switched on the com. In a few seconds he was speaking to a gray-haired woman with a severe expression on her face. "Good afternoon, Doctor Bentick," he said pleasantly.

"Good afternoon, Baron Hayden," she replied. "How can I help you?"

"I need something," Pop said, his tone guileless. "Isn't there a medical device used by people with weak hearts? It measures their vital signs, and if they show signs of heart failure, it injects them with the proper drug."

What the hell was this about? Surely the savage didn't have a bad heart.

"There is," the doctor said. "It's called a cardiometric resuscitator. But why would you need one? There's nothing wrong with your heart. I checked you out myself, not more than a month ago."

Pop nodded agreement. "I know, but I have a guest—a young relative—who borders on suicidal. He got involved with a cult and was trained in controlling his autonomic functions. We're worried that he may try to kill himself by stopping his heart. He tried it once, and we prevented his death only by a timely injection of empranimine."

Francesca opened her eyes wide, then smiled to herself. Apparently, the savage could be stubborn, too. She might have an unwitting ally.

The doctor frowned. "You should get him treatment."

"Oh, we have." Pop's voice oozed reassurance. "He's made a lot of progress, but we don't want to take any chances. Could you obtain a cardiometric resuscitator for me, Dr. Bentick, and calibrate it properly for my needs?"

"I suppose so, When would you need it?"

"Right away. How about if I send someone to fetch it from the clinic in an hour?"

The doctor agreed with faint reluctance. Pop severed the connection and turned to face Francesca.

She gave him her most cynical smile. "It always astonishes me how well you lie. Did the savage really try to kill himself?"

"Yes. He came damn close, too."

She had to admit it was an impressive feat. "Just by willing his heart to stop?"

"There's more too it than that. The Sansoussy can sort of stop themselves. Unless a shaman is handy, they die."

Her father had often talked about the Sansoussy in the past. If she had known he would come up with this bat-brained idea, she would have paid more attention. "I thought a shaman was a clan leader, a chief or something."

Pop looked pleased. She'd have to be careful not to let any curiosity about Sansoussy customs show, or he would think she was won over. "That's one function of shamanship. The shaman leads the clan and also teaches the young people some of the mental Disciplines. That's why a shaman needs strong psy powers."

"Well, it all sounds like witchcraft to me." Francesca leaned back in her chair, losing interest fast as the discussion grew more abstract. "Why would they want to be able to do that?"

He leaned toward her as he spoke, a sure sign of his intensity. "They'd rather face death than dishonor. That's one reason I decided a Sansoussy would be the only safe choice for you. If Ran-Del can be induced to give you his loyalty, it'll be for life. The Sansoussy don't suffer from indecision and inconstancy like the rest of us mere mortals."

Francesca had had enough. "Fine. Make him loyal. But why do I have to sleep with him?"

He smiled at her in that benign way he had that made her feel very young. "Is that what's bothering you? You needn't worry. He's quite nice looking, and since he's most likely a virgin, he won't have picked up any bad habits. You can teach him whatever you want him to know."

Francesca sat up straight, her interest revived. "A virgin? How old did you say he is?"

"About your age. Maybe a season or two younger. And I can't say for sure about his being a virgin. I can tell from his hair that he's never been married, and he's not currently betrothed. If he had been betrothed and she'd broken it off, he'd have had some experience but there'd be no sign."

The details made no sense to Francesca. What did hair have to do with virginity—or virginity with marriage, come to that? "They sound like very strange people."

"They're different."

"When do I get to see him?"

He reached over and flicked the switch on his desk projector. A holographic image of a man in leather trousers and a vest appeared over the desk.

"There," Pop said. "That's him. We recorded him in the forest, before he was aware of us."

The man in the holo looked tall, although there was little to judge him against except blackwoods. The holo cameras tracked him as he walked. He stepped slowly and cautiously and seemed always to be listening. He had brown hair, worn long enough to brush his shoulders, and strongly molded features with prominent cheekbones. The vest hid very little of his torso. He had a nice body. A very nice body.

As Francesca watched with growing curiosity, the Sansoussy looked up, as if he had heard something, and then stepped back in alarm. The camera zoomed in on him as he stared straight into the lens. She just had time to see that his eyes were a cloudy shade between green and brown before the image disappeared. "He looks like something out of those old Terran holoflicks they show over and over at the library," she said, trying to sound cross. "And I never liked being with a man whose hair was longer than mine."

"Don't worry about that." Pop sounded suspiciously bland. "He'll cut it quite short on your wedding day. It's a Sansoussy custom."

She sniffed, trying hard not to show any softening of her opinion about his scheme. "Do I have to cut mine, too?"

Her father smiled, and she wondered if she had given herself away. "Sansoussy women never cut their hair short after they're grown. They just pin it up after they're married."

Francesca made no further comment, but after he left, she ran the hologram again, twice.

***

Ran-Del lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. After several minutes, he shut his eyes and tried again to achieve samad state, but he couldn't. He opened his eyes, then shut them again, trying not to let his misery grow worse. He had been through all the Disciplines, one after the other, and none of them worked.

Never had Ran-Del felt so alone and so helpless. He paid no attention to his surroundings, even when the lights came on in the room. He had never seen artificial lights before, but his curiosity wasn't strong enough to overpower his anguish.

The door from the sitting room slid open with a quiet whoosh. Ran-Del opened his eyes once more to find Stefan Hayden standing there looking down at him nonchalantly, one hand in his pocket. Ran-Del neither rose nor acknowledged the other man's presence.

"Hello, Ran-Del," Stefan said. "How do you feel?"

Instead of answering, Ran-Del debated about taking advantage of Baron Hayden's singular state to attack him. Probably the pocket in which he held his hand so casually contained another pain-inducing, non-lethal weapon. Besides, Ran-Del was too despondent to work himself up into the necessary rage.

"I expect you're still suffering from the effect of the empranimine," Stefan said. "A dose that strong takes a while to wear off."

Still Ran-Del kept silent.

"It occurs to me that I should give you some information," Stefan said, maintaining his pleasant tone. "After all, I've brought you here against your will. I have every intention of keeping you here—for quite a while, anyway—so I should give you some background on the situation here in Shangri-La."

Ran-Del shut his eyes, but Stefan kept talking.

"I know that ordinarily, you could block the sound of my voice quite successfully, but right now, you can't do that, so this is a good time to talk to you."

"Go away!" Ran-Del burst out, opening his eyes. "Leave me alone."

Stefan's smile grew wider. "Now, Ran-Del, think about it. Would I have brought you all this way merely to leave you alone?"

Ran-Del sat up abruptly. "Why did you bring me here, then? What is it you mean to do with me?"

"That depends on you," Stefan said smoothly. "Meanwhile, I'm going to give you a little history lesson. Do you know anything at all about how we came to be on this world?"

Ran-Del gave him a look of contempt. Did the man think he was stupid? "We all enter the world in the same way—through our mother's bodies. I doubt you were an exception. I know I wasn't."

Stefan's laugh held genuine amusement. "Actually, I was speaking of humanity as a whole. Do you know how people came to live here on Haven?"

Ran-Del gave him another weary look. "Every child knows the story of how the First People endured many hardships in the World Before. They boarded great silver sky ships seeking a haven from adversity, and sailed many times around the sun and the moons, and finally they came to rest upon the land. From out of the ships came all the peoples of the world—the Sansoussy of the forest, the Horde of the mountains, and the city dwellers."

Stefan nodded. "That's not too far off, surprisingly. People didn't originate on this planet—this world. They evolved on a world called Terra that's so far away from here—many, many times farther away than the sun and the moons—that it would have taken several lifetimes for them to travel here. So the Terrans built ships that could sail by themselves, and in them rode people who were sleeping a kind of frozen sleep."

Ran-Del listened, intrigued in spite of himself. The legends spoke mostly about his ancestors' reasons for their journey but said very little about the journey itself.

The Baron continued his narrative. "They were hoping to find a world that could support human life without having its own intelligent species, and in Haven they struck lucky. The only real accommodation they had to make was to get used to a different time frame. Our day was very close to a Terran day, but our year is more than four times as long. My people compensated for that by creating hybrid crops that could grow in Haven's seasons. Yours learned to live off the native vegetation, to preserve food, and to hunt through the long winters. All of us count in seasons instead of years, just because it's easier."

The Baron's account used so many unfamiliar words and concepts, Ran-Del could no longer make sense of it. He grew bored and yawned to let the Baron know he had lost interest.

Unperturbed, Baron Hayden went on. "Once they got here, the machines in the ships woke them, and they settled here and formed a colony. And that is how we—the people of all three cities, the Horde, and the Sansoussy—all got here.

Ran-Del assessed the other man. Stefan believed what he was saying. "Our legends teach us our ways. You have your own ways and your own legends."

"But do your legends tell you _why_ your ancestors came here?" Stefan asked, sitting down in a chair. Ran-Del noted that he still kept his hand in his pocket and concluded that the man did indeed have a weapon.

Ran-Del leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "They were oppressed and wished to find peace in their minds—to live without care or strife. There were others who wouldn't allow this, so our people came in the silver ships and moved to the forest, to teach the Disciplines to their children."

"All our ancestors were seeking a haven, of one sort or another," Stefan said. "Your ancestors were part of a cult that believed in the power of the human mind—that prayer and meditation coupled with isolation could make the mind more powerful. Back on Terra they were considered kooks—gullible people who followed a leader who had created her own religion. But after a few centuries in suspended animation, your ancestors arrived here, had children, started a new culture, and lo and behold, they turned out to be right."

"Of course," Ran-Del said.

"There's no 'of course' about it." Stefan sounded annoyed. "On Terra, your philosophy was just bits and pieces of old religions cobbled together to make something new and shiny. It was only after our ancestors arrived here that people developed psy powers. I often wonder whether that's true on other colony worlds, too, assuming there are any."

Ran-Del stared at him. The Baron spoke in riddles. What was suspended animation, and what was a colony world?

Stefan waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind, I'm digressing too much. To get back to my point, unlike yours, my ancestors had no interest in spirituality. Some of them came out of greed, while others were interested only in power. An isolated outpost of eager colonists offered more possibilities to these entrepreneurs and adventurers than overcrowded Terra, rife with regulations, population controls, and too much competition. As soon as the ships landed, some of my ancestors set about putting themselves in control. The cities were never run as democracies, you know. There was no such thing as one person, one vote. There was a mad scramble for control of resources—land, minerals, water. Each of the early leaders made himself or herself the head of a Great House, a family-run business, if you like, that was usually backed by land, and in some cases, an industry, such as mines and even factories."

Ran-Del seethed with impatience. The Baron seemed enchanted with his own story, but Ran-Del only understood parts of it. What was a democracy?

"These Houses still exist today," Stefan said, "almost a hundred and twenty solar years later—four hundred and seventy-eight seasons, if you prefer. Recently the trend has been to consolidate the Great Houses into cartels made up of two or more houses. Usually, one house predominates over the others. I don't intend to let my house be swallowed up like that. I intend for you to help me to stop it."

Ran-Del could see a ray of understanding. This Baron wanted to keep his clan free of control by outsiders. How the Baron thought Ran-Del could help him was the mystery. "What makes you think that I'll do what you want?"

Stefan gave him another enigmatic smile. "I don't know for certain that you will, but I have hopes."

Ran-Del's psy sense confirmed Stefan's sincerity but gave Ran-Del no useful information. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to know it to make sense of what will come later," Stefan said promptly.

A trill of musical notes, like someone playing a flute, brought Ran-Del alert. He glanced around to see what had made the noise.

Stefan smiled at his confusion. "It's someone at the door," he said, stepping into the doorway to the sitting room. "Come!"

Ran-Del stood up. Through the bedroom doorway he could see the man called Toth enter the sitting room. The one called Merced was with him. Both of them were armed as they had been earlier that day, although neither had his weapon drawn.

"You asked me to bring this as soon as it was ready, Baron." Toth held out something round and shiny, rather like a wide bracelet except that it was too big a circle.

Stefan took it and inspected it carefully. "It looks right. Is it loaded with empranimine?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, then," Stefan said briskly, turning back to the bedroom door. "Give me your right arm, please, Ran-Del."

"Why?" Instinctively, Ran-Del backed up, stopping only when he ran into the bed.

"I need to put this on your arm," Stefan said. "It won't hurt you—in fact it's to protect you. Now, give me your hand."

Ran-Del moved into the open space in the middle of the bedroom. If they killed him trying to put the thing on him, so much the better. "No."

Stefan signaled Toth and Merced, who followed him into the bedroom and stood on either side of him, blocking Ran-Del's access to the door.

"Come on, Ran-Del," Stefan said. "You're just being stubborn. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. It's up to you."

Ran-Del glared at him. "Your mother was a crested viper, and your father was a vulture cat!"

Stefan didn't look offended. "Take it easy on him, Merced. Try to just clip him a little."

Ran-Del lunged forward before Merced could move, and kicked the man's wrist just as the guard put his hand on the butt of his gun.

Without a pause, Ran-Del whirled and attacked Toth, who had drawn and leveled his pistol. The Sansoussy kept his momentum going and threw all the force of his rapidly moving body at the other man, knocking him to the ground.

Ran-Del picked himself up and turned back to Merced, who had managed to stay on his feet but held his arm as if it pained him. Ran-Del finished him off with another quick, brutal kick, this one to the groin. Merced dropped to the floor groaning in anguish, and rolled back and forth next to the barely-moving Toth.

Ran-Del glanced quickly at Stefan, noting that the older man had stepped back out of the way and stood in the far corner of the room. Ran-Del made a split-second decision to leave the Baron as he was and ran from the bedroom into the sitting room.

He tried the access panel, but the door to the corridor wouldn't open for him. After one frustrated blow to the door, Ran-Del spun around and headed for the garden. This door slid open in response to his hand upon the panel. Ran-Del ran outside looking frantically for cover. He had expected to be in the dark, but lights came on around the base of the wall as soon as he set foot on the walkway.

Ran-Del recalled Stefan's description of the height of the force field. He noted the stone bench nearest the wall and ran for it as fast as he could go. He leaped into the air, intending to use the bench as a way to vault over the barrier, but just as his foot touched the stone, a blast of pain hit the middle of his back.

Ran-Del screamed and collapsed onto the ground. The drug in his system was still potent enough to keep him from reaching samad state but did nothing to dull his agony. He writhed uncontrollably, unable to rise, and panting from the effort of not screaming again. He couldn't filter out the pain or his surroundings.

Stefan ran up to him. "Damn fool! It's a wonder you haven't killed yourself this time."

Toth staggered over and stood beside the Baron. "Merced may take care of that. The bastard broke his arm."

Stefan frowned. "There will be none of that. I don't want him harmed any more than necessary. There's no reason anyone should get hurt."

"Tell him that," Toth said, nodding at Ran-Del.

"I'm trying to," Stefan said grimly, "but he's not listening very well."

He dropped down and quickly slid the oversize bracelet over Ran-Del's right hand and then up his arm. Once it was over the elbow, Stefan checked the markings on the front, and then spun a small control on the bottom edge. Ran-Del seethed in anger but his body still suffered uncontrolled spasms, and he couldn't even formulate a plan of resistance, let alone put it into effect.

"There," the Baron said with satisfaction. "At least that's done. Help me get him back into the house."

The two of them half dragged Ran-Del into the sitting room and deposited him on the bench-like chair that the Baron had called a sofa. Ran-Del groaned and tried to sit up.

"Take it easy," Stefan said. "A shock pistol is nothing to sneeze at, not when you take it full bore like that. You'll be all right in a few minutes."

Ran-Del groaned again. He had no recourse except more insults. "Your ancestors were vermin, and your progeny are degenerate mongrels!"

Stefan laughed. "Better not let Francesca hear you call her a mongrel, let alone degenerate. She doesn't take kindly to being called names."

Ran-Del was in too much pain to ask him who Francesca was, but the name registered in his mind nonetheless. Another moan escaped him.

Sympathy oozed from Stefan. "I'm sorry I had to shoot you again, but you would never have made it over the wall."

Ran-Del didn't want to listen. He cursed again, raging against his own helplessness.

"If all you're going to do is hurl epithets at my head, then I'll leave you alone," Stefan said, rising to his feet. "I just want to warn you about the thing on your arm."

Ran-Del became aware of the weight of the device. Another intrusion! He gave an angry exclamation and tugged at it, but he couldn't pull it off.

"You can forget that," Stefan said. "It's locked on. But it won't hurt you. It's not a weapon or an instrument of torture."

"Then what is it?"

"It monitors your heart and your breathing. If you try to will yourself to die again, it'll give you another shot of empranimine. That's the stuff I gave you earlier that prevents you from inducing a trance."

Ran-Del fell back against the cushioned bench in despair. Nothing in this place made sense, and everything worked against him. "It won't let me achieve samad state?"

"Only if your heart rate slows down too much," Stefan said. "Otherwise, it won't care what your brain is doing."

Ran-Del wasn't entirely clear what the Baron meant, but he held a glimmer of hope that he would be able to find relief in meditation at some future time.

"I'll send someone in with your dinner," Stefan said. "Behave yourself and don't try to kill whoever brings in the tray."

"I'm not hungry," Ran-Del said, through gritted teeth. He felt stronger as the pain receded. "And I don't want your food."

Stefan laughed out loud. "You'll soon starve with that attitude. I'll send in a tray, and we'll see how you feel once you smell the food."

He left Ran-Del staring out into the darkness of the courtyard. The lights had gone out in the garden shortly after the people had left it, and only the light from the windows illuminated the twilight of early evening.

Ran-Del sat for a long time, immersed in his own misery. Eventually, he focused on a white square of the walkway outside the door and walked himself through the steps of the Second Discipline. He was immensely relieved to feel himself sliding into samad state. He still had the Disciplines.

***

When Francesca walked through the door carrying a tray she found the man from the hologram sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Four Hayden guards filed in behind her and took up positions around the walls so that they had a clear line of fire.

She set the tray on the table and turned to study the stranger. He hadn't so much as twitched. He sat, rapt and unmoving, staring off into the darkness. She waited a few moments, and then she cleared her throat to get his attention. He didn't react at all.

"Excuse me," she said pointedly. "Your dinner's here."

For just a second she thought he still wouldn't react. Then, suddenly, he expanded his chest in a deep breath that he let out slowly. His eyes focused on her, and he frowned. "I was meditating. Have you no manners here as well as no justice?"

She frowned back at him, annoyed at being so quickly on the defensive. "Manners here are different from manners where you come from."

He rose, standing in a fluid motion that reminded her of a wild animal preparing to pounce on its prey. "You are Francesca."

She nodded, curious as to how much her father had told him. "How did you know that?"

He smiled bitterly. "He said he had a descendent named Francesca, and you look like him. Also," he gestured toward the guards, "four of them came with you. He wouldn't take such care for a servant."

"He?" Francesca asked, a little annoyed at the caustic way he said the pronoun. "Why can't you say his name? I know you know it."

Scorn and contempt contorted the Sansoussy's face into a scowl. "He took me prisoner by force—he holds me here by force. Why should I show any regard for him?"

"He doesn't mean you any harm," Francesca said, annoyed that her father had left her so little ground to argue on his behalf. "He won't hurt you."

Ran-Del's scowl evolved into a sneer. "Would you consider yourself hurt if I dragged you into the forest and held you prisoner in my home?"

She shivered at the intensity of his hostility. It occurred to her that he would be even angrier when he found out the reason that he had been brought here. "Maybe, but we really don't mean you any harm." She gestured toward the tray. "Won't you eat something? It's very good stew."

For some reason this reference to stew provoked him first to an angry glare and then to a look of utter desolation.

"What is it?" she said. "What's wrong?"

He turned away. "Go away. I'm not hungry."

"You will be later. I'll leave the tray."

"Do as you wish. I can't stop you."

She gave up and turned to go.

"Wait!"

She halted. "Yes?"

"Do you know why your father brought me here?"

A lie formed on her lips, but she was surprised to find that she was unwilling to speak it. "Yes, but I can't tell you yet."

Ran-Del turned away and stood looking out the window while she left with her four protectors right behind her.

Francesca returned to her room in a thoughtful mood. Leave it to Pop to find a savage who could fascinate her.

***

Once the intruders had gone, Ran-Del stood for a moment longer contemplating the strangeness of grass and flowers with walls around them. Then he began to explore the sitting room, going over every centimeter of it as carefully as he could. He inspected every piece of furniture—touched it, sniffed it, moved it if he could. He ran his hands over the walls and stood on a chair to touch the ceiling. When he was finished with the sitting room, he moved on and did the same to the bedroom and then the bathroom. Only when he felt that the rooms had no hidden traps did he relax enough to sit down and stare out the window again.

Finally, he sighed, rose, and opened the door to the garden. The lights came on when he stepped on the walkway and stayed on after he moved off of it. He stood on the short, grassy foliage that carpeted the ground and filled his lungs as deeply as he could. The scent of the night air was sharper here than in the forest. He breathed out slowly as he looked up at the sky. The house behind him was huge—four or five times as tall as the houses in his village. A much taller tower rose up out of the middle of it. Somehow the building glowed with an artificial luminescence.

Up in the night sky, three moons were up. Harmony was full, but Grace, and Tranquility were only slender crescents. Repose would come up later, after Harmony had set. Ran-Del knew it would be a half moon. The familiar golden shapes reassured him; in a world gone berserk, they at least, hadn't changed.

He sighed again, and lay down on his back on the grass. The feathery leaves tickled his arms, and the night breeze blew cool across his face. Ran-Del closed his eyes and began the mantra for the First Discipline, repeating it over and over until samad state deepened. When he reached the point of control, he went through the mantra for each Discipline in turn, not invoking it but merely feeling the comforting presence of his own psy ability coalescing in his mind. He let his thoughts float free from his body as if he were watching himself lie on the grass. After a while, he drifted gently into a deep, profound sleep and dreamed that he was home.

### Chapter Four

Ran-Del woke to the sun on his face. As soon as he opened his eyes, he remembered the events of the day before. He sat up abruptly and looked around the garden. The pinkish cast to the pale orange sky told him it was shortly after dawn.

He walked around the flower beds collecting a handful of pebbles. One at a time, he tried to toss them over the wall, but each one hit the invisible barrier and bounced back to the ground. He succeeded in getting a pebble over the wall only when he tossed it high enough into the air that it arced a good two meters over the top.

Having satisfied himself that there was no weak point in the force field, Ran-Del walked back into the house. The door opened by itself when he set foot on the steps, and he walked through it to find that someone had removed the tray Francesca had brought. He checked the rooms carefully, but could find no other sign that anyone had been there.

Ran-Del used the bathroom, first the toilet and then the shower. He remembered Stefan's instructions and had no difficulty working the unfamiliar mechanisms.

He stood in the shower for quite a while, the feel of the water bringing to mind the times he had bathed in the waterfalls of the Yellow River. The point where the river dropped precipitously over a series of boulders made a cascade of waterfalls that gave his clan its name. The falls were almost a kilometer from his village, but they were a favorite spot for young people to meet.

Ran-Del closed his eyes and brought to mind the time that he had seen Bettine there. She had been bathing alone, which wasn't proper for an unmarried woman. He should have left at once, but the sight of her had mesmerized him. He had watched her for several minutes before she had seen him. She had been embarrassed, but not unduly so. It had occurred to him later that, although she had turned her back to him, she had taken her time in covering herself.

He had gone to his grandfather the next day, and told him that he wanted to marry Bettine. His grandfather had promised to put the matter before Great-grandfather. Ran-Del could still taste the bitterness of his disappointment when his Great-grandfather had refused to allow him to court Bettine—had said that he must put all thought of marrying her out of his mind.

Ran-Del let his memories flow over him much as the water flowed over his body. He could almost smell the faint, musky scent of the medicine tree that formed the north support for his great-grandfather's house, the house he had lived in for most of his life. Abruptly, he turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. He turned on the air dryer that Stefan had demonstrated to him, but he didn't like the feel of the warm air blowing across his skin. It took him a few minutes to make the drawers open but eventually he found the towels stowed neatly away.

He rubbed himself dry and then dressed, annoyed first by the alien device on his arm, and second by the lack of clean undergarments. The morning ritual called for cleanliness.

Ran-Del stepped back into the garden and faced the rising sun. He closed his eyes and recited the First Blessing, accepting the day as a gift, and asking that he and his family be as healthy when the sun set as when it rose. Next he sat down on the grass and meditated for several minutes, letting his body relax as samad state overtook him. He could feel anger and tension flow away, replaced by calmness and tranquility.

Just as Ran-Del let out the last deep, cleansing breath, he became aware of someone standing behind him. He wasn't surprised to turn his head and see Stefan Hayden.

"Good morning," Stefan said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

Ran-Del gave him a scornful stare as he got to his feet. "How can you disturb me more than you have already?"

"Very true. I suppose forcible abduction has to count as a disturbance."

His cheerful admission stung Ran-Del. "You admit that you've wronged me?"

"Of course."

"Then how can you refuse to release me?"

The twisted curve of Stefan's smile matched the bitterness and regret Ran-Del sensed from him. "Because I have no choice. Besides, you have a test this morning. Depending on how you do, you may be on your way home quite soon."

He spoke the truth. Ran-Del's heart jumped at the thought of going home. "What kind of test?"

"You'll see after you eat. I'll send someone to fetch you when the test is ready."

Ran-Del saw another tray of food on the table. He waited until the other man had gone to go into the sitting room and eat. None of the food was familiar. The plate held bread, lighter than he was used to, and thin, crisp strips of unknown but salty meat. The bowl contained thick cereal that looked like porridge except it was white instead of orange. Ran-Del ate it all, thinking that it would be good to keep up his strength.

He had just finished draining the cup of hot tea that was the only normal thing about his breakfast when the door trilled. He waited, and in seconds, the man called Toth came in, accompanied by a woman and two other men.

"Come along," Toth said, holding the door open. "Baron Hayden is waiting."

Ran-Del followed, eager to see the rest of this strange house. He found himself in what seemed to him to be a very long, featureless room, too narrow to be of use for living space or even storage. Only after they had passed several doors did it dawn on Ran-Del that the narrow room's only purpose was to lead to other rooms.

Ran-Del was careful not to be overt about it, but he eagerly watched every detail of his surroundings. All of the strangers were armed, and the woman had a kit just like the one Toth had worn the day before. Toth opened the last door and held it for Ran-Del, who walked through it into a small room and took in the setting at a glance.

The windowless room seemed sparsely furnished. A small table stood in the middle of the bare floor with three chairs around it. Stefan sat in the center chair, and a young boy sat next to him. The boy looked about seven or eight seasons old, with black hair cropped short, and a frightened expression on his thin face. Cords bound his wrists tightly to the arms of his chair, and Ran-Del wondered if he were being punished for something.

Only Toth followed Ran-Del into the room. The other guards waited in the corridor. The door shut, and Stefan rose to his feet. "Hello, Ran-Del. This is Jerzy."

Ran-Del looked at the boy more closely. He could sense the child's fear from across the room. The boy wore an embroidered jacket over his shirt, and a sash around his waist. His matching trousers, tucked into gleaming boots, completed the impression of idle wealth.

"What is the nature of the test?" Ran-Del said. "What must I do to go home?"

"Ah!" Stefan said. "Such impatience. Since you insist, I'll tell you." He pulled his hand out of his pocket and displayed a weapon to Ran-Del, a slender gleaming cylinder with a curved handle. "This is a laser pistol. It's very different from a shock gun, like the one we used on you. Shock guns temporarily incapacitate a person, inflicting pain but no lasting damage. A laser, on the other hand, cuts a hole right through whatever its target is. Here, I'll show you."

Stefan lifted his hand and pointed the weapon at the empty chair. When he pressed a switch, a tiny circle of hair-thin beams of light shot out of the pistol and hit the back of the chair. A black circle appeared in the fabric, and a burning smell filled the air. A thin plume of smoke rose from the chair, and in a second, a hole the size of Ran-Del's little finger went right through the fabric, padding, and wood.

"You see?" Stefan said with satisfaction. "It's quite simple. The range is already set. You fire a laser pistol by pointing at the target, pressing the red switch here with your finger, and holding it down."

Ran-Del stared at him, perplexed, and then studied the hole in the chair. "I'm supposed to shoot that thing? At what?"

"At Jerzy."

"What?" Ran-Del said, dumbstruck. The Baron must be insane—or making a very bad joke.

"You will shoot at Jerzy," Stefan said. "I think it'll be best if you aim directly for the heart. I don't want him to suffer, and that will be quickest."

Ran-Del stared at the boy, who sat in mute apprehension. His fear was so strong now that it seemed to fill the air and choke Ran-Del.

"Why?" Ran-Del demanded.

"I don't propose to tell you that," Stefan said. "All I'll tell you is, if you take this laser pistol and shoot Jerzy with it, I'll send you safely back to your forest. I expect you can tell that I'm not lying?"

Ran-Del nodded. It seemed incredible, but he sensed that the Baron spoke perfect truth.

Stefan held out the pistol, butt first.

The weapon felt very light and smooth in Ran-Del's hand, an innocuous thing to be able to burn a hole through wood with less effort than it took to draw a bow.

Ran-Del looked at the boy. He still hadn't spoken. Perhaps he thought it would be useless, or perhaps he was too terrified to speak.

"Go ahead," Stefan said, stepping back as if to give Ran-Del room. "No point in making him suffer any longer."

Without hesitation, Ran-Del lifted the weapon, leveled it at Jerzy and then swung it around to point straight at Stefan's chest. He pressed the firing switch and held it down but nothing happened.

Ran-Del gave an exclamation of disgust as the Baron walked over and took the pistol from his hand.

"I neglected to mention," Stefan said, "that a common feature of laser pistols is that they can be calibrated to individual users. This particular pistol will fire only for me."

Ran-Del glared at him. "It was a trick!"

"Of course."

Ran-Del tried to sort it all out in his mind. The child was still afraid, even though Stefan had put down the pistol. "You never intended to hurt the boy?"

"Also true." Stefan loosened the cords that bound Jerzy's hands to the chair. "Jerzy knew quite well the pistol wouldn't fire for anyone but me. I let him try it before you came in."

"Then why is he so afraid?"

"Because of you," Stefan said as the boy pulled off his bonds.

"Did I do it right?" Jerzy asked, sounding eager even as he gave Ran-Del a swift, frightened glance. "Do I get the scooter?"

"You did it perfectly," Stefan said. "The scooter is waiting for you in the yard."

"Why is he afraid of me?" Ran-Del interrupted.

"Jerzy has grown up with stories about the savage Sansoussy." Stefan knelt down to untie the boy's ankles. "In Shangri-La, mothers tell their children that the Sansoussy come into the city and steal bad children who don't do their chores. In addition, I told Jerzy that you had killed several children." He glanced up at Ran-Del, speculation in his gaze. "You do look rather fierce. We'll have to change that."

Rage filled Ran-Del. His fingers itched to wrap themselves around Stefan's throat. Only the thought of Toth standing behind him with a shock pistol stopped him from strangling the older man on the spot. "Does this mean that you won't let me go home?"

"I'm sorry," Stefan said, radiating both regret and triumph as he rose to his feet, "but you passed the test, you see, so you have to stay."

Ran-Del debated briefly. He was certain he could take out Toth before the man could fire on him, but less sure that Stefan wouldn't bring a weapon to bear on him while he did it. On the other hand, if the Baron used the laser on him, it could provide the escape he craved. But would Jerzy be in the way? Ran-Del estimated the Baron's angle of fire.

The door slid open and the other three guards stood waiting to take him back. The opportunity had passed.

Once he was back in his quarters, Ran-Del walked through the sitting room door and kept going until he was outside in the garden. He sat down on the grass and let himself reach a minimal samad state so that he could get over his anger and let his mind work on the puzzle of what had happened that morning.

Stefan had tricked him, implying that he had a reason to want Jerzy killed. But he hadn't lied when he had told Ran-Del that he would send him home if he fired the pistol at the boy.

Whatever the Baron intended to do with Ran-Del, he didn't want him if he would kill a child to buy his freedom. Ran-Del tried to imagine what possible need a man of Shangri-La could have for a Sansoussy warrior.

Ran-Del knew little about the ways of the cities. The Sansoussy produced most of what they required, needing to trade only for metal. They bartered hides, rare herbs, and nodules of petrified tree sap that they mined from the forest floor for arrow heads, pots and pans, steel blades for their dirks, glass beads, and other manufactured goods. Peddlers from the cities came among them freely and were entertained as guests. Ran-Del had listened to their stories of city life without entirely believing them, partly because the peddlers themselves had seemed ordinary enough. Vehicles that flew had seemed to him entirely too fantastic.

Ran-Del was suddenly conscious of another presence behind him. He knew before he turned his head that it was Francesca.

"Hello," she said. "Are you finished meditating, or should I go away?"

"I'm finished. Why are you here?"

She seemed a little uncomfortable at the directness of his question. "I thought you might like some company." She sat down on the grass beside him.

Ran-Del studied her, remembering what her father had said about what people in the cities believed about the Sansoussy. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

She cocked her head to one side and returned his scrutiny. "No. I don't know why, but I'm certain that you wouldn't hurt me."

"You should be afraid of me," Ran-Del said, turning his head away. "You have good reason."

"You wouldn't kill Jerzy. Not even to go home."

"The boy had never harmed me."

"Neither have I."

He looked at her and saw in the line of her jaw and the tilt of her head the resemblance to Stefan Hayden even more strongly than before.

She seemed to realize it. "I'm not my father."

Instead of answering her comment, he asked another question. "Who is Jerzy?"

"His father is our butler, and his mother works in the kitchen. Pop offered to give him an expensive toy he wanted if he helped with the test."

Ran-Del digested this information. A butler must be some specific kind of minion. The Baron had dressed Jerzy in fine clothes to make him look important and frightened him so that Ran-Del would sense the boy's fear and believe that he was being asked to commit murder. It seemed an elaborate test.

"Why did your father bring me here?" Ran-Del said. "What does he want with me?"

She looked down at her hands. "I told you already that I can't tell you yet."

Ran-Del felt a surge of anger and frustration. He lunged sideways, knocking her flat onto the ground, and held her down by her shoulders.

"Tell me!" he ordered.

She didn't seem in the least afraid of him. He didn't sense any anxiety at all. "I can't."

He put his hands on her neck and pressed his thumbs lightly over the artery in the hollow of her throat. She would be unconscious within seconds if he applied real pressure. "Tell me!"

"No," she almost whispered. She still didn't seem afraid. She didn't struggle or even try to move his hands away, and Ran-Del couldn't sense any distress.

Ran-Del was disgusted. The very fact that she didn't fight him made it impossible for him to hurt her.

He suddenly became aware that she was a woman and he was lying almost on top of her. He could feel her breasts rising and falling as she breathed. She had a faint, delicate fragrance, almost like wild flowers, and the sunlight made her black hair gleam. He found himself staring into her eyes and noticed that they were brown, with darker color around the edges, so that it looked as if her irises were outlined in black.

She held quite still and didn't move.

Ran-Del suddenly let go of her and sat up, turning his back to her. "Go away."

He could hear her sitting up behind him.

"Why?" she said. "What do you have to do that you need to be alone?"

Irritation blossomed. She wouldn't leave him to his misery, and she wouldn't do anything to make him less miserable. "Are all women so inquisitive in this city, or are you unusually so?"

"I'd like to think I'm unusual."

"Francesca!"

She jumped guiltily at the sound of her father's voice.

"Francesca, what the hell are you doing here?" Stefan Hayden demanded, striding through the door from the sitting room. Toth and another man followed him out and waited by the door.

"I was talking to Ran-Del," Francesca said, rising to her feet. "What's wrong with that?"

Ran-Del stood up, shocked at the lack of respect in her voice when she spoke to her father.

"I told you not to come here alone," Stefan said.

"Ran-Del wouldn't hurt me, Pop," Francesca said. "Do I look hurt?"

"No," he said. "But don't do it again."

Francesca's eyes gleamed mischievously. "But, Pop, if I'm not supposed to come here alone—"

"That's enough, Francesca," Stefan interrupted. "Run along."

That got a grin. "It seems counterproductive to me."

"Just go!" Stefan said.

Ran-Del gave up trying to follow the hidden thread of whatever it was Stefan didn't want said aloud. He watched Francesca Hayden walk into the house. When he looked back at Stefan he found the older man studying him.

"I've done you a great wrong," Stefan said, strong emotion surging from him. "I know I owe you a debt. But if you ever hurt her, I'll kill you without a second thought."

Ran-Del stared at him. The man loved his daughter more than anything else. This at least was something he could understand. But there was something else. Stefan Hayden was afraid. "You trapped me like an animal, then brought me here. You tell me that if I were willing to murder an innocent child, I could go home, but since I'm not, I have to stay here. What is it you want from me?"

Stefan shrugged his shoulders, his fear ebbing. "I told you, I need you to save my house."

Ran-Del nodded at the door where Francesca had just exited. "For her?"

Stefan nodded. "For her."

"What do I have to do?"

The Baron shook his head. "I don't think I had better tell you just yet."

His answer reminded Ran-Del of Francesca's similar reply. "Was it another test?"

Stefan raised his eyebrows. "Was what another test?"

"Francesca," Ran-Del said. "Was her coming here alone another test?"

Stefan shook his head emphatically. "I'd never risk her life to test you."

Ran-Del didn't need his psy gift to know the man spoke the truth.

"All the same," Stefan added, "I may not have planned it, but it's reassuring that you didn't harm her. It may well be that I don't need anymore tests."

Ran-Del grew angry again. The man obviously cared nothing about anyone else's feelings. "What right have you to test me, to keep me here?"

"Only the rights that wealth and power give me."

Ran-Del moved closer, his anger close to boiling over. "And if I rip your heart out? What would that test?"

Stefan laughed. "It would test your ability to withstand the blast of two shock pistols at once."

Ran-Del looked beyond the baron and saw that Toth and the other guard had leveled their weapons at him. There was no way Ran-Del could use the older man's body to block both shots. "Have you come here for a reason, or do you like to harass your prisoners periodically?"

Stefan seemed to come to himself. "Oh, right. Of course I came here for a reason. Come into the sitting room."

Ran-Del followed the Baron into the house. He was curious, if nothing else, and he would prove nothing by refusing to go inside.

"There we are," Stefan said, gesturing to a small stack of clothing on the end of the sofa. "I didn't try to provide new shoes yet. We'll need to have you try those on."

Ran-Del stared at the clothes. There was a shirt of bright blue, trousers in a darker shade of the same color, and undergarments of neutral beige.

"I don't need them," Ran-Del said flatly. "And I don't want them."

"Try them on," Stefan urged, just as if Ran-Del hadn't said anything. "I want to see how they fit. If these are all right, then I'll get you some more."

"No."

"Look," Stefan said in a conciliating tone, "You can't go around looking like a wild man. If you try these clothes on, and wear them whenever you leave these rooms, then I'll let you keep your own clothes. If you put up a fight, I'll have your Sansoussy clothes destroyed, and you'll have to wear these all the time or go naked. Think about it."

Ran-Del pondered. One blast from a shock pistol, and he'd be incapable of putting up any resistance. But beyond that, having clothes that made him less remarkable could help him escape, if he could ever get out of Stefan's house. "All right. I'll do it."

Stefan directed him to the bedroom, and offered to help if he needed assistance. Ran-Del declined his offer rudely and then regretted it. It took him several minutes to figure out how to open the shirt, which had neither laces nor buttons. Finally, Ran-Del determined that the front of the shirt came open simply by pulling apart the two sides, which could then be closed again by pressing them firmly together. This information proved useful in unraveling the mystery of how to put on the trousers.

When Ran-Del finally came out of the bedroom, Stefan looked him up and down with satisfaction. "It's a good fit. I'll bring you some more outfits. Maybe after you get used to the clothes, we'll get you some real shoes."

Ran-Del said nothing. He wasn't used to wearing such confining garments during summer. His breeches were slashed open on the sides to allow ventilation, but laced together so they still protected his legs from the brush and rough-barked trees in the forest.

"Come along, then," Stefan said. "I'll show you the house and a view of the city. You'll feel more comfortable if you can see where you are."

Ran-Del didn't comment as he followed Baron Hayden through the sitting room door. They turned left in the narrow room this time, instead of right, and then stepped into a tiny square room with no windows. Once they were all inside, Stefan, Toth, and the other man turned and faced the doorway, so Ran-Del did too, uncertain of why they had come into this small space. Abruptly, the doorway shimmered and that space looked suddenly solid. Ran-Del could feel the floor rising, faster and faster. He looked around wildly. None of the others seemed worried, so Ran-Del hid his panic. Stefan watched him, emanating amusement and concern.

The door shimmered again, then disappeared. Astonished, Ran-Del saw they there were in a totally different place. Instead of a long, narrow room, the doorway opened onto a large, circular chamber with windows all around it and benches and tables placed near the windows. When Ran-Del walked toward the windows, he realized they must be very high up. The bright dome of Haven's sky glowed golden over them with the city of Shangri-La spread before them like a toy village. Ran-Del stared at the buildings that stretched as far as he could see. Many were tall, although none of the nearby ones were as tall as the tower in which they stood. Some of the distant buildings were even taller than the tower, taller than blackwood trees, so tall that you could stack thirty houses, one of top of each other, and not equal them.

Ran-Del thought about all the people there must be in this city, people he didn't know and would likely never meet. Each of them had their own concerns, their own problems, their own homes and families. When he looked down, he could see tiny people moving around, and vehicles that seemed to float above the ground. He saw one vehicle rise until it was above the tallest building and fly off through the air like a day bat.

Ran-Del's mouth went dry. The enormity of the city hit him like a blow to his head. How did they all stand to live here, jammed so close together by such solid walls? How could they grow enough food in such tiny spaces? The air in the room seemed suddenly dead. Ran-Del swayed and felt his heart racing.

"Are you all right?" Stefan's voice intruded into his awareness.

Intent on the need to bring his body under control, Ran-Del ignored him and began the mantra for the Fourth Discipline. After a few seconds, his surroundings retreated. He felt himself mastering his breathing and his heartbeat, and the comforting feel of samad state washed over him like a healing balm. He had just begun the final mantra when an unpleasant tingling in his arm interfered with his control for just a second, and then suddenly samad state dissolved.

Dizzy from the abrupt loss, Ran-Del staggered. Someone's hands caught him.

"Ran-Del!" Stefan's voice insisted. "What's wrong?"

Ran-Del pulled up the sleeve of his new shirt and tugged at the band on his arm. "Take it off! Take it off!"

"Sit down," Stefan ordered, half dragging him to a bench. "Tell me what happened."

"I needed the Fourth Discipline," Ran-Del said. "Seeing so many new things at once distressed me, and I needed to establish control. This cruel thing destroyed samad state for me. Take it off!"

"If the monitor kicked in, it was because your heart rate dropped too low."

"I wasn't trying to die," Ran-Del said angrily. "I needed only to calm myself. Take it off, now!"

"It's too late," Stefan said. "Even if I were to take the resuscitator off, the empranimine is already in your system."

Ran-Del cursed him, calling him names that cast aspersions on his personal habits as well as his ancestry.

Stefan took it well. "That may all be true," he said cheerfully, "but it won't change anything. I think it was a mistake to bring you up here with no preparation. I'll show you around the house a bit, and we'll come back here another time."

Ran-Del followed him back into the little square room. They descended this time, and then made their way to another long narrow room. At first Ran-Del was too upset to pay attention as Stefan led the way through room after room, explaining the function of each one. Gradually, Ran-Del began to relax and listen, hoping to learn something that would aid him in an escape.

There were public rooms for receptions and dinners, meeting rooms and offices, and rooms for servants to gather. Finally they entered a vast kitchen.

As in other rooms, people stopped their work, bowing when they saw Baron Hayden and staring curiously at Ran-Del. So this was where the food he had eaten came from? Several people held serviceable knives, but they stood behind tables, and Ran-Del didn't think he could grab a weapon without being shot.

After the kitchen, Stefan led the way through an imposing entrance hall, and then outside. Ran-Del made the discovery that what Stefan Hayden called his house was actually part of a complex of buildings that could have housed Ran-Del's entire village. A very high wall surrounded the complex, breached only by a pair of impressive gates, one quite narrow and one wide enough and tall enough for vehicles. The two people on duty at the gates wore identical gray clothes and carried two weapons each. Ran-Del felt a growing desolation as he thought about how hard it would be to get out of this place unseen.

Stefan seemed unaware of Ran-Del's mood. He led the way past a large, formal garden at the front of the house to a kennel where his guard dogs lived. The Sansoussy kept dogs to help them hunt. Ran-Del owned one himself, but Buster was much smaller than these massive animals. Ran-Del stared at the huge, shaggy beasts lolling in the shade of the kennel, their long pink tongues hanging from their mouths, and thought they looked very strange. He said so to Baron Hayden.

"They're a hybrid," Stefan said. "The animals you call dogs are a species native to Haven. The early colonists domesticated them, and my ancestors created hybrids by mixing their genetic material with that of a Terran species called a dog. That's why these dogs are so much bigger and have more fur. Your dogs are more suited to the forest."

"I don't understand your answer," Ran-Del said.

"You'll learn with time." Stefan said.

Ran-Del didn't comment. Trapped as he was, he had no choice but to learn.

From the kennel they walked around the compound while Stefan pointed out several other buildings, including a barracks for his guards and a school for his employees' children. Ran-Del said very little. Even landscaped with trees and grass and shrubbery, the complex felt very different from the forest. Ran-Del found it difficult to absorb so many new faces and new places at once, especially because he didn't want to see them. By the time Stefan led the way back to his quarters, Ran-Del was almost glad to be there.

Stefan scrutinized him as they walked into the sitting room. "You look a little worn down. Why don't you rest until they bring your lunch tray?"

"I'm not hungry," Ran-Del said curtly, and kept walking into the bedroom, leaving the city dwellers behind.

He lay down on the bed, then heard the sitting room door open and shut as Stefan and the guards left. A little while later, the door trilled and then opened again. Ran-Del heard soft footfalls and then the door opened and closed again very swiftly. He deduced that someone had brought another food tray.

The effects of the drug hadn't worn off; Ran-Del still couldn't meditate. After a few minutes of staring angrily at the ceiling, he got up and prowled the room looking for something to smash the device on his arm. When he found nothing in the bedroom, he stepped through to the sitting room.

There was nothing useful there, either, but when the bedroom door opened Ran-Del paused to consider the door frame. It seemed quite solid, and it was fairly narrow. He stepped into the doorway and hit his arm as hard as he could against the frame of the door. He did this over and over, and after a while his arm felt considerably bruised but the device looked just the same. Frustrated, Ran-Del struck the door frame a hard blow one last time.

"What the hell are you doing?" a voice said behind him.

Ran-Del jumped. He had been so absorbed in his despair that he hadn't heard Francesca enter the room or even sensed her presence. He turned reluctantly, aware that his face reflected a lack of control.

"What the hell were you doing?" Francesca repeated.

"I was trying to get this evil _thing_ off of my arm." Ran-Del glanced around, surprised that she was alone. "You're not supposed to be here by yourself." Another thought struck him. "Why did the door not make that peculiar sound?"

She smiled smugly, pleased with herself. "Pop took my palm print out of the security system for the door, so I had to do a little creative software engineering to get in."

He didn't understand any of her answer except that she knew enough about the machine that opened the door to make it do what she wanted. "Could you make it open for me?"

"I suppose I could, but I won't."

He gave an angry cry and pounded the wall with his fist.

"You have quite a temper," she said.

He was in front of her in two strides, his hands around her neck without his even thinking about it. It was only when he felt her blood pulsing under his fingers that he came to his senses. He stood, frozen, holding her neck in his hands, burning with rage but unable to move.

She stood quite still, with her eyes almost closed and her head tilted back, as if to make it easy for him to choke her. The only sign of distress she displayed was the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing increased.

It came to Ran-Del that if he forced himself upon Stefan Hayden's daughter, he could achieve both revenge and the release of death at one stroke. Stefan Hayden had promised death for hurting her, and Ran-Del knew he meant it.

Francesca opened her eyes and looked up at him. Ran-Del read pity in her gaze, and he knew he couldn't do it. Not even his hatred for Stefan Hayden could make him shame himself so thoroughly. He let her go and turned away.

She stepped close behind him and touched his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry we've hurt you so much, and I'm sorry you're so miserable here. I'll try to get you out of it if I can."

He turned back to her, suddenly hopeful. He might not know anything about the city, but she did, and she spoke truthfully. "Can you?"

"I don't know. Pop is pretty set on this course."

The hand on his shoulder had fallen when he turned. He took it now and held it for a moment. "Thank you."

She didn't pull away, but she shook her head. "Don't thank me. We had no right to take you away like that. Our troubles are none of your concern."

"What troubles?"

She shook her head again. As if to distract him, she twisted her hand free from his and touched the beads on his caste bracelet. "Does this mean something or is it strictly for decoration?"

He smiled at her ignorance. Even little children knew more than she did. "It shows who I am." He counted off the beads as he spoke. "The black ones are for my ancestors. This one is for my father; it's silver instead of black because he has passed on. This one is for his father, and this one is for his father."

"Why does the last one have a design on it?"

"Because Great-grandfather is a shaman. He's the leader of my clan." Ran-Del touched the carved stone. "This is my clan marker, the Falling Water People. These three are to show my family, the Jahanpur, and the red one is to show that I'm a warrior."

Her forehead creased in concern, "What does that mean?"

He looked at her, astonished. "You don't know what a warrior is?"

"Of course I know, generally," she said, sounding irritated. "But what does it mean to be a Sansoussy warrior. Do you make a living killing people?"

"No," he said sternly, offended by the question. "All my people hunt and plant crops to put food on our tables. We fight to defend ourselves. The Horde from the mountains attack us, and there are rogue bands—men cast out from their clans. But no one has successfully attacked my village since my great-grandfather has been our leader."

She looked as confused as he had felt when Stefan tried to explain about the barrier over the wall. "But he must be very old, surely? How can he lead your warriors?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "A shaman is never allowed to fight. But he warns us when the village is in danger of attack. The women and the older men take the children away to hide in the woods, and the warriors wait to ambush those who come to attack us."

She still seemed a little disturbed. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

He nodded. "A warrior bead is only awarded to those who have killed an enemy."

She shivered, a convulsive reflex that she clearly couldn't control.

Ran-Del studied her expression, trying to read her feelings with his psy talent, but all that came across was a general feeling of unease. "Don't you have warriors here in the city?"

"Not unless you count people like our security staff. It's just—it's just that I'm not used to the idea that you could be proud of killing someone."

Did she think wearing a red bead was a form of bragging? "It's not a question of pride," he said, stiffly. "It's part of who I am, just like my family and my ancestors." He touched the glass bead on his bracelet, turning it so that the swirls of darker color spun around. Psy beads were purchased from peddlers, and only village elders were allowed to buy them. "This shows that I have a psy gift, even if it's only a small one. That's part of me, too, and I don't brag about it."

She stared down at the bead in alarm. "Does that mean that you can read minds?"

He shook his head. "My gift isn't that strong. Great-grandfather can see into almost anyone's mind if they're close enough. Grandfather got much of his talent, and my father, also, but it's weaker in me. I can sense feelings—deception, sincerity, anger, pain—but I can't read anyone's thoughts."

She pulled away from him. "I have to go now. I promise I'll do whatever I can to help you get home."

He didn't thank her, since she had instructed him not to, but he held her hand between both of his hands for a moment in a kinsman's farewell.

After she had gone, he stood at the window looking into the garden. A sudden summer storm came up. The wind lashed black, angry clouds, pushing them along at a tremendous speed. The rain started, and poured down in torrents, drenching the stone benches and bushes of the garden. In the deep woods, such a storm would be felt ahead of time, and everyone would seek cover. If the wind was strong enough, the rain would come in the walls of the houses, leaking through the seams that stitched together the huge hides of timber cats and other animals.

Ran-Del stood with his hands pressed against the window staring into the rain. After a long time, he let his mind empty of everything except the mantra for the First Discipline. Gratefully, he felt his body respond to his mind's prompting, and he knew the empranimine had worn off. He opened the door to the outside, and then stepped out into the downpour. He sat on the wet grass and began the mantra again, feeling samad state join with the rain in washing over his body.

### Chapter Five

Stefan Hayden watched the storm from his office, a large room on the third floor that looked out over the formal gardens at the front of the house, and provided a good view of the enclosed yard and the gates to the compound. Stefan smiled to see people running for cover. At this season, rain might be torrential but it seldom lasted more than an hour. Next season the rain would fall more gently, but it would rain for days at a time.

Stefan had turned his attention back to the intricacies of his payroll system when the com set on his desk beeped in the two short beeps that meant Nisa Palli wanted his attention.

"Yes, Nisa?" he said, pressing the com switch. He refused to have a voice activated com, or even a video com. Francesca said he was too paranoid, but Stefan considered himself just paranoid enough.

"Your pardon, Baron Hayden, but we have an unexpected visitor at the front gate." She had used his title, so someone must be listening at her end.

"Who is it?"

"It's Baroness Leong, sir. She's in her skimmer, with a pilot and three personal guards."

Stefan pondered. As the head of House Leong, and more importantly, the head of the Leong-Norwalk Cartel, Elena was always scouting for resources to compete with the bigger cartels. The House of Hayden represented fresh blood. It would be better to see her in person than to try to rely on spies or gossip to find out what she was up to.

There was no sense in taking chances, however. Stefan leaned into the mike. "She can come in, Nisa. But her driver and all but one of the guards stay in the skimmer. Make sure D'Persis knows they're here, and ask her to send Toth to me. I'll see Baroness Leong in my office."

"Just Toth, sir?"

"Just Toth," Stefan repeated. "And have the kitchen send up some refreshments."

He stared out the window while he waited, watching Elena Leong's skimmer pull up in front of the house and wondering what she could have to say to him. He had known her for over half his life and had never once seen her so much as cross the street for an altruistic reason.

The door to Stefan's private entrance opened, and Hiram Toth walked in.

Stefan turned. "It's Leong-Norwalk. She's here."

"I heard." Hiram took his place behind the desk and scanned the instruments on the security console at his station.

Nisa came in a few minutes later, briskly professional in her gray business suit. "Baroness Leong is here to see you, Baron Hayden." She stepped aside so that Stefan could greet his uninvited guest.

Stefan surveyed Elena as she walked in. In her youth, she had been a tall, willowy blonde with ice blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a natural grace. The years had dulled her complexion, but not the chill blue of her eyes. She had managed to retain her figure, but no amount of exercise could disguise the menace inherent in her stride.

"Hello, Elena," Stefan said affably. "I'd wish you a good afternoon, but it's turned nasty so it wouldn't ring true."

Elena shrugged and held out her hand. "I don't mind the weather outside, Stefan. It's what happens inside that I worry about."

Her skin was cool, her grasp firm. "Would you care for some refreshments?" Stefan asked. "Perhaps some tea?"

When she accepted Stefan nodded at Nisa, then offered his guest a seat. Elena sank gracefully onto the sofa by the window while her personal guard took his position behind her. The man was very tall and broad shouldered, with rugged good looks. Stefan had heard gossip about him and Elena but he didn't believe a word of it. It was more likely that she let everyone think the man was servicing her so they would discount his professional abilities.

Stefan stepped away from the desk to sit down across from Elena. Hiram moved closer, and Elena's guard eyed him with detached hostility. Stefan noted the exchange without comment. Hiram was as loyal as they came, and Stefan had no doubts about his old friend's professional abilities.

Stefan limited the conversation to idle comments about the commodities market until Nisa brought in a tea tray a few minutes later. She served cups of tea with the same professional air she used to conduct a business meeting, passed a plate of pastries, and then bowed herself out of the office. Stefan knew she would listen in from her own station. He wanted her to listen. He valued her opinion, and he trusted her without limit.

"Now, Elena," Stefan said pleasantly, as the woman across from him set down her empty cup. "Why did you come to see me in a pouring rainstorm?"

Elena turned her mouth down in a mock frown. "Pooh! What's a little rain? I certainly don't mind it."

"Maybe not, but your compound is on the other side of the city. You must have had a reason to come all this way."

"Of course I had a reason." She tilted her head and smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners in an approximation of warm affection. He wondered if she practiced that maneuver in the mirror. "Although after all we've been to each other, I hardly think we need a specific reason to visit."

Stefan laughed out loud. Elena hadn't mentioned their past physical relationship in over two decades. "Oh, come, now! An ancient affair is hardly cause to pay unsolicited calls. I must have had a dozen lovers before I married, and none of the others stops by for tea."

Elena managed to look hurt. "I would have called more frequently if my presence had been requested a few times."

"Let's discard this line of conversation, shall we?" Stefan said. He had things to do, and this was dragging out longer than he had expected. "Forget the half dozen times we ended up in the sack thirty seasons ago. Why the hell did you come here?"

"It was eight times," Elena corrected, a wounded look haunting her eyes. "And I'm here because you're in trouble. You're staked out like live bait in a trap, and the timber cats are circling."

She was good, he had to give her that. No wonder poor Harry Leong had fallen for her. Stefan reached across the table and took her hand. The metallic pale pink coating on her nails made them almost indestructible. "I never knew timber cats had such pretty claws."

She snatched her hand away. "I'm trying to help you, if you'll let me. You're very vulnerable right now. That girl of yours still hasn't found a husband, and everyone has their eyes on her as a way to get their hands on your house."

Stefan leaned back in his chair, maintaining a bland facade. "Why is everyone worried about who my heir is? I'm not ill, and I don't see myself as elderly."

Her answering smile was less practiced than before, almost glacial. "Your health is, of course, a matter for concern. Even the healthiest-seeming man can be struck down—quite suddenly, too."

Should he consider that a threat? It was possible. "And what is it you're proposing? Come to the point."

"I'm proposing a match, of course," she said, "between your girl and my oldest boy. You stay as the head of the House of Hayden, but your house joins our cartel."

Stefan raised his eyebrows as if he were surprised. No point in telling her right up front he had no desire to bring Hayden into any cartel. Better to point out the complications. "Is Hans ready to settle down? I wouldn't have thought so from what I've heard."

Elena's lips curved in an approximation of a smile. "Francesca hasn't exactly been a candidate for the convent, if it comes to that."

The comment left Stefan unruffled. Once Francesca had grown up, he had never expected her to forgo the pleasures of the flesh anymore than he had himself. And if her appetite was well known, at least it was also healthy. "True, but none of Francesca's little friends had to be taken to the hospital after their affair had ended."

An incipient frown marred Elena's carefully sculpted countenance. "Those were vicious rumors. You should never listen to gossip."

Stefan managed not to laugh. "Then you shouldn't have paid the women's medical bills. It lent credence to the stories."

She shrugged and shook her head as if to suggest that his objections were ridiculous, but she wouldn't stoop to argue. "Very well, if you have a prejudice against Hans, then there's always Freddie. He and Francesca were very close once, and they've stayed good friends over the seasons."

Stefan tapped his fingers on the desk. He had been more than happy to see his daughter's relationship with Freddie Leong end only a season after it had begun, but it was true Francesca was still fond of him. "I hope I'm a tolerant person, but the idea of an otherwise healthy young man turning his brain into a chemistry set doesn't strike me as sensible behavior. Freddie will be dead in a season or two, if you don't cut him off. He'll be worse than dead if you let him keep using and try to keep him on a leash."

She frowned even more heavily, her age showing in the crease between her brows. "You seem to me to be very picky where Francesca is concerned. Everyone had assumed that she was the one dragging her feet, but I can see now that you think no one is good enough for her."

Stefan laughed again, amused that she had assessed the situation so well. "I'm not that bad. But I do have higher standards than currently prevail in this city."

"And where do you think you'll find a paragon of virtue for her to marry?" Elena said.

"You'd be surprised," Stefan said. "Is that it, Elena? Was that your only reason for coming here?"

"Naturally." She seemed to be trying for a concerned look, but it came across as merely annoyed.

Stefan tried for a lighter note. "Sorry you've wasted the trip. You could try the Ruizes?"

"The House of Ruiz!" From the scorn in her voice, Stefan would have thought the Ruizes were criminals or beggars. "A hut would be more like it. A mere baronet! A Lesser House isn't worth the effort."

Stefan resisted the temptation to point out that she had been born a baronet's daughter and had married into House Leong in spite of her in-laws' objections. "Well, you have two sons. If you act quickly enough, you could marry one to a Ruiz and one to another Lesser House and make it up on volume."

Her expression went from glacial to sour. "The affairs of a Great House are no laughing matter, Stefan. I thought you knew that."

"Obviously not, since I balk at marrying off my only child purely as a business deal."

Elena dropped her lashes for a second, and then looked up with an intent gaze. "It wouldn't have to involve Francesca. You and I were once quite compatible."

The suggestion left him stunned. "Aren't you forgetting something? There's the little matter of your husband—the man who gave you control of House Leong."

"Harry's health is failing rather badly," Elena said, her tone as demure as a debutante declining a dance. "I may be a widow quite soon."

"Don't bother on my account," Stefan said brutally. The last thing he wanted was Harry Leong's death on his conscience. "I'd sooner sleep with a crested viper—it would be safer."

This was too much, even for Elena's complacency. "I'll leave now, Stefan, since you seem unwilling to listen to good advice." She rose smoothly from her chair and held herself regally.

Stefan rose with her and pressed the switch to summon Nisa.

"Baroness Leong is leaving now, Nisa," he said when she appeared almost immediately. "Please see that she gets safely to her skimmer."

"Of course, Baron," she said, her tone polite to the point of deference.

Stefan dismissed Toth and stood alone at the window to watch the Leong skimmer depart through the gates. He wasn't surprised to hear the door opening and closing behind him.

"You never told me you had slept with her." Nisa's tone held an accusing note.

Stefan didn't turn around to answer her. "You never asked me. Besides, it was thirty seasons ago. You were a schoolgirl when it happened. It was a full solar year before I became engaged to Jian, let alone met you."

"She still remembers it," Nisa said, her voice harsh with disapproval, and maybe a hint of hurt feelings. "She even remembered how many times you made love."

He finally turned to face her. She stood stiffly, her brown eyes cloudy, her expression hovering between censure and dismay. She looked almost prim in the gray suit. "Elena and I never made love. We gave full rein to our hormonal urges, but love had nothing to do with it. If Elena remembers how many times, it's because she made notes afterwards, just in case they might come in handy."

Nisa wrinkled her nose, her expression easing. "She was pretty foul."

"You don't know the half of it," Stefan said with feeling. "I'm just lucky Harry Leong was a bigger catch than I was. She hasn't let the poor man out of their complex since she took over."

Nisa's eyes held alarm. "Do you think she'd really kill him?"

Stefan debated. It was a big jump from detaining a spouse to murdering him. "If it was the only way to get what she wanted, she might. So far, it's suited her best to have him alive but out of circulation."

Nisa lifted her chin. "Until she decided she wanted you back?"

Stefan had to smile at the thought. "She doesn't want me back. She wants this House. If Francesca were inclined that way, Elena would have offered to sleep with her if it would get her Hayden."

Nisa's answering smile still seemed tentative. "But Francesca's not at all inclined that way."

Stefan grinned. "She's made that clear."

Nisa smiled more widely. "How is Francesca taking to your wild man?"

"She seems to be getting used to the idea. She even went to see him on her own yesterday."

Nisa's eyes widened in alarm. "Is that wise? You don't know him very well, and the man is probably angry at you."

Stefan recalled Ran-Del's attempts at assault. "He's mad as hell at me. I took Francesca out of the security program for his quarters for just that reason."

Nisa tilted her head as she studied him. "Are you going to go through with it, Stefan? I rather hoped you'd change your mind once you had the man here."

"No," Stefan said, "I haven't changed my mind. This man has the skills to keep Francesca safe. He's a warrior—he knows how to kill, and he'd be willing to kill again if he thought it was right. He won't care about wealth or position or power. She'll have someone beside her who can't be bought, and who has some psy talent to warn her of danger and deception. I couldn't have asked for better."

"Unless they actually cared for one another," Nisa said dryly.

"I gave her time," Stefan said, stung by the criticism. He rarely worried about anyone else's opinion, but Nisa was an exception. "I let her play the field all she wanted. If she had fallen in love on her own, and the man had checked out clean, I would have let her marry whomever she wanted to marry. But she didn't fall for anyone, and it's too late now."

"I suppose it is," Nisa said, shivering.

Stefan pulled her close and held her tightly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't let it touch you. No one but Hiram even knows about you and me."

"You think!" She looked up at him, her eyes alight with skepticism. "We've kept it quiet, but I'll bet D'Persis knows, and maybe some of the other staff—and I'm sure Francesca knows."

Stefan had trouble believing that. Francesca had never been one to keep her feelings quiet on any subject. "She's never said a word to me."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't know."

"Maybe," he said. "But she's never been shy about these things before."

"Maybe she's not shy about her own lovers, but has she ever once spoken to you about yours?"

Stefan grinned with delight. "What a clever trap! You know very well there was no one between Jian and you. I was a grieving widower when you started working here."

She gave him a fond look. "I remember. It took me three seasons to get you to notice me."

"I noticed you well before that," Stefan contradicted her. "I just didn't want to be a dirty old man—or worse, a boss who puts the squeeze on an employee."

She looked indignant. "I'm only nine seasons younger than you. I'd never have gotten this job if I were some young, inexperienced lightweight who was looking to do a little silk sheet overtime."

"I'm glad we got that straight." He lifted her chin so that he could kiss her.

She gave a little sigh when he let her go. "So, now that you have this wild man here, how do you make him want to stay?"

Stefan decided to tell her the truth. Everything was proceeding well with the plan, and she would need to know the details at some point. "That's Francesca's job. The Sansoussy don't allow any unsanctioned sexual activity. Once she seduces Ran-Del, he'll feel obliged to marry her."

Nisa's eyes opened wide in alarm. "What? But, Stefan, what if she decides to have a fling with someone else?"

Stefan refused to be worried. "She won't do that. We've talked about what marriage means. That's why she's been so wild lately; she was kicking up her heels while she had the chance."

She gave him a skeptical glance. "Do you really think Francesca will be willing to stay faithful to someone who can't even read and write?"

Stefan gave a small snort of annoyance, irritated that she had somehow fastened on Francesca's main objection. "Why does it matter that he can't read and write? The man can read animal tracks like yesterday's news bulletins."

"Of course it matters," Nisa said tartly. "How can Francesca establish a positive relationship with him if she can't respect him?"

Stefan frowned. If both Nisa and Francesca saw this as a problem, then probably it was. "I'll have to think about it."

It was Nisa's turn to look disgusted. "You've thought about nothing else for weeks. First you had the house torn apart to prepare secure quarters, then you went off for a week finding him."

Stefan smiled and pulled her closer. "I was lucky I had you to run things for me while I was gone."

"You remember that," she said severely. "You spend too much time on this bat-brained project of yours, and I'll take myself off and find another job."

"I've been neglecting you," Stefan said, in an overtly sorrowful tone. "How can I make it up to you?"

She smiled and leaned over the desk to press the security switch that locked the doors, even to Hiram.

"I'll find a way," she said, smiling with self assurance.

"I'm sure you will," Stefan said, smiling back. "I have infinite faith in your competence."

***

Stefan sat down to dinner, gratified to see his daughter take her place at the other end of the table. Francesca had been more likely to spend her evenings out and about in the city than in the compound. He helped himself to baked breast of prairie hen and found her studying him. "What's so interesting?"

She gave him a glance from under her lashes as she sliced her meat. "You are, Pop. You look very pleased with yourself."

Stefan suppressed a stab of irritation. "I am pleased with myself. And I've asked you not to call me that."

She nodded as she chewed. "I know. Why are you so pleased?"

"Lots of reasons," Stefan said vaguely. "Ran-Del passed his test, for one thing."

Francesca frowned at him over her glass of wine. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've decided I can't go through with it."

Stefan reached for his wine glass. "Go through with what?"

"With your scheme to marry me off to a noble savage. I just can't do it, not now that I've met him."

Stefan raised his eyebrows. Flat denial at this stage sounded bad. He took a sip of wine and stalled for time to think. "I thought you seemed rather taken with him. You even disobeyed me to see him alone."

Francesca flushed, which surprised him. She rarely showed embarrassment. "It's not that he's repellent or anything. It's that he's a real person with his own life to live, and you've made him miserable."

"He'll get used to the city," Stefan said, watching her expression closely. If she really was reluctant to proceed, it could take weeks to find another suitable Sansoussy. And if Elena Leong was lusting openly after his House, then others would be, too. No, he couldn't afford to wait. "And if Ran-Del's lonely, I'm confident you can take his mind off of it."

"I can't do it," Francesca said firmly. "I can't, and I won't. You can throw this one back, Pop. I won't marry him, and I won't do anything to make him want to stay with me."

Stefan said nothing for a few seconds as he chewed. This was even better than he had hoped for. She wasn't reluctant because she disliked Ran-Del. In fact, she cared about him already. "You seem very concerned with Ran-Del's feelings."

Francesca waved her fork in agitation. "Of course I am. He has no idea what's happened to him, and it's made him very angry. Besides that, what is the poor man supposed to do with himself all day? He can't read or work a terminal."

"He seems to have a reasonable intelligence to me," Stefan said, pleased she had put some thought into Ran-Del's problems. "He'll learn what he needs to learn."

Francesca set her jaw in a way that reminded him of her mother. "Not from me. Let him go, please, Pop."

Stefan saw no point in telling her that she had made him even more certain of his choice. "I'll think about it," he said finally, unwilling to lie to her outright. He wouldn't think about returning Ran-Del to the forest but rather finding a way to achieve his goal without risking her safety. "But I won't make any promises."

Francesca smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Pop."

"And don't call me Pop."

"Of course not," Francesca said in her most demure voice.

***

Ran-Del spent his second night in captivity much as he had the first, except that the grass was still wet from the rain. He pulled the covers from the bed, took them outside, wrapped himself up, and lay down upon the grass to sleep.

The next morning, he washed and used the strange cream that shaved his face so smoothly. Once he was ready, he performed the morning ritual, and then he sat and meditated for quite a long while. He had lost all sense of place or time when he felt a tiny tingle on his arm, and then abruptly samad state was gone. When his eyes focused, Stefan Hayden stood over him with a small meetal tube in his hand.

Ran-Del let his anger show. "What did you do? The First Discipline couldn't have hurt me or even slowed my heart."

"I'm aware of that," Stefan said. "But you had been meditating for most of the morning, and I needed to talk to you. I only gave you a tiny bit of empranimine. It should wear off within a few minutes."

Reassured but far from mollified, Ran-Del glowered. "You have no more patience than you have fairness."

"All right, I'm a barbarian," Stefan said equably, sitting down next to him. Ran-Del was aware of movement behind them, and he knew that Stefan's guards were there, as always. "You can call me all those nasty names that you called me yesterday," the Baron went on. "Just pay attention for a few minutes. I want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"That." Stefan tapped the band on Ran-Del's arm. "You've hurt your arm trying to get it off."

Ran-Del glanced down at the bruises on his right arm. "So?"

"So I'm prepared to take the resuscitator off—under certain conditions."

"What conditions?" Ran-Del asked, suspicious. "Is this another trick?"

"Not exactly." Stefan smiled, rather like a peddler who wanted to bargain for his wares. "I want something from you, and you want that thing off your arm. Maybe we can both have what we want?"

"What is it you want from me?"

"Two things," Stefan said promptly. "'The first one is that you swear not to try to stop your heart again."

"What's the second thing?" Ran-Del asked. Under clan law, a simple oath given to an outlander who held him prisoner wouldn't be binding.

"The second thing is that you also swear not to hurt Francesca. She's damn stubborn, and I can't count on her to be sensible. I'd rather know that you wouldn't hurt her, even if she were foolish."

"Very well." Ran-Del nodded once. "I swear to both things. Now take this off of me!"

"Not so fast," Stefan said, grinning broadly. "I wasn't born this season, you know. It's not a simple oath I want. Give me your caste bracelet, please, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del sat motionless. How had this city dweller learned so much about Sansoussy customs?

"Unless, of course," Stefan said, his voice as sleek as a timber cat's hide, "you weren't planning on keeping your oath?"

Ran-Del weighed his options. If he didn't give his true oath, Stefan would leave the evil thing on his arm, and it would interfere with his ability to reach samad state. If he did give his true oath, he would be bound not to use the Fifth Discipline, but all the other Disciplines would be available to him, even the Fourth. And he had no desire to hurt the woman.

He slid the knot to loosen his caste bracelet, slipped it from his wrist, and handed it to Stefan Hayden. He wasn't surprised when the other man laid the bracelet on the paving stone and then pulled three smooth, triangular pebbles from his pocket. He placed one so that it touched the red warrior bead, a second so that it touched the three blue beads that represented the Jahanpur family, and the third one so that it touched the carved stone that stood for the Falling Water clan. Self, family, and clan, the three facets of Sansoussy identity, were all clearly marked.

"Put your right hand over the bracelet, please, Ran-Del," Stefan said, "and swear to me that you will not use the Disciplines to take your own life, and you will not harm Francesca in any way."

Ran-Del laid his hand on the triangular pebbles and spoke in a clear voice. "I swear by myself, my family, and my clan, that I will not use the Disciplines to take my own life while I am your prisoner, nor will I inflict any injury upon your daughter."

Stefan smiled with relief. He handed the bracelet back to Ran-Del, and then he reached up and adjusted the dials on the underside of the band. Ran-Del felt a sense of freedom when Stefan slipped the device from his arm.

"There," Stefan said. "Now we can both be comfortable."

Ran-Del gave him a steely stare as he tightened his caste bracelet. "Just remember, outlander, I never swore not to hurt _you_."

Stefan nodded. "I know quite well that if I didn't have armed guards standing within range, I'd be dead on the grass in seconds."

"The knowledge doesn't seem to disturb you."

Stefan laughed. "Of course not. It's one reason I brought you here."

Ran-Del gritted his teeth at the man's arrogance. "When will I find out the other reasons?"

"Soon," Stefan said. "Sooner than I had thought. Things are going well. You might even find out tomorrow."

"What happens tomorrow?" Ran-Del asked, suspicious again. "Another test?"

"In a way. You'll see."

Stefan got up from the ground and brushed feathery bits of grass off of his trousers. The two guards moved also, and Ran-Del saw that he didn't recognize either of them. How many guards did Stefan Hayden employ here in his own little village? The Baron didn't seem worried that his employees knew he had abducted a Sansoussy from the forest.

"Do you want to go back to meditating," Stefan asked, "or would you like to go up to the tower again?"

Ran-Del was torn. He wanted to get out of the two rooms of his prison, but he didn't want to risk another attack of apprehension such as he had had the day before.

"You can take it as slow as you like," Stefan said. "If you panic again, we'll just come back downstairs."

Ran-Del stood up almost reluctantly. He followed the other man back through the sitting room and into the corridor. This time he was prepared for the feeling of rising abruptly, and he wasn't surprised when the doorway opened and the city of Shangri-La was laid out below him.

Ran-Del walked slowly to the window and looked out more closely. It was still overpowering, but he didn't feel so threatened. He stared for a long time at the buildings on the horizon, looking to see how the transition from open countryside to city was accomplished, and noting that they weren't far from the western edge of the city. Next he studied the other towers, complexes, streets, and shops. The Jordan River caught his attention quickly; he had never seen a river wide enough for large vessels.

Finally, he looked down into the Hayden complex, making a note of the distance from the main house to the front gate and the number of people walking about in the grounds. He sensed Stefan Hayden's amusement and knew that the man must be aware of the motive for his scrutiny.

"The exterior wall is quite high," Stefan said, "and there's a force field net over the whole complex. The net lets in the air, and the rain, and even small day bats, but not flyters, and not people."

Ran-Del didn't answer.

"It's lunchtime," Stefan said. "Why don't you sit down and eat with us?"

The invitation took Ran-Del aback. "Did you kidnap me so you'd have someone to practice your manners upon?"

Stefan smiled. "Not exactly. But now that I'm not worried about anything happening to Francesca, there's no reason you can't join us for a meal."

"Why would I wish to share food with the people who've imprisoned me?"

"Because you're bored all by yourself. And if you go back to your quarters and eat alone, you'll miss a chance to see more of the house. It's no good planning an escape if you don't know where you're going."

Ran-Del decided he had nothing to lose. "All right. I'll eat with you."

"Good!" Stefan looked pleased as he led the way back down the lift. This time the doorway opened onto a still very long but wider room that led to another room with a window that looked out over an elaborate garden. Francesca stood waiting beside the window, looking out at the view. When Ran-Del followed Stefan into the room she turned, her jaw dropping in surprise when she saw them.

"What's all this?" she asked, as the two guards took up positions against opposite walls.

"Ran-Del is joining us for lunch," Stefan said. "Sit down, sweetie."

"I'm not your sweetie," Francesca said, but she took a chair at one end of the table. "Sit here, please, Ran-Del." She indicated the chair to her left that had a view of the window.

One servant brought another plate and utensils, and another served the food. Stefan kept up an exuberant flow of chatter but Ran-Del ate quietly, watching the others for a clue to city table manners. City dwellers seemed not to pick up any piece of food with their hands except for the bread set out on a board; other than that, it was much the same as eating in the forest.

Francesca frowned as Stefan deftly slipped the knife off of the bread board before passing Ran-Del the bread. "Have you thought about what we talked about yesterday, Pop?" she asked abruptly.

"Yes," he said, his tone pleasant. "I'm still thinking about it."

Ran-Del sensed deception from the Baron. He wasn't lying outright, but he was hiding his real meaning from his daughter.

"When will you decide?" Francesca asked, her tone insistent.

"You'll know my decision tomorrow," Stefan said.

This, at least, was the full truth. Ran-Del looked from one face to the other, wondering what they were discussing. As amazed as he was at Francesca's lack of respect for an ancestor, he was more intent on sizing up his own chance of escape. Both guards watched Ran-Del closely. On the other hand, Stefan Hayden seemed relaxed enough to be careless.

The bread knife looked serviceable as a weapon, its blade long enough to inflict a fatal wound. The knife lay on the table right in front of Stefan. Ran-Del didn't let his eyes linger there, but he was always conscious of its location.

Near the end of the meal, Francesca changed the subject to business. "Nisa was worried about the problem with the broken harvesters. Did it get settled?"

"Yes," Stefan said. "We got the parts, and the machines are all fixed. There won't be any difficulty bringing in the first wheat crop."

Francesca went on to ask questions about the management of the Hayden estate. Ran-Del deduced that they must plant a lot of land in crops. She spoke of many workers and several types of produce.

Stefan grinned at his daughter. "You're very agriculturally-minded all of a sudden. Are you showing off for Ran-Del?"

Francesca looked annoyed. "I've always known where my livelihood comes from, thank you."

"Apparently," Stefan said. "But you tried to hide it until now." He turned to Ran-Del. "The Sansoussy farm, don't they, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del nodded. "We plant vegetables and fruits, but we have no room to grow grains."

"Why not?" Francesca asked. "I understood that the forest was very empty. Couldn't you clear enough room to plant what you want?"

"We never clear the forest," Ran-Del said, shocked at the casual way she made the suggestion, as if cutting down trees was of no consequence. "We live in it as it is. We grow our vegetables among the trees, and also harvest berries and grasses and other things that grow wild."

Stefan smiled benevolently at him. "I'll have to show you our fields. We grow things on a much grander scale."

"Pop," Francesca said, a sharp note in her voice, "what are you talking about?"

"Just being hospitable," Stefan said. "Don't get worked up over it."

"Remember what I said last night," Francesca said. "Don't you go making plans."

He raised his eyebrows as if he were hurt by her comment, but Ran-Del could tell his feelings were uninjured. "Now, sweetie, don't make a mountain out of a paca's burrow."

She snorted in a very inelegant fashion, and rose to leave the table. Her father got to his feet, and Ran-Del followed their example. The two guards were already moving toward the door. Ran-Del lingered by the table as if he were waiting politely for Francesca to precede him. As soon as she was between him and the guards, Ran-Del lunged across the table and grabbed the bread knife.

"Move away, Francesca!" Stefan shouted, as Ran-Del seized him from behind. Ran-Del used his left arm to pin the Baron against him while his right hand held the knife to Stefan's throat. Ran-Del dragged his erstwhile host backwards, keeping the sharp edge of the bread knife against the Baron's skin. The two guards both crouched with their weapons drawn but didn't fire.

Francesca stood staring at Ran-Del, her face drained of color, and her features frozen in a horrified expression. "No! No, please, Ran-Del! Don't hurt him!"

"Keep back." Ran-Del pressed the knife lightly into Stefan's flesh, and a narrow line of blood appeared across his throat. "Move any closer, and I'll kill him."

"Do as he says." Stefan's voice held only calm assurance. "Both of you, put your weapons down."

The two guards hesitated. The taller one moved first, bending down to place his shock pistol on the floor. The other one followed suit immediately after.

Triumph surged, but Ran-Del suppressed it. He wasn't even out of the house yet, let alone the compound. "Move to the corner, away from the door. Now!"

The two of them moved slowly in the direction he had indicated and stood waiting. Ran-Del inched his way sideways, moving towards the door to the corridor. If he was lucky, he might be able to get to the front gate. Or maybe he could drag the Baron to one of his own flying machines?

"Stay here, Francesca," Stefan ordered.

She stood staring at him, her eyes huge with distress.

Ran-Del had made it to the doorway when he sensed that there was someone there already. He didn't even have time to glance over his shoulder before the blast caught him. He tried to pull the knife back in a fatal slash across Stefan's throat, but he no longer had any control over his muscles.

Stefan pulled away from him, and Ran-Del fell to the floor. He was still grasping the bread knife as he writhed on the carpet, the charge from the weapon expending itself on his nervous system.

Francesca ran to her father and clutched him. "Are you all right, Pop?"

"I'm fine, sweetie." Stefan pulled away from her long enough to bend over Ran-Del and pry the knife from his clenched fingers.

Ran-Del saw the guard called Toth standing in the corridor. Toth lowered his rifle with a satisfied expression on his face.

Ran-Del fought for control, beginning the mantra for the Third Discipline in an effort to stop his body's movements.

"Thank you, Hiram," Stefan said. "You saved my life."

"My pleasure, sir," Toth said. "What do we do with him now?"

"Put him back in his quarters, for now," Stefan said. "I have plans for him later."

Ran-Del could only grit his teeth and endure the guards' handling. He had failed but there would be other chances.

***

Stefan led Francesca into their private sitting room and poured her a glass of wine. She still looked shocked, and he wanted to help her calm down.

"My God, Pop, I thought he was going to kill you!" she said, sipping her wine and shivering.

"So did I, for a few seconds," Stefan said. "Don't worry about, it sweetie. It won't happen again."

"Of course it won't," Francesca said. "Because you're going to send him back, aren't you, Pop?"

Stefan decided to stall. "I told you before that I'm still thinking about what to do. I'll tell you my decision tomorrow."

Francesca's eyes opened wide. "Pop! Are you completely nuts? The man just attacked you—almost killed you—and you're still making plans for me to marry him?"

Stefan wasn't ready to tell her the whole truth. "I don't blame Ran-Del for attacking me, Francesca. He's got no reason to be fond of me—not yet anyway."

"Pop," Francesca said, "this is not going to work. Even if I did persuade Ran-Del into bed, it wouldn't make him suddenly see you in a different light."

She didn't understand about Sansoussy customs. "It would if you married him. Then I'd be close kin. You have obligations to your kin among the Sansoussy. One of them is not to murder them."

Francesca let lose a string of obscenities that made Stefan raise his eyebrows. "What does it take for you to see how crazy this is, Pop?" she said.

He smiled a little, but didn't answer directly. "Elena Leong came to see me this morning."

Francesca pursed her lips like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "What did that old whore want?"

Stefan gave her a pained look. "Please, Francesca, she's my age. And," he added, thinking it over, "you're being very unkind to the whores of this world."

"Well, what did she want?"

This was one time it wouldn't hurt to tell the full truth. "She wanted to arrange a marriage between you and whichever of her sons I could be brought to stomach." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Elena wasn't the first, and she won't be the last. If I don't get you married soon, you may find yourself standing at the altar with someone you like a lot less than Ran-Del."

Francesca lifted her chin in a stubborn gesture. It took Stefan a moment to realize she had learned it from him. "What makes you think it'll stop them if I am married?"

He shook her shoulders lightly, intent on making her see his point. "It ups the number of people who'd have to be put out of the way by one. You're still young enough that people see you as someone who can be intimidated, who could be pressured into giving up control. Having Ran-Del in the picture would give you breathing room. No one will try to crowd him because they'll be a little afraid of him."

"You make him sound like a big, loyal guard dog," Francesca said with asperity, brushing his hands off her shoulders. "Why can't we just beef up the security staff?"

"It wouldn't take the heat off you as far as needing a husband, and it wouldn't give you a family of your own."

She glared at him. "You're not going to let him go, are you?"

She had figured it out. He shouldn't be surprised. "No, sweetie, I'm not."

"Even though he tried to kill you?"

"He was trying to escape more than he was trying to kill me. I can't fault him for that. If he were inclined to sit in his room and mope, I wouldn't want him for you."

Francesca clamped her jaw shut. "But, Pop, it's not fair to Ran-Del."

Yes! She cared what happened to this particular Sansoussy. His plan would work. "I'm willing to be unfair in these circumstances. Besides, in the long run, I don't think it'll be such a terrible thing for Ran-Del. He'll spend his life in a clean, comfortable house, be exposed to culture and learning, and have the most beautiful woman in Shangri-La as his wife."

Francesca twisted her lips into a fake smile and folded her arms across her chest. " _The_ most beautiful woman, Pop? What about Nisa?"

Stefan's mouth dropped open as he goggled at her. "How long have you known?"

"For several months." She sounded unbearably smug. "You didn't really think you could keep it from me, did you?"

"I had hopes. Nisa knew better."

"She's no fool. You couldn't love her if she were."

She had a point. "It's true that respect is as important as attraction in a relationship. I've come to realize that in the last few days."

Francesca wrinkled her brow. "You're plotting something. What are you up to now, Pop?"

He smiled reassuringly and answered with the perfect truth. "You'll find out tomorrow."

***

By that evening, Ran-Del had recovered from the effects of the blast from the shock rifle. He ignored his dinner tray, and paced back and forth in the garden, restless and on edge. His psy sense told him something was going to happen soon. He couldn't tell what it was, or even whether it was good or bad, only that it would happen, almost certainly within a day.

It was dusk when the door from the house opened, and Toth stepped into the garden with two other guards behind him. Ran-Del recognized Merced—the protective white sheath on his broken arm made him easy to identify—but not the third man.

"Baron Hayden wants to see you in his office," Toth said without greeting or preamble.

Ran-Del's reply was a suggestion on how Baron Hayden could occupy himself.

Toth smiled grimly. "I'm real happy to hear you say that." He shook out a silver-colored wide double loop of something that didn't look quite like metal. "I was afraid you'd go quietly." He handed the loops to Merced. "I thought Merced would appreciate putting these on you."

The three of them advanced on Ran-Del from three different sides. The Sansoussy dropped Merced with a flying kick to the head, and inflicted a devastating body blow on the other guard, who staggered for several seconds but recovered enough to help Toth hold Ran-Del down on the ground while he forced both loops over his wrists, and then slid one set up his forearms. When the two of them stepped back, Ran-Del was helpless, his arms immobilized behind him from his wrists to his elbows. Merced stumbled to his feet and dealt Ran-Del a vicious kick to his left side.

Ran-Del grunted in pain.

Toth pulled his colleague back. "That's enough. He's not in a position to defend himself."

They pulled Ran-Del to his feet, and Toth gave him a shove in the direction of the door. "Move, wild man. Baron Hayden is waiting."

***

When Ran-Del was pushed into Stefan Hayden's office, he gave the room a quick, curious glance. An office seemed to be a room like any other. One wall was mostly windows, another mostly shelves. A large glowing ball stood in one corner, but it was the blocky table behind which Stefan Hayden sat that dominated the room.

"Why is he in restraints?" Stefan asked, closing a drawer in the table and getting to his feet. Was it a table or a chest of drawers? It had a space for his chair, too.

The guard grunted. "He wasn't exactly eager to come here."

"It's just as well," Stefan said as he came around from behind the table-chest. "This way you can leave him alone here."

Toth looked unhappy, and Ran-Del could sense his unease. "Are you sure you want to do that, sir? Remember what happened this afternoon?"

"I can remember," Stefan said. "But you've got him trussed up like a roasting hen, Toth. He's not going to do me any harm."

"All right, sir," Toth said, exuding reluctance. "Just keep your shock pistol handy."

"I will." Stefan waved a hand. "I need to talk to Ran-Del alone."

Ran-Del stood, feet apart, facing the row of windows. His eyes scanned the night sky. The stars were just coming out over the city. They seemed dimmer here than in the forest. Would he ever see them again without walls around him?

"It's a nice view, isn't it?" Stefan said.

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "It's a shame you're alive to see it."

Stefan laughed. "You did your best. You had no way of knowing I had Toth standing by."

"Toth will not always be there."

"Maybe not." Stefan looked at Ran-Del sympathetically. "I'd ask you to sit down, but I don't think you'd be very comfortable. I hope those restraints aren't as painful as they look."

"I'll survive."

"I'm sure you will. You're young and healthy." Stefan's mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. "You seem to have recovered from the shock rifle." He moved to the corner of the office where the giant ball stood. "Come over here, Ran-Del. I want to show you something."

Suspicious, Ran-Del moved slowly. The glowing sphere spun slowly, floating freely above a cylindrical base. He realized with a shock that it was meant to represent the world. The oceans were golden, the continents a deep brown, ridged with mountains. White swirls of clouds wound about the whole, reminding Ran-Del of a psy bead from a giant caste bracelet.

"This is Haven," Stefan said. "This is our world, yours and mine. It hangs in the heavens like a beautiful jewel, and we sit upon it, a poor scrap of humanity, little more than dust on the surface." He kicked a button on the base, and a short string of white lights appeared on the globe. "That's us, Ran-Del. This is Shangri-La." He indicated a small cluster of lights. There were two other clusters nearby. "Those are Paradise and Eden, our sister cities. Eden is six hundred kilometers down river and Paradise is four hundred or so kilometers up the river, in the foothills of the Decatur Mountains."

Baron Hayden waved a hand at a ridge of mountains to the north and east of the cities. "The Horde live in the Decaturs—fiercer than your people. No mysticism or meditating among the Horde. Their ancestors were anarchists; they came to Haven to get away from any kind of government. Once they had settled in the Decaturs, they proceeded to do exactly as they chose, which in many cases included killing each other off for no discernible reason. We estimate there are only between twenty and thirty thousand of them."

Stefan touched a section of the globe that seemed to Ran-Del to be very near to Shangri-La. "This is your forest. It stretches for over a thousand kilometers; your people live in only part of it. Your ancestors sought a life free from the cares of city living, but they actually work harder than we do to survive. According to the last guess I heard, there are about fifty thousand Sansoussy."

Stefan sighed. "That's it. There are a little over two million people in Shangri-La and another million and a half in each of the other two cities. A little over five and a half million people on all of Haven. We've been here for almost five hundred seasons. This planet has traveled around its sun one hundred and twenty times since humans first set foot on Haven's soil, and yet there are fewer than six million humans alive on Haven today. What do you think of that, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del looked down at the glowing globe. "How much is a million?"

A reluctant laugh burst from Stefan. "I'm sorry. I never thought—a million is a thousand thousand."

Ran-Del pondered this information. "There are a hundred times more of your people than of mine?"

Stefan raised his eyebrows. "You're very good at arithmetic for someone who didn't know what a million was."

Ran-Del shrugged as best he could with his arms restrained. "Why are you telling me this? Why did you have your guards drag me here to show me lights on this ball that you say is the world?"

"There are things I want you to know. One of them is that I firmly believe we all depend on each other. What would happen to the Sansoussy if the cities disappeared?"

It was an easy enough question. Anything they bought from peddlers would become unavailable. "We'd run out of metal. Knives, razors, arrowheads, and cooking pots would be in short supply within a few seasons."

Stefan nodded. "You're right. What would happen in the cities if your people were gone one morning?"

Ran-Del tried to stretch his shoulders back. His arms ached. "Nothing. Your people don't need mine."

"Oh, I don't know," Stefan said. "We buy herbs from your people to make medicines. And in my grandfather's time the Sansoussy warned us that there would be an earthquake two days before our instruments showed any sign of it. Besides," the Baron said with a smile, "there's the question of what we _could_ learn from your people, if we were only willing. We do need each other, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del snorted. "What about the Horde? They raid my people's villages, looting and killing. We wouldn't miss it if it stopped."

"Almost certainly not," Stefan said. "But the Horde are not all the same. They've changed over the years. And even the Horde serve a purpose. They keep the predator population down considerably."

Ran-Del saw no point in arguing so he said nothing.

"Did you know that some of your ancestors may have come from this city?" Stefan asked.

Ran-Del could sense no deceit but still, he let his disbelief show on his face.

"It's true," Stefan insisted. "When people in the city were born with psy talents, they were persecuted and so eventually, they left and made their way to the forest. Your people welcomed them, made them part of the group. Their descendents are Sansoussy now."

The claim of kinship was too remote to impress Ran-Del. "It was a long time ago. And what has this to do with me?"

Stefan smiled. "Nothing directly. It's just that your being here fits in with a dream of mine. We're too separate, Ran-Del. We've split humanity up, and it's hurt our ability to survive and to prosper. Your people live only for the life of the mind. Mine live for control of resources, of scientific and technological knowledge. The Horde—well, the Horde have their own set of values. We're all so completely different, it's as if we're different species. I'd like to see that change. I'd like to see us all learn from one another, help each other."

Ran-Del snorted with disgust. "Fine talk from a man who trapped me like a wild animal and holds me prisoner even now."

Stefan grinned. "You have a point. Anyway, the time has come. "

"The time for what?"

"For this," Stefan said, moving to his table-chest and reaching into a drawer.

Ran-Del turned, uncertain what was coming. What purpose could Stefan Hayden have for him? Stefan pulled out an unfamiliar object. It looked vaguely like a shock pistol, but it was smaller.

"Don't worry," Stefan said. "It isn't in the least painful."

Ran-Del tensed and balanced on his feet, prepared to run, even if he couldn't get out of the room.

"I want you to know," Stefan said, "that I'm well aware how much I've wronged you. I'll try to make things as easy for you as I can. I was damned lucky to find you, Ran-Del."

The Sansoussy tried to use his psy sense to fathom the other man's intent. He didn't sense any hostility as Stefan brought the weapon up and fired. Ran-Del fell to the floor before he even knew what was happening.

***

Ran-Del woke with a bad headache. He felt grass under his face, and thought that he was back in the garden, but when he sat up, there were no walls in sight. Instead, he was in a sort of meadow. A clump of silver oaks some distance to his left suggested the presence of water, and the sun on the horizon told Ran-Del that it was early morning. There were no buildings. Except for a blanket on which he lay, and a bundle of bedding behind him, he saw no sign of human habitation at all.

Shangri-La seemed to have disappeared completely. Ran-Del felt a surge of excitement as he realized that Stefan Hayden must have released him from the city. He jumped to his feet eagerly, and found he wasn't as free as he had thought. A narrow band clasped his left wrist; a length of silver-gray cable attached to it snaked to the ground. When Ran-Del moved the cord to see where it ended, the bundle of bedding moved. Ran-Del heard a low, moaning sound.

He yanked back the blankets and uncovered Francesca Hayden lying on the ground. In the next second, he saw that the other end of the two-meter long cable was attached to a second band that fastened firmly around Francesca's right wrist.

Francesca moaned again, and held her hand over her eyes. Ran-Del waited tensely while she sat up and looked around. He could tell as easily from her expression as from his psy sense that she was as surprised as he was to find herself in these circumstances.

"Damn," she said, groaning. "I'm sorry, Ran-Del. I'm afraid my father is a hopeless romantic."

Chapter Six

Ran-Del concentrated on Francesca, striving to read her feelings as clearly as he could. He sensed no deceit, only exasperation and concern.

"Where are we?" Ran-Del demanded. "How did we get here? Why has your father put us out here and tied us together like this?"

Francesca sat up and threw off the blanket. She was dressed very practically in dark trousers and a loose-fitting green shirt. Ran-Del wore his Sansoussy clothes, although they appeared to have been thoroughly cleaned.

Francesca stood up, surveying the landscape as she turned in a circle. Ran-Del looked with her. Low, gently rolling hills made up the vast, open prairie, lush with waving grasses and dotted with clumps of russet-colored bushes. In the far distance, a range of mountains dominated the horizon. The only mountains Ran-Del had ever seen were the Decaturs. These peaks looked gray brown and craggy instead of russet-colored and rounded.

Francesca stopped turning and pointed to a distant, snow-capped peak in the middle of the range. "That looks like Mount Fujiama. We must be on Hayden land, which means we're a good ways south of the city."

South of the city might mean closer to the Sansoussy Forest. Ran-Del cleared a space in the dirt with his foot and handed her a twig. "Show me."

Francesca squatted down and drew a small circle. "That's Shangri-La." Below the city, she sketched a large four-sided shape, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, and drew a zigzag line across the middle of it. "This is the Hayden estate, and the wiggly line is the mountains behind us." She added a dot near one end of the line of mountains. "This mark is where Fujiama is."

"Where on your map is the forest of the Sansoussy?" Ran-Del asked, crouching down beside her.

She drew a large, amorphous, cloud-like shape just slightly south and a good ways west of the city.

"There," she said. "I'm not really sure where your people live, but that's the Sansoussy Forest. It's prairie and rolling hills up until then."

Ran-Del studied the marks and then looked up at the sun. "We're north of your mountain, so we must be about here." He laid a small pebble in the top half of the squarish shape.

"I think so," Francesca said. "But Hayden land extends quite a ways. I can't say for sure."

"That answers where," Ran-Del said, sitting back on his heels. "But why would your father have put us here?"

"I'm not positive." She ducked her head, and Ran-Del sensed embarrassment. "But I have an idea. It's related to the reason Pop snatched you from the forest in the first place."

He focused his psy sense for any hint that she was lying. "What is the reason?"

Francesca seemed reluctant to answer directly. "Did Pop tell you about what's happening to Great Houses like Hayden?"

Ran-Del recalled Baron Hayden's monologues and nodded. "He said his house was in danger of being swallowed up by a bigger house. He said that I could help him to stop it in some way, but he would never say how."

Francesca stared straight ahead as if she found the distant mountains fascinating. "Well, the reason we're vulnerable is because right now the House of Hayden is just me and Pop; there's no one else. Pop was an only child, and so was I. I have no Hayden cousins, no siblings, and no husband." She paused and then blurted out, "Pop wants you to change that."

Ran-Del frowned, still not understanding. "What do you mean? How could I change that?"

Francesca frowned, plainly annoyed at having to explain everything in explicit language. "Pop wants me to get married—to you."

Ran-Del suspected her first of lying, and then of mocking him. His psy sense told him neither was the case. "Your father is insane. You had never seen me until three days ago, and I had never seen you."

"He may have a crazy idea in his head, but he's quite sane."

Ran-Del got to his feet and looked down at her. "He has day bats nesting in his upper branches. He came into our forest and shot me with a dart, as if he had been hunting his dinner. Are you telling me that he was looking for a husband for you?"

"Yes." Francesca shaded her eyes from the morning sun as she looked up at him.

Ran-Del snorted with rampant disbelief and looked away to scan the countryside. "No one would do that," he said, looking back at her. "He cares about you. Why would he find a stranger—a wild man your people called me—to marry his only daughter?"

Francesca still crouched on the ground. She sighed and hugged her knees. "This wasn't a sudden aberration, this respect for your people. Pop has always thought you lived a cleaner life." She frowned as if she thought her meaning wasn't clear. "Not cleaner in the sense of hygiene, but more honest—more honorable. When he realized that he'd need to arrange a marriage for me, he got this idea that the thing to do was to find a Sansoussy to marry me."

" _A_ Sansoussy?" Ran-Del said. "Just any Sansoussy?"

"Not exactly." Francesca stood up but turned her eyes away as if she were reluctant to meet his gaze directly. "Pop didn't want anyone too old or too young—or already married. And he wanted a warrior who had some psy sense, because that combination gave me the most protection."

"So he went into the forest to acquire a Sansoussy?" The more Ran-Del thought about it, the more it fit Stefan Hayden's words and actions. His anger rose when he realized how thoroughly the Baron had planned to hijack his life. "And I was the first one whose caste bracelet had the right beads, is that it?"

"Pretty much."

Ran-Del crossed his arms over his chest. "What made him think I'd marry you? He could have kept me locked in his house forever, but he couldn't have made me marry you."

Francesca's face turned a deep red, and she radiated mortification. "I was supposed to seduce you. Pop said you'd feel obligated to marry me if I did."

Ran-Del had to clench his jaw for a second, to control his anger. If it got any worse, he would need the First Discipline. "You knew what your father wanted, and you agreed to it?"

Her face contorted in agitation. "No! I mean, yes, I knew, but I never agreed to it. The day before yesterday I told him flat out that I wouldn't do anything to try to make you marry me. Then last night Pop offered me a glass of wine, and after that it's all a blank."

She spoke truthfully. Ran-Del turned away from her, and felt the tug of the gray cable on his wrist. "What about this? Why are we here now, with this tying us together?"

"I'm not sure." Annoyance crept into her tone. "But I think Pop put us out here to reverse our situations. Back in the city we were on my territory. Here, you can show off what you know."

Ran-Del didn't know which astounded him more, Stefan Hayden's arrogance or the fact that his daughter understood it so well. "And this?" He held up his left hand to show the band.

"I expect that's mostly to keep you from running off and leaving me alone. Pop must figure the first thing you'd do is head back to your forest."

"That is the only thing you've said that makes any sense." Ran-Del looked down at her dirt map. Better to forget about the things that made him angry and concentrate on the things he could control. "We'll go almost due west as fast as we can. What's between us and the forest?"

Francesca didn't even try to argue. She merely shrugged. "I don't really know. A lot of our land is still wilderness. I don't think we'll run into anyone heading due west—not unless Pop is waiting for us."

Ran-Del set his jaw, determined not to be caught unawares a second time. "Do you think he'd do that?"

"Sure, I do," Francesca said promptly. "Pop has every intention of getting us both back. It's a hell of a long walk to the forest, and he has all kinds of toys to help him find us."

"What kind of toys?"

Francesca hesitated before she answered. Ran-Del wondered if she would tell him the whole truth. "Well, he's got flyters—vehicles that fly. He could watch for us, or even scan for us from a flyter."

"What do you mean when you say he can scan for us?" Ran-Del interrupted. He had seen a flying vehicle but had no idea how a machine could scan. Was it like a hound tracking by scent?

Francesca struggled for words. "Scanning means that instruments—machines—in Pop's flyter could find where we are from a long distance away, just from our body heat, and our movements."

Even with psy sense to tell him she wasn't lying, Ran-Del was skeptical. "How can it tell the difference between us and an animal, say a unicorn or a timber cat?"

Francesca's certainty came through clearly. "It just can. I don't understand how it works, but life sign scanners can distinguish between animals and people. And it's also possible that Pop planted a transponder on us."

Another new word. They were all so different and so meaningless. "A what?"

"A transponder. A device that emits a signal that Pop's machines could pick up. It would tell him right where we are."

Ran-Del glanced around. "What would it look like?"

"It could look like anything. They're very tiny. Pop could have hidden it inside something else. He could even have implanted a transponder in your body or mine, or in both of us."

The idea repelled Ran-Del, but the sight of a pile of supplies next to Francesca's bedding distracted him. On top of the pile a large piece of tarpaulin had been folded into a rough square. When Ran-Del lifted it, he saw his bow, quiver, and dirk.

He gave a glad cry and picked them up eagerly. All seventeen arrows were in the quiver.

Francesca radiated amusement when he counted them. "Did you think Pop would steal one of your arrows?"

Ran-Del refused to be chagrined. "No. But one of them could easily have been lost, and it's always wise to know what your resources are. How were you planning to feed yourself until your father chooses to come forward to claim you?"

She lifted her chin. "I could manage on my own. When I was a child, I used to hike around Hayden picking salmon berries, and my mother showed me how to dig up carrot bushes and eat the roots."

Ran-Del allowed himself a tiny smile. She sounded so sure of herself, and yet she knew almost nothing useful. "Salmon berries aren't in season yet. The soil here looks too dry for carrot bushes, but you might find some by the stream."

"What stream?" Francesca asked, looking around keenly.

"There's probably a stream over there," Ran-Del said, slipping his dirk into its sheath on his belt, "by those silver oak trees. Silver oaks grow only by water."

Francesca's expression brightened. "Great! Let's go over to the stream, then. I'm thirsty."

Ran-Del decided to make it clear who was in charge. "In a moment. First we assess what we have. Then we figure out the best way to carry it."

She made a face but said nothing further as he investigated.

The first things he found were two full water bottles, made from some material that Ran-Del didn't recognize, each with a long loop of cord attached. He handed one to Francesca but urged her to be moderate in slaking her thirst until they knew for sure that the stream had potable water.

Next he found a small hatchet, three lengths of coiled rope, a slim case of toilet articles, including toothbrushes and a razor, and a tiny cylindrical object that Ran-Del couldn't identify.

"Oh," Francesca said, taking it from his hand, "it's to start a fire. You flick it on like this." She pressed her thumb against a switch on the side of the cylinder, and a flame shot up from the top.

Ran-Del jumped back with alarm but then took the device from her and tried it. Fire shot upward with satisfying reliability. "This will save us a good deal of time."

He hefted the hatchet. It was well balanced, which could come in handy if he had to use it as a weapon, and looked very new. The blade was sharp but showed no signs of honing. Ran-Del stretched the gray cable out on the ground and lifted the hatchet.

"I don't think that will work." Francesca frowned as Ran-Del brought the hatchet down as hard as he could on the cord. "I told you," she said as Ran-Del inspected the unmarred cable. "That cord is flexitron. Pop wouldn't have left us the hatchet if it would cut that."

Ran-Del was almost more annoyed by her comments than by the fact that he couldn't sever the bond between them. The hatchet blade looked the worse for the encounter. He made no reply but slipped the hatchet into his belt.

"Can we go to the stream now?" Francesca asked. "I'm still thirsty."

"In a moment," Ran-Del said again.

Francesca all but tapped her foot while he partially unfolded the tarp, and then picked up the blankets. Twice he moved far enough away from her that the cable between them was pulled taut. The second time, Francesca was yanked toward him as Ran-Del turned suddenly.

"This is very annoying," she said crossly.

"Stay close to me and don't get in my way."

Francesca made a sour face. She made no effort to help Ran-Del while he folded the two blankets, laid everything except the water bottles and his weapons on top of them, rolled up the whole lot inside the tarp, and then used the rope to tie it all into a tidy bundle. Her expression went from sour to shocked when he informed her that he expected her to carry the bundle.

"Why me?" she said, hands on her hips.

"Because I'll have the bow. I have to be ready to shoot if I see a predator, or any game, and I can't do that if I have to carry this also."

Francesca took the heavy bundle reluctantly and looped the rope over her shoulder.

Finally ready, Ran-Del led the way as they trooped the few hundred meters to the clump of silver oaks. The trees did indeed portend the presence of a stream. Francesca dropped the pack on the ground and went toward the bank. She got quite close to the water before her arm was jerked up, and she was brought up short by the end of the cable. Ran-Del stood still, scanning the nearby countryside.

"Come on," Francesca said impatiently, tugging on the cable. "I want to wash my face and hands."

Ran-Del maintained a dignified demeanor in spite of her yanking his arm. "Let me look around first."

Only when he was satisfied that there was no danger did he allow Francesca to kneel by the edge of the stream, wash her face, and drink. Once she had finished, he washed himself as best he could, and then turned to face the sun.

"What are you doing?" Francesca asked.

"None of your business." Ran-Del closed his eyes. He recited the First Blessing silently, and did the same for his prayer. When he finished, he ignored Francesca and sat down on the grass. She gave a small sigh of exasperation as he let his eyes go out of focus and began to meditate.

When he finished, Francesca was sitting as far away from him as she could get without tugging the silver cable taut. As soon as Ran-Del let out a deep breath, she jumped to her feet.

"At last," she said in a voice of exasperation. "Do you have to do that every morning?"

"Yes. Let's get moving."

Francesca slung the bundle over her shoulder. Ran-Del slipped on the quiver of arrows, picked up his bow, and they started walking. One embarrassing aspect of their linkage soon became apparent when first Francesca and then Ran-Del felt a need to answer a call of nature. The problem resolved itself when they found a large clump of foliage and the other party resolutely turned his or her back in turn.

Francesca commented bitterly on how much thought her father had given to such a situation when he decided how long to make the cable. Ran-Del ignored her complaints.

They started out again.

"Slow down," Francesca said after the fourth time Ran-Del tugged her along. "I can't walk that fast."

Ran-Del frowned in annoyance. "We're already going too slowly. It'll take us five or six days to get there, at this rate."

She grimaced and rubbed her calf muscles. "Why are you so worried about it? Pop will stop us before we get too close."

Her calm assurance irked him. "Maybe, but I don't propose to stand around and wait for him."

She straightened up. "We don't have to stand. Can't we just walk a little slower?"

The pleading note in her voice moved him, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. "All right. I'll go slower."

They walked slowly but steadily for most of the morning. Ran-Del set their course from the sun, using Mount Fujiama as a landmark. The stream meandered generally westward and was often in sight. They stopped once when they came to a clump of carrot bushes growing on the banks of the stream. Ran-Del used his dirk to dig up the shallow roots, and then hacked them loose with the hatchet. They washed the handful of tubers in the stream and made a meal of most of them. Francesca would have eaten them all, but Ran-Del insisted they save a few roots for later.

She looked longingly at the tubers but yielded to his argument that they might not find any other food. They put the bright orange roots into their roll of supplies and went on.

They were coming over a slight rise when Ran-Del spotted a small animal just poking its nose out of its burrow. He held up an arm to stop Francesca and then reached back and slipped an arrow from his quiver. He had nocked the arrow and was lifting the bow to aim when Francesca burst out with an exclamation.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

The animal ducked back into his hole at the sound of her voice.

Ran-Del cursed succinctly.

"What?" Francesca asked. "What happened? Why did you stop?"

Ran-Del pointed to the burrow. "There _was_ an animal but you scared him back into his hole."

Francesca looked contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't see it."

"Next time I stop you," Ran-Del said, "keep quiet until I tell you that you can speak."

She bristled noticeably. "Who put you in charge?"

"Your father did," Ran-Del said, returning the arrow to his quiver, "when he put you out here with me."

Francesca wrinkled her forehead in a disdainful frown. "Well, I can tell you one thing. If Pop thought this little adventure would make me see you in a better light, he was wrong. I liked you better when you were locked up in our house."

Ran-Del gave vent to his feelings. "I don't give a damn whether you like me. I just want to get home."

Francesca looked suddenly guilty. "I really am sorry. Pop snatched you because of me, so in a way it is my fault you're out here."

Her admission mollified Ran-Del enough to quench his temper and remind him how disoriented he had felt confined in Stefan Hayden's house. Francesca was every bit as handicapped here as he had been in Shangri-La. He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Next time don't move and don't speak. I don't know how many chances I'll get."

Francesca clenched her jaw but nodded. Ran-Del retrieved his arrow, and they moved on.

When they came upon a row of a half dozen burrows set into the hillside, Ran-Del halted suddenly and dropped into a crouch. He notched an arrow swiftly while Francesca seemed to hold her breath in apprehension. They waited, silent and unmoving, for several minutes. Finally, a gray nose inched out of a burrow. Ran-Del stayed his hand and in a moment, the animal put his whole head out. The little creature surveyed his surroundings and then popped out of the burrow to stand on his hind legs, sniffing the air. Almost knee high, he had a pudgy body, bright, beady eyes, and tiny but erect ears set high on his furred head.

Ran-Del brought up his bow and released the arrow in one fluid motion. The arrow sang through the air and impaled the animal by the throat. It slumped to the ground, twitching furiously. Ran-Del sprinted forward, dragging Francesca behind him, and snatched up the prey. He dropped the bow and pulled the hatchet from his belt, then hammered the animal across the skull with the blunt end of it.

Francesca clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, it was a paca! Why did you do that?"

Ran-Dell looked down at the now-still animal. "It wasn't dead. I didn't want it to suffer anymore than necessary."

"Oh." She glanced at his bloody hands and then looked away.

Ran-Del cleaned himself, the hatchet, and the paca with leaves from a nearby sponge-leaf bush. He slipped the paca's body through a loop on his belt.

"Is that it?" Francesca said. "Aren't we going to eat it?"

"When we stop for the night, I'll build a fire and we can cook it."

Francesca frowned but didn't argue. It was only mid afternoon, but she looked worn out. Ran-Del pushed them forward, always heading westward. Francesca trudged along, the pull of the cable tugging her forward.

"Don't you ever get tired?" she asked crossly, when Ran-Del stopped on a small rise to survey the land ahead.

"Tired?" They had moved at a positively sluggish pace. He looked at Francesca more closely and saw the weariness in her eyes, the dejected line of her shoulders. "We'll stop as soon as I find a place with water nearby."

Francesca didn't answer.

Ran-Del slipped the bundle from her shoulder. "I'll carry it for a while."

She fell in step just slightly behind him as he moved down the hill.

After a little while, the brook crossed their path again, and meandered into a loop. Ran-Del stopped to consider the possibilities, and Francesca blundered into him.

"Sorry," she said wearily.

"This will do," Ran-Del said. "There's a hollow over there where I can build a fire that won't be easily visible."

Francesca followed him as he made his way over to the hollow and set down their pack. He hunted for a wide, flat rock to serve as a work space and a good-sized stick to use as a spit. Once he found them, he set about skinning and gutting the paca. Francesca looked away determinedly while he worked. Ran-Del smiled to himself. City folk must be truly ignorant if they didn't know where meat came from. Once the hide, offal, and other waste were safely buried and the paca was nothing more than a spitted carcass on the end of the stick, he handed the makeshift spit to Francesca. "Hold this."

She cringed as she studied the carcass. "Why?"

Ran-Del held in a sharp retort. "So that it won't get dirty or be carried off by an animal while I build a fire. Unless you'd prefer to build the fire?"

She accepted the burden with obvious reluctance.

He gathered kindling and heavier fuel from the countryside, while Francesca walked beside him holding his kill. She tended to stumble if she didn't watch where she was going. By the time they had gathered enough wood, dusk had set in.

"It was very foolish of your father to bind us together like this," Ran-Del said as he laid the midsized sticks in a grid. "It makes it much harder to get anything done because we both have to do everything together."

"I don't like it either but if he hadn't, you'd have left me behind by now," Francesca said, a hint of a whine in her voice. "You'd have run off like a startled unicorn as soon as you got up this morning."

Ran-Del considered this statement as honestly as he could while he laid the next layer of firewood. "No, I wouldn't. I couldn't keep my oath not to harm you if I left you alone out here with no one to look after you."

Perversely, Francesca didn't seem pleased at his concern. She lifted her chin. "I would have been fine. I could have left the mountain behind me and hiked toward Hayden House. I would have been halfway there by now."

Ran-Del smiled. "You'd be very hungry about now."

"I _am_ very hungry about now, so I don't see that it's any different."

"But we have dinner," Ran-Del said. "We just have to cook it." He tossed the last of the kindling onto the pyre and used the tube that Stefan Hayden had left them to start the blaze. He was soon holding the spit over the fire and listening to the sizzle of the paca's fat as it hit the hot stones.

Francesca managed to spread out the tarp while he cooked. "It smells wonderful," she said as she sat down cross-legged next to him. "I always liked pacas, but I was never so glad to see one alive as I am to see this one dead."

She opened a water bottle and had a drink, then passed the bottle to Ran-Del. He handed her the spit, and she held it while he drank.

"We can fill both bottles tomorrow, before we start," Ran-Del said.

Francesca sighed with fatigue. "Do we have to walk so far tomorrow?"

Ran-Del nodded. "We must move as quickly as we can. I don't know if I can elude your father or not, but I must try."

Francesca let out another sigh, more prolonged and filled with regret. "I think it's a futile effort, Ran-Del, but I'll do my best. It's the least I can do. You're in this mess because of me."

Ran-Del chuckled and shook his head, in a better mood than he had been in for days. He was free again, and just at the moment, Francesca seemed disposed to be reasonable. "I'm in this mess because my great-grandfather wouldn't let me marry Bettine, so my hair wasn't cut, and I had a red and a sky-gold bead on my caste bracelet. Your father was very particular about what he wanted. I heard him explaining it to Toth."

The firelight reflected in Francesca's eyes as they opened wide in shock. "I didn't realize you were conscious when they abducted you. Did they hurt you?"

Ran-Del recalled the moment. There had been terror but no real pain. "No, not really. Toth shot me with a tiny dart that stung like a buzzer bug and left me unable to move any muscle in my body. After a while, your father did something so that I was truly unconscious, and then I woke up in your house."

Francesca tilted her head and gave him an appraising glance. "Who is Bettine?"

Ran-Del looked away, unwilling to discuss anything so personal with her. When Francesca didn't take the hint and speak of other things, he realized he would have to be direct. "She's no concern of yours."

Francesca seemed unaware that this was an allusion to her lack of manners. "If you wanted to marry her, then you must care for her—maybe even love her?"

"I don't wish to speak of it," Ran-Del said bluntly. He should have known better than to mention Bettine to an outlander with no manners.

"Why not?" Francesca said in a reasonable tone.

"Because it's personal," Ran-Del said in exasperation, "and it's none of your business."

"Oh." Finally, she seemed to understand the proper thing to do. "Do you think the paca is cooked yet?"

It was cooked, and Ran-Del cut the meat into strips with his dirk. They ate with great satisfaction, drank their fill, and prepared to sleep. Francesca expressed dismay when Ran-Del put the fire out by pouring dirt over it.

"Don't we want to keep it going all night?" she asked, looking up at him in the moonlight that softened her features and made her look very feminine, even with her short hair.

"We don't have enough wood," Ran-Del said. "And besides, I don't think we need a fire. I don't think there are any predators out here large enough to prey on people, or your father wouldn't have left us here."

"But it's getting cold," Francesca said.

"You have a blanket," Ran-Del said firmly.

They lay down side by side on the tarp, each of them wrapped in a blanket. Francesca fell asleep right away. Ran-Del lay there listening to the sounds of the prairie at night—small animals chittering and night bats rustling in the trees. He knew that he was there only because Stefan Hayden had chosen to play a game with him, that he might well be prevented from returning home. Still, he felt better than he had since Toth's dart had pierced his body. He was back in the open, away from city walls, and he had a fighting chance to get away. Ran-Del fell asleep wondering how Stefan Hayden would attempt his recapture.

### Chapter Seven

Ran-Del woke when something tickled his chin. He looked down and saw Francesca's head tucked into his chest, her hands clutching his vest. Ran-Del disentangled himself gently, moved back from her, then stood up.

The hollow they were in blocked much of his view of the countryside. Irked that he couldn't move to higher ground without waking Francesca, Ran-Del studied what he could see of their surroundings. The morning sun had barely climbed above the horizon. The stream that sparkled in the early morning sunlight disappeared into a fold of the land. Assuming the small white triangle on the horizon was Mount Fujiama, they had gone twenty kilometers the day before, maybe twenty-five at the most. They would have to do better today.

Ran-Del bit his lip in frustration. He wished he could wash and perform the morning ritual before he had to wake Francesca. He tugged on the cord a couple of times.

Francesca stirred sleepily.

"Wake up, Francesca," Ran-Del said. "It's time to get going."

Francesca groaned once, blinked, then opened her eyes. She frowned up at Ran-Del and groaned again. Then she sat up and used a word that Ran-Del had never heard a woman say before.

"Damn, damn, damn," she added, staggering to her feet. "I was hoping it was all a terrible dream."

"Well, it's not. We need to get going."

"Before we go anywhere," Francesca said firmly, "I have to, uh, find a bush."

They took care of their chores, washing side by side in the stream. Francesca seemed more patient as Ran-Del performed his morning ritual and meditated. Probably she wasn't eager to start walking. Once they had assembled their supplies into a pack, Ran-Del led the way and they set off again.

Francesca trudged along looking almost despondent, but Ran-Del walked with a spring in his step, glad to be heading homeward. He stayed alert for any sign of either game or Stefan Hayden.

At midmorning, they encountered a herd of unicorns grazing contentedly. Ran-Del eyed them hopefully, but there were no infants among them.

"Aren't you going to try to shoot one?" Francesca asked.

He tried not to appear contemptuous as he shook his head. "Even if I could bring one down by myself, we don't have the time to gut and skin a full grown unicorn. It would be a tremendous waste, even if I succeeded."

"But I'm hungry!"

The hint of despair in her voice made Ran-Del more forgiving. "So am I, but it would be hard to kill one. Notice how that female over there stands guard?"

He pointed at a large female unicorn who stood by herself, not grazing but holding her head high, her single silver-white horn curving upward like a hook over her small, flat ears. Her neck arched as she tossed her head, and her long, rope-like tail whipped around angrily.

Francesca nodded.

"I think she scented us already," Ran-Del said. "She'd alert the others if I tried to stalk them."

Francesca let out a resigned sigh, gave the unicorns one last hungry glance, and then allowed Ran-Del to lead her onward. A little while later, Ran-Del noticed a flock of day bats circling overhead.

"Something's died," he said, "or been killed. Let's see what it was."

They detoured slightly and found a pair of the largest day bats Ran-Del had ever seen picking over the new carcass of a unicorn.

"Gliders!" Francesca said at the sight of them. "I've never been this close to a glider before."

Ran-Del studied the scene, trying to determine if the unicorn's flesh could be tainted. If it had been killed or suffered an accident, the meat would be fine. "Are gliders afraid of people?"

She looked blank and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, let's find out." Ran-Del looked around for pebbles. He filled his pockets with a dozen small rocks, then threw one as hard as he could at the larger glider.

The rock hit the animal in the chest. The glider flapped his huge gray wings and gave a piercing cry. He rocked back and forth on his two sturdy legs, and then tucked in his wing tips and went back to clawing his food with the small hands on the middle joints of his wings.

Ran-Del threw more stones in quick succession, hitting the second glider in the head. The animal rose in the air, squawking loudly and raising a terrific cloud of dust. Ran-Del threw the rest of his ammunition as rapidly as he could. Both gliders lifted in flight, screaming indignantly, and circled overhead.

"Come on!" Ran-Del yelled as he ran, almost yanking Francesca from her feet,

When he reached the unicorn's carcass, one front leg was bent, and a sharp splinter of bone projected through the pearly gray skin.

"He must have snapped his leg somehow." Ran-Del squatted down and slipped his dirk from its sheath. "He probably died from shock. Bad for him, but his flesh will be safe."

Francesca didn't even look away while Ran-Del sliced a haunch of meat. He worked quickly, conscious not only of the angry gliders overhead but also the fact that their activity would draw other scavengers.

As Ran-Del stood up, a pair of small, russet-brown bodies slunk out of the bushes nearby and trotted forward. Slightly taller than the pacas, they loped smoothly on four feet and had sharp, pointed faces with huge ears, and prominent eyes. They carried their bushy tails high in the air and moved at an angle, not headed straight for the carcass, but always drawing nearer.

"Look!" Ran-Del pointed. "What are those?"

Francesca glanced around. "Coyotes! They shouldn't be a problem unless it's a big pack."

Two more russet-brown shapes appeared to their right, and then another pair after them. Ran-Del glanced around and saw that there were five more of them behind him.

"Let's go," he said. "I don't want to find out how big a pack has to be before it's trouble."

He carried the haunch of meat impaled on his dirk, and took Francesca by the hand. "Move!"

They sprinted away from the carcass back the way they had come. A particularly bold animal almost brushed Ran-Del's leg as it harried them, but it made no overtly offensive moves. The two humans kept moving, and the coyotes finally turned back to get their share of the carcass.

Ran-Del kept going at a fast jog trot for quite a ways. Francesca was soon panting for breath, and then gasping. Eventually, she tripped and fell, forcing Ran-Del to stop.

"Please," Francesca gasped, "I can't go any farther. Can't we rest for a few minutes?"

Ran-Del frowned. He didn't want to stop so near to a pack of predators. On the other hand, Francesca looked completely spent. "I want to go farther before we stop and cook this meat. Building a fire might draw the pack on us."

Francesca struggled to her feet, her breath coming in strangled gasps.

Ran-Del looked her over critically. "Wait a moment."

"Thanks," Francesca said, dropping to the ground. "I can use a rest."

Ran-Del didn't answer. Instead he took the pack from her, opened it enough to wrap the unicorn meat in the tarp and then tied everything up again.

"Stand up," he ordered Francesca.

She groaned. "Already?" She staggered to her feet.

Ran-Del bent down, tucked one shoulder into her waist, put an arm around the back of her thighs, and stood up carrying her over his shoulder. Francesca gasped as he picked up the pack and set off walking briskly.

She was quiet for a moment, and then she beat on his shoulders. "This is humiliating."

Ran-Del grunted. There was no pleasing this woman. "Would you rather walk?"

After a moment, she answered. "No."

She kept quiet after that. Ran-Del walked until he found a good place to start a fire.

"It's hard to set a direction when the sun's directly overhead," he said, setting her on her feet. "We can stop and cook the meat now."

They had stopped in a sort of shallow ravine. Francesca helped Ran-Del pick up fuel, and sat down while he lit the fire. She watched him cut the meat into thin strips and thread them onto makeshift spits. Together they built a wall of stones on either side of the blaze, to prop up the spits and cook the meat without their having to hold it over the fire.

"Mmm," Francesca said. "It smells almost as good as that paca."

"It's better. If we had the right herbs and vegetables, we could make a very good stew from this."

"If we had a pot to cook it in."

Ran-Del laughed. "If, if, if. If I hadn't gone hunting four days ago, neither of us would be here."

"Maybe you wouldn't" Francesca said, "but I might well be here with some other unfortunate Sansoussy warrior. Pop was very determined."

Ran-Del shook his head in disbelief. "It was a crazy scheme—and putting us out here was even crazier."

"Maybe," Francesca said pacifically as Ran-Del watched the meat cook. "Don't the Sansoussy marry very young, compared to us city folks, anyway?"

Ran-Del turned his head to look at her. What had prompted that question? "I don't know. I don't know much about city customs."

She kept her gaze on him. "Most people in Shangri-La don't get married before their twenty-fifth season. Some of them wait five or ten seasons after that—if they ever marry."

Ran-Del gave a tiny shrug. So long as it was a general conversation, he didn't mind talking about Sansoussy customs. "No one can marry before they've seen five winters. That means a winter-born can marry at sixteen. Spring-borns have to wait the longest, nineteen seasons."

"And what season were you born in, Ran-Del?"

"I'm a winter-born." He tried to keep the pride from his voice. "Our people say that winter-borns are tougher than those born in other seasons."

She smiled as if she found this amusing. "They're probably right. So why aren't you married? If you were born in winter, you must be eighteen, twenty-two or twenty-six. I'd say twenty-two is the best guess. What's the hold-up?"

Ran-Del wasn't entirely surprised by the question, or by the accuracy of her guess. It was clear she didn't have enough manners to be deflected from a personal inquiry, but he was still annoyed that she had been so blunt. "I feel no need to tell you the details of my life."

"We're chained together, all by ourselves, many, many kilometers from your home or mine. I'd say that situation calls for some candor, don't you?"

"Candor?" Ran-Del said acidly. "You're just being nosy. You don't know how to mind your own business."

She kept her mouth straight, but her eyes smiled as if he has said something funny. "Right now, you're my business. My father wants me to marry you. If there's some reason why you're not married that would help me convince Pop to let you go, then I should know about it."

Ran-Del was even more peeved at her finding a logical reason for her inquisitiveness than he had been by her prying. "Your father had no right to kidnap me in the first place."

"I agree. Who is Bettine?"

Ran-Del had a vision of the next few days in which Francesca constantly asked him questions about the more intimate aspects of his life. It wasn't a pleasant picture. "If I tell you about Bettine, will you stop asking me personal questions?"

"Yes," Francesca said promptly, "if you tell me what I want to know."

Ran-Del sighed and decided to get it over with. "Bettine is a young woman in my clan. I wanted to marry her three seasons ago—I asked my grandfather to ask his father for permission to speak to Bettine. He did, but Great-grandfather said no. He even held a seeing, to determine the right thing to do, and then he told Grandfather that I must forget about Bettine."

Francesca wrinkled her brow. "What's a seeing?"

Ran-Del felt an odd sense of déjà vu and realized he had been on the other side of this situation frequently in Shangri-La, where every answer led to another question. "A seeing is a sort of trance to induce a vision. A shaman such as Great-grandfather can see things that others can't—what will happen in the future, what's in other people's minds. There are drugs and a special Sixth Discipline that can help him to do this. Once he'd held the seeing, Great-grandfather was very firm in his denial.

"But what had he seen in his vision?"

Ran-Del recalled the frustration of that time, his rage at his great-grandfather's answer. "I don't know. Great-grandfather would never say. I argued with him, and he punished me for it, but he never told me."

Francesca leaned forward, her weight on one arm. "So can your great-grandfather say whom you can marry because he's the shaman or because he's your great-grandfather?"

"Both." As annoying as her prying was, it felt good to be the one who knew the answers instead of the one asking questions. "So long as they're alive, I would always need both my grandfather's and my great-grandfather's permission to marry. But, as the shaman of the Falling Water People, Great-Grandfather could prevent any marriage in the clan if he wanted to, even if it wasn't barred."

"What does that mean, barred?"

Ran-Del made a face. Surely this part was obvious. "Don't you have rules about close relations getting married?"

Francesca curled her mouth in amusement. "Of course we have rules. Siblings can't marry, or a parent and a child, and an aunt or an uncle can't marry a niece or nephew."

"And that's all?" Such laxness shocked him. "You don't worry about any other ties?"

Francesca shook her head. "What about your people? How does it work among the Sansoussy?"

Ran-Del leaned over and turned the spits. "When two people get betrothed, they each recite the names of their ancestors for four generations back. The shaman or another elder listens and any time a name is mentioned for both of them, the elder drops pebbles into a bowl—five pebbles for a parent, four for a grandparent, three for a great-grandparent, and two for a great-great-grandparent. When they've finished, the couple can't marry if there are more than four pebbles in the bowl."

Francesca's expression reflected a greater level of interest than she had shown before. "What if the common name is one person's grandparent and the other's great-grandparent?"

At least she had asked a good question. "It would be four pebbles. It's always the higher number."

Francesca tilted her head and lowered her chin, looking rather like a Sansoussy hound on the scent of game. "So a full first cousin would be eight pebbles, four each for the two common grandparents, but if the children of a half-brother and half-sister wanted to marry, there'd still only be four pebbles and that's okay?"

"Yes, so long as that grandparent was the only ancestor in common."

"I see." Francesca nodded, as if his answer had satisfied her curiosity on the cultural trivia of the Sansoussy. "How many pebbles did you and Bettine have in the bowl?"

Ran-Del gritted his teeth. He had thought he had distracted her from his personal life. "We would have had two."

"So it wasn't that you were too closely related? Isn't Bettine a nice person?"

Ran-Del looked away and didn't answer. It would have been difficult to answer anyway, considering Bettine's desires, and he didn't want to encourage Francesca.

"Didn't she want to marry you?" Francesca asked. "Maybe her family was pressuring her?"

Ran-Del had to smile at the idea that anyone could pressure Bettine. "She wanted to continue the line of Ji-Ran Jahanpur. Bettine has no psy gift herself, and I have very little, but still I carry Great-grandfather's line. The talent can sleep for a few generations. She hoped it slept in me."

Francesca stared at him open-mouthed. "She told you that?"

Ran-Del nodded. It surprised him to hear himself confiding these things to her. He had never discussed Bettine with anyone except his grandfather. "I could tell she didn't love me; there was desire there, but it wasn't a desire for me."

"And you still wanted to marry her?"

"Yes." Ran-Del had no intention of extending his confidences to tell Francesca about his dreams after seeing Bettine bathing in the waterfall. A distraction was in order. "What about you? You said that you knew your father would arrange a marriage for you. Aren't people in the city free to marry as they choose?"

Francesca smiled as if she recognized his efforts at turning the tables. "Not people in Great Houses."

She pulled up her knees and put her arms around her legs, resting her chin on one knee. "You saw our complex; each Great House is almost a city in itself, making its own laws and having its own leader. The head of the House has dominion rights over his family and his employees. Within his dominion, he's answerable to no one, accountable to no one."

No wonder Stefan Hayden hadn't worried about keeping Ran-Del's capture a secret. "So your father controls your actions as much as my shaman controls mine?"

She grimaced. "Maybe more. The situation has gotten worse with the advent of the cartels."

Ran-Del felt a tug of curiosity. The peddlers he had encountered had never spoken of Great Houses, so he had had no idea how thoroughly people in the cities were stratified. "But you wait until you're twenty-five or older to marry? Isn't it hard for everyone to wait that long?"

Francesca's mouth twitched in a smile. "I don't think we mean the same thing when we say 'wait.' We wait to get married, but we don't wait to take a lover."

Ran-Del froze in the act of poking the fire with a stick and stared at Francesca, wondering wildly if this was her idea of humor. She met his gaze levelly, and he realized that she was quite serious. He wanted to blurt out a demand for details, but it would be very bad manners.

Francesca laughed. "You should see your face. Yes, I've had lovers. I've had quite a few, in fact. I turned twenty-four on my last birthday, but I haven't been a virgin since I was nineteen."

Ran-Del said nothing. There was nothing he could think of to say that would be a polite reply to such a revelation.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that," Francesca added. "Pop said it would be better if you didn't know. He said you'd never understand."

"He was right," Ran-Del said, relieved to have a way to express his feelings without resorting to calling her names.

"I expect it's hard for you to understand," Francesca said. "I know I have trouble understanding how your people can deny nature for so long."

Ran-Del frowned at this implied criticism of Sansoussy customs. "People aren't animals. They have self-control."

"I know we're not animals," Francesca said, unruffled. "I also know that sex isn't evil or sinful."

"I never said that it was."

"But you think it's wrong to have it unless you're married?"

Ran-Del found it disturbing to hear the basic tenets of Sansoussy life criticized. He picked up a spit, poked the meat with his dirk to be sure it was done, then handed the stick to Francesca. "Here. It's cooked. Eat quickly. We have to get moving soon."

Francesca accepted the meat. "So," she asked, as if they had never left the subject, "did Bettine marry someone else."

Ran-Del suppressed a stab of irritation. He might as well answer. Francesca wouldn't let it rest until she knew everything. "No. She's had offers, but so far she's turned them all down."

"She's waiting for you? Or maybe she's waiting for your great-grandfather to either change his mind or die?"

Ran-Del's patience was gone. "It's well for you," he said, wrath spilling into his voice, "that your father forced a true oath from me not to hurt you. Otherwise, I would most certainly beat you until you were quiet."

Francesca was unrepentant. "You can't blame Pop for looking out for my interests."

Ran-Del gave in to his irritation. "Yes, I can. I blame him for taking me by force from the forest, I blame him for leaving me kilometers from nowhere. But most of all, I blame him for chaining me to you!"

"Well," Francesca said with asperity, "I'm not wild about the idea, either."

Ran-Del got up and walked to the other side of the fire. He laid the cable across the coals and watched as it got hotter and hotter.

"Flexitron won't burn," Francesca said. "It'll get plenty hot, but it won't burn through."

After several minutes, Ran-Del had to admit that she was right, which didn't improve his mood. He poured a little water over the white hot part of the cord to cool it off, and then tried whacking that spot with the flat of the hatchet, hoping the sudden change in temperature would have made the cable brittle, but it seemed to have had no effect.

Ran-Del cursed, calling down dire threats on Stefan Hayden's head. Francesca listened unmoved.

"Hadn't you better eat something?" she asked. "I thought you were in a hurry?"

Ran-Del grabbed a spit and hastily chewed on a piece of unicorn.

Francesca watched him sympathetically. "I'm sorry if I upset you. It's just that I have just as much trouble accepting your people's customs as you have accepting mine."

When Ran-Del made no answer, Francesca let the conversation stall. He finished eating and wiped his hands on the grass, then made Francesca come with him while he hunted for wide-leafed plants so he could wrap up their remaining meat.

Once their bundle was repacked, they prepared to start again. Francesca shouldered the pack without any prompting, and they set out in silence.

After they had traveled a good distance, Francesca's shoulders began to droop.

Ran-Del took the heavy bundle from her. "I don't think we'll see any game for a while. And we have enough meat for tonight. I'll carry it."

She gave him a relieved smile. They still walked in virtual silence, but it was more companionable now.

Francesca almost staggered from weariness by the time Ran-Del finally called a halt to their day's journey just as they came in sight of a pool of water. The stream that had been out of sight for most of the day had meandered back into their path; one loop of its length had become so elongated that it formed a small pond.

Ran-Del pointed to the pond. "It'll be good to stop now, near the stream. Our water bottles are half empty. Now we can drink all we want."

They walked closer so that Ran-Del could pick out a good site to camp. He chose a place on a slope overlooking the water, far enough away that the noise of the stream wouldn't diminish his ability to hear anyone or anything approaching.

They built a fire quickly. Francesca had learned what to look for in gathering fuel, and she didn't need any prompting to help in spreading out the tarp or the blankets.

Ran-Del warmed the meat by the fire, and they ate the remains of the unicorn haunch and then drank their fill from the water bottles.

At Ran-Del's request, Francesca got up to walk with him to fill the bottles. As they neared the water's edge, he paused to look out on the serene expanse of liquid. The last rays of the setting sun made a wide line of golden sparkles on the surface.

"Ran-Del," Francesca said, bending down to unlace her boots, "I hope this won't shock you, but I'm going to bathe. I'm tired, sweaty, and covered with grime. I want to really bathe, not just splash my face and hands with water. If you don't want to watch, you can look the other way."

Horrified, Ran-Del hastily averted his eyes as she sat down to pull off her boots. He could hear her ripping open the fastenings of her clothes, dropping garments to the ground. He stood with his face turned determinedly away, fighting the urge to turn his head ever so slightly to watch her. A moment later Francesca clucked in annoyance and muttered an imprecation on her father.

"What's wrong?" Ran-Del asked.

"I can't take my shirt off all the way," she said. "Or rather, I can only take it off if I bunch it up on the cable. How did Pop think I could seduce you if I couldn't take my clothes off?"

"Francesca!" Ran-Del kept his eyes determinedly on the horizon. "Please don't speak in that way."

"Facts won't go away just because you refuse to look at them." She sounded as practical as his grandmother disposing of food gone bad. "Pop must have had that thought in mind when he tied us together like this."

"You said it was to keep me from leaving you behind."

"I'm sure that was part of it," Francesca said. "And at least he didn't chain us by the ankles."

Ran-Del swallowed hard and made no comment. He heard water splashing.

"Ooh, it's nice and warm," Francesca said. "Are you sure you don't want to come in with me, Ran-Del?"

He muttered a negative.

"Just to warn you," she said cheerfully, "I have absolutely no clothes on. I've slipped my shirt onto the cable a little ways, and I'd appreciate it if you could try to keep it out of the water. I need you to move close to the water's edge, now, Ran-Del. If you don't, I won't be able to get in very far, and I'll just be standing here, stark naked."

Ran-Del backed up hastily, trying to banish from his mind the image her words had conjured up. At Francesca's urging, he finally sat on a rock with his back to her and his arm extended out over the water.

"Mmm," Francesca said, "This feels really good. You can look if you like. It's too dark to see anything."

Ran-Del turned his head apprehensively, but she was right. She was in up to her neck and he could see nothing of her body but a dim outline. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Francesca made an effort to wash, although it was of limited use without any soap. She good naturedly abused her father for not providing any.

"It would kill the plants and animals," Ran-Del said.

"Maybe, but it's hard to care right now," Francesca said. "I'm coming out, by the way. I wish I'd brought a blanket with me. It's going to be chilly walking up that hill in the buff now that the sun's gone down."

Ran-Del jerked his head around so he was looking away from her. "Aren't you going to put your clothes back on?" he asked, appalled at her continued lack of modesty. Even Bettine had had the grace to appear chastened when she discovered him watching her.

"I don't want them to get wet. I thought I'd just wrap up in a blanket and sit by the fire to dry off before I got dressed."

Ran-Del led the way up the slope, his jaw clenched as he fought the temptation to look backwards. He heard her dump her clothes and boots on the tarp as soon as they reached the fireside.

"There," she said. "You can turn around now, Ran-Del. I'm all covered up again."

He turned around and found that she was indeed covered by a blanket, but she had wrapped it tightly around her and tucked it under her arms so that it fitted her snugly, almost like a gown. Her arms and shoulders were completely bare.

Francesca held her hands out to the fire as she sat down. "That felt good. You should try it."

"No, thank you," Ran-Del said, sitting beside her, still unnerved by the experience of being so close to a woman wearing so little. "I'll wash tomorrow, for the morning ritual."

"You never explained that," she said, leaning sideways with her weight on one hand. "Do you say a prayer to the sun every morning?"

"No." Ran-Del found it difficult to concentrate on her question. The firelight picked out the lines of her face and neck, casting shadows in the hollows, highlighting the golden skin over her cheekbones and collar bones, and making the valley between her breasts into a dark, inviting canyon. Ran-Del jerked his mind back to the conversation.

"We don't pray to the sun," he said. "We face the sun because it's a sign of life, but we pray to the One who is the spirit of all life."

Francesca nodded. "I'm glad you don't see the sun as a divinity. I try to respect everyone's religious beliefs, but that would be difficult to accept."

Ran-Del found that his desire to discuss religious philosophy had evaporated. "Francesca," he said, swallowing hard. He meant to ask her to put her clothes on, but somehow the words didn't come out.

"Yes?" She looked up at him, smiling.

"Francesca," he said again. He couldn't say anymore. He had no idea what to say. Desire welled up in him so strongly that it overwhelmed any thought of clan or honor, any remembrance of the laws of the Sansoussy.

Comprehension dawned on her face, followed by surprise. "It's all right, Ran-Del." She reached out and took his hand and held it against her cheek for a moment, and then moved it down so that it rested on her breast.

That and the surge of desire he felt from her were all the invitation Ran-Del needed. He reached for her, pulling her against him in a crushing embrace. When his mouth found hers, Francesca's passion swept over him like fire rushed over dry kindling.

Ran-Del laid her back on the tarp, his hands moving over her body to reassure himself that she was real. The blanket came open, and Francesca lay there naked, under him. She opened her eyes and looked at his face in the firelight.

His need consumed Ran-Del. He closed his eyes and kissed her, then began to nuzzle her neck. When he opened his eyes, Francesca stared into them.

"Ran-Del!" She took his hand. "Wait, Ran-Del!"

He took a deep, shuddering breath, as if he were coming out of a trance, and let it out with a gasp. "You want me to stop?"

She shook her head. "No, just wait a moment. This is all happening too fast. You need time to think."

Ran-Del felt almost drugged. It took a few seconds for comprehension to sink in. "Time to think about what?"

Francesca sighed and touched his cheek. "Think about whether you really want to do this or not. I don't want us to make love if you're going to wake up tomorrow morning and hate me—maybe blame me for what happened."

Ran-Del felt as if he had been held under water and then suddenly dragged to the surface. She was right. He had lost control. He lay on his side next to her and mentally recited the mantra for the First Discipline to calm himself, and then took a deep breath and sat up.

Francesca hastily pulled the blanket around her body and sat up next to him.

Ran-Del hunched his shoulders and ducked his head in shame. "I'm sorry."

Her face looked almost solemn. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Ran-Del. You didn't do a single thing I didn't want you to do—except to stop."

Still feeling his shame, he looked at her without comprehension. "Then why did you ask me to stop?"

Her smile was anxious rather than happy. "I didn't really ask you to stop; I simply asked you to think. Unfortunately for me, that was all it took for you to make up your mind to stop."

"But why?" he repeated.

"I told you. I didn't think you really wanted to make love—not to me, anyway. Maybe you do with Bettine, but with me it was just plain lust."

Ran-Del looked at her with new eyes. He hadn't thought she could be so sensitive to his feelings. "Do you have psy sense?"

Her mouth curved in a wicked smile. "No, but I've had a lot of experience with men."

Ran-Del flushed, remembering what she had told him earlier. He felt a sense of gratitude for what she had done that made him feel he should confide in her. "I've never made love to a woman."

She nodded wisely, rather like a shaman counseling a youngster. "I thought not. You were never betrothed, were you?"

Ran-Del shook his head.

"Why not?" she asked gently. "If your great-grandfather wouldn't let you marry Bettine, why not someone else? You said it was three seasons ago."'

Ran-Del shrugged. "There was no one else I wanted."

Francesca sighed. "Well, I had better put my clothes on." One corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. "Do you want to bother turning your back? You've seen all there is to see."

A half-smothered laugh burst out from her when Ran-Del turned away hastily. Once she had tugged on her clothes, complaining about the flexitron cable the whole time, Ran-Del turned around again.

"There," Francesca said. "All dressed."

"We need to sleep," Ran-Del said, changing the subject determinedly. "We have a long way to go tomorrow."

"How far do you think we've come?" Francesca asked, spreading out the tarp again.

Ran-Del calculated. "At least fifty kilometers—maybe sixty."

Francesca's forehead wrinkled in concern. "We must be getting close to the border of Hayden. Don't forget, Pop could show up at any time and collect us just like he did to you that morning in the forest."

Ran-Del clenched his jaw at the thought. "He may show up, but I won't be taken so easily the next time."

Her eyes went wide in sudden terror. "You won't hurt him, will you, Ran-Del?"

He gave her a level stare. "I'll kill him if I get the chance."

Francesca bit her lip. "I know he's made you unhappy, but he hasn't done you any permanent harm. If I can just make him give up this idea, he'll let you go back to your home and you won't have to see either of us again."

Ran-Del lay down and pulled the blanket up. No need to alarm her unduly. "Don't worry about it too much. I may never get a chance."

Francesca lay down next to him, shivering.

"Are you cold?" Ran-Del asked, putting his arm around her.

"A little," Francesca lied, snuggling up against him.

Ran-Del smiled in the dark. She wasn't used to being around someone with psy sense.

"I'll let the fire go out by itself," Ran-Del said, still holding her close. "Go to sleep, Francesca."

Francesca sighed again, leaned her head against his shoulder, and did as she was told.

### Chapter Eight

Stefan Hayden leaned back in his seat, conscious of a feeling of satisfaction. He glanced around the interior of the flyter—the array of monitoring equipment, the lockers full of weapons and armor. The cot he had slept on had been crammed into the space made by removing a row of seats. Spending a few days in cramped quarters was a small price to pay to secure Francesca's future.

At his console, Hiram Toth tapped the location indicator for the transponders, then turned toward Stefan. "They did pretty well today, sir. They're about sixteen kilometers from the western border of Hayden."

Pleased, Stefan nodded. His plan was working. Francesca and Ran-Del must be operating as a team to have come so far so quickly. Doubtless by now Ran-Del had demonstrated his survival skills and impressed the already smitten Francesca. "They should make it over the border by noon or so tomorrow. We might pick them up as soon as tomorrow afternoon. Have the flyter ready, will you, Hiram?"

"Yes, sir. Does D'Persis know about this new expedition?"

"I've kept her up to date. Don't worry; she won't give you any grief for not reining me in."

Hiram grinned at him, his eyes thinning to slits and his teeth very white in his brown face. "She always gives me grief about that."

"She'd give you more than grief if you'd let her," Stefan said. "She's still nuts about you."

Hiram shook his head. "It's over. It's been over for a long time. She just doesn't want to admit it."

"Too stressful having a relationship at work?" Stefan suggested.

Hiram raised his eyebrows, his expression bland except for a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You don't seem to have a problem with it, sir."

Stefan laughed. Hiram was a third-generation Hayden employee who had grown up in the Hayden compound. The friendship the two of them had forged as boys had survived the other man's employment as Stefan's guard. "No, I don't. But then I've managed to keep it pretty quiet, thanks to you."

Hiram nodded. "I'm pretty sure Alyssa knows about it, too. She said something once, right before we broke it off ourselves. Made me think she must know about you and Nisa."

Stefan shrugged with unconcern. "D'Persis can keep her mouth shut. She wouldn't be my security chief if she couldn't."

The monitor behind Hiram beeped rapidly. He whipped around to study the readout, but after several seconds he shook his head. "Heart rate and respiration were very rapid for a few minutes there, but they've leveled off again."

Intrigued, Stefan came over and scrutinized the readout himself. "Damn, that was quick. It was too brief to mean anything happened. Not even Francesca can work that fast."

Hiram frowned, his amusement gone. "I still don't see why you're setting her up like this, Stefan. She could have anybody she wanted. Why stick her with a nobody from the woods?"

Stefan hid a smile at his guard's antipathy. Hiram had been protective of Francesca since she was small, and not purely for professional reasons. "Ran-Del has useful talents. He also has absolutely no connection to anyone in the city—no loyalties, no debts, no history at all. Right now, that's what Francesca needs."

Hiram shook his head. "But you're trusting her life to a wild man!"

"Ran-Del swore he wouldn't hurt her," Stefan said, complacent. "And I trust a Sansoussy true oath more than an iron-clad contract with any cartel in Shangri-La."

Hiram's eyes still held unease. "Well, I'll feel better once we get her back again. You never know what could happen out in the wild."

Stefan glanced at the readouts again. "Not as much as I had hoped, apparently. But you're right. It'll be best to pick them up tomorrow." He grinned at his personal guard. "It'll be interesting to see what kind of relationship they've developed after a few days in trying circumstances, don't you think?"

***

Ran-Del was in the lead again, bow at the ready. Francesca carried their pack and seemed to be keeping up better.

Suddenly, Ran-Del felt a nagging, niggling pricking from his psy sense. There was something up ahead. He held out an arm to halt Francesca.

"What is it?" she whispered, leaning close. She had learned a lot about moving quietly.

"I don't know," Ran-Del said, not bothering to whisper. Whatever it was, it wasn't that close. "I don't hear anything, but something or someone is up ahead."

"Could it be Pop?"

Ran-Del debated. It didn't feel right for it to be another capture. He felt no sense of impending disaster, no jeopardy or consternation. He shook his head. "I don't think so." He glanced up at the sun directly overhead. "Let's take a rest. We can sit over there, in the shade of those bower trees."

He led the way, taking the pack from Francesca, and slinging it against a tree.

Francesca flopped down next to it and leaned back with relief. "Oof! My feet hurt."

Ran-Del sat down on the ground near her and studied her feet. "Those boots look sturdy enough."

She gave him a cheerful grin. "It's not the boots. I'm just not used to walking this much."

Ran-Del glanced around. Nothing moved. Nothing explained his premonition. "Rest for a while. I want to wait until this feeling goes away before we move on."

Francesca twisted around, trying to get comfortable against the bent-over trunk of the bower tree. Finally, she leaned against Ran-Del's shoulder and closed her eyes. Ran-Del put an arm around her in case she fell asleep. Neither of them had mentioned what had happened the previous night. Except for his mother and grandmother, Ran-Del had never been so near a woman for such an extended period of time, or felt enough familiarity to be casual about physical contact.

Francesca had dozed off when Ran-Del's sense of forewarning grew suddenly stronger. He sat up straight, scanning the land up ahead, convinced that someone was coming. Francesca slipped from his shoulder and came awake with a jerk.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously.

"Someone's coming," Ran-Del said, getting to his feet and gripping his bow. "Except I think it's many someones."

He pulled Francesca into the shadows of the trees, and they waited. A little ways ahead, a dot appeared over a rise of land. In a moment, the dot bobbed up and down and resolved itself into a man's head, a man running. In another few seconds, the entire man appeared, followed quickly by another man, and then another. They all ran in a steady jog trot, not moving in formation but keeping pace so that they stayed together as a group. Ran-Del counted as they came over the hill. There were twenty-one of them, all men it seemed. The last man in line led a lamel by a leading rein. When they got a little closer, Ran-Del goggled in astonishment.

"Ran-Del," Francesca said, puzzled, "they look like you. I mean, their clothes look like your clothes."

"They're Sansoussy." Ran-Del stared at the man at the head of the loose column. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had close-cropped hair that even at this distance Ran-Del could see had gone gray. He looked past his prime, but kept pace with the group with no trouble. Ran-Del recognized him immediately; he was the last person Ran-Del had expected to see.

"Come," Ran-Del ordered, scrambling to his feet. He tugged at the cable and almost dragged Francesca behind him as he ran forward to meet his people.

She had difficulty in keeping up, and then almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly, to wait for the group to approach him.

Ran-Del stood still, head bowed and eyes lowered respectfully, with Francesca a little behind him. The column of Sansoussy dropped to a walk, and the man at the head of the column stepped up to Ran-Del.

"It's good to see you, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del raised his eyes in a glad smile. "It's good to see you, Grandfather."

The older man held out his arms, and Ran-Del embraced him with wild enthusiasm.

"How did you find me?" Ran-Del demanded, pulling back at last. "How did you know I was here?"

"Father sent me," Isayah said. "He told me approximately where you'd be. I've been following my own psy sense all morning."

"I should have known!" Ran-Del said, grinning. "I knew it was someone, but I couldn't tell who it was."

Isayah glanced at the flexitron cable and then at Francesca. He looked from her face to the cable, and back at Ran-Del.

"Well," he said, smiling quizzically, "it appears there were some things even Father didn't know."

Ran-Del flushed red but pulled his traveling companion forward. "This is Francesca Hayden, Grandfather. Stefan Hayden, her father, put us out here and chained us together because he wants me to marry her."

Isayah's expression grew even more quizzical. "They have very peculiar courting customs in the city."

Thankfully, Francesca laughed instead of being insulted. "Not really. Pop isn't what I'd call typical."

"I greet you gladly, Francesca Hayden," Isayah said formally.

Francesca bobbed her head in a sort of abortive bow. "Pleased to meet you, too. I don't suppose you have a way to cut flexitron?"

Isayah inspected the cable and shook his head. "It looks very strong, but Father will be able to deal with it."

Ran-Del gave vent to his frustration. "It's very trying, Grandfather. Francesca can't run for very long. It tires her even to walk all day."

Isayah smiled. "Your great-grandfather must have known. He had me bring a lamel."

Ran-Del glanced back at the end of the column. The last Sansoussy in the line, a young man named Kishor, lead the lamel by a loose halter around its long neck. The animal had a saddle pad, even though no one rode it.

"How could he know?" Ran-Del said.

Isayah grinned and shrugged. "The same way he knew you'd be here. He held a seeing the day after you disappeared. When he came out of it, he sent me here with twenty warriors. We left at dawn of the next day."

Ran-Del was counting in his head. "So you got here in a little over three days?"

Isayah nodded. "He told me to make good time, but not to lose anyone—especially not myself." He looked Ran-Del and Francesca up and down. "Have you any gear or did this man strand you with nothing but the clothes on your backs?"

Ran-Del explained about their pack.

Isayah sent a warrior to retrieve it, and then turned back to him. "We'd better get going, Ran-Del. I want to hear your story, but we can talk tonight, after we stop."

Ran-Del caught his grandfather's arm before Isayah could move away. "Pardon, Grandfather, but there's something you should know. Stefan Hayden will likely make an attempt to reclaim us. He may well be waiting close by with a machine Francesca calls a flyter."

Isayah glanced at Francesca. "Is this true, Francesca Hayden?"

"Yes," she said. "And some of his weapons are very formidable."

Isayah cocked his head as he debated, then shrugged. "We'll be alert, but we'll still move now. We're no safer waiting than on the run."

He reformed the column of Sansoussy warriors, calling out for Kishor to fetch the lamel. When the animal was brought to him, Isayah stood ready to help Francesca to mount it. The city dweller didn't look enthusiastic. Ran-Del glanced from her to the lamel and tried not to smile.

Lamels had long straight necks, four thick, sturdy legs, shaggy, curly gray fur, and extremely ugly faces. This one's long, broad ears swiveled back and forth as if he were following their conversation, while his small, round, bright blue eyes stared at Francesca ominously. His broad back was a little lower than her shoulder, and his short stumpy tail twitched frantically.

"Did someone push its nose in with a stick?" Francesca said.

"They all look like that," Ran-Del said. "Hop on."

"I don't think it wants me to ride it anymore than I want to get on it," she said, not moving any closer.

"He, not it," Ran-Del said. "We're going to be running, Francesca. There's no other way you can keep up."

Francesca looked from him to the lamel and back again. "What about the cable? What will you do if I'm on the back of this thing?"

"I can run alongside,"

Francesca took a deep breath and let it out. "All right," she said resolutely, "let's do it, then. How do I get on?"

Ran-Del stepped close, took Francesca around the waist, and tossed her onto the lamel's back.

Isayah smiled but made no comment.

Francesca sat on the saddle pad and gripped the strap that held the pad firmly on the lamel's back.

"Just hold on," Ran-Del said, taking the rein. "I'll lead him as I run."

Francesca tightened her grip on the saddle strap and nodded.

They set off quickly. Isayah took the head of the column again, keeping Francesca and Ran-Del in the middle of the group.

Ran-Del ran easily, glad to be moving at a reasonable pace. He was on his way home.

***

Francesca gripped the lamel's body with her legs as the animal stretched out his legs in a steady trot. Amazingly, the warriors had no difficulty in matching his speed; they all ran easily, loping along with a long stride that seemed to eat up the distance. Ran-Del ran just in front of her, on her right side, the rein looped around his left arm, leaving the flexitron cable swinging free. He ran almost joyfully, never missing a step, never straining for breath. If this was what he was used to, no wonder her presence had been such an irritant on their travels.

As the afternoon wore on, sitting on the lamel began to be less comfortable. They stopped briefly, and Ran-Del discreetly led her off to find a suitable bush. Francesca had been comfortable with their arrangements before, but now she felt awkward. Ran-Del seemed to know everyone else in the group. No one mentioned the cable, but Francesca was aware of whispered comments and amused grins.

With Ran-Del's help, she remounted her now more complacent steed, and they set off again. The sun sank lower in the sky as they made their way steadily westward. Francesca began to look forward to stopping, and then she fell to wondering when her father would make an appearance. She smiled to herself. He would get quite a surprise.

***

"What?" Stefan demanded.

"They're moving much more quickly now," Hiram repeated. "They've more than doubled their pace."

"Could they be running from predators?"

Hiram checked the log. "They've kept this speed up for more than half an hour."

Stefan frowned. "There's no way Francesca could run that far for that long. Are you sure they're still together?"

Hiram tapped the display key. The red and blue pulsing dots were quite close. "Yes, sir. The Sansoussy is right next to Miss Francesca."

"So he's not carrying her or anything?"

Hiram shook his head. "No, sir. They're about a meter apart, half the length of the cable."

Stefan frowned even more. He chewed his lip reflectively. "Check the life sign scanners. I want to see if they're running from anything."

After several seconds of scrutinizing the console, Hiram looked up, his expression grim. "There's a pack of them, sir! Twenty-three people, plus an animal of some kind—the scanner says it might be a lamel or a unicorn. The animal, the wild man, and Miss Francesca are right in the middle of the pack."

"What?" Stefan roared. "Who are they?"

"The scanner only shows approximate species and location."

Stefan tapped his finger tips on the control panel. "We need to see who these people are." He pressed the control to call the pilot. "Take us straight up, as high as you can go, and then give Toth the controls."

In seconds the flyter rose so fast, Stefan felt his stomach lurch. He gripped the arms of his seat from pure reflex.

When the pilot called back to say that Toth had navigational control, Hiram moved the flyter slowly forward. Once they were in position, he aimed the long-range camera at the transponder location. The large monitor at the front of the cabin popped on, and a long line of running men appeared. In the middle of the line, a lamel loped along, its long legs stretched out in a gait between a trot and a canter. The figure on its back sat crouched over like she was none too sure of her seat.

"There she is!" Stefan got up and walked closer. "Focus on Francesca."

The image narrowed to the area around the loping animal. As awkward as she looked, Francesca was clearly well enough to sit up. Stefan let out an audible sigh of relief and turned his attention to the men nearby. That had to be Ran-Del running beside the lamel, but from above, his features were impossible to see. Stefan could tell what he was wearing, however, just as he could see the clothes of the men running in line.

"They're Sansoussy!" Hiram sounded astounded.

Stefan chewed his lip. "They certainly look it. But how did they find Francesca and Ran-Del?" Could it be Ran-Del's own clan? It seemed unlikely they could find him so quickly from so far away. On the other hand, a roving band of Sansoussy wandering onto Hayden land seemed too great a coincidence.

Hiram's voice pulled Stefan out of his reverie.

"Can we go get her now, Stefan?"

He had used Stefan's name, which showed how worried he was.

"How are Francesca's vital signs?" Stefan asked.

Hiram checked his monitor again. "All right. No sign of stress."

Stefan pondered. He had to get Francesca home safe, but was there any hope of saving his plan, too? "Call D'Persis. Have her send a flyter with some more guards, just in case we need backup, and a couple of probes, so we can get a better angle on them. Meanwhile, we'll track them from the transponder signals, but we'll stay well back."

Hiram creased his brow in a worried frown. "Why don't we just get her back now? We could take those wild men out with the guys we have."

Stefan didn't like the sound of it. Swooping down on the Sansoussy in force could only be perceived as a hostile action. Any permanent injuries could make enemies of the entire Sansoussy nation, and utterly crush Stefan's hopes for a Sansoussy son-in-law. Stefan shook his head. "I'd rather wait and see what they have planned."

"Yes, sir." Hiram's expression said plainly he hoped his employer knew what he was doing.

Stefan hoped he did, too.

***

Francesca climbed down from the lamel's back feeling almost as stiff and sore as she had at the end of a day walking with Ran-Del.

"How are you?" Ran-Del asked, helping her down.

"All right."

Isayah Jahanpur appeared behind them. "Come with me, Ran-Del. The others will make camp. I need to hear your story."

Ran-Del waited while Francesca finished stretching and then took her arm to lead her after his grandfather.

Isayah sat down on a grassy patch of ground in the open. Around him, the Sansoussy warriors were gathering wood, building fires, laying out blankets, and preparing food. Francesca's stomach reminded her how hungry she was as she sank to the ground.

"Now," Isayah said, "tell me what happened, Ran-Del. You left us in the morning and never returned."

Ran-Del sat cross-legged across from his grandfather. "I was hunting. I had my bow, and I had just seen what could have been a tree bear, when the air between two trees split open and there were people there with strange machines."

Isayah frowned and then turned to Francesca. "How is this possible?"

She shrugged, feeling inadequate as a technology translator. "Pop didn't fill me in on the details of how he planned to abduct Ran-Del. It sounds as if he had a force-field blind set up, like a hunter uses when he goes after game. It's virtually invisible until you turn it off, which you have to do in order to fire your weapons."

Isayah turned back to Ran-Del. "Go on. What happened when the air split open?"

"One of the men shot me with a dart." Ran-Del went on to relate the details of the event. "When I woke up," he concluded, "it was much later that same day, and I was in Shangri-La."

Isayah looked amazed. "In less than one day?"

Ran-Del nodded.

"Go on," Isayah said. "What happened next?"

Francesca listened while Ran-Del described the events of the last six days. Her home sounded exotic and alien. She hadn't realized that Ran-Del's world hadn't prepared him for the concept of a corridor, and that a ride in a lift would seem a mysterious experience. If they made it all the way to the Sansoussy Forest, would she find it as strange as he had found her home?

Isayah listened, asking questions from time to time, but not making any comments of his own. His face looked grim when Ran-Del described using the Fifth Discipline, but he didn't stop his grandson to ask any questions about that episode.

Ran-Del arrived at the point in his narrative when Francesca had bathed in the stream. He didn't mention the incident that had occurred between them, but his face reflected embarrassment. Francesca was amused and wondered how much Isayah understood. The older man looked from his grandson's face to hers and nodded his head as if in answer to an unspoken question.

"And that's all, Grandfather," Ran-Del went on. "We woke up this morning and started traveling. I could tell someone was headed toward us some time ago, but I couldn't tell who it was."

Isayah sat back. "Father will want to hear you tell it all again when we get you back." He smiled at Ran-Del with affection. "Your grandmother will be relieved to see you. She's been very worried."

Ran-Del let out a deep breath. "I was worried myself. I didn't think I'd ever get away."

"You're not home yet," Francesca said. "Pop doesn't give up easily, and you've still got me with you."

Isayah raised his eyebrows. "We mean you no harm, Francesca, but we can't take Ran-Del home without taking you, also. Once my father has freed the two of you, he will undoubtedly send you back to your city."

"I can understand that," Francesca said. "I just hope Pop will think it through before he acts."

Isayah shrugged. "We'll do what we can to prevent a misunderstanding. Meanwhile, we'll move as fast as we can to get back home."

Kishor, the young warrior who had brought the lamel, was busy doling out food to everyone. Isayah called it trail rations, and Ran-Del identified it more specifically as dried meat and dried fruit on a small slice of vegetable bread. Francesca ate greedily as soon as she received her share, and she noticed that Ran-Del seemed in just as much of a hurry. Isayah watched them curiously.

"Did you eat at all on the trail?" he asked.

Ran-Del nodded. "I shot an animal called a paca the first day, and we found a unicorn carcass on the second day. I had no luck this morning."

Francesca felt compelled to defend his skill. "Ran-Del did very well once I stopped spoiling his aim. The cable was a real handicap for him."

Isayah seemed to derive amusement from this comment, and Ran-Del looked embarrassed again.

"After you're free of that, Ran-Del," Isayah said, touching the flexitron with one hand, "you and I will have a talk."

Ran-Del looked mortified. "Yes, Grandfather," he said, ducking his head.

Francesca stared at him, perplexed, wondering why he seemed so chagrined. He said nothing, and she let it go.

They prepared for sleep much as they had before they encountered the Sansoussy, except that the presence of so many other people made Francesca and Ran-Del's enforced closeness awkward in a way that it hadn't been before. In spite of the cold, Francesca was reluctant to move nearer to Ran-Del to stay warm. Instead, she pulled the blanket up tightly around her, sighed, and went to sleep wishing that it were just the two of them lying under the light of Haven's four moons.

***

In the early morning light, Stefan Hayden watched on the monitor as the column of twenty-two Sansoussy and one citizen of Shangri-La moved along rapidly. The low-altitude airborne probes provided a much better view of what was going on than just the tops of people's heads.

"They must have started moving damn early," he said to Hiram.

The guard only grunted.

Stefan smiled to see his daughter sitting more naturally on the lamel. Francesca had learned all sorts of new skills on this adventure. Stefan adjusted the focus to enlarge the view of Francesca, with Ran-Del running beside her.

"They still haven't got the cable off," Hiram said.

"No, but they seem to be treating Francesca well enough."

As they watched, the column halted, and Ran-Del lifted Francesca down from the lamel. In a few minutes, a gray-haired man approached with a water bottle. He offered Francesca a drink first, then Ran-Del. After both had sipped carefully, the older man took the bottle and drank himself.

Stefan adjusted the focus to capture a close image of the gray-haired man. Ran-Del seemed very respectful of him. He had bowed his head when the gray-haired man approached, and the way he stood suggested deference.

Stefan tapped some keys on the video console to record the image.

"What are you doing, Stefan?" Hiram asked.

Stefan manipulated the image he had captured. "I'm trying to get a close-up of that man's caste bracelet. I want to see if he's who I think he is."

In seconds, the monitor showed a large picture of a man's right wrist encircled by a beaded bracelet. Stefan leaned forward to study the beads. "A Falling Water clan marker, three blue beads for the Jahanpur, four glass beads for his psy talent—quite a talent, that—and yes, one black bead with a silver inlay for his father!"

"What does that mean?" Hiram said. "Who is he?"

Stefan felt a rush of jubilation mixed with caution. "He's Ran-Del's grandfather. There's no one else he could be. His great-grandfather must have sent a rescue party right after we snatched Ran-Del. Damn! The old shaman must have psy talent to burn if he could find the kid this far from home. I wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew."

Hiram snorted in disbelief and reached over to restore the image of the group. Francesca sank onto the ground like she was tired, and Ran-Del squatted next to her. "I don't care how much the old geezer can see in his head," Hiram said. "We've got a whole second flyter full of well-armed security staff. We can take those guys out and get Miss Francesca back with no trouble—the wild man, too, if you still want him."

Curiosity warred with caution in Stefan's mind. He didn't want to eliminate any chance of ever gaining a Sansoussy husband for Francesca, but he didn't want to risk her safety, either. He glanced at the array of instruments. "Is there any way to hear what they're saying?"

Toth hesitated, then reached across the array. "Maybe, if I can get the probe close enough." He fiddled with several controls. After a few minutes, Stefan heard a scratchy voice just as the old man approached Francesca.

"If you are rested enough, Francesca Hayden," the voice said, "we should be moving now."

"There!" Stefan burst out. "They're treating her as a guest, not a prisoner. She's safe enough for now. We can stay well out of visual, or even, hopefully, psy range and see what happens when they get back to the forest."

Hiram's jaw clenched so tightly, a muscle twitched.

"It's all right, Hiram," Stefan said. "She'll be fine. We won't let any harm come to her."

"Yes, sir," Hiram said woodenly.

"Call D'Persis again." Stefan adjusted the monitor so it showed the entire column of rapidly moving Sansoussy. "Tell her we'll be a little longer than expected, a few days at least."

Hiram's grim expression broke into a sour smile. "Great! I get to tell Alyssa that she has to hold down the fort for three days with half her staff tied up on one of your bat-brained schemes."

Stefan grinned, glad of the distraction from the niggling in his brain that told him he was taking too great a risk. "Someone has to tell her. Might as well be you."

***

Francesca woke feeling confused. She was still out on the plains, but there were people all around her. She sat up and found Ran-Del sitting there watching her.

"Good morning," Ran-Del said.

"Good morning," Francesca replied. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"You were tired. And there was no reason to wake you sooner."

Francesca stretched and looked around. The twenty warriors were busy rolling blankets and stowing supplies into packs. "We didn't have much chance to talk yesterday, after your grandfather found us."

Ran-Del looked puzzled. "What is there to talk about?"

Francesca felt miffed without understanding why. "Not that much, I suppose. I was just wondering about your friends. I'm the one who's alone and far from home, now. I feel sort of sequestered, almost as if I were a prisoner."

Ran-Del's shrug suggested she had no cause for complaint. "At least you know why you're here. I never knew why I was a prisoner, not until I woke up out here chained to you."

Francesca frowned. "Does that mean I am a prisoner?"

"No!" Ran-Del said emphatically. "Grandfather made that clear. It's just that we can't free you until we free me from you."

Pacified, Francesca suggested they find a bush. They walked a ways and found a convenient spot, then walked back to rejoin the group.

"How long will it take us to get back to your forest?" Francesca asked as she helped Ran-Del fold their blankets.

"Three days to get back to my village. We'll be in the forest for the last half a day."

She handed him a folded blanket and reached for another. "How big is your clan?"

"There are four villages of Falling Water People. Each one has a few hundred people."

Francesca was surprised. "I didn't realize that your village wasn't the same thing as your clan. So, is your great-grandfather the head of your village or of the whole clan?"

Ran-Del didn't seem to mind answering these sorts of questions. He answered as he spread out the tarp. "The clan. Each village has a group of elders who makes decisions for the village, but Great-grandfather runs the clan."

"How do you choose your shaman?" Francesca asked, taking a moment to study him as he folded the tarp. He seemed different now that he was among his own people, less angry and more relaxed.

Ran-Del shook his head. "It's seldom a matter of choosing a shaman. To be shaman, a man or woman must have five sky-gold glass beads on their caste bracelet. There are very few people with that many. All the villages' elders make the choice, if one must be made."

"What if no one has five beads?"

Ran-Del bundled up their remaining gear. "Then the elders choose someone from among those who have four beads, but that person is shaman only so long as there's no one with five beads."

"Your grandfather has four beads," Francesca said, taking a seat on the folded blankets.

"That's true. He'll never be shaman unless something happens to Doan."

"Who's Doan?"

Ran-Del sat down beside her on the grass. "Doan Walloon is the only person in the Falling Water Clan with five golden glass beads."

"Except your great-grandfather?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "Great-grandfather has six beads. No one in our history ever had six before him."

"Who decides how many beads—" Francesca broke off her question as Ran-Del suddenly jumped to his feet and stood with his head bowed. A few seconds later, Isayah Jahanpur approached them.

"Good morning, Ran-Del," Isayah said. "Good morning, Francesca."

"Good morning, Grandfather," Ran-Del said, lifting his head.

"You should both eat," Isayah said. "We'll be leaving soon."

"Yes, Grandfather."

Isayah called out to Kishor, who brought over more rations, then sat next to Ran-Del and watched as they both wolfed down their food. After a moment he snagged the flexitron cable with one hand and examined it. "It's curious that your father should do such a thing as bind you to Ran-Del in this way," he said to Francesca.

"Pop's a very creative thinker," Francesca said. "Besides, he wanted to be sure Ran-Del couldn't just go off and leave me."

Isayah smiled a quizzical smile. "Would you have left her, Ran-Del?"

"No, Grandfather."

"Then it seems it was an unnecessary precaution," Isayah said. "You must both find it very irksome."

Instead of answering, Ran-Del stared down at the ground.

Francesca bristled a little at the amusement in Isayah's tone. "You'd be surprised what you can get used to pretty quickly."

He grinned openly at this. "No, Francesca, I doubt if I would be surprised. Ran-Del can tell you that I'm seldom taken unawares."

He got to his feet, nodded politely and walked off.

Francesca frowned up at Ran-Del, who had scrambled to his feet when Isayah rose. "Do you have to jump up like that every time he comes near you?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "He's my paternal grandfather. I owe him respect."

"What did he mean by that crack about not being surprised?" Francesca asked, standing up beside him.

Ran-Del looked away. "Grandfather knows what happened—what I did the other night. He saw it in my mind when I was telling him my story."

"You didn't do anything."

"Only because you stopped me. Otherwise, I would have disgraced myself."

Francesca smiled a tart smile. "I've had lots of men, Ran-Del. None of them ever thought it was a disgrace."

"None of them was a Sansoussy."

"I admit that's true," Francesca said, picking up the blankets. "Hadn't we better get moving?"

Ran-Del got the pack, and the two of them were ready when Kishor brought the lamel. Ran-Del lifted Francesca onto his back, and she held in a groan as her muscles protested their return to the same position they had held most of the day before. She clenched her jaw and grasped the riding strap firmly. Looking out over the plain that stretched before them, she sighed and knew that it would be another long day.

***

Hiram Toth's face reflected a mixture of anxiety and impatience along with the green glow from the readouts of the flyter's security screens. "How long are you going to let them go on getting closer and closer to the forest, Stefan? They'll be there before noon tomorrow at this rate."

Stefan nodded as he leaned back in his seat. "Yes, I think so, too." He looked at his personal guard sympathetically. "Relax, Hiram. If I thought Francesca was in any danger from these people, I'd snatch her in a second. They won't hurt her."

"How do they plan on cutting that cable? Are you sure they wouldn't do something awful just to get it off?"

"Quite sure. For one thing, I don't think Ran-Del would let them. He swore a true oath not to hurt her, with no restrictions on time or place."

Hiram clamped his mouth shut. "So we just sit here?"

"Yes. We watch, we monitor, and we wait. Once they're back with the Falling Water clan, we give them a day or two to send her back." And once he had Francesca back, he could evaluate whether there was any chance of saving the plan. She still needed a husband, and Stefan wasn't willing to give up on a Sansoussy son-in-law. After several days alone, Ran-Del might well be as attracted to Francesca as she was to him. And if he wasn't, maybe another Sansoussy would be willing to embrace city life.

"They can't send her out without sending the wild man out, too."

Stefan smiled. "Not unless they find a way to cut the cable."

***

Late in the morning, Isayah Jahanpur called out to the warriors as they came over a rise of land.

Ran-Del looked up and saw the edge of the Sansoussy Forest.

The other warriors let out a cheer, and Ran-Del joined in.

Francesca jerked her head up, as if she had been dozing. "What? What happened?"

Ran-Del grinned in triumph. "We've reached the forest."

"Is that all?" Her head drooped again. She looked very tired, considering she had done nothing but sit on a lamel all day.

After a few minutes, Isayah dropped back in the line and ran beside Ran-Del for several paces, looking him up and down. "You've held up well. Your grandmother probably won't fuss over you more than two or three days."

Ran-Del laughed, half from amusement and half from being so near his home. "I've missed Grandmother."

Isayah gave a quick nod of approval. "Remember that she'll be a little testy. We had to send a message to the Ramakdawala that you were missing. You know how much your grandmother hated that."

Ran-Del nodded. In spite of the fact that it had been his grandfather who had fetched him from his mother's village when he was ten, his grandmother was most often the target for his mother's animosity. The jealousy between the two women had been like a sharp stone in Ran-Del's moccasin for more than ten seasons.

"Keep that in mind," Isayah said, dropping away from Ran-Del to pick up his pace and resume his position at the head of the line.

The group entered the forest at mid-day, not stopping to take a break until they were well into the trees. Exhilarated to be back under the leafy canopy, to smell the rich aroma of the forest, the mixture of trees and plants, and the forest floor itself, Ran-Del reached out to grasp the lamel's saddle pad. He grinned up at Francesca. "It looks as if your father overestimated his ability to get us back."

Francesca stretched wearily, then shook her head. "No, I doubt that's it. I hope nothing's happened back in Shangri-La."

Ran-Del didn't feel qualified to venture an opinion about the city in which he had spent only a few days. He let go of the saddle pad and left Francesca to fret about what might be wrong with the House of Hayden.

***

Francesca made herself stop worrying and stay alert to her surroundings. Parts of the Hayden estate were forested, but she had never been allowed to wander through them because of predators. Now, she looked around and studied the trees with interest. The thick boles of the tall blackwoods grew straight up, many with no branches at all for almost twenty meters. The shorter, more slender lace palms always grew in tight clumps of eight or nine trees together, their delicate, feathery foliage mingling like a bouquet of flowers. Here and there a bower tree grew, its trunk bent over until the branches touched the ground, the tips snaking into the soil to form a second set of roots. Tea vines and copper moss covered the ground, especially around the blackwood trees.

The effect of the forest was one of cool remoteness. The thickness of the foliage made it hard to see for long distances, and the light that came down filtered through the russet leaves until it had a golden quality. It reminded Francesca just a little of being in a chapel with stained glass windows. She could see how Ran-Del might feel strange in the bare openness of the Hayden complex.

Francesca noted that the Sansoussy seemed to be following a trail through the forest, since there was always one clear path through the undergrowth.

In the afternoon, a pair of young Sansoussy men approached, running toward them with a speed and freshness that suggested they hadn't come far. Isayah hailed them, and gave a terse report of their journey. The pair raised a hand in acknowledgement, turned back and sped into the trees, disappearing in moments.

A half hour later, Isayah slowed their pace a little. Already tired, Francesca hoped they would stop to rest soon. A second later, she noticed that a strange boxy shape surrounded one of the nearby blackwoods. She realized with a shock that it was a house. When she looked more closely, she saw dozens of houses, some with Sansoussy in front of them. All the houses were built of wood and hides, and blended in with their surrounding so completely that she hadn't seen them until she was quite close. Many homes used one or more trees as corner supports, so the shapes of the houses were defined by the spaces between the trees. Until they moved, the Sansoussy also seemed to blend in, their clothing echoing the tans, russets, and browns of the forest.

So this was Ran-Del's village? Francesca glanced left and right, trying to distinguish the village from the forest. There were no formal streets, or even deliberate-looking trails. Narrow paths beaten in the dirt meandered between individual houses, with gardens planted in the spaces between them. Every house had two or three tea vines growing up its side, and Francesca guessed they weren't there for ornamental reasons. The roofs of the houses were high, dome-like covers, some with flaps raised to let in the light and air. The only windows were similar open flaps, small and high up on the walls.

There was little fuss at their arrival. A few people stood aside as they passed and stared curiously, but there was neither outcry nor cheering. Finally, they stopped in front of a large, rambling structure in the middle of the village. Isayah turned to the warriors, gave them a brief thanks, then dismissed them. Most of them immediately walked away but a few stood around, as if they were curious to see what would happen.

Ran-Del lifted Francesca down from the lamel and whispered a caution. "Great-grandfather wants to see us right away. Remember to be polite, and show some respect for his age, if nothing else."

This assumption that she lacked manners nettled Francesca, but she recognized that the way she treated her father was vastly different from the respect Ran-Del accorded his grandfather.

Isayah led the way. Francesca was glad she was following someone. She would never have known that the door was a door unless she had seen Isayah duck into it. All the doors were only waist-high. Francesca wondered why, since the buildings were obviously tall enough to stand up in.

When Francesca straightened up, she found herself in what looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with pegs that held bows, quivers, knives, and clothes, and with shelves on which rested moccasins, tools, wooden bins, and household implements. A woman waited for them by another waist-high doorway. She had black hair, streaked with gray and pinned up in a bun, and bright brown eyes that looked anxious. As soon as Ran-Del straightened up beside his grandfather, the woman stepped forward.

Ran-Del didn't even have time to bow his head. She threw her arms around him in a glad embrace.

"Ran-Del!" she cried again and again. "Ran-Del, you're back!"

Ran-Del returned her embrace just as firmly. "Yes, Grandmother, I'm back."

Francesca felt a hot rush of guilt. Her father had stolen Ran-Del from these people who clearly loved him, and now she had to face them.

Isayah allowed his wife's emotional display to go on for a few moments, and then he touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Father is waiting, Mina."

The woman let Ran-Del go reluctantly, and her eyes darted to Francesca. She took in the cable with one glance and frowned. "So it is true. Why would anyone do that? What could he hope to accomplish?"

Ran-Del turned red and dropped his head in shame. Mina scrutinized him for a moment, and then raised her hand to brush his cheek. Francesca wasn't surprised to see three golden-colored glass beads on her caste bracelet. What would it be like to live with people who knew what she was feeling, and maybe even thinking?

"It wasn't your fault, sweetness," Mina said to Ran-Del, darting Francesca a look full of reproach.

"Ran-Del and I will speak later," Isayah said firmly, "after Father has seen him."

He ducked under the doorway, and Ran-Del followed. Francesca had no choice but to tag along.

She found herself in a large room. The ceiling was higher than she had expected, more than two meters, and in places woven hangings hung from the hide walls. There were no windows, and none of the ceiling flaps were open except the one above the small fire that burned in a free-standing fireplace in the middle of the room. Several oil lamps hung from brackets on the narrow wooden pillars that supported the walls. Two large, flat-woven rugs covered most of the beaten-earth floor. The hide that made up the ceiling had been coated with something shiny that reflected the light and gave the air a golden glow.

A large wooden chair stood against the far wall, and in the chair sat a very old man. His white hair had gone very thin on top of his head. His skin hung in folds from his gaunt neck, and his bright, black eyes looked at Francesca from a face that could have served as a relief map.

He was dressed very like Ran-Del and the other Sansoussy men except he also wore an ornate leather cape trimmed with feathery tufts of fur dyed in bright blues and reds.

Ran-Del stayed where he was, but Isayah went directly to the old man and bowed his head.

The old man studied him and nodded. "You did well, Isayah."

"Thank you, Father."

The shaman looked across the room. "Come closer, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del stepped forward with Francesca lagging a little behind him. When he stopped two meters in front of the shaman, she took another step so she could see better and watched to see what would happen.

Ran-Del kept his eyes firmly focused on the floor, his head bowed.

The old man spoke first. "It's good to see you, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del lifted his head but still didn't meet his great-grandfather's eyes. "It's good to see you, Great-grandfather."

"Look up, Ran-Del," the shaman commanded.

Ran-Del raised his eyes and looked his great-grandfather full in the face. The shaman studied him closely for several minutes and then turned to Francesca.

"So this is the woman whose father caused all this fuss?"

Francesca took this as an invitation and stepped closer. "I'm Francesca Hayden," she said politely. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Ji-Ran smiled, a grin that showed that he still had all his teeth. "I greet you, also, Francesca Hayden." He nodded as if approving of her in some way. "I am called Ji-Ran Jahanpur." He held out a hand. "Let me see this thing that has created such an intractable bond between you and Ran-Del."

Ran-Del stepped closer, and his great-grandfather took the flexitron cord in his hands. Francesca noticed that a mass of old scar tissue lined the old man's inner arm in a straight line from the elbow all the way down onto the palm of his left hand. On his right wrist, he wore a caste bracelet that was very like Ran-Del's, except it had no red bead and no black beads, but it did have, just as Ran-Del had described, six glass beads the same color as Haven's golden sky.

Ji-Ran Jahanpur touched the narrow band around Ran-Del's wrist, then fingered the length of the cable, running his hands over every centimeter, which brought Francesca much closer than she had been before. He grunted. "It's not so solid as it looks. Like any rope, it's made of fibers."

Ji-Ran held the flexitron so that his thumb was right over the point where it was welded to the band around Ran-Del's wrist. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and then tugged firmly.

To Francesca's amazement, the cable simply unraveled and pulled loose from the band. Ran-Del was left with the manacle-like band around his wrist, but the cord that had linked her to him was no longer connected to it.

Francesca blinked, not sure she had really seen the cable come apart. When Ran-Del took two steps away from his great-grandfather, it sank in. The old man had somehow manipulated the flexitron without resorting to any kind of tool.

Ran-Del breathed a sigh of relief.

Francesca stood numbly while the shaman repeated the same miracle on her end of the cable. She flexed her arm. The manacle still circled her wrist, but she was untethered.

Ji-Ran took the length of flexitron and handed it to Isayah. "Here. Someone may have a use for it."

Isayah wound the two-meter length into loops. "Yes, Father."

"Now," Ji-Ran said in a pleased voice, "Isayah, you may take the woman to Mina. See that she has a place to rest, fresh clothes, and water to refresh herself. I will speak to Ran-Del alone."

"Yes, Father," Isayah said, bowing slightly. He waited politely at the door for Francesca, who looked over her shoulder at Ran-Del. It sounded as if she were being treated as a guest rather than a prisoner, but somehow the idea of being without Ran-Del made her feel that something would be missing.

Ran-Del smiled reassurance; Francesca decided against making a scene. She ducked through the doorway to find Mina Jahanpur waiting for her.

"Come this way, please," Mina said, in frosty tones.

This, Francesca reflected, must be how Ran-Del had felt in Shangri-La—alone in hostile territory, facing unknown customs and strange surroundings with no one to ask for help. She followed Mina without a word.

***

Ran-Del waited in respectful silence for Ji-Ran to speak. The old man took his time, and Ran-Del suspected his great-grandfather was probing his mind before he started asking verbal questions.

"Give me your hand, Ran-Del," Ji-Ran commanded suddenly.

Ran-Del held out his hand, knowing that Ji-Ran would be better able to see into his mind once he had established physical contact.

"Now," the shaman said, gripping his hand firmly, "tell me from the beginning, what happened to you."

Ran-Del began his story with a description of his hunt, and his surprise at being shot down by strangers. He went on through his awakening at the Hayden complex, his efforts to escape, and his cryptic conversations with Stefan Hayden. At his great-grandfather's insistence, he even related the conversation in Stefan's office about Haven and Terra, in as much detail as he could recall.

Ran-Del had gotten to the point where he woke up on the prairie and found himself chained to Francesca when Ji-Ran held up a hand to stop him.

"The rest is not important. You may go now, Ran-Del. You may wish to send a message to that woman, also, to tell her that you're safe and well. I'll have a runner carry it for you."

Ran-Del hid a smile. There was only one person whom his great-grandfather could mean by "that woman." His mother's name had been anathema in the Jahanpur household since the day she had married Amit Ramakdawala, and taken Ji-Ran Jahanpur's only great-grandson to live among the Standing Rock clan. His smile vanished at Ji-Ran's next words.

"Your grandfather is waiting for you. I believe he wishes to speak to you."

"Yes, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del said, bowing slightly and turning to go.

"Tell Mina I'd like to speak to Francesca Hayden," the shaman said, "as soon as she has rested sufficiently."

Ran-Del was surprised, but reassured that Francesca appeared to have a guest's standing. "Yes, Great-grandfather."

Isayah was waiting for him as he came into the storage room. Ran-Del repeated his great-grandfather's request.

Isayah nodded. "She knows. Come with me, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del followed his grandfather to his grandparents' private space. In addition to the bedroom she shared with Isayah, Mina had her own great room, a multipurpose room that provided a place to cook, eat, and entertain visitors. Unlike Ji-Ran's great room, hers was actually used as a kitchen. Herbs and fragrant hanks of dried tea leaves hung from the rafters. Bins of vegetables stacked around the walls gave the room a pleasant, earthy smell that Ran-Del knew well. Isayah took a seat on a chair.

Ran-Del waited to see what his grandfather would do. Isayah pointed to a patch of the earthen floor not covered by the carpet. The spot was familiar to Ran-Del who had been called to this room many times, whenever his grandfather had determined that punishment was necessary.

"You will kneel, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del knelt down in the dirt and held his breath, wondering how bad his punishment would be. His grandfather's first question surprised him.

"By what right did you invoke the Fifth Discipline?"

Ran-Del lifted his eyes, startled. "Pardon, Grandfather?"

"By what right did you invoke the Fifth Discipline?" Isayah repeated. His eyes were sparkling, his muscles tense. Isayah must have controlled his reaction when Ran-Del had first told his story, but now he was letting his anger show. Ran-Del could feel it burning hot.

"I was a prisoner, Grandfather. There was no hope of escape."

"No hope? No hope? You had been a prisoner only a few hours and already you had determined there was no hope?"

Ran-Del tried to recall the desperation and despair of that horrible time. "Stefan Hayden had many servants and many machines to help him keep me locked away. There was no way I could fight against so many of them."

"And what dishonor was there in being a prisoner?"

He had a point. Ran-Del had assumed some nefarious purpose, but he hadn't known it for sure. "I didn't know what he planned, Grandfather."

"So you weren't in danger of dishonor, you had been a prisoner only a short time, and still you felt you had the right to invoke the Fifth Discipline?"

Ran-Del swallowed. "I—I was overwhelmed by the strangeness. It was all so different that it was difficult for me to think clearly."

Isayah snorted. "You remembered the Fifth Discipline clearly enough, did you not?"

Ran-Del took a breath. It would go better if he admitted he had done wrong. "Yes, Grandfather."

"You're lucky that you're not three seasons younger, Ran-Del," Isayah said angrily, "or I would accord you a child's punishment."

Ran-Del flinched at the scorn in his grandfather's voice and looked at the floor, unable to meet the older man's stern gaze.

"You know it was wrong?" Isayah demanded.

"Yes, Grandfather."

"Why was it wrong?"

It was so easy to see his error now, kneeling here in familiar surroundings. "Because I gave in to despair too quickly. I should have waited until I knew whether he meant to dishonor me."

"You agree that you should be punished?"

Ran-Del nodded.

"Before I set your punishment," Isayah went on, "we will speak of the woman."

It wasn't a question. Ran-Del waited.

Isayah shifted position in his chair, and glared at him. "Tell me precisely what happened between you and the woman."

Ran-Del began to relate, haltingly, walking down to the stream, and how Francesca had announced that she would bathe. He described how she had wrapped herself in a blanket, and his own reactions once he had found himself in close proximity to a woman so scantily dressed. He found it extremely difficult to put what had happened into words. Isayah interrupted his stumbling recital with a question.

"Was she trying to seduce you, as her father wanted? Was it a snare to trap you?"

"No, Grandfather," Ran-Del said emphatically, unwilling to compound his sin by pinning the blame on Francesca. "There was no deception in her. There was no desire, either, until I had—had let her see my own lust."

"But it was she who stopped it?" Isayah asked bluntly.

"In a way. She told me to stop and think. She had no compunction about what we—what we almost did, but she was afraid that I would feel differently about it."

Isayah nodded. "And then you stopped yourself?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

Isayah got up and paced the room, looking back at Ran-Del who still knelt on the ground.

"You know it was wrong?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

Isayah shook his head. "You should marry, Ran-Del. It's no good waiting for Father to change his mind about Bettine. He won't do it. And even if Father died tomorrow, there's no guarantee that Doan wouldn't rule the same way."

Ran-Del flushed but didn't answer. There was no one in this village he wanted to marry if he couldn't have Bettine.

"You like this woman, this Francesca Hayden?" Isayah demanded.

Ran-Del looked up, taken aback by the question. "She's an outlander."

"She's also a woman," Isayah said. "You spent only three days in her company, and you were ready to disgrace yourself to have her. You're dry tinder, Ran-Del, and it didn't take much to make you flame."

Ran-Del could think of no convincing argument, so he didn't reply.

"We will speak of it again, later," Isayah said. "Take off your vest."

Ran-Del slipped off his vest with a sense of relief. If his grandfather chose to inflict punishment on a part of his body that was normally covered, it meant he wasn't angry enough to want to shame Ran-Del as well as to give pain.

Isayah moved to the fire that burned in the kitchen area. A small steel rod already waited, white hot and ready to use. Isayah wrapped a cloth around the end and picked it up carefully. He handed it to Ran-Del, who took it with his right hand.

"Where?" Ran-Del asked.

"Here," Isayah said, touching his left side lightly with one finger.

Ran-Del lined up the rod carefully and then pressed it firmly against the flesh of his left side. Instantly, intense pain radiated from his side. He could smell his skin burning.

Isayah counted slowly to three and then jerked Ran-Del's hand away. "Enough. Put it down."

Ran-Del laid the rod on the dirt floor with relief. His side throbbed already. It would be worse very soon.

"You can get up now," Isayah said, "although by rights I should make you show contrition for a few hours."

Ran-Del's face fell. He hated that form of punishment even more than having to inflict pain.

"Oh, get up, get up," Isayah said impatiently. "I won't do it. Go and find your grandmother. She'll tend to the burn, and then you can use the Disciplines as you need them."

"Thank you, Grandfather," Ran-Del said gratefully. He had feared his Grandfather might prohibit using the Disciplines for a certain period of time, as he had done in the past for egregious offenses.

Ran-Del found Mina in her workroom. She put aside her spinning, clucked over the burn on his side, and applied a soothing ointment. Ran-Del appreciated the medicine, although he knew that he would get more benefit from the fact that she had been the one to apply the treatment than from the ointment itself. Mina had earned the three glass beads on her caste bracelet mostly from her ability to heal wounds and cure illnesses.

"There," Mina said, applying a bandage. "That's not so bad. It'll heal in a day or so."

"Thank you, Grandmother," Ran-Del said, stooping to kiss her cheek.

She caught his hand and held it. "I'm glad you're back, Ran-Del. I was worried."

He pulled her close for an embrace and was forcefully reminded of the newness of his injury. Mina clucked again. "It wasn't your fault, most of it, and by rights that hussy should have a worse burn right about now."

"Francesca isn't a hussy, Grandmother," Ran-Del said gently. "And that's not the only reason Grandfather punished me."

She looked at him, frowning, and in a moment her face turned pale as she read what was in his mind. "Think shame, Ran-Del! How could you do it?"

"I'm sorry, Grandmother."

She raised a hand and slapped his face as hard as she could. Ran-Del didn't try to block the blow but simply stood and waited to see what she would do next.

Mina shook her finger at him. "You listen to me, Ran-Del Jahanpur! If you ever do anything that foolish again, I'll heat the rod myself, and it won't be a tiny little burn that doesn't even show."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Now go to your room. Get cleaned up, put on some clean clothes for heaven's sake. And get some rest."

"Yes, Grandmother," Ran-Del repeated, and he kissed her cheek again.

***

Francesca looked down at herself and wished for a mirror. She had no idea how she looked in the Sansoussy dress of coarse-woven brown cloth that Mina had provided.

At least she was clean. She had washed thoroughly, standing in a shallow wooden tub and soaping herself all over and then rinsing with a bucketful of water. After she had dried herself off, she had put on clean underclothes and the Sansoussy dress that felt so strange—rough and heavy.

A scratching at the door frame caught Francesca's attention. "Yes?"

Mina stuck her gray head into the room. "The shaman will see you now, if you're rested."

It sounded like an invitation to a guest, but Francesca didn't want to press her luck by declining. "I'm rested."

Mina seemed annoyed as she stood watching Francesca pull on her stockings. Was she miffed at having to wait on a city dweller? Francesca needed information. "Where's Ran-Del?"

Mina's mouth set in a straight line. "He's in his room, resting," she said in flat, uninviting tones.

"Is he all right?" Francesca asked, a little alarmed at this attitude.

"He's fine," Mina said, her stern expression easing. "The shaman is waiting."

Francesca pulled on her own boots. The moccasins Mina had brought were too small to be comfortable. "I'm ready."

She followed Mina through a room that seemed to be another bedroom, and then back into the storage room. Mina ducked into Ji-Ran's great room and waited until Francesca had joined her to speak.

"The woman is here, Father-in-law," she said.

"Thank you, Mina," the shaman said from his chair. "You need not wait."

She bowed and ducked out through the door, leaving Francesca alone with the old shaman.

"Come nearer, Francesca Hayden," Ji-Ran Jahanpur commanded.

Francesca walked closer. Ji-Ran nodded at a stool near his feet. "Sit."

Francesca decided to take this as an invitation and not an order. "Thank you," she said, sinking down on the stool.

Ji-Ran Jahanpur showed his teeth, and his shoulders shook in a silent laugh. Air might be leaving his lungs, but no sound came from his throat. "I hope Mina has made you welcome."

"She has." Honesty compelled Francesca to add a rider. "She gave me much more of a welcome than Ran-Del got in our house."

Ji-Ran let some sound escape when he laughed this time. "But it seems that your father planned for you, at least, to make him very welcome."

Francesca couldn't help but smile in return. "He did, but Ran-Del had other ideas."

The shaman raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "And yet Ran-Del came around in the end."

Francesca gave him a hostile stare. If he already knew what she was thinking, there was no point in being diplomatic. "Maybe the people here are used to you mucking about in their minds, but where I come from, we give each other a little privacy."

Ji-Ran didn't seem offended by this criticism. "Ran-Del has confided the truth of what happened to his grandfather."

"There wasn't a whole lot to confide," Francesca said. "I don't see why you're all making such a fuss over nothing."

Ji-Ran's brow creased in a solemn frown. "Your ways are not our ways, young woman. Our people consider physical intimacy to be of more than passing importance."

"That's all well and good," Francesca said, "but Ran-Del and I were not intimate."

"Only because you yourself have some principles."

Francesca lost her patience. "Did you ask me to come here only to talk about a brief moment of well-bridled passion? I would have thought you had better things to do."

The shaman nodded, his eyes twinkling in appreciation. "I do. Give me your hand, Francesca."

Instinctively, Francesca clenched her hands together. "Why?"

"Because I want to touch you while I ponder the future," Ji-Ran said imperturbably. "Give me your hand!"

It sounded a little like a fortune teller at a carnival, but then she remembered the way he had pulled the flexitron cable apart. Well, why not? She wouldn't mind knowing the future. She held out her right hand. The old man's touch was dry and cool. His fingers were bony, and he held her hand tightly while he shut his eyes.

Francesca sat and waited, feeling very foolish. It was quiet in the room. The small fire crackled faintly, accompanied by the almost imperceptible sounds of tree branches scraping the hide walls. Ji-Ran Jahanpur's face was motionless, and Francesca was afraid to speak to him. She thought for a few moments that he had fallen asleep, but he stirred, and she realized it was very much like when Ran-Del meditated.

After several minutes, the old man lifted his head and stared at her. He sighed, as if from a great sorrow, and shook his head. "It's not enough."

"What's not enough?" Francesca asked, feeling cheated. How could he say he would look into the future and not tell her what he saw?

Ji-Ran shook his head. "Mina will come for you," he said, his voice weak.

In a moment, he was proved right when his daughter-in-law came into the room.

"Take her away and find Isayah," Ji-Ran said, still sounding weary. "Send him to me."

"Yes, Father-in-law," she said, waiting for Francesca to join her at the door.

Francesca went reluctantly, not certain if it was safe to leave the old man alone. Mina didn't seem worried, so Francesca followed the Sansoussy woman out the door.

She had no idea what to make of the interview. It was, she realized, one of the few times in her life when she had absolutely nothing to say.

### Chapter Nine

The next morning Francesca found the hide walls of a Sansoussy house could be as confining as a force field. Every time she tried to explore, Mina materialized as if from nowhere, blocking her way, and asking what she wanted. Mina met every request—brought Francesca breakfast, took away the dishes, provided water for washing, even emptied the chamber pot—but still Francesca was getting annoyed. She wanted to see what was going on. She had just decided to confront Mina and ask whether she was a prisoner when, without warning, Ran-Del appeared in her room.

"Don't the Sansoussy ever knock?" Francesca asked in exasperation.

"Good morning, Francesca," he said, a hint of rebuke in his tone.

"Good morning," she said belatedly.

Ran-Del reached over and unhooked a curtain beside the door. It fell into place and covered the doorway. "When you want privacy, leave the curtain down. No one will come in. If it's important enough to disturb you, they'll scratch on the door frame first."

"Why are all the doors so low?" Francesca said, venting her aggravation. "Don't you all get sore backs from all this stooping?"

A half smile tugged at Ran-Del's lips. "It's hard on older people. But it makes it easier to defend a house or a room if everyone has to bend very low to enter it."

She had never considered that. "Oh."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Just fine, thank you."

Ran-Del raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you haven't figured it out yet, but I can tell when you lie to me."

"All right, I was being polite," Francesca said crossly. "I hardly slept all night. It's too damn noisy out here in the woods. There were all kinds of scratching sounds outside."

"It's mostly just tree branches scraping on the walls and the roof," Ran-Del said, looking up at the ceiling.

Francesca looked up, too, and saw the leafy canopy and a patch of clear golden sky, visible through the ventilation flaps.

"Although, with the ceiling flaps open," he went on, "you might hear the wind in the trees, too."

"Ran-Del," Francesca said, "when can I get out of here? Will your great-grandfather send me back soon, or at least let me leave on my own?"

Ran-Del looked dismayed at her suggestion. "You'd never make it on your own, Francesca. Great-grandfather wouldn't let you go by yourself. Besides, he told Grandfather that your father is coming here."

Francesca opened her eyes wide at this news. She had wondered when her father would show up. Maybe that was what the old man had seen the day before? "Pop's coming here? When? How does your great-grandfather know that?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "I can't explain how a psy gift works. But if Great-grandfather says that your father's coming soon, then he'll be here soon."

She let out a sigh of relief, but then she had an alarming thought. "You won't try to hurt him, will you, Ran-Del? You're back with your people now, and Pop can't harm you anymore."

"That doesn't excuse what he did," Ran-Del said, a hint of inflexible anger in his voice. "But you needn't worry. Grandfather forbade me to go near your father, and I'm not inclined to suffer punishment twice in as many days."

"Punishment? Punishment for what?"

Ran-Del looked away for a moment. "It's of no consequence. Have you eaten? Would you like to go outside and see the village?"

A sense of relief flooded over Francesca. "Yes! Your grandmother keeps popping up to offer things, but she seems not to want me to go out."

"There's no reason you can't go outside," Ran-Del said. "You're not a prisoner."

He looped the curtain back over its hook and led the way out of the door. Francesca followed him through another bedroom, then the storage room, and then outside.

Sunlight hit her eyes, but a slight breeze felt cool on her skin. The light filtering through the tree tops gave the air a strange, diffused look. All around the village, people were walking about, working in their gardens and performing household chores. Small children climbed in the lower tree branches, playing games and calling down to their elder siblings who were helping with the chores. A young girl two houses away swung a long, thick stick at a piece of carpet hung over a line. She beat it with enthusiasm until she saw Ran-Del and Francesca, and then she stopped abruptly. Francesca smiled at her, but the girl stared at them, then ran inside her house.

"Do I look that ferocious?" Francesca asked. "I thought I'd fit right in wearing this dress."

Ran-Del took her arm and steered her in another direction. "There are only three hundred and twenty-two people in this village. She knows every one of them by name, so she knows you must be the strange woman everyone's talking about."

They walked a ways through the village, following the winding paths that meandered between the houses. None of the adults ran away at the sight of Francesca, but quite a few stared or gave her a backward glance as she passed. Ran-Del spoke to a few people and was answered courteously.

They were passing a large house that rambled in every direction when a young woman stepped outside with a basket of wet laundry. She had long blonde hair that fell around her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was a perfect oval set with classic features. Her slashed trousers and sleeveless tunic were not unlike Ran-Del's clothes, except that the tunic was laced shut where his vest was open. Still, she looked utterly feminine. She stopped when she saw them and gave Francesca a cool, appraising stare.

"Good morning, Ran-Del," she said.

"Good morning, Bettine," Ran-Del answered, reluctance in his voice.

Bettine lifted one arched eyebrow, smiled a tiny, satisfied smile and then deliberately turned her back on them and began to hang the laundry up on a line. Francesca noted as she lifted a bed sheet that the caste bracelet on her wrist had no sky-gold beads.

Ran-Del took Francesca's arm and then pulled her along farther into the village.

"Well," Francesca said, "so that's Bettine?"

"Yes."

"She's very beautiful. Too bad she's such a bitch."

Ran-Del didn't answer, but Francesca saw him clench his jaw.

Contrition set in. Really, she had no right to be so critical. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You can tell me to go to hell if you like."

"No, I can't. You're a guest."

It sounded like a promising situation. "Does that mean I can say whatever I like, and you can't answer back?"

"Yes. Although you'd be abusing a guest's privilege if you did that."

"I'll try to mind my manners," Francesca said, her good humor restored. "You don't have any more golden-haired goddesses tucked away to tempt me into rudeness, do you?"

"No," Ran-Del said, with a reluctant smile.

Francesca looked around the village. The houses were spaced far enough apart to give everyone room to have a good-sized garden and some privacy. In the middle of a cluster of homes, someone had cleared a large space, but instead of a garden, all that occupied the space was a large circle of flat stones divided into four quadrants, two of which had rounded stones arranged in them. "What's that?"

Ran-Del looked where she pointed. "That's our calendar. Every morning the shaman or someone he designates moves a stone from the autumn quadrant into the winter quadrant. When all the stones are moved, winter is here."

It seemed reliable, if incredibly low tech. Francesca continued her scrutiny. As far as she could see off into the forest, there were houses and people.

"Your village looks so big," she said. "I mean, it seems to cover quite a lot of ground. No wonder you're so used to walking for transportation. Where do you keep the lamels?"

This made Ran-Del smile even more. "We don't keep them anywhere. We don't keep lamels. They're wild animals. When we need a way to carry sick or elderly people, or to haul goods, we catch some lamels and gentle them. When we don't need them anymore, we feed them well and let them go."

It made no sense to Francesca. With logic like that, the wheel would never have been invented, let alone skimmers and flyters. "But if you kept them all the time you could ride them instead of walking."

Ran-Del shrugged. "What would that accomplish? A lamel can't run any faster than a human. All that would happen is we would get out of shape."

Francesca couldn't repress a smile. "You mean like me?"

Ran-Del kept his expression neutral. "I never said that."

She laughed out loud. "You didn't have to, Ran-Del. I don't need psy sense to see that you hold city dwellers in contempt."

"No." Ran-Del sounded earnest. "I don't hold you in contempt. I simply wonder how you can bear to live in the city, in such huge houses, shut away from the trees and the sunlight."

Francesca looked up at the leafy canopy over her head. "It's not that bright here under the trees. I'll bet it gets damn gloomy when it's nighttime, or when it storms. Winter must be a treat."

"Actually, there's more light in winter. When the blackwoods go into hibernation, all the leaves curl up tightly and the sunlight shines down through the branches.

"But still," Francesca said, "the days are shorter—and colder."

"That's true. Winters are long and hard to bear. That's why we say winter-borns are tougher."

This reminded Francesca of something. "How did your parents die, Ran-Del? How old were you?"

"My father was killed on a hunt when I was only four seasons old. My mother isn't dead; she remarried and lives with the Standing Rock Clan now."

Francesca was surprised. "But why don't you live with her, instead of with your grandparents?"

"Because I'm in the Falling Water Clan," Ran-Del said. "I carry Great-grandfather's line, too, so I must stay with my own people."

"What does that mean, you carry his line?"

He got that impatient look that made her feel like a small child. Had she looked like that back in Shangri-La when he asked questions?

"The Sansoussy believe that a man lives on in his sons," Ran-Del said, "and his sons' sons, just as a woman lives on through her daughters and their daughters. Grandfather was the only one of Great-grandfather's children to survive to adulthood. He and Grandmother had only one child, my father. Since Father was killed when I was young, I'm his only child. Thus, there's no one but me to carry on Great-grandfather's line."

It sounded like nonsense to Francesca. Why would a child of the same gender be more likely to perpetuate a parent's existence than a child of a different gender? "Is it so important?"

Ran-Del nodded emphatically. "Great-grandfather is the greatest shaman the clan has ever had. It would be a disgrace to all of us if his line were allowed to die out."

Francesca tilted her head to look at him. He had given her a perfect lead-in to her question so she might as well ask it now. "Then why aren't you married yet?"

He looked away as he spoke. "Grandfather wants me to marry. I expect he'll make me choose someone soon enough."

"But not Bettine?"

Ran-Del sighed. "Not if Great-grandfather still says no."

Francesca remembered her interview with the old shaman, the way he had shrunk in front of her, just from trying to see the future. "He's a spooky old man, Ran-Del. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but he gives me the shivers."

Ran-Del didn't look offended. "I know what you mean. He spooks me, too, sometimes."

"Where is he today?" Francesca said, glancing around. "Does he get outside much?"

"Great-grandfather likes to walk around the village every morning, but this morning he's holding a seeing."

Francesca's interest perked up. This was something she would never see in Shangri-La. "A seeing? Why? Is something happening?"

"I don't know. Grandfather said he decided to do it last night, after he saw you."

"What does he do? I mean, what makes it a seeing and not just the usual Sansoussy unfocused stare that you all seem to get when you meditate or whatever?"

"You shouldn't make light of the Disciplines or psy talent," Ran-Del said, the gentleness of his tone robbing the admonition of any offense, "And a seeing is not the same as meditating. Great-grandfather will use the Fourth Discipline first, to achieve a deep samad state, but then he'll breathe in medicine smoke. Burning wood from a medicine tree produces smoke that heightens psy sense. Once he's reached an advanced samad state, Great-grandfather will use the Sixth Discipline—known only to people of power—to try to control his psy talent."

"What do you mean try to control it? Doesn't he always control it?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "Not completely. People with psy ability that lets them see other people's feelings and thoughts have some control over it—they can use the Disciplines to block it out if they wish, or they can focus it on a particular person. Psy sense that lets you see what will happen next is different. It comes to you from time to time—not always in a useful way. In a seeing, a person of power tries to look ahead to see what the future might hold."

Francesca reached out and gently touched the glass bead on Ran-Del's caste bracelet. In some ways, the Sansoussy were like an alien species. "Did you ever do a seeing?"

This made him laugh. "Me? No, I'm no man of power. I couldn't be a warrior if I were. To be considered a person of power, you must have at least four sky-gold beads."

"Who decides? I mean, who says how many beads you wear? Do you get rated or something?"

He seemed in a better mood; he answered her questions with continued good humor, "When you become an adult, you spend two days alone in the revelation lodge, with three elders of power. You're required to go through all the Disciplines, even the Fifth, and to open your mind to them. Once your Ordeal is finished, you're given your caste bracelet, with beads for your clan, your family, and your ancestors, plus however many glass beads they consider you've earned."

Francesca frowned. For people who lived so simply, they had very complicated rules. She could understand why her father was so fascinated with them. "But what about people like Bettine who have no psy sense? How can they learn the Disciplines?"

"Anyone can learn the Disciplines. It's just a matter of hard work. That's why we call them Disciplines." He gave her a curious look. "How did you know Bettine had no psy sense? Did I mention it, or did you look at her caste bracelet?"

She grinned at him. "Both. She was giving me the once over; I didn't see any reason not to return the favor."

Ran-Del stopped walking. They were at the outskirts of the village, where the houses had thinned out and Francesca could see the forest in its natural state. In many ways, it didn't look that different from the village.

"There's not much in our village except houses and gardens," Ran-Del said. "Is there anything in particular you want to see?"

Francesca glanced around and noticed one small building that stood off by itself with no garden and no sign that it was inhabited. There wasn't even a tea vine growing up the side. "What's that?"

Ran-Del looked away. "That's the betrothal lodge," he said, with studied nonchalance.

Francesca had a brief twinge of conscience, but in the end his embarrassment served only to pique her curiosity. "What's a betrothal lodge?"

Ran-Del studied a distant blackwood tree as if it were a thing of great interest. "When a man and a woman want to marry, they must first be betrothed. They go through a ceremony with their families and a village elder, and then they're escorted here. They spend the night together, and the next day, they're betrothed."

"I see," Francesca said, trying not to smile. It seemed like little more than a ritualized, really good first date to her. "What a charming custom."

Ran-Del looked stung, his lips setting in a hard line. "We're not savages, Francesca. If you find it quaint to follow rules of behavior instead of merely doing whatever you please, stop and think how we see your customs."

Francesca's good humor evaporated. "Who says we don't have rules? We do have some restraints, you know, even if we acknowledge our feelings."

Ran-Del stopped walking to literally look down at her. "Acknowledge them? From what you've said, it sounds as if you encourage them. If there are rules in force in your city, it's hard for me to see what they are."

Francesca made a noise of disgust. "How would you know? When did you have time to study our customs?"

"I didn't have to study them," Ran-Del retorted. "You told me yourself that you've had many lovers. Such behavior would never be tolerated among the Sansoussy."

Francesca glared up at him, seething with rage. "How dare you judge me! After two minutes with a woman who was showing nothing more than bare shoulders and a little cleavage, you were ready to say to hell with every last rule in your precious Sansoussy book."

Ran-Del dropped his head and then looked away, as if he were unable to meet her eyes. "You're right. What I did was wrong. Grandfather has already punished me for it."

The abjectness of his surrender made Francesca suddenly want to take his side. "It wasn't anything terrible. What do you mean, your Grandfather punished you?"

Ran-Del glanced around, then lifted the left side of his vest to reveal an angry, red welt.

"Good God!" Francesca said. "How did you do that, Ran-Del?"

He answered her literally. "I held a white hot iron rod on my side for a few seconds."

Francesca stared at him, open-mouthed with amazement. These people were even stranger than she had thought. "Your grandfather did that to you just for making a pass at me?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "Not just for that. He was angrier about my using the Fifth Discipline. I hadn't realized it at first, but he was enraged when I told him I had used it at your father's house. He said the circumstances didn't warrant it."

"Is that the thing where you stop your heart?"

Ran-Del nodded. "We have the right to use the Fifth Discipline only when our honor is at stake—when living would be a worse alternative than dying."

Francesca mentally weighed attempted suicide against corporal punishment. "In that case, I suppose it's not as terrible that he punished you. But it seems excessive to burn you like that."

Ran-Del smiled and shrugged. "That's our way. I earned worse when I was younger." He traced a very old scar on his right arm, a little above the elbow. "That's from a time when I was sixteen seasons—I had just come of age. I wanted to hunt alone for a timber cat, so I took my bow and went out by myself, even though Grandfather had forbidden me to do it. I never even sighted a timber cat, and when I came home, Grandfather was waiting."

Francesca touched the scar. It was wider and longer than her finger and looked as if it had come from a very bad burn. "So your grandfather did that, too?"

Ran-Del jumped at her touch but said nothing.

Francesca stroked the scar gently. "It must have hurt a lot."

"It did."

She moved her hand to a smaller scar above the first and gave it the same treatment. "How did you get this one?"

Ran-Del swallowed hard. "That was for falling asleep when I was on watch, when we were on a hunt."

She looked up at him. "How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

He seemed very restrained all of a sudden. And then she noticed he was breathing hard. "What's wrong?" Before he could answer, she figured it out by herself. "Oh," she said, removing her hand. "I'm sorry."

Ran-Del murmured an inarticulate reply.

She was unable to resist a comment. "It doesn't take much to set you off, does it?"

Ran-Del didn't answer.

Francesca turned back the way they had come. If he was feeling primal urges, it might be better to remove him from temptation. The last thing she wanted was more corporal punishment on her conscience. "Let's go back to your house. Can I watch your great-grandfather do his seeing, or is it private?"

"It's not completely private," Ran-Del said, letting out a deep breath. "Doan will be there, and Grandfather will go in from time to time, to see how Great-grandfather is doing. A seeing can be very exhausting, and Great-grandfather is quite old."

"How long does it take?"

Ran-Del shrugged. "It takes what it takes. It's not like building a house or skinning a day bat; you can't say when you start how long it'll last."

"So can I watch or not?" Francesca said persistently.

He knit his brows in a faint frown. "Why do you want to watch? Nothing happens that you can see."

Before she could answer, a small animal came running from behind a house and rushed at Ran-Del. Francesca stopped in alarm, but Ran-Del merely held out a hand sternly.

"Halt, Buster," he said firmly.

The animal stopped in its tracks and sat back on its haunches. Francesca studied it curiously. It was vaguely similar to the guard dogs in the city, having the same elongated head with narrow, pointed ears, and a sharp, wedge-shaped nose. But instead of fur, this animal had loose, leathery skin with a narrow strip of stiff, bristly hair running from between its ears all the way down its spine to the end of its small, stubby tail. Unlike the impressive animals back at her compound, the Sansoussy hound was no taller than Francesca's knee. Only the double rows of sharp, fang-like bony ridges in his mouth and the single sharp claw on the back of each foot were at all threatening.

"Is that what you call a dog?" Francesca asked.

"His name is Buster," Ran-Del said, "and he _is_ a dog."

Francesca didn't argue, although she wasn't convinced. They walked along and the dog fell in step behind them, trotting briskly to keep up. Every now and then it—he Francesca corrected herself—flicked his small blue tongue over his lips and darted his head from side to side as if he were watching for something,

"Is he yours?" Francesca asked, watching him curiously, "or don't you keep dogs, either?"

"Yes, he's mine. We keep dogs because they're useful. If you're hunting game, they're very good at tracking, and they make good watchdogs, too."

"If he's a hunting dog, why wasn't he with you the other day when Pop caught you?"

"Dogs are no good for hunting game that can climb or fly," Ran-Del said. "All they do is spook them into fleeing. How did you know Buster wasn't with me?"

It was Francesca's turn to look embarrassed. She remembered watching Ran-Del on her father's holographic projector before she had ever met him. She was saved having to answer when they heard a hail.

Ran-Del glanced around. Mina stood near her house, waving her arm at them. "Come on," he said to Francesca. Picking up his speed almost to a trot, he loped over to his grandmother, Buster running at his heels.

Francesca followed more slowly, glad she was no longer obliged to keep up with his pace.

When Francesca drew near, Ran-Del stood beside his grandmother, head bent respectfully. In spite of his pose, he seemed to be arguing with her. The dog was nowhere in sight.

"But, Grandmother," Ran-Del said, "why would he want me there? My psy gift is too weak to be of any use to him."

"We all know that." Mina sounded cross. "Nevertheless, your grandfather said you're to go in and be prepared to stay as long as you're wanted."

Ran-Del ducked through the front door of his house before Francesca could catch up. Francesca nodded politely at Mina and followed Ran-Del. There was no sign of him when she stood up in the storage room, and Francesca realized she had no idea how to get to his room. She decided that most likely he had either gone into the shaman's great room, or he would go there soon.

Isayah met her as she came through the doorway.

"My father is occupied, Francesca Hayden," he said. "If you wish to see him, you'll have to come back another time."

Francesca shot a quick glance around. Two Sansoussy sat on the floor, the old shaman and a middle-aged woman. "Ran-Del said a seeing isn't precisely a closed ceremony. Is it all right if I watch for a while?"

Isayah stood uncertainly for a few seconds and then nodded. "Very well, you may remain if you keep quiet and stay out of the way."

"Thank you," Francesca said, keeping her tone respectful. She took a seat on a bench on one side of the room and waited expectantly.

Ji-Ran Jahanpur sat cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of the room. His eyes were closed, and he seemed oblivious to his surroundings. The Sansoussy woman sat beside him, one of her knees almost touching his. She looked in much the same state as the shaman. Isayah Jahanpur fanned the fire in the brazier on the floor in front of his father, poured a cup of water for the woman, and adjusted the lamps to burn a little less brightly. Francesca had begun to wonder where Ran-Del was when he appeared beside the doorway.

"Good," Isayah said. "Now we can begin."

Francesca sat up. Had Pop ever been to a seeing? He had never mentioned it. This would be something to tell him. She waited expectantly for something to happen.

***

Ran-Del hesitated, not knowing what his role would be. His grandfather directed him to sit on the floor next to his great-grandfather and across from Doan. Ran-Del was nervous; no one had ever asked him to participate in a seeing before. He darted a quick glance at Francesca on her bench. She had come after all. No one would ever call her shy.

Isayah knelt by the brazier and carefully placed several sticks of dark blue medicine wood on the fire. After a few seconds, an acrid odor pervaded the room, and then a murky blue smoke slowly filled the air. Ran-Del could feel a faint, light-headed sense of disorientation, as if he weren't quite stable on the ground and might float off of it at any moment. He leaned back, trying to avoid the smoke as much as he could.

Ji-Ran stirred, turning his head to glance at Ran-Del with an unfocused gaze.

Isayah came up beside Ran-Del and added another stick to the fire. He put one hand on Ran-Del's shoulder. "Relax."

Ran-Del tried to comply. No one had said to use any of the Disciplines, so he was reluctant to invoke them.

"Don't attempt to meditate," Isayah said. "Just try not to be so tense."

Ran-Del tried to make himself relax. He took a deep breath, but the smoke made him choke. Ran-Del coughed and turned his head away from the fire.

Isayah turned and looked at his father. Then he sighed and moved his hand so that it gripped the back of Ran-Del's neck. He pushed hard, and Ran-Del found himself bent almost over the fire, unable to escape the acrid fumes of the medicine wood. He thought for just one second about pulling out of his grandfather's grip, but dismissed the idea. Isayah would never hurt him.

The fumes made Ran-Del dizzy, and the room spun around him. After a few moments, he felt himself slipping away from reality, drifting away from the room and the fire. He couldn't feel his grandfather's hand on his neck, or the carpet under him. He lost all sense of himself and where he was, all sense of time and place. He struggled to anchor himself, to find something to which he could tether his being. There was nothing. A tide of incoherent sounds, diffuse odors, and blurred images swept him away.

***

Stefan Hayden walked into the forest looking for landmarks. It had been more than twenty seasons since he walked this path into the woods. The trail was well marked with the still familiar signs of the Blackwood People, delicately carved strips of ebony wood pegged to trees or stuck into the ground. Stefan kept walking, not surprised when he saw movement from behind a tree. He must have been under observation for quite some time.

Stefan paused, letting the other get a good look at him. He hadn't brought any weapons, visible or otherwise. He knew better than to imagine he could come armed into a Sansoussy village. He was counting on the Sansoussy sense of hospitality, coupled with a friendship over twenty seasons old.

The movement stopped, and then, suddenly, a man stood on the path about ten meters ahead of Stefan.

Stefan studied the newcomer intently. "I greet you, Vivek Nayar," he said formally.

The other man nodded his head in recognition. "I greet you, Stefan Hayden."

Stefan grinned. "You've changed a good deal, Vivek. But then, I have, too."

The Sansoussy smiled. "Time spares no man, Stefan. Still, changed or not, I would have known you even without the warning."

"I figured your people would spot me. I was just hoping there'd be someone who'd remember me."

Vivek laughed. "There are still plenty of us among the Blackwood villages who remember the city man who asked so many questions. Why have you come back to the forest, my friend? I thought your mother's death had tied you to your city?"

"Actually," Stefan said, speaking candidly, "this is my second trip to the Sansoussy Forest in the recent past. I have a lot to tell you, Vivek. Could we go to your village and talk?"

Vivek nodded and stepped aside to allow Stefan to walk beside him. A little while later, Stefan found himself seated on a stool in the great room of Vivek's house. A very young woman brought a pot of tea and two cups; Vivek introduced her as his eldest daughter. She set the pot and the cups on the small table between their two stools and silently withdrew from the room.

"She's a fine looking girl, Vivek," Stefan said. "You'll have to beat the boys off with a stick."

Vivek grunted with dissatisfaction. "She's a spring-born. She won't be able to marry for two more seasons."

Stefan smiled reassurance. "Two seasons isn't so long."

"It is when you're seventeen. Tell me why you've come, Stefan. You know I have no psy sense. Tell me what brings you back to the forest?"

Stefan had rehearsed how he would introduce the subject of his visit. "If you remember, I have a daughter, too. She's older than your girl—a woman grown. She's all I have in the way of family, and I needed to find a suitable husband for her."

Vivek grunted in surprise. "I thought people in the city married—or not—as they saw fit?"

"Often they do. But in Shangri-La, the heir to a Great House doesn't have the same freedom. As my only heir, Francesca needs a husband and family. If I were to choose a city man for her, he might turn out to owe allegiance to another House. Or he might well have his own blade to hone. I needed someone from outside the city."

Vivek frowned in disbelief. "Are you telling me you came into the forest to arrange a marriage for your daughter with a man of the Sansoussy?"

Stefan paused. He intended to be truthful, but he hoped to put his actions in a light that would make his friend understand, if not condone them. "Not exactly. I didn't see any point in approaching a village with such a request. Do you know any man who'd consent to marry his descendent to an outlander?"

Vivek shook his head. "Not unless the boy was such as I wouldn't want for my daughter. If you'd gone to the elders of this village, they would've been too polite to laugh to your face, but they would've laughed once you left them."

Stefan nodded emphatically. "Exactly. But Francesca is my only child. I couldn't bear to tie her to a man who was less than honorable, less than trustworthy—in short, less than a Sansoussy."

Vivek frowned heavily, his brows pinching his forehead. "But, if you knew it was hopeless, why did you come?"

Stefan twisted his mouth in a bitter smile. "It was hopeless to ask. So I didn't ask. I came into the forest with machines that helped me stay hidden, and I hunted a Sansoussy."

Vivek's face gave no hint of his reaction. "What Sansoussy?"

"I avoided your clan. I had no desire to find the son of my old friend in my net. I went deep into the woods, staked out my trap, and waited. There were five men I saw before I finally found the one who had what I needed for Francesca."

Vivek's face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion he showed. "And what was that?"

Stefan ticked off the answers on his fingers. "Long hair that showed he'd never been married, no braid so he wasn't betrothed, a red bead for a warrior, to protect Francesca, and a sky-gold one for enough psy sense to make him useful but not enough to read my intentions."

Vivek's inscrutable look melted into disgust. "In just such a way might I hunt a timber cat—looking for one big enough to use the hide but not too large to kill by myself."

"I admit it wasn't fair," Stefan said. "I gave this man no choice at all—only I got more than I bargained for with him."

Vivek raised his eyebrows. "How?"

Stefan pointed to Vivek's caste bracelet. "He had a silver bead in his father's place, so his father was dead. Still, he had two living ancestors—two black beads. The great-grandfather's had a silver inlay on it."

"A shaman?" Vivek said in surprise.

Stefan nodded. "Apparently, the old man has remarkable psy sense, because he sent his people over two hundred kilometers from his village and fetched Ran-Del back as accurately as if he had had a map."

Vivek gave an exclamation. "You abducted the great-grandson of Ji-Ran Jahanpur?"

"He didn't tell me his great-grandfather's name, but Ran-Del is a Jahanpur. He's in the Falling Water clan."

Vivek nodded emphatically. "Ji-Ran Jahanpur has been the shaman of the Falling Water People for as long as anyone can remember. You're right that he has a psy sense such as is seldom seen. They say when he had his second Ordeal, the elders awarded him six beads. No one can remember anyone ever having that many."

Stefan blinked. "His second Ordeal? Why did he have two?"

Vivek stared at him for several seconds. "Why should I help you, Stefan? You abducted a young man of the Sansoussy, a man who had done you no harm. Why should I give you any information?"

Stefan met his gaze without hesitation. Only total candor would do. "When Ji-Ran's warriors fetched back his great-grandson, they took my daughter with them. She's there now, in the home village of the Falling Water People. So far they've made no move to harm her, but they haven't sent her home either.

"I need you to tell me what to do to get her back, Vivek. If not for the sake of our friendship, then do it to help the Falling Water People. If I have to take her back by force, someone could get hurt."

Vivek sat silently, pondering this request. After a moment, he turned his head toward the doorway and waited. A black-haired woman lifted the curtain, ducked through the doorway, and took a seat on another stool.

"He's telling the truth," the woman said.

"I greet you, Kanya Nayar," Stefan said.

She gave him back a cold stare. "Greet me if you please, Stefan Hayden. Be glad that you didn't steal one of my sons, or I'd kill you myself."

"Enough," Vivek said. "If Stefan is telling the truth, then we must help him to get his daughter back without bloodshed."

Kanya nodded. "Very well, Vivek. But he should hurry. Stefan isn't sure the one who watches his daughter will exercise patience."

Stefan glanced down at the three glass beads on Kanya Nayar's wrist. "Hiram will hold the line so long as no one is doing anything bad to Francesca—and so long as I'm back in a few hours."

She snorted. "We won't harm you, Stefan, much as you might deserve it. I have a cousin among the Falling Water People. I've no wish to see them suffer."

"Nor have I," Stefan said. He turned back to her husband. "Tell me everything you can about Ji-Ran Jahanpur, Vivek. Start with why he had two Ordeals."

### Chapter Ten

Pain! Ran-Del could feel his head pounding. He blinked and opened his eyes. In the dimness he recognized the woven hangings of his great-grandfather's great room. He swallowed with effort; his mouth was so dry, he felt as if he had gone a week without water. He groaned, then sat up, feeling his head whirl, as if his senses had turned against him. Movement at the door caught his eye.

His grandfather came into the room. "I thought you were awake." Isayah held up a hand to forestall Ran-Del from rising. "How do you feel?"

Ran-Del cringed at the pain that movement brought him. "My head hurts."

Isayah crouched down beside him and touched his shoulder gently. Ran-Del felt his concern.

"Your grandmother's making some quince tea. That and time will take care of the headache. How do you feel otherwise?"

Ran-Del didn't want to appear weak. "All right except that I'm thirsty. Does medicine smoke always give you a headache?"

"If you breathe in that much of it, it does," Isayah said, sympathy in his tone. "Father's lying down right now, and Doan, too."

"How long was I out?" Ran-Del asked, starting to rise and wobbling as his balance failed him.

"Not too long." Isayah steadied him with one hand. "This wasn't a lengthy seeing. It's barely afternoon."

Ran-Del stifled a groan as he straightened up. His muscles had stiffened.

"I'm sorry I had to hold you down like that," Isayah said. "Father was very specific that he wanted you in a receptive state, and you were fighting it. Some people do, the first time."

Ran-Del could easily believe both statements. He could still recall the sense of losing himself. "But why did he want me here? And what did he see?"

Isayah shrugged. "I don't know, Ran-Del. I wish I did. Father sent me away soon after he started."

Ran-Del glanced around the room remembering the events of the morning. "Where's Francesca?"

His grandfather's mouth curved in a subtle smile. "She's in our quarters, plaguing your grandmother with questions about life in the forest—unless Mina has lost patience with her and ordered her out. I don't think she has, though, because she wants Francesca to stay inside."

His grandmother had apparently maintained her patience. Ran-Del found her in her own great room pouring quince tea. Francesca Hayden sat on the other side of the table, looking both bored and impatient.

"There you are," Mina said briskly. "Here, this will make you feel better."

She handed Ran-Del a mug filled with murky liquid. In spite of his thirst, Ran-Del sipped it slowly. Quince tea, made from the yellow fruit of a small, prickly tree, was renowned as a soothing analgesic but it had a terrible taste. Ran-Del had hated being forced to drink it when he was young.

Isayah laughed at his reluctance. "Fortunately, not everything that's good for you tastes as bad as quince tea."

"I'll make regular tea later," Mina said. "You drink that down, Ran-Del. You look like you've been mauled by a timber cat."

"Your grandmother is right," Francesca said, leaning forward on her elbows to survey him critically. "Considering you hardly moved, you look worn out. What was it like, being part of a seeing?"

"For me, it was like being asleep," Ran-Del said. "Were you there the whole time?"

"Most of it," Francesca said, her chin resting on one elbow. "Not that much happened. After you keeled over the shaman got a death grip on your arm and held it for quite a while. He barely spoke for at least two hours—he just sat there, muttering under his breath and staring off into space. I had almost fallen asleep when the woman let out a sort of shriek, and that brought me wide awake."

Ran-Del was nonplused. "Did Doan scream? I don't remember that at all."

"I'm not surprised," Isayah said. "I gave you a strong dose of medicine smoke, and I think Father was controlling you. He must have wanted you to stay unconscious."

"Well, she did scream," Francesca said, with great firmness. "It was sudden but brief. Next, she mumbled for a bit, and then she and the old man looked like they went to sleep sitting up. I gave up after that; there didn't seem to be anything else to it."

"Drink your tea," Mina ordered Ran-Del, ignoring Francesca. "You should have another cup, at least."

Ran-Del drained his mug reluctantly and his grandmother filled it again.

Francesca smiled when Ran-Del made a face. "It can't be that bad."

"Taste it." Ran-Del pushed his cup across the table at her. As she reached to take it, their hands touched for a second, reminding Ran-Del of the incident early in the morning when she had stroked the scars on his arm.

Ran-Del felt a rush of desire and knew that both his grandparents would sense it. He managed not to let anything show on his face, and Francesca seemed oblivious to the moment.

She took a sip of quince tea and made a tortured face. "Agh, I see what you mean. I was going to ask for tea, but I think I'll wait."

She passed the cup back again. Ran-Del was careful not to let her hand touch his.

Francesca held back a yawn. "Would it be all right if I took a nap? I really didn't sleep well last night."

Isayah assured her that it wasn't bad manners for a guest to sleep in the daytime, and Francesca went off to lay down in the room they had assigned to her use.

Ran-Del hunched his shoulders, knowing that one of his grandparents would make a comment. It had been worse when he was younger, but he still found it difficult if he happened to be around his grandparents when his thoughts turned to women.

Isayah put a hand firmly on Ran-Del's shoulder. "It's time to forget about Bettine and find a wife."

Ran-Del didn't answer, but he knew his grandfather could sense his resistance.

"I'm quite serious," Isayah said sternly. "I'll give you some time to make a choice; if you don't, then I'll have to make it for you."

Ran-Del sucked in his breath.

Isayah smiled at his dismay. "Cheer up, Ran-Del. It's hardly a death sentence."

Ran-Del wasn't foolish enough to argue, but he still didn't answer his grandfather.

"Go and lie down yourself," Mina said. "You're tired, too."

"Yes, Grandmother," Ran-Del said, glad of a chance to get away.

Ran-Del pondered, as he lay on his back and stared at the open ceiling flaps, how much time his grandfather would allow him to find a bride. There was no one in his village he wanted, except Bettine. He could ask his grandfather to send him traveling to the other villages of Falling Water People, or even to his mother's clan. He would wait until Francesca's father took her away to make the request.

Not even Mina would be thinking of his marriage while the city dweller who had kidnapped him was near.

***

"Ran-Del!"

Ran-Del sat up on his bed. His grandfather sounded almost angry, and he had shouted from another room, in defiance of good manners.

Ran-Del hurried to his grandmother's great room but saw no sign of his grandfather. Instead his grandmother was there, muttering to herself as she put trail rations into a carry sack. He caught the words "evil old man," and "get his comeuppance," but that was all.

"Ran-Del," his grandfather said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Come here and say goodbye to me. I'm going on a journey."

Surprised, Ran-Del stepped closer. "Where, Grandfather?"

His grandfather frowned. "To your mother's village. Father wants me to fetch her."

The answer stunned Ran-Del. It would take half a day to run to his mother's village, and Isayah had barely rested from his seven day's journey. "What? But, Grandfather, why would Great-grandfather send you? If he wants to see my mother surely someone else could fetch her? You're—you've done enough already."

"I'm too old for another trip so soon after the last one?" Isayah finished the thought for him. "I think so, too, but Father doesn't agree."

"It's not fair," Ran-Del said, his indignation building. There were plenty of younger men who could make the journey. Ran-Del could go himself. "I shall tell Great-grandfather so."

Isayah clicked his tongue in disapproval. "And spend the rest of the day face down in the dirt, like the last time you defied him?"

Ran-Del recalled the incident quite clearly, but he wasn't dissuaded. "If I have to, I will."

Isayah shook his head reproachfully. He boxed Ran-Del's ears before Ran-Del could dodge. "I thought I taught you to choose your battles more carefully than that. Besides, you owe your great-grandfather respect, just as I do."

When Ran-Del tried to argue, Isayah finally cuffed him across the back of his head. "Let it go, Ran-Del. Listen to me! There's more to this than an old man's whim."

Ran-Del rubbed the spot on the back of his head where his grandfather's hand had made contact. Isayah hadn't lost his touch. "What is it then? Why does Great-grandfather want to see my mother?"

His grandparents exchanged glances. Doubtless some communication passed between them.

Finally, Mina spoke out loud. "Might as well tell him, Isayah. If the old man is serious, he needs to know."

Isayah tightened his mouth into a grimace, but nodded. "You're right." He glanced at Ran-Del as if he were debating a way to phrase his speech. "Your Great-grandfather wants to talk to your mother about your marriage."

Ran-Del suffered a surge of apprehension, followed by a spark of hope. "Has Great-grandfather changed his mind about Bettine?"

His grandmother let out a snort "Stop dreaming of that heartless little witch! She doesn't care about you. You'd know that if your brains didn't go to sleep when you're around her."

Isayah couldn't hold back a smile at Mina's words, but he gave a firm shake of his head. "Father wouldn't say, but I don't think that's in his mind."

"Then what is?" Ran-Del said, alarmed. It seemed that he might have no time to make his own choice if Great-grandfather was determined that he should marry so soon.

Isayah let out a sigh as he picked up the carry sack that Mina handed him. "I wish I knew. He's sending four men with me, as an escort he said."

Ran-Del stared. It seemed a terrible waste of manpower to send five men when one would do. Unless his Great-grandfather thought that Ran-Del's mother would refuse to come? She was no longer in the Falling Water clan and no longer had to obey Ji-Ran Jahanpur, but a suitable escort might impress her.

Isayah hooked Ran-Del's neck with one arm and pulled him close. "Be careful, Ran-Del. I'm worried that my father's planning something—something that he's afraid I'd fight against. Watch your step, boy! Don't give him an excuse to discipline you. It may be that he has something cunning planned."

The warning astonished Ran-Del, especially because he knew his grandfather loved the old man. "Great-grandfather wouldn't hurt me. You and I are his only descendants."

"I know that," Isayah said, releasing Ran-Del. "But I also know he would stake us both out to feed the timber cats if he judged it necessary for the clan's survival. Don't ever forget that, Ran-Del."

"Yes, Grandfather," Ran-Del said, still amazed.

He and his grandmother followed his grandfather out of the house to say goodbye. First Mina, and then Ran-Del made a formal farewell. Isayah joined the four young men who were waiting to accompany him, and they started off toward the distant village where Laiza Ramakdawala lived with her second husband.

Ran-Del and his grandmother watched them run until they were out of sight.

"There he goes," Mina said bitterly. "Another day's worth of running and another night away from home, all to bring that woman here."

Ran-Del said nothing. Respect for his grandmother kept him from calling her to account for speaking in such a tone about his mother.

Mina was distracted and didn't notice his silent disapproval. "What is that old man up to now? And when will that hussy's father come to claim her?"

This was too much a breach of manners to ignore. "She's not a hussy, Grandmother," Ran-Del said gently. "Francesca is our guest."

Mina sniffed. "Only because your great-grandfather won't let me toss her out. I know well enough what to make of her—always putting her hands on you, she is. I can tell what's on her mind easily, and I don't need any psy sense to do it, either."

Ran-Del debated, as he followed her into her great room, whether he could argue respectfully but decided against it. Mina continued to grumble as she put a kettle on the fire and then, when the water was boiling, dropped in several fragrant leaves from a tea vine. Ran-Del watched her indulgently, considering whether to go and find Francesca and offer her some tea. She had looked very sleepy, so Ran-Del decided not to disturb her. Instead, he sat down and shelled hullberries under his grandmother's direction. He was very surprised when he heard his great-grandfather's voice outside the door to the kitchen.

"Come into my room, Ran-Del."

"Yes, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del said, instantly suspicious. If his great-grandfather was willing to fetch him rather than use his psy talent to tell Mina to bring him, it meant he was keeping his mind closed off completely from her telepathic gift.

Ran-Del stood up to leave. Mina would have followed him, but Ji-Ran spoke again from beyond the doorway.

"Wait here, please, Mina. I wish to speak to Ran-Del alone."

Mina's mouth tightened into a thin, distrustful line. She gave Ran-Del a warning glance and sat down reluctantly. Ran-Del took a deep breath, ducked into the doorway, and followed his great-grandfather into the main great room.

When he straightened up, he could smell faint traces of the medicine smoke from the morning's seeing. When his Great-grandfather sat down in his chair, Ran-Del was a little shocked at his appearance. The seeing had left him looking every minute of his age. For the first time, Ran-Del contemplated the thought of his great-grandfather's demise.

Ji-Ran twisted his lips in a sour smile. "It's not that bad, Ran-Del. I'm just a little tired. Close the curtain and come closer."

Ran-Del dropped the door curtain in place and moved to stand directly in front of the shaman. Ji-Ran sat and looked Ran-Del over for a few seconds. The old man's eyes looked heavy with fatigue, but they scanned Ran-Del with satisfaction. After a few seconds he sighed a strange little sigh, half regret and half apprehension. "You've been a dutiful grandson, Ran-Del. Your grandparents are very fond of you."

For just a moment, Ran-Del was too surprised at this line of conversation to reply. "Thank you, Great-grandfather," he said finally, recovering his wits. "I'm very fond of them."

"Do you remember," Ji-Ran said, holding out his left arm so that the line of scar tissue showed, "the story of what happened when I was a young man? How I lost my first wife, and my children?"

Ran-Del nodded slowly, agog. In his entire life, his great-grandfather had never once mentioned his dead first wife or their children to him. Ran-Del had heard the story from his grandparents as something he should know about but never discuss.

"I was foolish twice, Ran-Del," Ji-Ran said gravely. "First, I attempted to deny what I was, and second, I blamed your great-grandmother when Han-Ri forced me to marry again. I wasted many seasons holding onto my bitterness, nourishing it with hate, keeping it alive inside me. In that time I could have found happiness with Johanna, and instead I spent it resenting her because she wasn't Iris. It wasn't until Isayah was almost ten that I realized my mistake."

Ran-Del's jaw dropped in surprise. He hadn't realized that the previous shaman had coerced his great-grandparents into marriage.

"Johanna wasn't forced to it," Ji-Ran said. "I was the one who had to be ordered to do his duty—who argued and was punished until I understood that I wouldn't be allowed to bury my gift in my grief." Ji-Ran touched the scar tissue on his left arm as if he were remembering old hurts.

Ran-Del closed his mouth and swallowed nervously. "Why are you telling me this, Great-grandfather?"

Ji-Ran closed his eyes and sighed again. He leaned back in his chair, and when he opened his eyes they seemed to bore a hole right into Ran-Del's soul. "Because you need to understand that sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. Sometimes our honor calls for us to make sacrifices for the good of the clan, the good of the Sansoussy."

Ran-Del recalled his grandfather's warning. "What sacrifices, Great-grandfather?"

"Tomorrow," Ji-Ran said, his voice growing stronger as he spoke, "Stefan Hayden will come here to claim his daughter. I'll speak with him, and he'll stay a short while with us. When he leaves, you'll go back to the city with him. You'll marry his daughter and make your life in his city."

Ran-Del stood absolutely still in shock. For several seconds he was unable to speak. Had the old man gone crazy? Or was Ran-Del the one who was mad? Had he really heard his great-grandfather correctly? Finally, Ran-Del got his voice back. "No! No, Great-grandfather! I don't want to marry Francesca and live in the city. She doesn't want it, and I don't want it. Nothing happened between us, Great-grandfather."

Ji-Ran sat up straighter in his chair. "I know quite well that you weren't intimate with this woman. I know also that you're not indifferent to her, or she to you. I hope that in time you'll both come to care for each other. But in any event, you will go to the city. Your destiny lies there. I've seen it quite clearly, and you must go."

"No!" Ran-Del said again. He was angry now. No Sansoussy had ever been asked to make such a sacrifice—to give up the freedom of life among the trees in exchange for the prison of city walls. "No, I won't do it, Great-grandfather. You have no right to ask it of me."

"I have every right," Ji-Ran shot back at him. "I'm both your great-grandfather and your shaman. You owe me not only respect but obedience."

"I won't do it!" Ran-Del shouted his answer. "There's no reason I should have to live among savages."

"The reasons will become clear in time." His great-grandfather's eyes sparkled with anger. "Meanwhile, it's enough that I've told you your duty. You will obey me, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del gritted his teeth. He thought back to the Hayden compound, the walls everywhere, the stale air, and the bad-mannered strangers who stared at him. "No," he said, more quietly this time, his chest heaving with emotion. "I won't do it."

Ji-Ran's eyelids drooped as if he were finding the confrontation wearing. "You will show contrition for your offense," he said, leaning his head back against the chair.

Ran-Del hesitated, but the habit of obedience was too strong even for his anger. He walked to the place near the middle of the room where there was a strip of bare earthen floor between the two pieces of carpet. Ran-Del got down on his hands and knees and then lowered himself until he was lying face down in the dirt, his head turned to one side so he could see his great-grandfather. He put his arms close by his sides and lay still.

Why was his great-grandfather doing this? Ran-Del remembered his grandfather's words. But if Great-grandfather knew of some reason why the Falling Water People would suffer if Ran-Del didn't go to the city, surely he would say so. Instead he had simply issued an edict, trying to steal Ran-Del's life as abruptly as Stefan Hayden had.

Could it be that the Sansoussy somehow needed the assistance of the House of Hayden? If that were true, what reason could there be not to explain the circumstance?

Someone scratched on the door frame.

"You may come in, Mina," Ji-Ran said.

Ran-Del's grandmother shot through the doorway and took in the scene at a glance. "Why are you punishing Ran-Del?"

"That's none of your concern," Ji-Ran said. "This is a matter between Ran-Del and his shaman, and you will stay out of it, woman!"

Mina glared at him. "You're crazy as a sun-struck night bat. You may have got Isayah out of the way, but you still have me to deal with, old man."

Ran-Del swallowed nervously. His grandmother had never challenged the shaman before.

Ji-Ran's face set in grim lines. "I sent Isayah away because I had no wish to see him suffer punishment. If he were here, it would make no difference. Ran-Del will do as I tell him, and so will you. Go back to your room and wait, or I'll have you taken away by force."

Ran-Del held his breath. Mina stood, undecided. Ji-Ran stared at her, and a moment later, Mina cried out in pain and clutched her forehead.

"Grandmother!" Ran-Del called out to her, starting up from the floor in concern.

"I did not give you permission to speak, Ran-Del," Ji-Ran said, "or to rise."

Ran-Del felt a sudden, intense pain starting in his head and radiating out to his torso and then his limbs. It hurt worse than the medicine smoke headache, worse even than the charge of a shock rifle. He screamed and rolled on the floor in agony, fighting desperately to shut out the pain and not succeeding at all.

"Stop it!" Mina said. "Stop hurting him." She half stood and half leaned against the main support pole that held up the ceiling.

The pain stopped. Ran-Del lay still.

"Now," Ji-Ran said, "you will leave this room, Mina, and wait until I tell you that you may come in."

Mina turned and almost staggered as she bent over to negotiate the doorway. Ji-Ran turned his attention back to Ran-Del.

A moan escaped Ran-Del. He rolled onto his side.

"You will resume your place, Ran-Del," his great-grandfather said.

Ran-Del dragged himself back to the patch of bare earth and lay face down again. His mind still reeled from the barrage of pain so he invoked the Third Discipline to regain control. Once he had achieved samad state, he felt his mind and body returning to normal. After a while he brought himself out of samad state to consider his great-grandfather's actions.

Fear gripped Ran-Del. His great-grandfather had never done anything so unexpected or behaved so callously. Abruptly, Ran-Del remembered the seeing that morning. What vision could his great-grandfather have had? Ran-Del could think of nothing that justified such a combination of arrogance, cruelty, and secrecy.

Ji-Ran stayed where he was, unmoving, for quite some time. Ran-Del thought the old man might have fallen asleep. Time dragged slowly. Ran-Del couldn't see the ceiling flaps, so he had no clue as to how late it was when Ji-Ran stirred in his chair, sitting up straighter and opening his eyes wide. He looked expectantly at the door and in a few seconds there was a firm knock on the door frame.

"You may enter, Francesca Hayden," Ji-Ran said.

Francesca lifted the curtain and ducked into the doorway, glancing around the room as she entered. Her eyes went wide when she saw Ran-Del lying in the dirt.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, utterly oblivious to the need for any greeting.

"Nothing that need concern you," Ji-Ran said pleasantly.

"Why is Ran-Del lying on the ground?" Francesca said, coming closer.

"Ran-Del is showing contrition," Ji-Ran said. "When someone breaks a rule, it's our custom that he should express his penitence in this way."

"Yeah?" Francesca said flippantly. "Whoever made up that custom didn't have to do the laundry. What rule did Ran-Del break?"

Ran-Del gritted his teeth at having to listen to them discussing him as if he weren't in the room. He wanted to tell Francesca to leave, but he couldn't speak without permission.

Ji-Ran studied the outland woman from under his brows, his head drooping as if he were tired. "The rule of obedience. I've given Ran-Del an order, and he has refused to obey it."

Francesca looked over at Ran-Del again. "Are you going to make him lie there until he does what you want?"

Ji-Ran's mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles. "I would if I could. But I don't have that kind of time. Ran-Del can be very stubborn."

Francesca lifted her eyebrows. "I can see where he gets it."

Ji-Ran's smile widened. "It's refreshing for me to have a conversation with someone who's not in awe of me."

Francesca almost snorted. "I'm not in awe of anyone. If you ask me," she shot a look at Ran-Del, still lying silently on the ground, "there's entirely too much awe around here."

Ran-Del clamped his mouth tighter. Sooner or later Great-grandfather would ask her to leave, but in the meantime, Ran-Del had to bear her comments in silence.

"Doesn't he get to talk?" Francesca asked when Ji-Ran made no reply.

"No," Ji-Ran said, "not until I say so."

Francesca cocked an eye at Ran-Del. "Is that true, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del didn't let himself even meet her gaze, let alone answer her. Somehow her presence made his posture humiliating in a way that it had never been before, not since the first time he was judged old enough to suffer this particular form of punishment.

Ji-Ran chuckled softly. "Ran-Del won't speak. He's a Sansoussy, and a Sansoussy is nothing without discipline. Right now, he's wishing that you would go away."

Francesca looked faintly disgusted. "Is it considered good manners to reveal what someone else is thinking?"

Ji-Ran laughed out loud. "You really are good for me. I wish you could visit for longer than a few days."

Francesca's head came up. "A few days? You said my father would be here tomorrow."

Ji-Ran nodded. "Certainly. He should arrive around midday. I'll speak with him, and if all goes well, we'll hold the betrothal tomorrow night."

Ran-Del held in a groan. If the old man felt secure enough to tell her about his plan, then he fully intended it to happen.

Francesca's eyes locked on the shaman's face. "Betrothal? What betrothal?"

"Why, yours and Ran-Del's, of course."

Francesca stared at the old shaman without speaking for several seconds. She looked from his face to Ran-Del lying prone on the floor. "It seems I'm not the only one with an insane relative, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del ached to jump up and shout at her to go, but if he moved or spoke before his great-grandfather released him from punishment, it would give the old man a reason to punish him further.

Francesca's face tightened and her mouth set in a firm line. "So, is that the order that Ran-Del refused to obey?"

Ji-Ran smiled with satisfaction. "You're not stupid, at any rate."

Francesca folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "You can let him up now. It doesn't matter whether Ran-Del is willing to obey you or not. _I_ have no intention of going through with my father's scheme. What I really want to know is, why would you want him to go along with it? What does it buy you?"

Ran-Del wanted to know, too. But would the old man tell Francesca more than he had told Ran-Del?

Ji-Ran held out his hand. "Give me your hand, Francesca."

She hesitated, then held her right hand out reluctantly.

Ji-Ran reached for it and grasped it firmly. "Do you know what I saw when I first took your hand, Francesca Hayden?"

"No," she said. "I only know that whatever it was made you hold a seeing today."

Ji-Ran nodded. "You're quite right. I had to hold the seeing because I needed more information. When I took your hand, I saw my great-great-grandchild. There might be more children later, of course. I can only see a limited distance into the future."

Ran-Del swallowed convulsively. If that was true, had the seeing somehow revealed a reason why only the outland woman could perpetuate Ji-Ran's line? But that wasn't possible. Francesca's children would be outlanders, not Sansoussy.

Francesca stared at the old man. "How the hell could you know that?" She pulled her hand away. "Even if you had a vision of me with a baby or something, how could you know it was your great-great-grandchild?"

"Well," Ji-Ran said reasonably, "it was Ran-Del's child, therefore, it must be my great-great-grandchild. One thing follows the other, you see?"

Francesca used an expletive. Ran-Del flinched, but Ji-Ran didn't look offended.

She glanced at Ran-Del again. "Are you just going to lie there in the dirt? Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Ran-Del?"

He gritted his teeth. Didn't she understand anything about manners or duty? A long silence filled the room.

"I told you he wouldn't speak," the shaman said. "Perhaps it would be best if you were to leave. You really are making him uncomfortable."

Francesca made a suggestion that was totally at odds with Ji-Ran's dignity and position.

The old man smiled at her. "You and Ran-Del should deal well together. He has a tendency to take himself too seriously."

"Ran-Del wants to marry Bettine," Francesca said sharply.

Ji-Ran made a noise of disgust. "Ran-Del wants to sleep with Bettine. If I had allowed them to marry, they'd be miserable by now. Bettine feels nothing for Ran-Del, and he knows it. After only a few days in his company, you already care for him more than she does, and she's known him all her life."

Ran-Del darted a look at Francesca before he could stop himself. Did she really care for him? He knew she didn't dislike him, but it seemed too soon for her to have formed any real attachment.

Francesca opened her mouth to speak and then bit her lip.

"It doesn't matter how good a liar you are with me," Ji-Ran said. "I know you must find that frustrating. It's annoying to have perfected a skill and find that it now has no utility."

"See here," Francesca said angrily, "I don't know much about how your gift works, but I don't see how what you see could always be the only alternative. Why has this maternal vision of me inspired you to force Ran-Del to comply with my Pop's half-baked plan?"

It was a good question. Ran-Del waited to see what his great-grandfather would say.

Ji-Ran nodded in appreciation. "You're right, Francesca. There is more to it than that. I'm afraid I can't tell you all of it. Sometimes it's more dangerous to know too much than to know too little."

"That's a convenient piece of garbage," Francesca said crudely. "It's easy to say you see something and insist on having your way if you won't explain what it was you saw."

Finally, Ji-Ran seemed annoyed by her disrespectful manner. "Ran-Del is my great-grandson. Do you think I'd propose this course of action if I didn't think it was the best thing to do? Do I seem to you to be willing to sacrifice my family for no reason?"

"No," Francesca said levelly. "I think you'd sacrifice them in a second if you had a good enough reason. I just want to know what that reason is."

She had sized his great-grandfather up quite well. Ran-Del wished he could believe Ji-Ran would tell her what she wanted to know.

"I, on the other hand," Ji-Ran said, "have no intention of telling you. All I will say is that Ran-Del's destiny lies in your city. If you chose not to marry him, then I'll give him to your father as a chattel."

Ran-Del felt his heart sink even more. He had no hope if that was the case.

Francesca said nothing. She looked at Ran-Del expectantly. He kept his mouth tightly closed and tried not to meet her gaze.

"Well," Francesca said grimly, "you've given me something to think about."

Ji-Ran leaned back in his chair again, and waved one hand as wearily if it held a heavy weight. "Go away. I still have to deal with Ran-Del, and I'm very tired."

Francesca glanced at Ran-Del again. He kept his eyes averted.

"I'm going now, Ran-Del," she said. "You can tell me later how you feel about all this."

He made no answer, and Ji-Ran didn't speak again. At last, Francesca ducked out the door. Ran-Del let out a silent breath of relief.

The shaman waited until she was out voice range. "You may get up now, Ran-Del, and kneel by the fire."

Ran-Del pulled himself up cautiously. Since he was directed to kneel, it meant that he was to be punished further. What form that punishment would take was unclear, but at least Francesca wouldn't be there to witness it. Ran-Del walked to the fireplace and sank down on his knees on the carpet. Ji-Ran struggled to his feet and walked slowly to where Ran-Del knelt.

"I told you that I won't tolerate disobedience, Ran-Del," the old shaman said. "I'll give you one last chance to avoid punishment. Will you do as I say and go to the city to live?"

Ran-Del drew in a breath, held it, let it out. He felt as if he were walking through the forest blindfolded. Ji-Ran had made a decision but refused to explain why. Ran-Del had to either accept his edict and sacrifice himself for some unknown reason, or defy his shaman and take the consequences. "No, Great-grandfather. I won't."

Ji-Ran nodded as if he had expected that answer. He sighed briefly, and took a large steel rod from the rack on the side of the fireplace. He gave it a cursory inspection, and then shoved it into the fire. Ran-Del's heart sank; the rod was twice as long and half again as thick as any his grandfather had ever used for punishment. He thought for just a moment about telling his great-grandfather that he would obey him and then pushed the thought away from him. Punishment might be harsh, but it was, after all, temporary. He would live through it, and then the outlanders would go away and leave him alone.

"You have some time to think about it," Ji-Ran said dryly. "It'll take several minutes for the steel to get hot."

Ran-Del didn't answer. He didn't even consider asking his great-grandfather not to punish him. It would be useless.

Ji-Ran sat back down on his chair and watched him kneel in the firelight. Ran-Del stared back at him. It was getting dim in the room, and the flickering light from the fire made his great-grandfather's features stand out in sharp relief. Ji-Ran's face had never looked so craggy or so old.

Neither of them spoke; the silence in the room continued as the light got dimmer. Finally, Ji-Ran dragged himself to his feet again and walked slowly to the fireplace. He wrapped a cloth around the end of the rod and lifted it from the fire with both hands. The metal glowed white hot.

"Will you obey me, Ran-Del?" Ji-Ran asked.

"No, Great-grandfather."

"Then you must suffer punishment."

Ran-Del took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. "Where?"

His great-grandfather held the rod out toward him. "Grasp the rod in your left hand," he said, "and lay your arm against it until I say you can let go."

Ran-Del swallowed hard. Not only pain, but shame. A scar on his arm would show all the time, except in deepest winter—just like Ji-Ran's own scar. Ran-Del held out his hand. He could feel the heat of the metal without even touching it. It took all the force of his will to make his hand close the distance and grasp the rod near the cloth. Instantly, his hand clenched in pain. He jerked back involuntarily, set his jaw tightly to keep from screaming, and then laid his arm on the white hot metal. The pain spread, shooting up his arm in fierce waves of intense agony. Ran-Del couldn't hold back a gasp. His body jerked convulsively, and then he clamped his jaw shut again.

It seemed to go on forever, but it was only a matter of a few seconds before Ji-Ran nodded. "Enough! Let go!"

Ran-Del had difficulty making the fingers of his left hand move enough to release the rod. Ji-Ran had to pull it away from him. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. A sudden weakness overtook Ran-Del. He swayed back and forth on his knees. Ji-Ran gripped him by the shoulder to keep him from falling.

Ran-Del struggled to control the pain.

His Great-grandfather's grip tightened for a moment. "You will not use the Disciplines, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del couldn't bring himself to answer, but he obeyed. He had to accept punishment or agree to leave the Sansoussy forever. He held his tortured left arm in front of him, a mass of seared flesh and tormented nerves. Ran-Del closed his eyes and willed himself not to feel the pain. It didn't work.

His hand, in particular, throbbed in anguish. He opened his eyes and looked at his fingers. Tiny bits of flesh had stuck to the rod when he had pulled away from it. The band that Stefan Hayden had secured around his left wrist was still there, and it marked the only place on his inner arm where the flesh wasn't seared. The rod had been hot enough to leave a black mark on the band, but it hadn't visibly damaged it in any other way.

Ran-Del felt sick to his stomach. He looked away, not wanting to study his own brutalized flesh.

"Now," Ji-Ran said, still gripping his shoulder, "will you obey me, Ran-Del?"

"No, Great-grandfather." Ran-Del tried to make his answer firm, but he knew his voice sounded weak.

Ji-Ran said nothing for several seconds. He seemed reluctant to proceed with whatever course he had chosen, but finally he spoke. "Very well, Ran-Del. Even after punishment, you have chosen not to obey your shaman. There is no place in the Falling Water Clan for such disobedience. You will be cast out."

For a moment, Ran-Del didn't even feel the pain in his arm, his shock was so complete. To be cast out was worse than death. When you died, your family mourned you. If you were cast out, it was as if you had never been born. No one was allowed even to speak your name.

Ji-Ran let go of Ran-Del's shoulder and strode back to his chair. He sat down heavily and studied Ran-Del. "I have summoned Doan. When she comes, I'll ask her to gather the elders. Remove your caste bracelet."

Ran-Del didn't even try. The bracelet was on his right wrist, and his left hand was now useless. "Please, Great-grandfather. Please don't do this."

Ji-Ran frowned. "You still have a choice, Ran-Del."

There was a knock on the door frame.

"Come, Doan," Ji-Ran said.

The elder ducked through the door and straightened up, taking in the setting with one quick glance. "So it's come to this?" she asked Ji-Ran.

He nodded. "He needs help removing his bracelet."

She stepped over to Ran-Del and lifted his limp right arm. Ran-Del didn't struggle as she slid the knot that loosened his caste bracelet and slipped the bracelet from his wrist. There was no point in struggling. His life as a Sansoussy was over.

"Give it to me," Ji-Ran commanded, "and fetch the elders now."

"Yes, Ji-Ran." She handed him the bracelet, bowed as she left, and then ducked back through the doorway as silently as she had come.

Ran-Del couldn't maintain his posture any longer. He sank to the floor in a limp heap and looked up at his father's father's father. "Please don't cast me out, Great-grandfather."

"I am no longer your great-grandfather," Ji-Ran said, his voice stern as he tossed the caste bracelet onto the floor at his feet. "And soon I won't be your shaman. Ran-Del Jahanpur will cease to be—not only to me, but to Isayah and to Mina, and to the rest of the village—even to Laiza Ramakdawala."

Ran-Del felt an enormous sorrow well up inside of him. "Why? Why, Great-grandfather? What have I done?"

"You have disobeyed me."

Ran-Del bowed his head and let out a deep, shuddering sob. There was only one way out. Anything was better than this. "Very well, Great-grandfather. I'll do as you wish."

Ji-Ran pushed himself up with one arm. "You'll marry the outland woman?"

"Yes, Great-grandfather."

"And go to live in the city with her and her father?"

"Yes, Great-grandfather."

Ji-Ran let out a sigh of relief and bent down to pick up the caste bracelet. He straightened up with an effort, groaning as his back creaked audibly. "Come here, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del staggered to his feet and shambled over to him.

"Give me your hand," Ji-Ran ordered.

Ran-Del held out his right hand numbly, and Ji-Ran slipped the bracelet on and tightened it.

"There," he said. "I've let Doan know the elders won't be needed. You can go to your grandmother now, and let her tend the burn, and then you may use any Discipline except the Fifth."

"Very well, Great-grandfather." It was only a temporary respite. Soon, he would be forced to leave this place again, and all the people he loved.

"You can come back to visit, if you wish," Ji-Ran said. "But don't visit too often. You must make your way in the city. That's where your fate lies."

Ran-Del didn't answer. Oblivious to the pain the movement caused him, he tucked his right wrist under his left arm as if to keep his bracelet safe from anyone who might try to take it away again.

There was an insistent scratching at the door.

"He's coming, Mina," Ji-Ran said.

Mina pulled aside the curtain for Ran-Del and gasped when she saw his injured arm. Ran-Del straightened up beside her in the storage room and found himself shaking all over.

Mina threw her arms around him, taking care not to crush his burned arm. "Oh, Ran-Del! Ran-Del, I'll miss you so!"

"I'll miss you, Grandmother." Ran-Del returned her embrace as best he could. The full import of his great-grandfather's edict hit him, and he laid his head on Mina's shoulder and wept as he hadn't wept since the day that Isayah had taken him from his mother's house.

### Chapter Eleven

Lying on his bed, immersed in samad state, Ran-Del became aware of his grandfather's presence. He pulled himself back to consciousness, breathing in deeply, and feeling the dull throbbing in his left arm.

Isayah stood beside his bed.

"Grandfather," Ran-Del said weakly. He would have stood to greet his grandfather properly, but the older man crouched down and held him by the shoulders as soon as he sat up. Ran-Del took a quick glance at the open ceiling flaps and saw by the sun that it was early in the afternoon.

"Stay where you are," Isayah said. "Tell me what happened, Ran-Del! Your grandmother is so deep in samad state I feared to disturb her. How did you get the burn on your arm?"

Ran-Del's voice caught in this throat as he said the words. "Great-grandfather punished me for refusing to obey him. He ordered me to go back to the city with Stefan Hayden. He wants me to marry Francesca and leave the Sansoussy forever."

Isayah's eyes burned brightly with fury. "I knew there was something wrong! I was only an hour away from the village when I felt it. That's when I discovered that my escort was there to keep me from returning. What did Father do?"

Ran-Del leaned against the roof pillar and related the events of the night before.

Isayah sucked in his breath when Ra-Del finished. "You agreed to go with the outlanders?"

Ran-Del shut his eyes. "Yes, Grandfather." He opened his eyes and let out a ragged breath. "I said I'd marry Francesca and live with her in the city. In return, Great-grandfather told me that I could come back sometimes, to visit."

Isayah uttered an expletive that Ran-Del had never heard him use. "He kept at you until you agreed to it, right then and there? He couldn't wait, not even a day?"

"He didn't want to wait. He told Grandmother he had sent you away to spare you punishment."

Concern seeped into Isayah's rage. "Is your grandmother all right? Did she interfere again?"

"She's fine. She's tired because she treated me for most of the night, trying to make my arm heal as much as possible."

Isayah looked down at Ran-Del's left arm where the skin was red and puckered. Nascent scar tissue ran in a straight line of thick ridges down Ran-Del's inner arm to the metal band on his wrist, then blossomed out to cover his palm and his fingers. It looked very tender, but it looked as if it had had weeks to heal instead of hours.

"Your grandmother worked very hard," Isayah said. "I don't know if I can do anything for you, Ran-Del, but I'll try."

The curtain over the door whipped back, and a brown-haired woman straightened up and strode angrily into the room. "Do you know what your father has done, Isayah Jahanpur?"

At the sight of her, Ran-Del struggled to his feet, standing with his head bowed, waiting.

"I know now," Isayah answered her with icy calm. "I didn't know what he planned when I left here yesterday."

"He's given Ran-Del away like a hunter whose kill is too big to eat by himself—as if he had no use for him, so these outlanders might as well have him."

Ran-Del flushed but said nothing.

His grandfather didn't argue. "I'm going to see my father now," he said, with a formal bow. "I'll leave you alone with Ran-Del."

The woman stepped aside so that he could leave the tiny room. Tall, well into her middle seasons, she was aging gracefully. She wore her thick chestnut brown hair in wide braids pinned on top of her head and moved with quick, efficient movements that Ran-Del remembered well even though he hadn't seen her for months. Even with his eyes downcast he knew she was coming closer. He waited respectfully for her to speak first.

"I wish I could say that it's good to see you, Ran-Del," she said. "But I don't really feel it in these circumstances."

Ran-Del raised his eyes and kept to the traditional greeting. "It's good to see you, Mother."

She embraced him. Ran-Del held her tightly with his good arm until she pulled away from him.

"Let me see your arm," she commanded.

Ran-Del held out his left arm and his mother inspected the damage.

"That woman did a good job." She sounded regretful at having to admit it. "It must have hurt a great deal."

"It did," Ran-Del said. "But it feels much better now."

Laiza touched his face gently. "So, you're going to marry this stranger and go away from us forever?"

Ran-Del swallowed as he recalled his capitulation. "I had no choice, Mother. Great-grandfather would have cast me out. Even your clan would have honored his decision. What else could I do?"

She laid her hand on his cheek. "Do you care for this woman at all, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del looked away. He wished he knew the answer himself. "I suppose so. Francesca's not unpleasant or unkind."

Laiza's mouth tightened into a hard, straight line. "She had better be good to you, or she'll have me to deal with, no matter how far away her city is."

Ran-Del took her hand. He could feel her caste bracelet under his thumb—a brown bead for her native family, one blue one for the Ramakdawala, a clan stone for the Standing Rock Clan, and four green beads, for her four children. There were no white beads because her mother and grandmother were both dead, and there was no sky-gold bead because she had no psy talent at all.

"I always used to think the old man blamed me when you didn't inherit much of his gift," Laiza said. "I hope that's not why he's giving you away like this."

Ran-Del shook his head. "I don't think so, Mother. He has only two descendents, and he's always known how many glass beads we each have."

His mother's face took on a sour look. "He'll have more descendants soon enough."

Ran-Del frowned. "More descendants? But my children won't be Sansoussy, and there's no one else but–" He broke off in surprise as he guessed her meaning. "Grandfather?"

Laiza nodded. "The old man means to order him to take a second wife."

"What young woman would tie herself to a man Grandfather's age—" Ran-Del stopped himself as he realized there was one young woman among the Falling Water People who would be more than willing.

His mother put her arm on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ran-Del. I know you wanted her, but you're better off without her. She looked like she'd eaten a whole plate of cakes, she was so pleased with herself."

"Bettine will marry Grandfather?" In the back of his mind, anger and intense jealousy exploded into rage. It disturbed him to feel that way about his grandfather, and he was glad that his mother had no psy sense, so that she couldn't feel it, too.

"She's agreed to do so," Laiza said. "It only remains for that dried up old stick to persuade his son to obey him."

Ran-Del drew his brows together in a tight frown. "I hope Grandfather keeps his head. If Great-grandfather gets angry with him, he may decide that Grandfather isn't too old to punish."

His mother moved her arm to encircle his shoulders. "It's hard for me to worry about any of them. They took you away from me once, and now they're going to do it again."

Ran-Del sighed. The only good thing about going to the city was that he would no longer be pulled in two directions between his mother and his clan. "I wish I knew why this was happening, Mother. I wish I knew what it was Great-grandfather saw in his vision."

***

Stefan Hayden took the camera Hiram Toth handed him and clipped it onto his collar. "Now, you remember what I said," he repeated, for the assembled guards' benefit. A squad of his security staff sat in two rows in the belly of the flyter, ready to go, just in case. "You monitor me every minute, but you don't make a move unless I call for you or I'm actually attacked."

"Yes, sir," Hiram said. "I don't mind telling you, Baron, I'll be glad when you and Miss Francesca are both out of there."

"So will I," Stefan said. "But I confess, I'm looking forward to meeting Ran-Del's ancestors." He glanced over at the monitor behind Toth. "Everything's still okay with Francesca's vital signs?"

Toth turned and checked the panel. "She's just fine, sir. Still no readout on the wild man since last night. Maybe they got the band off of him the same way they cut the cable?"

"Maybe," Stefan agreed, walking past the squad to the small, square platform set into the floor of the stern-most part of the flyter. "I'd better get going. Set me down now, will you, Toth?"

Hiram stepped to another console and activated a switch. There was a low humming sound, and the transport pad began to move downward.

When he was halfway to the ground, Hiram's voice called down to him. "Good luck, Stefan!"

Stefan waved as the platform descended swiftly through the canopy of trees and into the shade of the forest.

After the pad set down on the ground, Stefan consulted the position indicator on his com and set off through the trees. He came to a path and started down it. After a short while, he spotted a tiny pile of pebbles with a scrap of gold-colored cloth, the mark of the Falling Water People. He was in the right place.

A moment later, a flash of russet moving behind a tree caught his eye. They were letting him know he was being watched. He kept walking, and in a few minutes, a gray-haired man stepped onto the path. Stefan recognized him and stood politely, waiting for the older man to speak first.

"I greet you, Stefan Hayden," the Sansoussy said.

"I greet you," Stefan said with a bow of respect. "I don't know your name, but I suspect you're Ran-Del Jahanpur's grandfather."

"I am Isayah Jahanpur," the man said. "And Ran-Del is my grandson." He studied Stefan Hayden for a moment, and Stefan knew that his mind was being probed as much as was allowed for strangers just meeting.

"You've been watching us?" Isayah said.

"Yes," Stefan said. "I wanted to be sure Francesca was safe. She's my only child."

"I lost my only child long ago," Isayah said. "Ran-Del is all I have left of him."

Stefan had the grace to feel embarrassed. "I'm sorry; I was desperate. I would have let him send you word, eventually."

Isayah didn't answer at once. "Come," he said abruptly. "Francesca is eager to see you."

Stefan followed the Sansoussy as he led the way. After a few minutes, they came to the edge of the village. It looked much like Vivek Nayar's village, except that it was larger and even more spread out.

Isayah walked swiftly past several houses. People working in their gardens looked up as they passed and gave them curious glances but no one spoke until an attractive young woman with golden hair stopped hoeing a row of vegetables and stepped over to the path.

"Good afternoon, Isayah," she called.

Stefan was surprised at the older Sansoussy's reaction. He looked almost angry as he replied curtly; he didn't even pause to speak to her, but kept walking past her without a backward glance.

When Stefan looked back, the woman smiled smugly and went back to her work.

Isayah led the way to a large, rambling house in the center of the village. Stefan followed him through a storage room, and then into what looked like a bedroom. The Sansoussy kept going through it into another bedroom. Sitting on the low bed, looking thoroughly disgusted was Stefan's only child.

"Pop!" she cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around him as Isayah slipped from the room.

"Francesca!" Stefan responded, hugging her so tightly that she squeaked.

She hugged him back for a few seconds and then pushed him away. "Where the hell have you been, Pop? And what do you mean by dumping me out in the middle of nowhere without so much as a change of clothes?"

"I'm glad to see you, too."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Talk, Pop! Give me an excuse for chaining me to a man with a flexitron cable only two meters long. Do you have any idea what it was like, being dragged across the countryside by an angry Sansoussy?"

Stefan looked her up and down, immensely relieved to see her looking so well. "You seemed to have survived unharmed. Sansoussy clothes suit you nicely."

Francesca made a face. "Humph! For all you knew, I'd been eaten by coyotes!"

Stefan took her right wrist and tapped the manacle. "On the contrary, I knew you were in good health, and I always knew right where you were. There's a transponder in each of these, along with a medical monitor to check your vital signs."

His explanation made Francesca look even more annoyed. "I should have known you'd have a way to check up on me." She shot a closer look at his collar. "Is that a camera?"

Stefan nodded. "Say hello to Toth. I'm sure he's relieved to see you."

Francesca smiled and waved at the camera. "Hello, Hiram. Can he hear us, Pop?"

Stefan pulled the camera from his collar, and then switched off the audio. "Not now," he said, restoring the camera to its position on his collar. "Did you need to tell me something, Francesca?"

"You bet I do."

There was a soft scratching on the door frame and the curtain was pulled back. Isayah came back into the room. "My father would like to see you, Stefan Hayden."

Stefan looked at his daughter.

She shrugged. "Looks like you're going to hear it from someone else."

"All right," Stefan said to Isayah. "I'd like to meet your father."

Isayah had no objection to Francesca's accompanying them, so the three of them made their way to Ji-Ran Jahanpur's great room.

The old shaman sat in a high-backed carved chair. A woman with gray-streaked hair sat, silent and disapproving, on a smaller chair on one side of the room. Stefan guessed her to be Ran-Del's grandmother, because Ran-Del stood very close to her. Ran-Del's resigned expression hardened into anger when he looked at Stefan, but he said nothing.

Isayah stayed back and let Stefan approach his father alone. Stefan stopped the proper distance away, and bowed his head respectfully.

Ji-Ran Jahanpur chuckled faintly. "You have very good manners for a kidnapper. I greet you, Stefan Hayden."

"I greet you, Ji-Ran Jahanpur," Stefan said, raising his head to look the old shaman full in the face.

"Sit," Ji-Ran said, waving to a stool on his other side. "You've met my son. This is Mina, his wife." He nodded to the disapproving woman.

Stefan took a seat cautiously. He hadn't expected to be treated so courteously, not after what he had done.

Ji-Ran Jahanpur must have read his surprise. "It's fortunate for you that I had psy sense enough to find Ran-Del. He'd never have stayed willingly in your city, and Francesca is too fond of him to trick him."

Stefan shot a surprised look at his daughter who had taken a seat on a bench a little behind him. When she made no comment, he turned back to the shaman. "It was an ill-considered plan. Ideas born of desperation are often wild and unmanageable."

"True," Ji-Ran said. "Yet even wild ideas can plant the seeds for a more well-thought out course of action."

Such a soft—and unexpected—answer! "I suppose they can."

"Do you still wish to marry your daughter to my great-grandson?" Ji-Ran asked politely.

Stefan rocked on his heels. He looked at Ran-Del and noted that his face had assumed a stony imperturbability, as if he were determined not to reveal his feelings. Could this be a trap of some kind, to trick Stefan into breaking a Sansoussy law so that he could be punished? Or could there still be hope for his plan?

"It's not a trick," Ji-Ran said. "It's an offer made in good faith. If your daughter is willing to marry Ran-Del, they can be betrothed tonight."

Stefan focused on not letting his jaw drop or his delight show. "Has Ran-Del agreed to this?"

"He has."

Francesca jumped up from her seat, arms at her sides and hands clenched into fists. Stefan knew the signs. She was mad as hell. "Well, I'm not willing! Ran-Del only said yes after you burned half his arm off. You tortured him to make him say he'd do this, but you can't make me go along with it."

Stefan looked from one Sansoussy face to the other, totally at a loss. Mina's expression stayed calm, but Stefan could see that she was unhappy. Isayah looked grim. Ran-Del was still stone-faced, while his great-grandfather seemed unperturbed by the accusation.

"Ran-Del," Ji-Ran called. "Come here, please."

Ran-Del stepped forward so that he stood in front of his great-grandfather. Stefan noted with a shock the new scar tissue on his left arm.

"Did I torture you, Ran-Del?" Ji-Ran asked.

"No, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del answered.

"And did you agree to marry Francesca because I had burned you, or because I threatened to burn you again?"

"No, Great-grandfather."

Francesca frowned. "I don't believe it."

Ji-Ran raised his eyebrows. "Do you think Ran-Del is lying?"

"No," Francesca said, reluctance in her voice. "He wouldn't lie. But you're not telling the whole truth, either."

"I seldom do." Ji-Ran smiled pleasantly at Francesca. "Very well, Francesca Hayden, if you choose not to marry Ran-Del, then he'll go to your city as your father's chattel. Is that acceptable to you, Stefan Hayden?"

Stefan stared. What kind of game was the old shaman playing? Stefan had never heard of such a thing in any Sansoussy village. "You're giving me Ran-Del?"

"Yes." Ji-Ran nodded. "He's yours, to use as you see fit. You can make him into a guard, if you wish; he has enough psy sense to be useful for that purpose."

"Stop it!" Francesca looked ready to chew flexitron and spit it out.

Ran-Del stood stock still and didn't say a word.

"You stop being hateful to Ran-Del, old man," Francesca went on. "You're only doing this to make me feel bad, so I'll say yes, but it won't work, because Pop won't take Ran-Del back with us, will you, Pop?"

Stefan didn't answer right away. He glanced around the room, watching their reactions. Mina was looking pleased, perhaps because someone had told off her father-in-law. Isayah's face gave nothing away, and Ran-Del was staring bleakly but determinedly at the floor. Ji-Ran Jahanpur smiled at Francesca and waited. What to do? If the old man was truly behind this plan, Stefan could still assure Francesca's future—if she believed he'd take Ran-Del with them, no matter what.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Stefan said slowly, "but it really is too good a thing to pass up. We'll have someone who can tell us whether people are lying or telling the truth."

"Pop!" Francesca almost shouted. "It's not fair."

"I know it's not," Stefan said. He had to play his cards carefully. Francesca could be stubborn. "But I'm prepared to be unfair."

Francesca looked even angrier, but Mina interrupted before she could reply.

"Let them be alone," she said to Ji-Ran. "Let Ran-Del and this woman talk together before she decides."

Did the older woman know something? Stefan studied her caste bracelet. It depended on what ability had earned her the three sky-gold beads—or maybe on how well she knew her grandson.

Ji-Ran pondered for a few seconds and then nodded. "Very well. Ran-Del, take Francesca to your grandparents' quarters."

"Yes, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del said woodenly. He waited at the door for Francesca, who seemed uncertain whether she wanted to follow him or not. Finally, she glared first at Stefan and then at Ji-Ran and turned to go.

Stefan took a deep breath. He had cherished hopes of salvaging his plan in some way, but this level of assistance had never been on the agenda. He smiled at Ji-Ran Jahanpur. "Well, this has been very interesting."

***

Ran-Del didn't speak until he and Francesca were alone in Mina's great room. Ran-Del breathed in the familiar scent of herbs and dried vegetables. Soon they would be part of his past, but for now, they held comfort. "I appreciate that you're trying to help me, Francesca," he said, turning to face her, "but there's nothing you can do. Great-grandfather has made up his mind."

Francesca glared at him, as angry at him as she had been at the shaman. "How can you let him tell you what to do, Ran-Del? How could you let him burn you like that?"

"He didn't burn me," Ran-Del said, patient with her ignorance. She was, after all, trying to help him. "Great-grandfather held the rod, but I took it in my hand. Punishment is always self-inflicted."

"That only makes it worse." Francesca sounded disgusted. She glanced at his arm and opened her eyes wide in amazement. "How did it heal so much? It looked terrible last night."

"Grandmother treated me for hours," Ran-Del said. "She has a great gift for healing."

"Does it still hurt?"

"A little. We're not here to speak of my hurts, Francesca. We must speak of marriage."

She raised her face to his and met his eyes. "You don't want to marry me. You want to marry Bettine."

Ran-Del looked away and then made himself look back at her. He might as well tell her now. She would find out eventually. "Not anymore. Bettine is going to marry Grandfather."

Francesca's eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open in total surprise. "Marry—but—but Ran-Del, your grandfather is already married."

Ran-Del nodded. "In some cases, a shaman gives permission for a man or a woman to take a second spouse. In this case, Great-grandfather has told my grandfather he has to marry again because I'm leaving the clan. My children won't be Sansoussy, and the line mustn't die out."

Francesca still looked shocked. "Does Bettine know about this?"

"Yes. She agreed as soon as Great-grandfather asked her."

Francesca let a curse word slip out. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "But she really is a little bitch, isn't she?"

Ran-Del couldn't, with good manners, agree and he didn't want to lie, so he didn't answer.

"So what happens to your grandmother?" Francesca demanded.

"Grandmother?" Ran-Del asked, puzzled. "Nothing happens to Grandmother. Why should it?"

"You mean your grandfather will have two wives living here together with him?"

Ran-Del nodded. "Of course. Grandmother will be his first wife, and Bettine will have to defer to her in all things, even the care of the children."

Francesca shook her head as if she despaired of ever understanding. "Well, it sounds like a strange set-up to me."

Ran-Del was getting impatient. They had discussed nothing of importance. "How does our marriage sound to you, Francesca?"

She turned away from him suddenly, and took a deep breath. "I'd like the sound of it better if I didn't know that it took torture to make you agree to it."

Ran-Del took a step closer to her. "It wasn't this that made me agree," he said, holding out his scarred arm.

"Then what was it? Tell me and maybe I'll consider marriage."

Ran-Del mulled over the words in his mind before he began. "I'm a Sansoussy. It's who I am as much as what I am. Great-grandfather said if I didn't go away to the city with you, he'd cast me out of the clan. Every clan would shun me—and no Sansoussy would ever speak my name again. This way, I have to leave the forest, but I remain a Sansoussy."

Francesca turned around to face him almost radiating repulsion. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That sounds worse than torture."

"It was. I begged Great-grandfather not to do it. I never begged for leniency before, but he wouldn't yield. The only way I could keep him from casting me out was to agree to go live in the city."

"And marry me?" Francesca asked.

Ran-Del needed to make her see his reasoning or she would never agree, and he would be worse off than ever. "It was the city that made me refuse to obey, Francesca, not you. If Great-grandfather had told me that I might marry Bettine but only if we lived in the city, I would have refused."

She blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

She hesitated, and suddenly stepped closer. "Kiss me, Ran-Del."

The demand took him aback. "What?"

"Kiss me!" she said again. "You did it before, when we were alone on the plains. I want you to do it again."

A little unsure of himself, Ran-Del took her in his arms. As soon as he touched her, he could feel her desire. It kindled a similar ache in him and he pulled her closer. Francesca lifted her face, and Ran-Del bent down and kissed her fiercely.

Francesca was just as eager in her response and the kiss lasted for quite a while. When she finally pulled away from Ran-Del, Francesca was almost breathless.

"Umm," she said. "I think that told me what I want to know. If you find me repellent, you're hiding it very well."

"Of course I don't." Ran-Del had to take a quick breath to be able to answer her. "Why would you think so?"

Francesca touched the scar tissue on his arm. "Most men wouldn't face that kind of pain if they had a way out of it."

Ran-Del looked solemn. "That may be true in the city, but it's not true here."

"Maybe not. So what happens if I say yes, Ran-Del? Your great-grandfather seems in an all-fired hurry."

"He is. He wants us to be betrothed tonight."

Francesca tilted her head to look up at him. She was still quite close. "Does that mean we'd spend the night in the betrothal lodge?"

"Yes." Ran-Del knew his face reflected his embarrassment, but he didn't look away.

"And then what?"

"We'd share the same bed for as many as thirty days, and then we'd either be married or the betrothal would come to an end."

"What decides it? What determines whether we marry or break it off?"

"You do. A woman can end the betrothal any time she chooses. When a couple is betrothed, each of them has a small lock of the other's hair braided into his or her own hair. To break the betrothal, the woman simply unbraids her hair."

"Can't the man end it?"

Ran-Del flushed, mortified to have to explain such an intimate principle. "No. People say if he could, some men would be betrothed to every girl in the village and never marry any of them."

"Oh," Francesca said. "What if the woman decides she wants to go ahead with it?"

"She pins up her hair. Only married women can wear their hair up."

"And that's it? Just by putting in a few hairpins, a woman is married?"

"The man cuts his hair next," Ran-Del continued. "If one of them is changing clans, he or she changes his clan marker on his caste bracelet. After that, they show themselves, and everyone sees that they're married."

Francesca looked pensive. "So even if I agree to do this, I still have thirty days to decide if I want to actually get married?"

Ran-Del nodded. Did he want her to back out of it? Would Great-grandfather let him return if she ended their betrothal? Ran-Del didn't think so. He cleared his throat and explained the custom as best he could. "People say—" He stammered and started over. "People say a man has thirty days to—to make a woman happy, or she'll never agree to be his wife."

This made Francesca smile. "What about the woman? I mean, what's to stop a woman who wants to play around a little from becoming betrothed several times and always breaking off the engagement?"

"No woman would do that," Ran-Del said, horrified at the way her mind worked. "After three betrothals, men figure a woman is just too difficult to please."

Francesca laughed. "Only three? I'd never have made it in a Sansoussy village."

Ran-Del thought it best not to comment.

"All right," Francesca said resolutely. "Let's go back and tell them we've talked it over."

Ran-Del didn't move. "And what is your answer, Francesca?"

She tilted her head again. "My answer is yes. I'm rather looking forward to tonight."

Ran-Del didn't comment on this statement, either. He was trying to decide if he were glad or sorry that she was saying yes.

***

Francesca found Sansoussy ways very strange. Having agreed to the betrothal, she was whisked away to her room, where Mina took charge of preparing her for the ceremony. Francesca was washed, combed, and dressed, as if she were a small child.

What amazed Francesca most what that Mina no longer glowered or gave disapproving glances, but instead confined her negative remarks to worrying that there wasn't enough time to have a proper feast and fretting that Francesca's hair wouldn't be long enough to pin up when she married Ran-Del.

"I suppose it'll do," Mina said, pulling most of Francesca's hair up in a knot on top of her head. "If you have some really strong hairpins."

"Don't worry," Francesca said. "If I decide to put my hair up, I'll manage just fine."

"Of course you'll decide to do it," Mina said cheerfully. "What woman in her right mind would turn Ran-Del down?"

Francesca decided to be frank. "You sound as if you actually want me to marry him. I thought you didn't like me."

"You spoke up for Ran-Del," Mina said, briskly brushing out her attempts at fancy hairdressing. "You told his great-grandfather what you thought of him, too. I knew then that you really cared for Ran-Del. It wasn't just that you wanted to get him into your bed."

"Of course I care about him. But," Francesca added with a wry smile, "I won't deny that I do like the idea of Ran-Del in my bed."

Mina smiled back at her. "That'll help. It isn't all there is to marriage, but it's an important part of it."

"Tell me more about Sansoussy marriages," Francesca said. "I'd like to know what Ran-Del expects."

Mina complied, chattering away about what chores husbands and wives did until Francesca was dressed and adorned to her satisfaction.

"You wait here, sweetness," she said firmly. "I have to go put on a proper dress, and Ran-Del shouldn't see you until he comes to the feast."

Francesca looked down at herself. Mina had dressed her in a long gown of red cloth, embroidered with intricate designs and trimmed with tiny beads. It was a little short on Francesca, and a little loose.

There was a scratching on the door frame. Mina scurried for the door, but before she reached it, Stefan's head appeared in the doorway.

He looped back the curtain and came into the room. "Might I see my daughter alone, Mina?"

Mina sniffed in a way that suggested she might have forgiven Francesca but Stefan Hayden was another story. "Very well, but she must stay here until we're ready for her."

Stefan waited for the older woman to leave before he spoke. "How are you doing, Francesca?"

"I'm fine, Pop," she said, holding out Mina's hand mirror and trying to see how she looked. "Did you get the names?"

"Yes," Stefan said, handing her a slip of paper. "Try to study them as much as you can. You'll be expected to know them."

Francesca took the paper and scanned the names listed there; she read them carefully, muttering them to herself a couple of times.

"Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie?" Stefan asked abruptly. "I can get you out of it any time."

Francesca slipped the paper into a pocket of the red dress and looked him over. His brow had creased into a scowl, just as if a deal was about to go sour. "Are you having an attack of conscience, Pop?"

He let out a half-hearted sigh. "It was different when it was my idea. Now I feel just as caught up by this as Ran-Del must have felt. Why did the old man decide to go along with what Nisa and Toth both called my bat-brained scheme?"

"I don't know," Francesca said. "He held a seeing after Ran-Del and I arrived. He must have had some kind of vision, but he won't say what it was."

"I wish I knew," Stefan said, his forehead wrinkling further into an intense frown. He suddenly looked at her more closely. "Don't you look fine!"

"Thank you," Francesca said, surveying her ankles. "It's a little short because this was Mina's betrothal gown."

Stefan still looked uncomfortable. "I'd hate to think you were going into that betrothal lodge with any doubts."

Francesca snorted with amusement. "Now's a fine time to worry, Pop, after you left us out on the plains alone."

"I know, and I'm sorry. If there's one thing that being around Ji-Ran Jahanpur has brought home to me, it's that I've been damned arrogant and high-handed."

What was a few days in primitive conditions compared to the pleasure of hearing him admit he had been dictatorial! "Good! About time you realized it." Suddenly overcome by affection for him, she embraced him and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry about me, Pop. Absolutely nothing will happen in that lodge that I don't want to happen."

Stefan sighed. "Good. That's one less worry, anyway."

Before Francesca could answer, Ran-Del's mother suddenly spoke from outside the doorway. "Are you ready, Francesca Hayden?" Laiza asked formally.

"Yes," Francesca said. "I'm quite ready."

Mina was waiting for them in the front storage room. She smiled warmly at Francesca, gave Laiza a stern look, ignored Stefan altogether, and led the way to Ji-Ran Jahanpur's great room.

Francesca looked around the room. So this was her engagement party? The lanterns were all lit, and a fire burned in the fireplace. A long table had been set with several places and there were benches on both sides. Ji-Ran's chair had been moved to the head of the table, and he sat in it complacently.

Ran-Del was nowhere in sight. Isayah sat beside his father and there was an empty place next to him. Mina sat across from her husband, and Francesca realized that the arrangement of places was divided with the women on one side and the men on the other. Mina pulled Francesca down next to her, and waved Stefan to a place on the opposite bench. Laiza Ramakdawala sat on Francesca's other side and they all began to eat. Francesca was wondering when Ran-Del would make an appearance when there was a scratching on the door frame.

Isayah got up quickly and went to the doorway. When he pulled back the curtain, Ran-Del was crouched there, waiting.

"Come, Ran-Del," Isayah said, taking his hand.

As Ran-Del straightened up, Francesca saw that he wore a red vest embroidered with the same elaborate patterns found on her dress, and leather trousers with a row of red fringe down the sides. Isayah led him to the table and sat him down at the empty place next to himself and opposite Francesca.

Francesca began to eat, but she was nervous enough that she couldn't have said what she was eating. She noted that Ran-Del ate almost nothing.

When everyone had finished, and the plates had been cleared away to a wooden bin, Isayah and Ran-Del moved Ji-Ran's chair to its former place. The benches were placed on either side of the chair, and the others took their places again, men on one side, women on the other. Isayah began the ceremony by stepping up to his father's chair and bowing deeply.

"Shaman," he said, "on behalf of my descendent, Ran-Del Jahanpur, I ask that you sanction his union with this woman, Francesca Hayden."

"Let him come to me," Ji-Ran said.

Ran-Del rose and stood in front of his great-grandfather.

"Ran-Del Jahanpur," Ji-Ran said, "do you desire this union?"

"Yes, shaman," Ran-Del said. His voice was low but clear.

"Were you ever married?" Ji-Ran asked.

"No, shaman," Ran-Del said, his voice sounding stronger.

"Let the woman come," Ji-Ran said.

Mina got up and tugged Francesca along, stopping her when she reached the proper distance.

"Francesca Hayden," Ji-Ran said, "do you desire this union?"

"Yes, shaman," Francesca said firmly.

She answered just as steadfastly in the negative when he asked her if she had been married. Ji-Ran nodded his approval. Isayah handed him a bowl and a handful of pebbles.

"You will both recite to me the names of your ancestors," the shaman said.

Ran-Del stood up straighter. "My father is Gomah Jahanpur," he said, "and my mother is Laiza Hashem."

He waited, and Francesca realized she was supposed to name her parents. "My father is Stefan Hayden, and my mother is Jian Wah." She waited expectantly for Ran-Del to continue.

Ran-Del took up the thread. "My father's parents are Isayah Jahanpur and Mina Walloon. My mother's parents are Rabindrath Hashem and Alicia Fallows."

When Francesca listed the names of her grandparents, Ji-Ran nodded at each name but never dropped a pebble into the bowl.

Ran-Del rattled off the names of all eight great-grandparents' with no hesitation, but Francesca had to think back before she could name hers. Ran-Del had no more difficulty with his sixteen great-great-grandparents' names, but Francesca had to peek at her written list several times.

After the last name, Ji-Ran Jahanpur nodded and gave the empty bowl and the pebbles back to Isayah.

"The union is acceptable," he said as he handed Mina a pair of silver scissors. "You may prepare them."

Mina took the scissors and cut several strands of Ran-Del's hair. When she stepped up to Francesca, her brown eyes were filled with tears as she deftly braided the strands into a small hank of Francesca's hair. She smiled at Francesca and sniffed once as she tied off the end of the braid with a length of thin cord.

Next, she reached up with her scissors and Francesca felt a tug as the older woman cut her hair. Mina patted her on the shoulder before she moved to Ran-Del with a small hank of black hair in her hand. Ran-Del looked solemn as she braided Francesca's hair into his. When Mina had finished, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on his cheek.

"You may both approach," Ji-Ran said, looking so benign it was difficult to believe he had punished Ran-Del in such a barbaric fashion.

When they were right in front of him, Ji-Ran handed a cup of tea to Ran-Del, who immediately passed it to Francesca. Recalling Mina's instructions, Francesca drank half the tea and handed the cup back to Ran-Del.

He drained it, then tossed it to the ground and stomped it with his foot. Francesca heard the crack as it split in two.

Ji-Ran smiled and rose to his feet. "It is well. Let these two share their lives, until such time as they marry or part." He handed Francesca a small leather bag filled with exactly thirty pebbles. She knew from Mina's coaching that she should take one pebble out of the bag every night until she either married Ran-Del or ran out of pebbles.

"And if they part," Ji-Ran said, "it shall be as if their union had never been, but if they marry, then they shall keep faith with one another, until the day that death shall part them."

He smiled benignly at Ran-Del, who leaned over and kissed Francesca delicately on the mouth.

Francesca was glad for the warmth of his lips on hers. She felt rather as if she were dreaming. This bizarre ceremony seemed to be happening to someone else.

Mina gave a sigh, Laiza looked a little sad, and Ji-Ran stood up.

"Come along," he said briskly.

"Are you coming, Father?" Isayah asked.

"Certainly, I'm coming," Ji-Ran said. "Ran-Del is the only great-grandchild I'll ever see grown up. I couldn't miss escorting him to the betrothal lodge."

They formed a procession with Ji-Ran at the head of it, followed by Ran-Del and Francesca. It was dark, but one moon was almost full and a second was a bright, fat crescent in the night sky, so they could see without difficulty. When Francesca looked back, her father marched along with the others, smiling benignly at her and looking as pleased with himself as he ever had.

As she walked beside Ran-Del, close but never touching him, Francesca was surprised to find that she was feeling almost bashful. The unfamiliarity of the ceremony made Ran-Del seem like a stranger to her, and the few anxious glances she had cast in his direction hadn't reassured her. Ran-Del seemed distant, remote, as if his mind were elsewhere. Hopefully, he wouldn't want to spend the evening meditating.

She looked at him again, noting the athletic way he walked, the sharp line of his profile, the way his chest strained the laces of his vest. No, watching him meditate wasn't what she had in mind.

They reached the betrothal lodge in what seemed a very short time. A thin line of smoke drifted out of an open ceiling flap, giving the building an inhabited air. The group halted by the door, and formed a line on either side. Francesca was amused to see that her father knew what to do without any coaching.

Ran-Del murmured that Francesca must go in first. She walked down between the two lines of people hearing them offer good wishes for the future—a happy marriage and many children—and then she ducked into the doorway.

She found herself in a large, sparsely furnished room with a wide bed in the center. A shaft of moonlight came in through a ceiling flap, and a fire in a small brazier provided additional light. The fire smoked a little, the flames flickering and making shadows on the hide walls. Francesca took a deep breath. The smoky air had a familiar acrid tang—medicine wood. It wasn't nearly so strong as it had been when Ji-Ran Jahanpur held his seeing but it was noticeable nonetheless. She recalled the close quarters back at Ji-Ran Jahanpur's house, the way she could often overhear Mina and Isayah's conversation from her guest room. All in all, this wasn't a bad place to get laid.

Ran-Del came in and stood beside her.

"Well, Ran-Del," Francesca said. "Here we are. Is there any more to the ritual, or are we on our own?"

### Chapter Twelve

Acutely aware of the scent of burning medicine wood, Ran-Del glanced down at his betrothed—his betrothed! It seemed bizarre to describe Francesca that way. He had never heard of medicine wood burning in a betrothal lodge. Surely this was the strangest betrothal any Sansoussy had ever had. "There are no more words or actions that are prescribed," he said, trying not to sound stilted. "We can do whatever we please."

"Good." Francesca shot a quick glance around the single, open room of the lodge. "I'm going to sit down."

There was nowhere to sit except the wide, low bed. She plopped down on the end of it and leaned back with her weight on her hands. She seemed to Ran-Del to be glowing, and he realized it was because she was aroused.

To distract himself, Ran-Del took a moment to survey the room. There wasn't much to see. The lodge was large but quite bare. The bed occupied the center of the room, under the open ceiling flap, with the brazier near the foot so the smoke could get out easily. A small clothes chest stood against one wall. His grandmother had promised to stow their everyday clothes there, for tomorrow. Ran-Del hoped she had remembered. He didn't want to have to walk back to his own house decked out in betrothal clothes in broad daylight.

A pitcher of water and two cups sat on top of a corner cupboard; a chamber pot stood under the bed. There was nothing else.

"What is it?" Francesca asked. "Is anything wrong? You look a little ... abstracted."

"Nothing's wrong." Ran-Del sat down next to her. His great-grandfather must have known how Francesca would feel. Doubtless he had intended that the medicine smoke would make it impossible for Ran-Del not to know it.

Francesca slid a little nearer. "Nothing has to happen tonight, Ran-Del. If you don't want to do this, then don't. Your great-grandfather has no right to order your life like this."

Ran-Del shook his head, feeling as if he were moving in a fog. Her desire had almost a physical emanation, as if it were something in the air he was breathing. "I've said that I'll obey him, and I will. We will be betrothed."

Francesca laid a hand on his good arm, intensifying the feeling of arousal. "Even if something does happen, it doesn't mean you have an obligation to me—that you have to be tied to me forever. I'm not a dewy-eyed innocent. I've had many lovers."

Ran-Del could feel his blood pounding in his head in an unfamiliar rage. He eyed her hungrily, noting the lines of her body, the curve of her breasts under the beaded gown. The beads reflected the firelight, gleaming like a timber cat's eyes. He took her by the shoulders and held her so tightly that she winced. "Do you wish this betrothal, Francesca Hayden?"

Francesca stared into his eyes, meeting his gaze without wavering. "Yes, I do. I need a husband, and you suit me just fine."

He pushed her backwards, so that she was flat on her back, and held her down with his own body.

"Listen to me, Francesca," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm not some city dweller who holds nothing sacred but his own pleasures. I'm a man of the Sansoussy, a warrior. I will not be made into a nothing. If you become my wife, then you'll have no one in your bed but me. If I find another man there, I'll cut his heart out and make you eat it."

Francesca met his gaze with unblinking intensity. "Very well, Ran-Del. I'll abide by that rule, so long as it cuts both ways."

The idiom puzzled him; he stared at her in confusion.

"If I can't have lovers," Francesca said, "then you can't either. You have to be as faithful as you expect me to be."

He made an exclamation of disgust. "I don't plan to disgrace myself."

"See that you remember that," Francesca said, her tone almost scolding, "when some young nymph in a dress that conceals nothing but her motivation comes up to you at a party and offers you a tour of her bedroom."

Ran-Del curled his lip at the thought that he could be so weak as to forget his vows. "I care nothing for such amusements."

"What do you care for, then?" Francesca challenged him.

Ran-Del's body was pressed against hers, and he could feel her breath on his face. Her nearness was having an effect on him. "I care for you, Francesca." He kissed her.

She responded just as eagerly, caressing his sides with practiced ease. Breathless, Ran-Del unfastened the Sansoussy gown and pulled it off over her shoulders. The moonlight that came in through the ceiling flaps made her skin gleam golden, and the firelight flickered and made dappled patterns of light and shadow on her body.

Francesca slid Ran-Del's embroidered vest off, then reached for his trousers.

When they were both naked, Ran-Del stood up so he could see her better; he stared openly, enthralled by every line of her body. She let him look, taking her time in studying him, too, and then she pulled him down to the bed and began to caress him. Ran-Del felt her desire rise, and flow over him, and merge with his own needs. He gave himself up to it, letting her guide him at the same time she inflamed him with an aching need.

Eventually, they lay still, and Ran-Del pulled Francesca close to him to feel her warm, happy sense of satisfaction. He fell asleep feeling contented and more at peace than he had been since his great-grandfather had summoned him to his great room.

***

Ran-Del woke to darkness and the touch of rain drops on his skin. It took him a second to realize he was still in the betrothal lodge. He jumped up and quickly shut the ceiling flaps, leaving the room almost completely dark except for the dim glow of a few embers in the brazier. It must still be nighttime.

As he slipped back into bed, he felt a hand slide gently across his chest and down to his stomach.

"I was hoping you'd wake up," Francesca's voice said quietly.

"The rain woke me," Ran-Del said. "Were you already awake?"

"Yes." Francesca slid closer so that she was pressed against him. He could barely see her face. "How do you feel, Ran-Del? I hope you didn't hurt your arm."

"It feels all right. It's not bothering me."

"Good." She slid her hand upward and stroked his neck. "Did you enjoy your first time?"

"Yes. I would have thought you could tell that."

She chuckled softly. "I don't have psy sense, remember? And besides, it's nice to hear it out loud."

"Did you enjoy it?"

She leaned her head back on the pillow. "Very much—and I know you already knew that. It took me a while to figure out why it was so different with you, and then I realized that you knew when I liked what you were doing in a way that no man ever did before."

Hearing her talk so calmly about other lovers distressed him. "I know there have been other men in your bed, but I must ask you not to speak of them to me."

Francesca moved her hand up his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. "Just so you understand that I'm not ashamed of my life. My code may have been different from yours, but I still had one."

Ran-Del nodded and Francesca pulled his head down and kissed him. Ran-Del knew what she wanted; he had known since she first touched him, and by now, he wanted it, too. He responded warmly to the kiss, and ran his hand down her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin. She reciprocated, and Ran-Del found it hard to distinguish between her sense of arousal and his own.

There was no medicine smoke this time, but Ran-Del was so attuned to her now that he felt her perceptions just as strongly as before. If anything, he was more immersed in the experience than he had been the first time.

When they had finished and Francesca curled up against him, Ran-Del relished her glow of gratification.

Francesca gave a low, gurgling laugh. "It's not really fair, you know," she said with mock severity. "You get to feel that twice, and I only get to feel it once."

"You felt it twice that time," Ran-Del said.

She laughed out loud at that. "You not only have psy sense, you learn very quickly. I can tell I'm going to enjoy this betrothal."

Ran-Del grinned in the dark. "That's what a betrothal is for, Francesca."

"I'm glad we got it right, then." She snuggled up closer.

Ran-Del put his arm around her and held her, and after a few minutes, he realized she was asleep. He kissed her forehead gently and then went back to sleep himself.

***

When Ran-Del awoke the next morning, he found Francesca beside him, as naked as he was himself. Shyness struck him, and he didn't speak a single word as he put on the everyday clothes his grandmother had left for him. He and Francesca packed away their betrothal garments for his grandmother to retrieve later, when she fetched the bed linens and cleaned the room for the next betrothed couple. Ran-Del wouldn't let himself think about whom that couple would be.

Francesca seemed more at ease, but she didn't speak, either. Only once she was dressed in her more familiar trousers and shirt did she give Ran-Del a tentative smile. "Ready?"

He nodded, then followed her out the door. He saw at once that the sun was well above the trees; they had slept late. People were out doing chores, but none of them were close as Ran-Del and his betrothed approached the village.

Only the rustling of blackwood branches and the snapping of twigs underfoot broke the silence as they walked toward Ran-Del's great-grandfather's house. He wanted to say something to Francesca so he wouldn't feel so awkward, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

His grandmother greeted them fondly at the door, directing them to come and eat breakfast. Ran-Del followed her to her great room. There was no sign of his great-grandfather, but the rest of the betrothal party was there.

Ran-Del sat down between his mother and his grandfather and across from Stefan Hayden, while his grandmother bustled around putting food on the table. Francesca sat beside her father, who gave her a quick, subtle, head-to-toe review and smiled with satisfaction. Francesca gave Ran-Del an anxious glance but said good morning to Laiza, Mina, and Isayah as well as her father. After taking a sip of tea, she spoke mostly to her father.

From their conversation, Ran-Del deduced that Stefan Hayden planned to return to Shangri-La as soon as possible. Ran-Del looked down at his plate of fried bread and ground vegetable patties. This was his last meal as a Sansoussy.

His grandmother patted his shoulder and advised him to eat his breakfast. Ran-Del looked away so he wouldn't lose control. When he glanced at his betrothed, she was watching him with anxious eyes. Ran-Del could feel her concern as strongly as his mother's beside him.

"You should pack your things, Ran-Del," his mother said. "You'll need to take all your clothes."

Francesca's concern melted into something close to worry. "We can get you new clothes."

"I don't need new clothes." Ran-Del made himself eat, even though he wasn't hungry.

When everyone had finished, Mina cleared the table, brushing away Laiza's offer of aid with polite firmness.

Stefan stood up first. "That was delicious, Mina. Thank you." He looked down at his daughter. "Ready to head home, sweetie?"

She nodded, then glanced at Ran-Del. "I am if Ran-Del is."

There was nothing to be gained by delay. Ran-Del stood up. "I'll be ready as soon as I can pack my things."

Stefan oozed relief. "I'll wait outside, then."

Ran-Del went to his room. Buster was lying on the bed, head resting on his front paws. The Sansoussy hound looked up and watched intently as Ran-Del began to pull clothes from the clothes chest and pile them onto the bed. He didn't have many possessions—some woodcarving knives that had been his father's, a small statuette of a tree bear his father had made for him, his pack, and his weapons.

A scratching at the door made him look up from his packing. "Come."

His mother ducked into the room. She looked at his overstuffed pack. "Can you carry it all?"

Ran-Del nodded. "I expect Stefan Hayden will summon one of his flying vehicles."

Laiza moved closer. "I haven't seen you that much since you moved back here, but I'll miss you all the same."

Ran-Del embraced her. "I'll miss you, too, Mother."

She clung to him for a moment, then let him go. "Your grandmother is right. The outland woman cares for you. If you treat her well, she'll come to love you, and you can be happy together."

Ran-Del nodded dutifully. "Yes, Mother."

She held him at arm's length. "You look so much like your father."

Ran-Del could feel sorrow well up in her. "I'll see you again," he said to distract her. "I'll come back to visit when I can."

She hugged him again. "Don't forget me—or your brothers and sister."

"I won't."

She let him go, then rushed from the room.

Ran-Del laced his pack shut, pulled it behind him, and headed for the door. Buster jumped down from the bed to follow him. Ran-Del started to tell him to stay, but changed his mind. After all, Buster was his dog. No one had said he had to give up his dog.

"Come, Buster," Ran-Del said, and ducked through the doorway.

He straightened up to find his grandmother waiting outside his door.

"I didn't want to come in while that woman was here," Mina said. She held her arms wide. "Goodbye, Ran-Del."

He hugged her tightly. "Goodbye, Grandmother."

"You can be happy with her sweetness," she whispered in his ear, "if you work at it."

He let her go. "I will."

She brushed a tear from her eye. "They're waiting for you outside." She glanced down at Buster. "You're taking the dog?"

"Do you need him?" Ran-Del asked.

She tisked with her tongue. "Of course not."

She led the way outside. Ran-Del took in the scene. Stefan Hayden stood beside Francesca, radiating impatience. Francesca herself seemed in less of a hurry. She was conversing with Isayah about something, but she stopped when Ran-Del came outside.

Isayah nodded at Ran-Del. "Good, you're ready. You can leave the pack here while you say goodbye to your great-grandfather."

Ran-Del tossed his pack to the ground. "Guard, Buster!"

The dog moved to sit beside the pack.

Stefan lifted his eyebrows. "Do you think we're going to steal your belongings?"

Recalling his abduction, Ran-Del repressed a snort of indignation. "Buster minds that command better than 'stay.' "

"Ah!" Stefan made no other comment.

Ran-Del exchanged a brief glance with Francesca, then turned to go back into the house.

The old man sat in his great room by himself. When Ran-Del came into the room the shaman sat up straighter in his chair.

"Come here, Ran-Del," Ji-Ran said, not bothering with a greeting.

Ran-Del approached slowly. He wished he could cut this interview short, but he knew it wasn't up to him to say when it would end. He stopped several paces away.

"Come closer," Ji-Ran said. "Give me your hand."

Ran-Del walked two steps closer and held out his right hand reluctantly. There was only one reason Ji-Ran would ask for it.

Ji-Ran snatched Ran-Del's hand and held it firmly in his grasp for a few moments. When he let go, it was with a sigh of satisfaction. "I'm glad it went well. I've chosen better than you know. You'll find out in time, but meanwhile, at least you have the satisfaction of physical gratification."

Ran-Del felt his face flame.

"It was time," Ji-Ran said serenely. "Even your grandfather knew it. It'll be best to proceed with Francesca and forget about Bettine."

Ran-Del gritted his teeth. "You gave me no choice."

"That's not true. You could have chosen to be cast out. Being a Sansoussy meant more to you than the selection of a mate, but the choice was yours, Ran-Del."

Ji-Ran peered at him. "In three day's time," he said suddenly, "Bettine and your grandfather will stand here and recite the names of their ancestors. I'll bless their union, even as I blessed yours and Francesca Hayden's. They'll go to the betrothal lodge, and your grandfather will do his duty, even if I have to lace his tea with acorn flower. But through it all, no one will have to persuade Bettine Walloon of anything. She'll have what she wanted, whether you're the one to provide it or a gray-haired old man. Do you understand that, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del ground his teeth together and didn't answer.

"Do you understand, Ran-Del?" Ji-Ran demanded.

"Yes, Great-grandfather. I understand that Bettine wanted only one thing from me."

Ji-Ran smiled a wry smile. "And you wanted only one thing from her, also, Great-grandson. Remember that when you judge her."

"I don't plan on judging her."

"Good. And always remember that it was no action of your grandfather's that led Bettine to his bed."

Ran-Del couldn't bring himself to comment.

Ji-Ran let the silence hang in the air for a second, and then he frowned. "I've done what I've done because it was necessary, Ran-Del. All the same, I should be very sorry if I thought I'd caused a rift between you and your grandfather."

"You haven't," Ran-Del said, almost painfully. "There's nothing you or Bettine could do that could make me stop loving Grandfather."

"I'm glad to hear it. See that you let your grandfather know it, also. He'll worry when you return for a visit and find Bettine living in this house, her body swollen with his child."

A small stab of jealousy stung Ran-Del, but thankfully it was already less sharp than it had been. "Are you speaking generally, Great-grandfather, or have you seen it?"

"I've seen it quite clearly. It's time to go now, Ran-Del. Your father-in-law is getting impatient."

"He's not my father-in-law yet."

Ji-Ran's shoulders shook in a silent laugh that ended with a faint wheeze. "You'll cut your hair soon enough. Come here and give me a parting kiss, Ran-Del. I'm an old man, and I might die tomorrow.

Ji-Ran must have felt Ran-Del's skepticism because he let out another burst of silent laughter. Ran-Del approached him dutifully, kissed his cheek, then held his great-grandfather's hands between his own in a farewell gesture.

When Ran-Del came out of the house, Stefan Hayden did look impatient; he tapped his foot as he waited. Mina was telling Francesca that Ran-Del always liked his tea hot, even in summer.

Stefan's brow cleared as Ran-Del walked briskly from the house. It wrinkled again as Ran-Del called Buster to him. "You're taking the dog?"

Ran-Del gave him a level stare. "Is there a rule against it in your House?"

"Of course not," Stefan said. "You might want to keep him away from the guard dogs, but that's your business."

Isayah approached, calm, but grave, and pulled Ran-Del aside, speaking in low tones. "At least this time we'll know where you are, and that you're well."

Ran-Del could feel his grandfather's sorrow as he embraced him.

"Keep well, Ran-Del," Isayah said sternly. "Don't forget that you're still a Sansoussy. Live your life in an upright manner so that when the day comes, you face your death with a clean conscience."

"I'll try my best, Grandfather," Ran-Del said with equal solemnity. "Thank you for caring for me when I was growing up, and for teaching me the Disciplines."

Isayah embraced him again, and sighed deeply. "Now I know what Laiza felt, all those seasons ago when I came to take you away from her."

Ran-Del could believe him. Part of him felt very much as his ten-season-old self had those long seasons ago. "I won't be gone forever, Grandfather. I'll come back sometimes."

"Let us know what happens in thirty days." Isayah glanced at the braid in Ran-Del's hair. "I hope all goes well."

Ran-Del hoped so, too. He just wished he knew what going well would mean. "I'll send word, or I'll come myself."

When he said goodbye to his grandmother, Mina could do no more than hug him fiercely and cry wordlessly. His mother was more resolute, reaching up to kiss his cheek and wishing him happiness. Ran-Del returned her kiss, then let her go.

"All set?" Stefan said.

Ran-Del nodded. His mother and grandparents each gave him one quick embrace, and then he followed the Haydens as Stefan led the way to the northwest path out of the village. Ran-Del glanced back one last time and then turned to face his future.

### Chapter Thirteen

Francesca breathed a sigh of relief once she stood in the reassuringly civilized interior of the flyter. A dozen security guards sat on the benches on either side. Her father hadn't taken any chances, then, even with the old shaman's cooperation. Hiram Toth stood by the transport pad controls, smiling at her. "Welcome back, Miss Francesca."

"Thank you, Hiram."

Ran-Del looked considerably less reassured by the sight of so many Hayden employees. His eyes darted back and forth like he was expecting an attack.

"Let's get a seat by the window," Francesca said.

Ran-Del nodded and followed her through the hold, past the security staff, to the main cabin where he stopped and surveyed the rows of seats. Francesca chose a seat in the middle in the hopes that it would feel less claustrophobic to him. Ran-Del sat down beside her and stared out the window. The flyter skimmed over the canopy of trees like a boat on the river, then rose until the leafy canopy became only a russet blur.

Ran-Del gripped his seat as if he were afraid it might fall away from him.

"Everything is fine," Francesca said. "Nothing's wrong. We always fly this high on a long trip. It's faster."

Ran-Del took a deep breath, then let it out. His eyes got that unfocused look that he got when he meditated, and his breathing evened out. After a few minutes, he let out a deep breath and looked out the window again. He seemed calmer. "How is it that such a heavy machine can fly through the air like a day bat?"

This made Francesca laugh. "I'm sorry to say I don't understand the mechanics of it myself. All I know is, a flyter uses anti-grav technology." She held one hand out, palm down, and pressed down on the air as if it were pushing back. "It's like the ground can't hold it down."

Ran-Del's expression gave her no clue whether he understood this answer or not. He asked no more questions, but merely stared out the window as if the view fascinated him. Probably, it did.

After a while the forest ended. They flew over a few farms, and then several houses clustered into a village. There were more and more houses, and then they were over the city. Francesca studied the traffic below them, ground cars with wheels traversing the streets, skimmers zipping along a meter or two above the surface. Civilization at last!

"How does everyone keep from hitting everyone else?" Ran-Del asked.

She grinned. "It does look chaotic, doesn't it? Skimmers and ground cars and even flyters will stop themselves, if necessary, to avoid an accident."

His eyes clouded in doubt. "How can a machine make a decision?"

Francesca suffered a twinge of inadequacy. If he kept asking technical questions, he would soon discover how dismal her scientific knowledge was. "It's not that any of the vehicles can think, it's just that they can detect things—where they are, the location of buildings and other obstacles, the route of oncoming traffic."

Just as Francesca spoke, the flyter began an abrupt descent that left Ran-Del clutching his seat. "Is anything wrong?" he said.

Francesca looked out the window and saw the Hayden complex—the huge banyelm tree in front of the main house, the employees' quarters, the security barracks, the kennels, the tall tower rising above everything else. "Nothing is wrong. We're home."

As soon as she said the words, she realized that to him it wasn't home.

Ran-Del seemed not to have noticed her gaffe. He stared out the window and frowned. "Your father said there was a barrier—a force field—over the whole of your complex. He said it kept out people and flyters."

Across the aisle her father looked up from his portable com, a pleased smile on his face, as if Ran-Del's remembering what he had said was a good omen. "There is a force field, and it does prevent outside flyters from landing. In order to create a gap in the force field so that we can set down inside the walls, we have to broadcast a signal that identifies us as a Hayden flyter. Otherwise, the security system would activate. Even if we didn't crash into the force field, we'd most likely be shot down."

A gentle thud told Francesca they had landed. Almost immediately, the main hatch opened. A tall, sturdy-looking woman strode up the boarding ramp and looked around. Forty-five seasons old, with short, springy black hair, she had an almost guarded expression on her strong-featured face.

"Well," she said tartly, "so you've decided to come back, have you?"

Pop grinned at her. "Hello, D'Persis. You're looking well."

Alyssa D'Persis ignored this rejoinder and reviewed the occupants of the flyter, her gaze lingering just a moment on Toth and continuing until she came to Ran-Del. "You've brought the wild man back? Why?"

Francesca bit her lip at Alyssa's phrasing.

Her father's expression turned bland. "I don't believe you've met Francesca's fiancée, D'Persis. This is Ran-Del Jahanpur. He and Francesca became engaged just yesterday."

D'Persis looked faintly incredulous. "Do we still keep him locked up?"

Francesca flushed.

Pop's blandness gave way to the faintest of frowns. "That won't be necessary. Ran-Del is here of his own free will."

Francesca gave a tiny snort of protest but said nothing. Ran-Del didn't make a sound.

"Make sure he's in the security system properly," D'Persis said. "If you want him to come and go as he chooses, then I need to know it."

"Ran-Del is free to leave the complex whenever he likes," Pop said. "And I shall certainly put the proper information into the system, Alyssa. I helped to design it, remember?"

D'Persis didn't look in the least impressed with this reminder. "I assume I can have the rest of my staff back now. Unless you plan more jaunts across the countryside."

"That's it for now," Pop said, without a trace of answering sarcasm. "They're all yours."

D'Persis shot an intense glance at Toth. "You've been on duty for days without a break, Hiram," she said gruffly. "Take the next three days off."

"Thank you, ma'am," Toth said, his tone polite enough to sound formal.

D'Persis bit her lip as if she wanted to say more, and then she turned and walked down the ramp without even saying goodbye.

Francesca turned at once to Toth. "Do you have to call her 'ma'am' like that, Hiram? It sounds so cold and impersonal."

Toth took her rebuke well, but he didn't look in the least contrite. "She's my boss. What should I call her?"

Francesca gave him a stern look. "You could at least try not to sound like you've never called her anything else."

Toth shook his head. "Alyssa never mixes her business with her personal life. It's a good rule; you should try it, Miss Francesca."

Francesca threw up her hands in exasperation.

"All right, sweetie," Pop said, one hand on her shoulder. "That's enough worrying about other people's lives. You start worrying about your own. You and Ran-Del have a lot to talk about. Might as well get started, don't you think?"

Francesca looked at Ran-Del. He seemed to be edging toward the hatch so perhaps he had found his first flight more trying than he had let on. "Okay, Pop." She held out a hand to Ran-Del. "Let's go get you settled, Ran-Del. Pop's right. We have a lot to talk about."

Ran-Del took her hand and followed her out of the flyter, his bag slung over his shoulder and Buster trotting at his heels. Francesca led the way across the yard into the house. She had thirty days to change her mind—thirty days she planned to enjoy to the fullest. She glanced at Ran-Del. The Sansoussy had no chance.

***

Ran-Del had thought his prison quarters had been the height of luxury. One glance at Francesca's rooms changed his mind. The entrance was a small room in itself, with pictures on the walls and colorful flowers in vases on two small tables. From there he stepped into a spacious sitting room full of gracefully grouped sofas and tables. Windowed doors on the far wall opened onto a broad stone terrace where bushes and flowering plants softened the straight line of a low brick wall. Beyond the terrace, Ran-Del saw a large garden laid out in formal lines.

"The bedroom's through here," Francesca said, walking through the sitting room to open a wide doorway.

Ran-Del followed her into a large room where the walls were hung with pale blue fabric. The same color hangings draped the enormous bed. A stone fireplace took up most of one wall. On the opposite wall, the doorway to an opulent bathroom was just a wide archway with no door. In addition to a shower, Ran-Del could see a raised stone bathing tub with a skylight over it.

"This is it," Francesca said. "Do you want to share these quarters with me, or would you like your own?"

It struck Ran-Del as a foolish question. "We're betrothed. We must share the same living space."

She nodded, a hint of satisfaction in the curve of her mouth. "That's settled then. I'll get us some tea."

She stepped back into the sitting room and opened a cupboard in a small nook. Ran-Del followed her and sat down, bemused, taking in the statues on the tables, the paintings and tapestries on the walls. So many things to look at, so many things to learn. A minute later, Francesca handed him a mug of dark, fragrant liquid.

Ran-Del took it thankfully. In spite of the speed with which she had produced it, it was the most familiar thing he had encountered so far.

"I'm going to change," Francesca announced. "I won't be a moment."

Ran-Del sipped his tea and watched her disappear through the bedroom door. So this was home? He would get used to it eventually. The terrace made a better view than the walled courtyard—less closed in.

"Now," Francesca said, coming back into the room in her city clothes, "let's talk about you, Ran-Del."

"What about me?" Ran-Del asked as she sat down on the sofa across from him.

"There's a lot you need to learn," Francesca said, with something of her father's briskness. "We need a plan. We need to determine what you need to know, and then figure out the best way for you to learn it."

She paused, but Ran-Del made no comment. He wanted to see what her plan would entail.

"The first thing," Francesca said, "is for you to learn to read and write. We can get you a tutor if you like, or if you prefer, there are automated programs that can teach you all by yourself, on an educational terminal."

It sounded not only intimidating but humiliating. She wanted to put him at the mercy of machines. "No."

"You'd rather have a tutor?"

"No," Ran-Del said, setting down his cup of tea. "I don't want a tutor, and I don't want one of your machines."

Francesca's mouth set in a straight line. "Then how do you propose to learn to read and write?"

"I don't propose to learn at all. I'm a grown man. I have no intention of being turned back into a child with teachers and lessons. I've lived this long without reading, and I shall do well enough without it in the future."

Francesca frowned, looking more like her father than ever. "Don't be stubborn, Ran-Del. You've never lived in the city before, so you didn't need to know how to read. Now you do."

It struck Ran-Del as a sweeping statement, delivered with no supporting evidence. "Why?"

Francesca gave a small sigh of annoyance. "So you can read books and learn things, for one thing. So I can leave you a message for another."

Ran-Del was happy her requirements were so easy to refute. "I have no desire to read books. And don't you have a way to leave a message that doesn't require reading?"

"Well, yes, of course," Francesca said, annoyance giving way to exasperation. "I could always record a message instead of writing it, but you still need to learn how to read."

Ran-Del began to enjoy himself. "Why? Give me a reason why it's necessary—not merely convenient for you but necessary."

"So you can get around in the city," Francesca said triumphantly. "You don't want to be stuck here in the complex all day. If you want to go out into the city, you need to know how to read."

"Why do I need to know how to read to walk around in the city?"

"So you won't get lost, and so you can tell a restaurant from a clothing store or a bar."

She had to explain what those establishments were before Ran-Del could present his counter-arguments.

"Reading still doesn't matter," he said imperturbably. "I have a very good sense of direction, so I won't get lost, and I have no money, so I won't be going into any of those places."

Francesca clenched her teeth together. Ran-Del could sense her rising vexation quite easily, but it didn't sway him in the least.

"See here, Ran-Del Jahanpur," she said, "if you're going to be part of our family, then you're going to have to unbend enough to accept what you need from us, and that includes money."

"No."

"Damn it!" Francesca said angrily. "Will you put away that stupid Sansoussy pride and admit that you can't survive in this city without help? I needed you out on the plains; you need me here. Is that so terrible?"

"No. I'll accept your help, Francesca, but I won't take your money." Ran-Del got to his feet and moved to the door to the terrace. He looked out at the Hayden compound. It seemed odd to see it and know that he could walk out into it any time he wanted. "We trade for our metal goods from peddlers from the cities so I know about money; I know some people will do anything to get it, and some people think they never have enough of it." He turned back to Francesca. "I also know that it must be earned honestly or it corrupts. I haven't done anything to earn money, and I won't take it from you."

She argued with him for quite some time, but Ran-Del held firm. He went back to his chair and finished his tea, but he refused to learn to read or to accept money from Francesca or her father.

Francesca was livid. "This is senseless! You're just being proud and stubborn, Ran-Del, and I have no patience with you at all!"

"You'll have to learn patience, then," Ran-Del said, still calm, "because I don't intend to change to please you."

Francesca jumped up from the sofa and began to pace back and forth, cursing.

Ran-Del watched her, as unmoved by her profanity as he had been by her arguments. "Among the Sansoussy, women don't swear in front of men."

"We are not among the Sansoussy," Francesca retorted. "I wish you could get that through your thick head!"

Ran-Del stood up. He didn't mind arguing with her, but he didn't like having to look up. "I'm quite aware of where I am. It's hard not to be, when all I see are strange things and strange people."

Francesca stopped pacing and looked at him. "I suppose we must look as strange to you as everyone in your village looked to me." She surveyed him from head to toe. "What about clothes, Ran-Del? Are you going to be stubborn about that, too?"

Ran-Del shrugged with indifference. "Clothes don't matter. I'll wear what you think is best. I have no desire to attract undue attention."

Francesca was still staring at him. She moved closer to him almost reluctantly. "You would attract attention. The Sansoussy don't seem to feel a need to cover nearly as much we do in the city."

"Not in the summer," Ran-Del said.

Francesca was close enough to touch him now. He could feel warm waves of desire radiating from her. "I'm glad I met you in the summertime." She slipped her hands inside his vest and then slid it from his shoulders.

Even having sensed her passion, Ran-Del was still surprised. "I thought you were angry at me?"

"I was—I am." She ran her hands up and down his bare back. "It's just difficult to remember it at the moment."

Her stroking made Ran-Del's passion rise suddenly. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. "I know exactly what you mean."

Francesca reached up and pulled his head down to kiss him. "Damn. We'll be late for dinner."

Ran-Del was too busy figuring out how to remove her city clothes to pay any attention to what she was saying. Living in the city had some compensations.

### Chapter Fourteen

Stefan lifted the distance glasses, aimed them at Francesca's terrace, and tapped the control. The flagstone terrace leapt into focus, the border of russet foliage as clear as the gray stone floor and the two figures who stood less than a meter apart. Ran-Del's pose suggested calm, but Francesca held her arms stiffly at her sides. Another argument, then. Buster, the Sansoussy hound, had clearly grown accustomed to such scenes, as he lolled near Ran-Del's feet with complete indifference.

"What are you smiling at, Stefan?" Nisa's voice said.

Stefan lowered the distance glasses and looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard her come in. "Good morning, Nisa."

"What's so interesting?" Nisa asked, moving closer to the window. Her gaze raked the yard until it reached Francesca's terrace just as Ran-Del and Francesca suddenly embraced.

Stefan lifted the glasses in time to see the two of them go inside, leaving Buster to guard the door.

Nisa turned back to Stefan with a stern look on her face. She tightened her mouth into a prim line but said nothing.

"That's two mornings in a row," Stefan said as he put the glasses on the desk. "Looks like Ran-Del's making up for lost time."

Nisa let out an uncharacteristically loud snort of outrage. "Stefan! How can you spy on your own daughter?"

"I always put the glasses down once they go inside," Stefan said. "I just like the reassurance that they're getting along."

"Getting along?" Nisa pursed her lips again. "They may be keeping the sheets warm, but they also fight constantly."

Her argument didn't disturb Stefan. Considering the differences in their background—not to mention how their relationship had begun—he couldn't expect the pair not to disagree about some things. "Fights are okay, just so long as they always make up afterwards."

"Sex doesn't resolve anything."

Stefan refused to be talked out of his euphoria. "Maybe not. But it makes it hard to stay mad."

Nisa rolled her eyes. "Ran-Del is just being stubborn. Of course he needs to learn to read."

Stefan sat down in his chair and leaned back. If he wasn't careful, Nisa and Francesca could unite against him and make life difficult. "It'd be better if he were to decide that himself."

"That's true. Maybe you could point that out to him?"

"I'm staying out of it," Stefan said firmly. "I just hope they resolve it by tomorrow night."

Nisa shook her head despairingly. "Are you sure it's a good idea to have a party so soon? Ran-Del may wear the clothes Francesca selects for him, but he still insists on carrying a knife, and he won't give up the moccasins, either. He sneaks up on people."

"He's a Sansoussy." Stefan lifted a hand in a grandiose gesture. "No matter how much Francesca succeeds in putting a veneer of city polish on him, underneath, he'll always be a Sansoussy. That's what I wanted for her, and that's what I got."

Nisa shook her head. "That fact is one reason he's not ready to be displayed to a group of strangers. Why are you having this party now?"

The answer was obvious. "To announce his engagement to Francesca, of course. No point in having him around unless everyone knows he's here."

Nisa still looked worried. "I just hope he can behave himself for a whole evening with so many strangers in the house."

She had a point. Perhaps it would be just as well to let her know why he didn't want to wait. "I had a message from Maeve Omalley waiting for me when I got back with Ran-Del and Francesca."

Nisa's eyes lit with interest. "What did she say?"

"She suggested that since Francesca's mother was a Wah, I might want to consider bringing the House of Hayden into Omalley-Chang-Wah with a marriage between Francesca and an unmarried Omalley or Chang son of the right age."

"That's nothing new." Nisa cocked her head. "You've gotten a lot of those offers lately."

He leaned forward, thumbed the dial of his terminal, then keyed his personal code to retrieve the message. "Yes, but Maeve added some suggestions for the wedding ceremony. One of them was to have it here in the compound—with an illustration." He swiveled the display toward her.

Nisa bent to look at the message. "My god!" She straightened up, eyes wide with fear. "That's a floor plan for this house!"

"Exactly." Stefan pointed at the outline of his office. "I suppose I should be glad the escape tunnels don't appear."

"What did D'Persis say about this?"

"She's looking into it."

Nisa lifted her brows. "Is that all she said?"

"Leaving out the curse words, yes." He glanced at the floor plan again. "Not exactly subtle, is it?"

"Not subtle, no."

She was taking it pretty well. Maybe now was a good time to bring up the subject of her own safety. "Would you do something for me, Nisa?"

That got her attention. "What is it?"

Just like her. No sweeping promises—no, she was too careful to make a commitment until she knew what it was she was agreeing to. Stefan opened a drawer in his desk and took out a tiny object. Smaller than Nisa's index finger, it had a long flattish barrel on one end and a small but bulbous haft on the other. "Will you carry this everywhere you go?"

She looked puzzled, and then understanding dawned. "Is it a weapon?"

He nodded. "It's an energy beamer." Faster than a laser and requiring less precision, it could kill in seconds. He held the bulbous end in his palm and closed his fist over the barrel so that it barely showed under his thumb. "You hold it like this and squeeze tightly to fire."

Her eyes lifted to his face. "I don't know if I could kill anyone, Stefan."

He put the beamer in her hand and closed her fingers over the barrel, then lifted her fist to point at a potted plant in the corner. When he squeezed her fist tightly, a tiny pop sounded, and one leaf dissolved as the beamer excited its molecules so thoroughly that steam rose from the plant.

Nisa jumped.

"You probably won't need to kill anyone." Stefan let her hand go and patted her shoulder. "If you're in danger, you can use this to scare them off—or kill only if you have to."

She swallowed. "I don't know if it serves any purpose to give this to me. I always fall apart when I'm scared."

She was underestimating herself again. "If nothing else," he said, "it would make me feel much better to know you have it."

"All right, I'll take it." Nisa shivered as she looked at the tiny weapon in her hand. "Have you ever thought about just doing what they want, Stefan? Would it be so terrible if Hayden was part of Omalley-Chang-Wah?"

He bit back a retort and tried for a calm answer. "I think so. This House has always been independent, and if I can manage it, we always will be." He smiled to soften any rebuke she might hear in his words. "I want to leave Francesca something equal to what my mother left to me."

Her eyes glistened. "And I just want it to be years and years before that happens."

He let out a chuckle. "I'd like that, too."

***

Ran-Del could feel Francesca's heart beating against his. She stretched in his arms, and Ran-Del loosened his hold on her. Francesca responded by twining one of her legs around his.

"Mmm" she said. "That gets nicer every time."

Ran-Del agreed, but he didn't say so out loud. "The angrier the quarrel, the more passionate you become."

Francesca shook her head. "We weren't really quarreling that time. I've given up quarreling on that subject. You'll have to find out for yourself why a person in this city should know how to read."

Her capitulation pleased Ran-Del. He was tired of having to constantly assert his independence. "Good. I'll start today."

She rolled away a little and looked at him. "Start what?"

"I'll start finding out," Ran-Del said, sitting up and reaching for the undershirt Francesca had insisted he remove. "I'm going into the city today. I want to explore a little—learn to find my way around."

Francesca untangled herself from the bedclothes and sat up beside him. "I'll come with you."

Ran-Del had already decided his first foray in the city should be on his own. Partly he wanted to learn his own way, and partly he didn't want her to see the mistakes he was sure to make. "I'm not a child. I don't need someone to take me by the hand and lead me around."

She frowned. "But, Ran-Del, you could wander into a bad neighborhood or offend the wrong person. Besides, you don't know how to operate a skimmer."

Ran-Del's mouth curved in a disdainful smile. "I have legs; I can walk."

Francesca jumped up and stood looking down at him. "Walk? Ran-Del, it'll take hours to walk. Are you proposing to stroll out the front gate and wander around the city without so much as a credit in your pocket?"

Ran-Del looked at her with appreciative eyes. Watching a naked woman jump out of bed was an adventure in itself. "Yes."

"Ran-Del!"

He could sense frustration replacing her feeling of sexual gratification.

"It's dangerous," she said. "I can't let you do it."

Ran-Del frowned at her wording. "You're not my ancestor, Francesca. You have no right to tell me what I can do."

Francesca gathered up her clothes from the floor and began to pull them on. "We'll see what Pop says."

Ran-Del dressed more slowly. He wasn't entirely clear what authority, if any, Stefan Hayden had over him. Perhaps it would be just as well to go with Francesca when she talked to her father. He needed to find out where he stood.

***

Stefan was immersed in conversation with Nisa Palli when Francesca stormed into his office, followed closely by her betrothed.

Nisa had reached over to indicate which of the monitors reflected the status of the project that had attracted her concern, but she straightened up as soon as Francesca stalked up to Stefan's desk.

"Pop!" Francesca said peremptorily.

Stefan sighed mentally. "It'll just be a moment, Nisa, if you don't mind."

Nisa nodded and stepped back. "Of course, Baron."

Stefan turned to his only child. "Yes, Francesca? Is there something more important than earning our living?"

She flushed but plunged ahead with her request, waving a hand at Ran-Del as she spoke. "Tell Ran-Del he can't go wandering around the city completely alone."

Stefan raised his eyebrows and glanced from Francesca's heated expression to Ran-Del's cold countenance. Clearly they had been arguing yet again. "I can't tell Ran-Del what to do, sweetie. He doesn't work for me."

"I don't either," she said acerbically. "That never stopped you."

"As my daughter and my heir, you're in my dominion. Ran-Del is no relation. He's not officially part of the House of Hayden—not yet."

"Pop!" A familiar pleading note crept into Francesca's voice. "He won't take any money, and he can't even read. He'll be lost on his own. We'll never see him again."

Stefan glanced at Ran-Del, standing stiffly by the door. He always tended to look hostile around Stefan, so it was difficult to judge his mood. Stefan tried to see the Sansoussy as a stranger would. Ran-Del wore perfectly ordinary clothes, well-made but not ostentatiously so. Neither the shirt nor the trousers would attract any attention. The moccasins were unusual, but some people liked to be comfortable rather than stylish. The long hair wasn't in style either, but it was far from rare. The dirk was the most conspicuous part of his costume. People in Shangri-La often carried weapons, but they were seldom so low tech—or so obvious.

Perhaps a word of caution was in order. "Be careful, will you, Ran-Del?" Stefan said. "Stay out of fights if you can, and try not to kill anyone if you can't."

Ran-Del looked pleased as he nodded. "I will."

"Is that all you're going to say to him?" Francesca demanded.

"Yes." Stefan scanned his monitors trying to find the factoid Nisa had pointed out. "Have a pleasant day, Francesca. We're busy here."

Francesca let out a cry of frustration, but Ran-Del had already moved to the door.

Stefan smiled his approval. The Sansoussy didn't hesitate once they made up their minds. "Don't forget to shut the door on your way out, Francesca."

***

Ran-Del approached the security gates cautiously. It appeared that one gate was for vehicles, the other for people. The space between them consisted mostly of windows, and he could see a man and a woman standing behind a sort of shelf in a small room. They both wore identical gray clothes.

"Can I help you, Citizen Jahanpur?" the woman asked politely as he came close.

Ran-Del jumped, unprepared for her to speak while she was still inside the little room, and startled that she knew his name.

"I want to go out," he said firmly, figuring that if he could hear her, she could probably hear him.

"Please place your hand on the ID panel to confirm your identity," the woman said.

Ran-Del looked around. There was a small gray square, very much like the access panels on the doors in the main house, right beside the person-sized gate. He pressed his palm firmly against the panel. In a few seconds, a green light flickered below the square, and the gate slid open.

"Thank you, Citizen," the woman's voice said to Ran-Del's back as he stepped through the gate.

Once he was through the walls of the Hayden complex, Ran-Del took a moment to look around at what he could see of the city of Shangri-La.

The Hayden complex was in the middle of a residential area. The streets might be paved with something as solid as stone, but they curved and wound their way among the houses almost as much as the paths in his village.

The houses were all much bigger than Sansoussy houses but smaller than Baron Hayden's residence. None of them had walls around them.

Ran-Del started walking, keeping to the walkway on one side of the road. He had a good sense of direction, and he had taken the trouble, the day before, to go up into the tower observation room and study the city. He walked with a purpose; he wanted to see the river.

The Sansoussy Forest was riddled with small creeks and rivulets—this was what made possible the agriculture of the Sansoussy—but none of the creeks near Ran-Del's village was large, and in the forest, the Yellow River was never more than a dozen meters across at its widest point. Ran-Del had never been near a body of water as sizable as the one he had seen from the Hayden tower, and he wanted to see it from close up.

He walked swiftly and steadily, passing several skimmers and a few pedestrians with no more than a quick glance. No one paid him any attention. Ran-Del kept away from the pedestrians as much as he could, to keep the rainbow of emotions he felt as he passed them from distracting him.

After several minutes steady walking, Ran-Del found the neighborhood changing. The streets became straighter, always crossing at right angles, and somehow the buildings looked less welcoming. All of them were many stories tall, closer together, and with fewer windows than the smaller structures. Many people streamed in and out of them; all of them seemed in a hurry.

After another several minutes of brisk walking, the buildings changed again, becoming blocky, spaced farther apart, and mostly windowless.

The street rose in an arched stone bridge, and beneath its span a wide expanse of golden water sparkled in the sunlight. Ran-Del had found the river. A railing lined the shore and ran along both sides of the bridge. Ran-Del stood for a long time, leaning over the railing and watching the water.

The vessels on the river ranged from slim, graceful boats that carried only one or two people to huge, tub-like ships laden with goods. The northbound ships seemed to carry raw materials—logs and metal ingots—while the southbound ones held cartons of manufactured goods. Ran-Del watched everything, silent and amazed. He had never imagined trade on this scale.

On the opposite bank, ships were loaded and unloaded at a long, narrow platform that ran a short ways out over the river like an unfinished bridge. Ran-Del studied the hoists and other devices used to move the heavy bales and containers, and was fascinated by the coordination among the men and women handling the cargo. After a while, he noticed a machine unloading crates from a tubby ship. The machine would neatly scoop up a half dozen crates, one after the other, carry them down the length of the platform to a transport waiting on the landing, and then return for another load. What fascinated Ran-Del was that although the machine looked like a vehicle, no one seemed to be operating it. A tall, burly man directed the operations of several workers, but no one seemed to be controlling the unloading machine.

Ran-Del crossed the bridge to the opposite shore, then moved closer to the ship, which was tied to the platform by several stout lines looped over upright logs driven into the ground. Ran-Del leaned on a log to observe the unloading operation. He was so intent on the scene, he paid no attention when someone shouted.

"Oy! You there, look out!"

Something struck Ran-Del hard across the shoulders, knocking him forward with great force. He went hurtling into the river before he knew what was happening.

He fell head first, cleanly into the water. As he plunged beneath the surface, choking and gasping, he struggled frantically to right himself and pull himself up through the murky water. When he broke through to the surface, gasping for air, he tried to remember what little he knew about swimming. It wasn't much. He could feel the current pull him, and he fought against it.

He sank again, swallowed water, then struggled upward for another breath. As he broke the surface, coughing and sputtering, something hit the water near him.

It was a man. He bobbed to the surface and cut through the water with clean strokes to come up beside Ran-Del.

"Keep still!" the man ordered as he grabbed Ran-Del's collar.

Ran-Del didn't struggle against his hold. It took an effort merely to stay conscious as the man dragged him through the water. The stranger stopped and pulled Ran-Del around to face him. Ran-Del could see that there was a ladder attached to the log supports of the platform over the river.

"Can you climb?" the man asked him.

"I think so," Ran-Del gasped.

"You first." The stranger gave Ran-Del a shove upward.

The Sansoussy grasped the first rung and pulled himself up. He kept climbing, focusing only on the next rung until there were no more.

Eager hands pulled at him when he arrived at the top of the ladder. Several men and women had stopped their work and come to assist in his rescue. Ran-Del was laid upon the boards and inspected for damage. Lying on his side, nausea overcame him, and he retched. He let himself roll onto his back, feeling as weak as a new baby.

"Give him some air," a voice commanded. "He's swallowed too much of the Jordan, and that's not good for anyone."

Ran-Del looked up and saw that his rescuer was the tall, burly man he had seen on the ship. The man stood over him, dripping wet and smiling anxiously.

"Thank you," Ran-Del said weakly.

"Don't mention it," the burly man said, grinning. "I've fished a lot of things out of the Jordan over the seasons, but you're the first one that said thank you."

Ran-Del closed his eyes and tried not to be sick again. It didn't work. Someone threw a bucket of water over him in an effort to clean him up.

"That's enough," the burly man said. "He's had enough water to last him for a while. Let's get him into Benjie's. Janis has a back room where he can dry off."

Several people helped Ran-Del to his feet and escorted him to a building perched on the bank of the river. A large sign spanned the space over the door, so Ran-Del knew it must be a commercial establishment, but he had no idea what it was. Once he came through the door, the smell of fried food mingled with something strong and bitter. He knew from Francesca's descriptions that this must be a bar or a restaurant. Several tables were scattered around the room, and a long, high barrier with a polished wooden surface ran down one side, with bottles and glasses stacked on the wall behind it. An attractive young woman with short, curly, reddish-brown hair came out from behind the barrier and spoke to the burly man.

"Hello, Georges," she said. "What have you been doing? Swimming with your clothes on?"

Georges laughed heartily and threw one arm around her, heedless of the fact that he was getting her wet. She was tall, but she seemed small next to him.

"I've been fishing, my girl, fishing for a large catch. What do you think of him?"

The woman turned her gaze to Ran-Del and looked him over thoroughly. Her eyes stopped longest at the braid in his hair and at the knife on his belt. "He looks half drowned. You'd better come into the back room, both of you. I'll get you some blankets to wrap up in until I can dry your clothes."

She was brisk and efficient, and Ran-Del soon found himself sitting on a crate in what looked like a storeroom, and wearing nothing but a blanket. His rescuer, also wrapped in one of their hostess' blankets, sat across from him on the only chair in the room.

"Well," Georges said, "you look a little better. Who are you, if I might ask?"

"My name is Ran-Del Jahanpur. Thank you for saving my life."

The burly man waved a hand. "No sweat. It was one of my loaders that knocked you into the water. Didn't you see the sign warning people that there were automated vehicles at work?"

"No," Ran-Del said, with perfect truth.

Georges grinned again. "And I suppose you don't know how to swim, either?"

Ran-Del shook his head.

"Then what the hell were you doing standing so close to the wharf?" Georges asked.

Ran-Del concluded that the wharf must be the long platform over the water. "I'd never seen a river this big, and I was curious about it."

Georges shot him a suspicious look. "The Jordan runs from Paradise to Shangri-La to Eden. How can you not have seen it?"

"I'm from the Sansoussy Forest."

Georges' eyebrows shot up. "You're a Sansoussy?"

Ran-Del nodded.

Georges gave him a skeptical glance. "You look pretty tame for a wild man."

Ran-Del felt himself prickle defensively. "My people are not savages."

Georges hitched up the blanket around his waist and leaned back in his chair. "Don't get in a huff. I believe you. I just never met a Sansoussy before."

The door opened, and the red-haired woman stood there holding a tray.

"Hello," she called. "Everybody decent?"

Georges' eyes twinkled. "We're covered, anyway. I can't answer for more than that."

The woman smiled back at him as she came inside the room. "I thought you both could use a little something," she said holding the tray out to Georges.

"Thanks," he said, taking a cup of steaming hot tea from the tray. Ran-Del could smell it from where he sat. "You can put it on my tab."

"Nonsense, Georges," she said, holding the tray out to Ran-Del. "It's on the house."

Their idioms confused Ran-Del. He didn't know what tab the burly man referred to, and the tea was plainly not on the roof. He accepted the cup gratefully and sniffed its reassuringly familiar scent.

Janis watched his hand as he picked up the cup, and it seemed to Ran-Del that she studied his caste bracelet intently. He could feel her curiosity easily.

"You make damn good tea for a bar owner, Janis," Georges said.

She smiled. "Thanks. I've put your clothes in the laundry, but Brandon's gone to bring you something to wear from your place, Georges, since you're in such a hurry."

"Got to get back to work," Georges said with a nod. "Can't spend all day chatting."

"I'll keep your things until you come again or send someone for them," Janis said.

"Thanks."

"It's no trouble." She headed for the door. "I've got to get back to work myself."

"So," Georges said, watching Ran-Del drink his tea, "what's a Sansoussy doing here in Shangri-La? We're a long way from the forest."

"I know," Ran-Del said, avoiding the question. "Everything is very different here."

"I expect it is." Whatever else Georges might have said was lost when the door opened again and a slender man with pale blonde hair and a generous sprinkling of freckles across his wide, pleasant face walked in. He carried a bundle of clothes, loosely wrapped in paper.

"Hello, boss," he said to Georges. "Here's your stuff. Clara said to be sure you dry off properly."

"About bloody time, Brandon," Georges grumbled, taking the bundle and unwrapping it. He dressed swiftly, oblivious to the presence of the two other men.

"How's everything going?" he asked his subordinate as he sealed his shirt.

"Fine," Brandon said. "We got the _Rosie's Repose_ unloaded and she's about ready to pull out. The skipper said she'd wait an hour for you, but no more."

"Well, she'd damn well better wait for me unless she plans on unloading her barge at another warehouse next trip."

Brandon merely smiled at this retort and gazed curiously at Ran-Del. Georges finished dressing and gave Ran-Del one last glance.

"Take care of yourself, Ran-Del," he said. "I'd hate for my efforts to go to waste. Don't get so near the water next time unless you learn to swim first."

"I'll be careful," Ran-Del said.

"Do you have a job?"

Ran-Del was pretty sure he knew what the question meant. "No."

"Well, if you need work, come see me at the warehouse. Just ask for Georges Rangoon, Rangoon Storage Systems; everyone in the district knows me. It wouldn't be full time," he added, "but I could use an extra pair of hands from time to time, when a big shipment comes in."

Ran-Del wasn't certain what this qualification meant, but he was grateful for the offer. "I already owe you my life," he said, standing to say farewell.

George just laughed. "You don't owe me anything, boy. It didn't cost me a thing but a swim in the Jordan."

The two men left in a hurry, and Ran-Del sat back down to finish his tea. He had just put down the empty cup when there was a knock at the door.

"Come," Ran-Del called.

It was Janis. She collected the tea cups on her empty tray and glanced at Ran-Del covertly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Now that they were alone, Ran-Del was a little shy at wearing nothing more than a blanket in her presence. "Thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome. Your clothes will be ready soon."

"It's kind of you to take so much trouble for a stranger."

She shook her head. "It's no trouble," she said again. Then, as if she couldn't contain herself any longer, she looked straight at the braid in Ran-Del's hair and asked him a question. "Who's the lucky woman?"

Ran-Del stared at her in surprise. He had thought Baron Hayden was the only person in the city who knew enough about Sansoussy customs to understand what the braid meant. "Her name is Francesca. How did you know?"

Janis didn't answer. Instead, she reached out and almost touched his caste bracelet, pulling her hand away at the last second. "Why do you bother wearing city clothes if you're going to keep wearing that?"

He blinked. "No one else has noticed it. How do you know what it is?"

She put her hand inside a small pouch she wore on her belt and brought out a Sansoussy caste bracelet. She held it out for a very surprised Ran-Del to see.

"It was my grandmother's," she said in a rush. "I have no right to wear it, but I carry it with me for luck."

"May I pick it up?"

She nodded, and Ran-Del took the bracelet carefully from her outstretched hand. The leather thong looked new, so perhaps she had restrung it. He ran his fingers over the beads, studying the clan marker first.

"The Timber Cat People?" he asked. There were many clans, and he didn't know all the markers, but he thought this one was the symbol of a clan that lived in the northern part of the Sansoussy Forest.

Janis nodded again and Ran-Del looked at the other beads. There were two brown ones but no blue, so her grandmother had come from a family of moderate standing but hadn't married, at least not among the Sansoussy. There was one white bead in the mother's position. Ran-Del didn't know whether this meant the mother had actually outlived the daughter or whether Janis' grandmother had simply never removed the bead, perhaps because she had lost touch with her family. There was no green bead, so she hadn't borne any children to the Timber Cat People—yet clearly, she had had descendants, since Janis was standing there. There were two sky-gold glass beads and, surprisingly, a red one. Janis' grandmother had been a warrior, a rare thing for a woman.

"Do you know what the beads mean?" Ran-Del asked.

She took the bracelet back and rubbed the glass beads. "Yes. Granny told me a lot about her life in the forest, and about Sansoussy customs. That's how I knew you must be betrothed."

"What about your grandfather?"

Janis smiled as she slipped the bracelet back into her pouch. "Grandpa wasn't a Sansoussy. He was from the Horde."

Her answer stunned Ran-Del. The Sansoussy had no peaceful dealings with the fierce inhabitants of the Decatur Mountains.

Before he could ask any questions, Janis turned and headed for the door. "I'll get your clothes now."

Ran-Del waited alone, wondering how a man of the Horde could have married a woman of the Sansoussy Forest. It was even stranger than his union with Francesca Hayden. The Horde lived by hunting and by raiding both Sansoussy villages and the farms that surrounded the cities. It was incomprehensible that a woman of the Sansoussy would meet such a man and marry him, and even stranger that they should end up here in Shangri-La.

There was another knock on the door but this time it opened before Ran-Del had time to respond. Janis carried his clothes, neatly folded into a tidy stack, in one hand. She had his moccasins in the other hand, and she looked at them curiously as she passed them over to Ran-Del. "Everything is dry."

"Thank you," Ran-Del said, standing to take the clothes from her. He waited, but she didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

"Being betrothed," she said, "that's almost the same as being married, isn't it?"

"Almost."

She stood very close. He could feel desire coming from her, like a subtle fragrance that caught his attention without overwhelming it. She laid a hand on his left arm. Ran-Del was too surprised to pull away. She might have a Sansoussy grandmother, but clearly her ways were city ways. She ran her hand gently down the new scar tissue on his arm. "You must have broken an important rule."

Ran-Del could feel his mouth go suddenly dry. "Yes," he said, swallowing hard. "I did."

She ran her hand back up his arm to his shoulder and Ran-Del could feel himself becoming aroused. From the way she smiled, he suspected she knew it.

"I don't suppose," she said softly, "that you'd want to break another rule?"

Part of Ran-Del wanted to say yes. It was clear what she was offering, and he knew quite well he wanted it. But he was a Sansoussy, even if she wasn't, so he shook his head wordlessly.

She stepped a tiny step closer. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes." Ran-Del took a deep breath and recited the mantra for the First Discipline in his mind. "I'm sorry," he said, with real regret in his voice.

Janis sighed and stepped back. Ran-Del could feel her desire melt into bitterness. "I'd always hoped to meet a Sansoussy man. It never occurred to me that I might meet him too late to do me any good."

Ran-Del made no reply. Nothing in his life had prepared him for such a situation, and he didn't know what to say.

Janis turned her back to him and went out the door without looking back.

Ran-Del scrambled into his clothes, eager to be clothed again. He folded the blanket, left it neatly on the chair, and then opened the door and stepped into the main room of the bar. Several people were sitting at the tables, but none of them even gave him a glance.

A slight man with a weary air who was clearing glasses from an empty table came over to where Ran-Del stood. "All set?" he asked. "Janis said you'd be leaving soon."

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "Would you thank her for me?"

The man nodded and turned away. Ran-Del left without further discussion. City manners still seemed abrupt to him, almost like no manners at all.

He had no trouble heading back in the same general direction he had come, and once the tower of the Hayden complex was in view, it wasn't difficult for him to find his way back to the front gate.

The two men on duty in the security station were clearly visible through the window in the outside wall. Ran-Del didn't recognize either of them, but they seemed to know him.

"Good afternoon, Citizen Jahanpur," the shorter one said as Ran-Del walked up to the gate.

"Good afternoon," Ran-Del replied, placing his hand on the square panel by the gate. The light flickered again, and the gate slid open.

Having learned a little about how communication worked in the Hayden complex, Ran-Del wasn't surprised when Francesca was waiting for him as soon as he came in the front door of the house.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. Only the worry radiating from her softened her tone.

"Good afternoon, Francesca," Ran-Del said politely, conscious of the public setting.

Francesca seemed to realize it, too. "Let's go to my—our room."

Ran-Del followed her, noting the determined line of her shoulders and the brisk pace she set.

"Now," Francesca said, turning to face him as the sitting room door closed behind him, "where have you been, Ran-Del Jahanpur?"

"I told you I was going into the city," Ran-Del said stiffly. She might be genuinely concerned, but he wanted it clear that she wasn't in charge of him. "And who are you to question me, as if I were a child or a servant?"

Francesca bit her lip. "I was worried about you. You were gone all day—you missed lunch—there was no way I could contact you—you don't know the com code, let alone how to use a com set."

"I was fine," Ran-Del said, uneasily aware that he was, to some extent, lying. "You don't need to worry about me, Francesca."

Her frown suggested that she suspected something was amiss. "How can I not worry when you insist on going out alone?"

"Why shouldn't I go alone? I've been of age for six seasons. I can take care of myself."

"Where did you go in the city?"

Reluctant to reveal his mishap, Ran-Del resorted to belligerence. "What business is it of yours? Can't I have any privacy here?"

She took a step closer, one hand raised as if to touch him, but stopped short. "I was just curious. Don't be angry at me. I don't want you to be angry, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del knew instantly what was on her mind. He could feel it easily, not delicate tendrils but hot waves of desire. She unsealed her shirt, so that it came open all the way, and then did the same to her undergarments, revealing a strip of bare flesh with the gentle slope of one breast next to it. She took his hand and held it so that it cupped her breast, almost as she had the night they had been alone on the plains, except that now he touched skin instead of cloth.

The gesture reminded Ran-Del of Janis' touching him, and he felt his desire rise at the same time as he suffered a stab of guilt for thinking of another woman while he was with Francesca.

He kissed her passionately, letting guilt fade as his yearning grew stronger. She responded to the kiss and then led him into the bedroom. Ran-Del pushed her back onto the bed, and everything proceeded in a now-familiar pattern until Francesca removed Ran-Del's shirt. She stopped suddenly, and stared at him.

"Where did you go today, Ran-Del?" she demanded again. "What did you do in the city?"

Ran-Del knew she was very aroused, and he didn't understand why she would suddenly stop what she was doing to ask him questions. "What?" he asked, knowing that he sounded dull and stupid.

"Where did you go?" Francesca insisted, pulling away from him and sitting up. Anger began to stir in her, and suspicion. "Who were you with today?"

"What?" Ran-Del repeated, sitting up himself. "I don't know anyone in the city."

"Was it a whore, Ran-Del?"

Her anger stung his guilt, like salt on a wound. "No! What's wrong, Francesca? Why are you acting this way?"

"You've had your clothes off," Francesca said, jumping to her feet. "Your undershirt is turned wrong side out. It wasn't that way this morning. I saw you put it on correctly after we made love. Who was it, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del flushed. He remembered dressing in haste, worrying that Janis might come back into the storeroom. "It's not what you're thinking."

"Then what happened?" Naked from the waist up, Francesca stood accusingly, utterly unconscious of the picture she made.

"If you must know," Ran-Del said, annoyed at having to reveal his ignorance, "I fell into the river."

Francesca's eyes opened wide. "You fell into the Jordan?"

"Yes. I was watching some people unload a ship—a barge—and I got knocked into the water by some kind of machine. A man named Georges jumped in and helped me get out."

"Can you swim?" Francesca said.

He would have to tell her everything—well, almost everything. He wouldn't lie, but he saw no need to tell her every detail about Janis. "Not very well. Georges helped me get up a ladder to the—the wharf, and then he took me to a bar where a woman dried my clothes for me."

"Ran-Del!" Francesca said, shocked, "you might have drowned."

"Well, I didn't." He would have to be careful or she would try to keep him a prisoner like her father had. "I'm fine. It was nothing, Francesca."

"Nothing?"

Ran-Del decided to take the offensive. A minute ago she had burned with desire. Surely that couldn't all be gone so soon? He stood up and stepped close enough to touch her. "It was nothing." He bent his head down and kissed her at the same time he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her relax in his arms, and she didn't protest as he laid her back down on the bed. Ran-Del felt one last twinge of guilt as he thought of Janis and how she had stood so close to him. He remembered how her hair had looked as red as copper moss in the light from the little storeroom window, and how her eyes had glinted in almost the same coppery shade. And then Francesca slid her hands down his sides and he forgot about Janis and thought only about the moment.

***

Nisa turned back and forth in front of the big mirror in Stefan's bedroom, viewing herself from different angles. Stefan stepped close behind her to slide his arms around her waist and look over her shoulder at her reflection. "You look fabulous. If I weren't the host, I'd say the hell with this party."

Nisa chuckled, leaning back against him. "Does that mean you're ready to let everyone know about you and me?"

"No," Stefan said at once, unnerved that she was still making this request. "I don't want anyone to know, Nisa, and you know why."

Nisa turned in his arms and put both hands behind his neck. "It's foolish, Stefan. You're treating me as if I were a child. I can take care of myself."

Hoping to avoid an argument, Stefan tried for a light tone. "That's what Ran-Del told Francesca, and he fell into the Jordan."

"He survived. So would I."

He stared into her eyes. Amazing that he had found this feeling twice in one lifetime. He remembered the day he had hired her away from the Quaiffe-Pringle cartel; she had seemed competent but prim. "I can't do anything that makes it less likely, Nisa. I just can't."

Nisa hugged him tightly. "All right, Stefan. We'll do it your way for now."

Stefan hugged her back and then pulled away. "Go and make your entrance from your own room, sweetheart. You know the way."

Nisa smiled as she slid her hand along the track behind the mirror to find the lock. "You Haydens and your secret passages. You're like children, sometimes, you and Francesca both."

Stefan smiled as he held the mirror door open for her. No sense worrying her with Quaiffe-Pringle's latest offer.

***

Ran-Del's only worry in preparing for his first city party was to keep Francesca from fretting over him.

She oozed anxiety as she watched him slide his dirk into its sheath. "Are you sure you know what to do?" she asked.

If only she didn't sound so much like his mother had when he was small. "You told me how to greet people, what to do when we sit down to eat, what to do when a toast is made. What else is there?"

Her concern didn't abate. "Not that much, but I don't see why you insist on wearing that knife. It's a party, not a hunt."

He refused to be swayed by her logic. "I'm a Sansoussy. A Sansoussy always wears a dirk."

She wrinkled her brow. "Yes, but you will remember not to draw it, won't you? All the guests will have been through an intensive weapons scan, and they'll get rather upset if you draw a weapon."

It struck Ran-Del as a ridiculous situation. "How can you call this a party if you have to scan all the guests for weapons? When a Sansoussy gives a party, he invites his friends, not his enemies."

"In Shangri-La, sometimes it hard to tell the difference." Francesca turned to her mirror and touched her hair with satisfaction. She had left the braid in, of course, but she had pulled it across the top of her head and pinned it in place with a diamond clip.

Ran-Del watched her and frowned as she started for the door. "Francesca! Where are you going?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Why, to the party, of course. Pop wants us to be there with him when the guests arrive."

Ran-Del was shocked. "But you're not dressed!"

Francesca glanced down at herself and then back at him. "Yes, I am."

Ran-Del studied her in dismay. The spangled fabric of her single-piece skin-tight body suit glittered when she walked. The garment had no sleeves and only thin straps supported the bodice; both the neckline and the back swooped quite low, revealing cleavage from either side. A few wispy tendrils of fabric trailing from her shoulders and a pair of silver slippers completed her costume. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Francesca said. "What's wrong, Ran-Del? This outfit isn't unusual, not for a party; you'll see lots like it tonight. Your people don't wear all that much at this season. You said so yourself."

Ran-Del did his best to control his consternation. "There's a difference between leaving skin uncovered and wrapping it provocatively. What you're wearing is an invitation to take it off."

Francesca sighed regretfully. "We don't have time."

Ran-Del gritted his teeth. "I don't mean an invitation to me. If you wear that outfit, it's like asking other men to go to bed with you. You said you wouldn't do that anymore."

The corners of Francesca's mouth curved upward in a faint smile. "Are you jealous, Ran-Del?"

"Are you doing anything that I should be jealous about?"

Francesca tapped her foot. She seemed pleased with herself all at once. Ran-Del could sense it.

"All right, Ran-Del," she said finally, "I'll change into something else—something considerably more modest—if you do something for me."

"What?" Ran-Del asked, suspicious.

"Leave the knife here. You do that, and I'll promise not to wear anything you don't like."

Ran-Del studied Francesca, standing there looking as if she had planned to paint herself with sparkling paint and then run out of paint, and then he made up his mind. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it off, then slid the sheath of his dirk off of the belt.

Francesca smiled with triumph as she moved to her closet.

***

When Ran-Del finally accompanied Francesca into the main hall, he saw Stefan Hayden waiting as impatiently as he had when Ran-Del prepared to leave his village. As soon as the Baron saw his daughter, his eyes opened wide in amazement.

Ran-Del considered Francesca's blue gown very pleasing. It covered her legs down to the ankles, and although her arms were bare, it showed only a modest amount of cleavage.

"Hello, sweetie," Stefan said. "I thought you bought that gown for a costume party? A nun, wasn't it?"

She tisked at him. "Are we late?"

Stefan shook his head. "You just made it. Security buzzed me that the Leongs are here."

"Leave it to that hag to be first to pick at our bones," Francesca said.

Stefan glanced at Ran-Del's belt and smiled. "At least you've put your time to good use."

Ran-Del bristled at the man's interest. In the forest, a betrothed couple could usually build a new house to be alone in, but here they were trapped in Stefan Hayden's household.

Francesca didn't seem to mind. "We all do what we have to do, Pop. You said it yourself."

Stefan laughed and turned to greet their first guests.

A blonde woman in an elaborate and very snug-fitting gold gown stepped forward, her hands outstretched. Her ice blue eyes widened and she stopped in surprise when she saw Ran-Del.

"Hello, Elena." Stefan's tone was friendly, but Ran-Del caught an undercurrent of wariness. "I'd like you to meet Ran-Del Jahanpur, Francesca's fiancée." Stefan nodded at Ran-Del. "And this is Baroness Leong, Ran-Del."

Elena darted a suspicion-filled glance at Ran-Del, then looked back at her host. Her anger billowed so strongly that Ran-Del almost stepped back a pace.

"Congratulations, Francesca," she said in a brittle voice, as she shook Stefan's hand. "I wish you very happy, my dear."

"When's the wedding?" said a lazy voice. The man behind Baroness Leong was tall, with a handsome, pleasant face and an almost sleepy expression in his very blue eyes. His black hair was cut short except for a lock of it that drooped over his forehead in an appealing way.

"Hello, Freddie," Francesca said, the affection in her tone matching the feeling that Ran-Del sensed from her. "The wedding will be in a few weeks."

Ran-Del sensed a strange, fuzzy sensibility from Freddie Leong. It reminded him vaguely of the trance induced by medicine smoke, but it was somehow different, more overpowering. It didn't manage to drown out the man's fondness for Francesca as he bent his tall frame and kissed her cheek.

"Congratulations, my sweet," he said. "Congratulations, Ran-Del," he added, holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ran-Del shook his hand, having learned already that this ritual was practiced among all men and some women in Shangri-La. Freddie's bleary consciousness heightened the shock of contact.

"Congratulations for what?" said another voice. The shorter, stockier man behind Freddie managed to look vaguely like him, even with blond hair and brown eyes. He seemed older and tougher, totally lacking Freddie's amiability or fuzziness.

"Francesca is getting married, Hans," Baroness Leong said, her voice as cold as a stream in winter, "to this gentleman."

Stefan made introductions again. Ran-Del felt both anger and irritation as he shook Hans Leong's hand. Whether it was directed at himself, Stefan Hayden, or Hans' own family, he couldn't tell.

The Leongs moved on quickly as another group came in behind them. With every group, Stefan made introductions. Most of the time, Ran-Del could feel strong reactions to the news of his betrothal to Francesca. Usually it was merely surprise, but some people reacted with hostility. A middle-aged woman named Maeve Omalley shot him a look of malice as she took his hand. She wasn't the only one, but she hid it less well than others.

Ran-Del found it difficult to sort the guests out. They were so numerous that their names were soon forgotten, even though the women, in particular, were often dressed provocatively enough to catch his attention. Even the men wore very tight clothes, although they never showed as much skin.

As soon as the last guest had joined the milling throng, Stefan put a hand on Ran-Del's arm. "Well, Ran-Del, what did you think?"

Ran-Del looked out at the assembled guests who were helping themselves to food and drink. "Many of them were angry. Why?"

Stefan grinned. "Because your marrying Francesca will put a crimp in their plans." He gave his daughter a speaking glance. "You see where a Sansoussy can be useful?"

She made a face and pulled Ran-Del away from him. "Come on, Ran-Del. Phase one is over. Now for phase two."

"What does that mean?" Ran-Del asked, watching as an elderly matron in a low-cut gown tilted a delicate glass of pale liquid and emptied it in one swallow.

"Phase one is the receiving line, and phase two is mingling," Francesca said, smiling warmly at a young man in a tight purple suit. He looked glum as he watched her walk away with Ran-Del. "We'll talk to everyone for another hour or so while they nibble food and guzzle booze," Francesca went on. "A number of people will make assignations for later in the evening, and then just when people start to get really drunk, we'll sit down to eat dinner. That's phase three. Halfway through the meal, Pop will get up and announce that you and I are engaged to be married, and everyone who hasn't actually fallen out of his chair by then will drink a toast.

"Finally, we'll all move out into the gardens for phase four—brandy in the moonlight. You'll notice some people sneaking off to the more private nooks to have a quick tumble, and then everyone will thank Pop for a delightful evening and they'll stagger out to their skimmers and go home."

"It sounds terrible," Ran-Del said, repelled.

"It is," Francesca said cheerfully. "It's a party."

Shortly after that Ran-Del found himself separated from Francesca when she was pulled away by two women, dressed very much as she had been earlier, who demanded a chance to speak to her privately. Immediately afterwards, a blonde woman in a flimsy excuse for a gown came up to Ran-Del.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Priscilla Cho. We met earlier, but you were looking rather harassed."

"Ran-Del Jahanpur," Ran-Del said, offering his hand.

"I remember your name," she said holding his hand rather than shaking it. "I just didn't think that you'd remember mine."

Ran-Del didn't recall meeting her even though she was a very attractive woman and what there was of her gown left no doubt about her physical assets.

"So," Priscilla said, "if you've persuaded Francesca Hayden to the altar, you must be really something in bed."

Ran-Del thought he must have heard her wrong. "Pardon?"

"I was just wondering," Priscilla said, giving him a warm glance that started at his feet and lingered only halfway up to his face, "whether you're still interested in playing the field a little. Francesca's not the only one who knows first rate tactics. I'm sure I could show you a good time, too."

Ran-Del stood rooted in shock, unable to speak. He was groping for words when Nisa Palli came up beside him and slipped an arm around his waist.

"There you are, Ran-Del. Stefan was looking for you. Say goodbye to Priscilla and come along, will you?"

"Goodbye," Ran-Del said, immensely relieved at having the responsibility for what to say taken off of his shoulders.

Nisa pulled him halfway across the room and then stopped.

"There," she said with satisfaction. "She's gone off after other game." She looked at Ran-Del and smiled. "I hope you don't mind. Stefan didn't ask for you, I just thought you looked in need of rescuing."

"Thank you very much," Ran-Del said.

"You're welcome." Nisa's eyes twinkled like the sparkles in her black body suit. Unlike Francesca's friends, Nisa wore a loose, flowing robe over her body suit. It shimmered in subtle blue-green ripples and hid the lines of her body. Ran-Del thought she looked very nice.

"If you don't mind my asking," Nisa said, her eyes twinkling even more, "how did you ever persuade Francesca to wear that dress?"

Ran-Del glanced across the room at his betrothed. Francesca stood with her back to the wall while the man in the purple suit, who seemed to be having some difficulty standing up straight, leaned towards her with a drink in his hand.

"I left my dirk back in our room," Ran-Del said. "It's too bad, too, because I could use it right now."

"You don't need it," Nisa said, laying a hand on his arm before he could move away. "In fact, you don't need to do anything. Give her a chance to handle him on her own."

Francesca was laughing at something the man had said. She put out a hand as if to steady herself, and somehow the man's drink spilled down the front of his suit. He jumped back, cursing, and Francesca apologized profusely as she called a servant to help the man with his jacket. A few seconds later, Francesca moved away, smiling, while the man went off to the cloakroom to wait for his purple jacket to be cleaned.

"I told you," Nisa said. "No one crowds Francesca unless she wants him to."

The rest of the evening proceeded just as Francesca had laid it out. At dinner time, she sat next to Ran-Del, pointing out the leaders of the cartels to him and explaining their relationship to others in the room.

"You remember Elena Leong?" she said pointing at the blond woman who sat at another table. "She's Baroness Leong, and also the head of Leong-Norwalk, one of the smaller cartels. She's sitting with her sons Freddie and Hans on either side of her. That man across from her, Sujit Garcia, he's Baron Garcia, and the head of Quaiffe-Pringle, one of the largest cartels. It's so big they only use the first two names. Sujit got control just recently when old lady Pringle died. Some people say he hastened her demise by supplying her with so many virile young men, she keeled over from a heart attack."

Horrified, Ran-Del gave her a suspicious glance, but he sensed no deceit. She was serious.

"The man he's talking to," Francesca went on, oblivious to his skepticism, "is Deiter Omalley, the heir to House Omalley. He's trying to oust his mother as head of Omalley-Chang-Wah. Maeve Omalley doesn't want to actually cut him out of the succession, so she has held him at bay by having her other children committed to an asylum to keep them from supporting their brother."

Ran-Del was as appalled at this lust for power and lack of family feeling as he had been at being accosted by Priscilla Cho. "I begin to think," he said in disgust, "that your father wasn't so crazy to think he could do better for you merely by abducting the first Sansoussy he met in the forest."

Francesca gave him a warm smile. "I've thought so for several days now."

Ran-Del blushed, and Francesca furthered his mortification by kissing him on the mouth. No one stared, although Ran-Del was aware of several people's interest.

After dinner, Ran-Del was even more disgusted to see couples scurrying off together in the gardens, some of them not bothering to wait until they were alone to begin fondling each other.

"Have they no shame?" he asked Francesca.

"No," Francesca said. "They don't see it as something to be ashamed of."

"Why can't they at least go home first?"

"A lot of these couples are from Houses in rival cartels; they can't have formal liaisons, so they settle for something a good deal less—explicit."

Ran-Del wasn't sorry to see the last of their company board a skimmer and depart through the gate.

"There," Francesca said, to her father. "Ran-Del's first party is over. Now D'Persis can relax, and we can all go to bed."

Stefan Hayden let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, now we can all go to bed."

Alyssa D'Persis' voice sounded behind him. "You can all go to bed. I still have rounds to make."

Stefan grinned. "That's what I pay you for, Alyssa."

Ran-Del still found the concept of a salary difficult to grasp, especially as it related to loyalty.

D'Persis smiled grimly. "Yes, that's what you pay me for, Baron."

***

Francesca undressed wearily, merely draping her dress over the back of a chair instead of hanging it up. She was about to slip into bed when Ran-Del spoke.

"Don't forget the pebble for tonight."

"Oh, you're right." She moved to her dressing table to find the small leather bag Ji-Ran Jahanpur had given her.

"How many are left?" Ran-Del asked.

Francesca glanced at the priceless antique Terran bowl on the dresser and saw eight pebbles. "Twenty-two—twenty-one in just a second."

Ran-Del looked solemn as he sat up in bed watching her. "You'll have to make up your mind soon."

She had already made up her mind, but she didn't tell him that. Besides, it would be a little easier to pin up her hair if she waited. She shook a pebble into her hand, held it over the bowl for a second, then let it drop. It clanged as it hit the other pebbles.

Francesca jiggled the bag gently. Twenty-one pebbles for twenty-one days. She intended to enjoy every pebble.

### Chapter Fifteen

Six days after the party, Ran-Del decided to go back to the river again. He had explored the city in different directions, but he hadn't found anything nearly as interesting as the Jordan. There was just the matter of getting there without any interference.

Fortunately Francesca was too busy frowning at her father across the breakfast table to ask Ran-Del any questions about his plans for the day. "What's up, Pop? You look distracted."

A spurt of annoyance radiated from Stefan Hayden. "I've asked you not to call me Pop."

"I know you have." Francesca reached across the table and tapped his hand. "Give! Tell me what's worrying you."

It was just the three of them at breakfast, unless Buster counted. The Sansoussy hound lay with his head resting on Ran-Del's left foot.

Nisa Palli sometimes joined them for lunch but rarely at other meals. Ran-Del had been surprised to hear that Stefan Hayden's feelings for her were a secret the Baron wanted kept quiet. To Ran-Del, it was obvious the two of them cared for each other.

Stefan answered his daughter in a light tone. "Nothing you need to worry about. But I am planning a trip to Hayden today. I'll come back tomorrow, but you and Ran-Del should plan on staying for a while. Cancel any engagements you might have made from now through the next couple of weeks, and pack your things."

Francesca set her teacup down. "What? I don't want to go to Hayden now. Besides, Julie's engagement party is tonight. It'll piss off old lady Wah if I cancel at this late date."

Stefan tapped his fork on his plate in irritation. "All right. You can go to the party—be sure to take Ran-Del. But plan on packing in the morning. I'll bring the flyter back by noon tomorrow, and you can both go back with me."

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "Why? What's going on?"

Stefan glanced from her to Ran-Del, then shrugged. "It may be nothing. But D'Persis thinks she has a line on how Maeve Omalley got those plans—a disgruntled former employee may have sold some information. I think it would be best if we moved out to Hayden for a few weeks, until she can check it out."

Ran-Del could feel Francesca's concern. "Maybe we should go with you, then?" she said.

The Baron shook his head. "No, I don't want us to appear scared. Keep your commitment here. I want to look things over at Hayden first, anyway."

Francesca bit her lip. "But, Pop—"

"Don't call me Pop!"

Ran-Del almost jumped from surprise. Stefan's nerves must truly be on edge for him to yell at his daughter.

Francesca looked down at her plate.

Stefan sighed and got up from the table. He bent over to hug Francesca, emitting equal amounts of worry and regret. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to snap at you."

She hugged him back. "It's okay, P—it's okay. I'm a little jittery myself."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm leaving this afternoon, right after lunch. If I don't see you before then, I'll see you tomorrow around noon."

She clung to him for a second. "All right. I have a lot to do today, then."

He left them with no more than a pat on Francesca's shoulder and a wave to Ran-Del.

Francesca stared at Ran-Del rather like he himself had once studied a pack of tree bears before he decided which one to shoot. "We could get married today if it wouldn't steal Julie's applause so much."

The thought jolted Ran-Del. He had watched pebbles accumulate in the delicate bowl on Francesca's dresser and wondered whether she would indeed go through with their marriage. "Who is Julie?" he asked as a distraction.

"Julie Wah is a first cousin." Francesca stared at the food on her plate like she thought it might try to escape. "You met her at our party. Her father is my mother's only sibling."

And she had no siblings herself. They had such small families in the city. "Do you have other cousins?"

"Not many." Her eyes seemed to come back into focus. She looked up at him. "What are you going to do today?"

So much for distraction. "Explore the city again."

She blinked. "Be careful—and don't stay out too long. You'll need to dress up for the party tonight. I'll have the servants pack your clothes tomorrow. You can take anything you want with you."

Ran-Del looked down at his dog. "I will take Buster and my weapons."

Her mouth twisted in a lopsided smile. "I don't think bows and arrows will be much use if we need weapons."

Ran-Del shrugged. "If nothing else, my weapons would be unexpected."

After Francesca left the table, Ran-Del took Buster to the kennels. The smaller dog had made a place for himself in the guard dog hierarchy, and Ran-Del didn't want to leave him alone in the house all day while he was in the city.

Ran-Del had no problems leaving by the security gate. By retracing his steps carefully, he passed through the same neighborhoods and eventually came to the same bridge. After he had crossed it, he looked around at the surrounding buildings and determined that the large building facing the wharf must be the warehouse.

When he had asked her, Francesca had explained what a warehouse was; she had made a point to show him illustrations in an encyclopedia, to emphasize to him that he could look things up for himself if he could only read. Ran-Del had begun to see the value of the printed word, but he wasn't ready to let Francesca know that. He had listened to her explanation in silence, noted the information, and refused either to argue with her comment or to agree with it.

Ran-Del studied the markings on the sign above the warehouse and wondered what they said. He shrugged in defeat and walked through the open doorway into the dim light.

The warehouse looked very much like the illustrations Francesca had shown him. The ceiling was higher than any ceiling Ran-Del had ever seen, the space below it defined by rows and rows of tall shelves, twelve tiers high. A few machines rolled up and down the aisles putting away goods, or getting them down from shelves. As Ran-Del watched, one machine rolled to a stop in front of a shelf, then began to grow taller and taller until it seemed to be aiming for the roof. When the top part had reached the second tallest shelf, mechanical arms slid out of it and picked up a large crate, then retracted to slide the container onto the machine. Once the container was secure, the machine shrank down to its previous height and then rolled along the floor like its mates.

"Can I help you?" said a voice.

It was Brandon, the fair-haired man who had brought Georges his clothes.

"Yes, thank you," Ran-Del said. "I'm looking for Georges Rangoon."

"Over there," Brandon said, seeming not to recognize Ran-Del. He nodded at a corner where Georges conferred with a gray-haired woman. They stood near one of the machines that had stretched itself up to the top shelf and seemed intent on staying there.

"Damn it, Clara," Georges was saying as Ran-Del approached, "what the hell good is a service contract if it doesn't get us service?"

"We'll get it, Georges," the woman said soothingly, "just not today."

Georges started to argue, but he caught sight of Ran-Del. After a second, he smiled in recognition. "Hello," he said, holding out his hand. "Clara, honey, this is the man I told you about, my big fish from the Jordan."

Ran-Del shook hands with the man but looked at the woman closely. In spite of her gray hair, she didn't look any older than Georges. Her eyes were bright and cheerful, her face only lightly lined at the corners of her eyes.

"Hello," she said, offering her hand, also. "Glad to see you're staying away from the water's edge."

Ran-Del murmured a greeting as he shook her hand.

"What can I do for you?" Georges asked.

"You said you might have work."

George shook his head. "Not today." He waved a hand at the machine above him in the air. "Not unless you can climb like a tree bear."

Ran-Del craned his head back and looked up at the machine. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's stuck," Georges said in disgust. "Oh, there's a more technical explanation, but basically, it's stuck. There's a reset switch, but the remote control for it doesn't seem to be working, either, and we can't reach the switch to activate it manually, so for now, it's just damn stuck."

"What does a reset switch look like?" Ran-Del asked him.

"It's black and round and says 'reset' under it. Why?"

Ran-Del didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the lowest shelf and swung himself up onto it. Then he jumped up and grabbed the next shelf and pulled himself up again.

Clara's voice called out, "Stop him Georges! He'll kill himself."

Ran-Del glanced back. Why were they so anxious? It was a simple enough climb. He reached for the next shelf.

"Hey!" Georges shouted at him. "Hey, you! What's your name? Ran-Del! Stop! I wasn't serious. You can't climb with no safety equipment."

Ran-Del stopped for a moment and looked down at Georges. Had he misunderstood? "Do you need the machine unstuck?"

The man waved both hands frantically. "It can wait. Come down before you kill yourself. I didn't save your life to see you throw it away."

Perhaps they didn't climb often, as there were so few blackwoods in the city. Happy to have a chance to show his skills, Ran-Del continued pulling himself up a shelf at a time until he was about twenty-five meters in the air, on the highest shelf and level with the controls of the lifter. He walked to the edge, surveyed the distance carefully, and then stepped across the empty air so that he stood on the machine. It had a tiny platform, presumably for times when it was operated manually. After a quick study of the control panel, he leaned over the side and called down to Georges Rangoon.

"There are six controls that are round and black," he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Which one is the reset switch?"

"The one that says 'reset' under it," Georges shouted back.

"I can't read."

Georges let out an expletive. "Well, now is a damn, fricking fine time to tell me!" he shouted up at Ran-Del. "Just a moment; don't touch anything!"

Ran-Del waited while Georges sprinted down the aisle to another lifting machine that sat idle and then sprinted back.

"It's the third one from the left," Georges said.

Ran-Del pulled his head back in and pressed the third button from the left. After a few seconds, the machine began to hum and then slowly sank to the floor. It felt almost like riding in the lift in the Hayden tower, only slower. Ran-Del waited until he was only a meter in the air and then jumped off.

"Damn you!" George sounded angry. "What the hell do you mean by taking that kind of a risk?"

The accusation took Ran-Del aback. "There was no risk. Your shelves are quite sturdy. They held my weight with no trouble."

"Of course they held your weight." Georges puffed out his chest. "They could hold a hundred times your weight. That doesn't change the fact that you could have fallen."

It was Ran-Del's turn for indignation. "Fallen? From stable footing like that, with no wind at all to consider? What do you think I am, a child?"

Clara grasped her husband's arm and tugged on it. "Wait, Georges, I think I understand. The Sansoussy climb trees."

Ran-Del nodded. "Of course. What else is there to climb in the forest?"

"Quite tall trees?" Clara asked.

"Certainly," Ran-Del said. "How else can we see what weather is coming, or ambush our enemies."

Georges leaned back and stared up at his shelving. "You mean you could climb up there any time, with no trouble?"

Ran-Del nodded again.

"You must have quite a head for heights," Georges said. "I don't like to ask anyone to go up that high without safety equipment." He grinned at Ran-Del. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, then. Thanks for taking care of the lifter for me. I owe you wages for that."

Ran-Del shook his head. "It cost me nothing but a quick climb," he said, paraphrasing Georges' words to him.

"Nonsense!" Georges said, slapping him on the back. "I believe in rewarding initiative. Let's talk about what you could do around here."

An immeasurable satisfaction suffused Ran-Del. He had found work entirely by himself. A moment later he recalled Stefan Hayden's plans to travel to the country and Francesca's resolve. "I'm very willing to work, but I might not be available for a few weeks." When Georges looked at him curiously, Ran-Del added an explanation. "I may be getting married."

***

Ran-Del started back to the Hayden complex pleased with the course of the day. He had not only found employment, he had a small amount of cash in his pocket. Georges had insisted on paying him for his time, even though it was clear Ran-Del's work at the warehouse would be limited until he could learn to read.

Ran-Del felt so good, it surprised him when he found himself frowning at his surroundings, even at the strangers he passed. What was wrong with him? The city dwellers around him had done him no harm.

He stared at a food vendor who had set up a stall on the nearest corner. Even though he was hungry, Ran-Del moved past rapidly, compelled to get away. No! Ran-Del realized suddenly that it wasn't a matter of getting away from the vendor. He needed to get back to the Hayden compound.

His psy sense must be warning him of something. Ran-Del walked faster. The compulsion to hurry grew stronger as he walked. He broke into a jog, and then into a run.

The people around him stared, but Ran-Del ignored them and ran as fast as he could, dodging around pedestrians on the walkways and through vehicles as he crossed streets. He had to get back. Something was going to happen. Something bad.

***

Francesca lifted a gown of shimmering silver fabric. It was beautiful, but the neckline dipped almost to the waist, and Ran-Del might object to it. "What do you think?" she asked Nisa.

Her father's assistant surveyed the gown from her perch on Francesca's bed. "The red one looks like a better choice. It would cover everything Ran-Del is going to want covered."

Francesca tossed the silver gown onto the bed and took the red two-piece outfit from her closet. She held it up in front of her and looked in the mirror. "Hmmm."

"Try it on," Nisa said.

Francesca shed her everyday clothes swiftly and pulled on the silky trousers and short, tight-fitting top.

"Oh!" Nisa said. "I didn't realize the top was sheer. I can see right through it."

Francesca chuckled. "I could wear body paint under it, but I don't think that would fool Ran-Del."

Nisa picked up the silver dress. "Try this one again and we'll see if we can find something to make it more discreet."

Francesca smoothed her hair after she pulled off the red top. She knew she was nervous because of Pop's warning, and she glanced at Nisa to judge her mood.

Nisa seemed her usual calm self as she held out the silver gown for Francesca to slip over her head.

"You and Pop had lunch together, right?" Francesca asked, slipping her arms under the straps.

"Yes," Nisa said. "Why?"

"Nothing really." Francesca smoothed the silver fabric over her body. The gown was much dressier than the red evening slacks. She would wear this to the party. "I just wondered if you're coming with us out to Hayden."

Nisa stepped back to survey the silver gown. "Not right away. I have a few things to wrap up here—some meetings with customers and a staff meeting. But I'll come out in a few days when I get everything cleared up. I could use a few days of vacation, too."

Had Pop told Nisa it was a vacation? Somehow that fact rocked Francesca even more than the warning itself. "He'll miss you," she said, to cover her surprise.

Nisa arched her brows. "He had better."

The com crackled before Francesca could think of a suitable reply. "Miss Francesca?"

Francesca moved closer to the wall speaker. "Yes?"

"Citizen Jahanpur just came in the gate," said a voice. It sounded like Merced. "You asked to be notified."

Ran-Del was back early. That would be helpful. "Thank you."

After a brief pause Merced's voice spoke again. "He seems upset about something. He headed for the house at a dead run."

"Thank you." What could be wrong? Francesca tried to think of a problem Ran-Del could have encountered in the city that would make him run back here. He was more likely to charge at trouble than run from it—unless he had attacked someone, maybe killed them. "Where is Pop?" she asked Nisa. "Has he left already?"

"I don't think so." Nisa moved toward the window. "He wanted Toth to go with him, but Toth wasn't on duty so he had to find someone to switch with him." She glanced out the window. "His flyter is still on the pad." She craned her neck toward the front door. "Wow, Ran-Del is really moving."

Fear stabbed Francesca. Her father had insisted on having Hiram with him. She couldn't remember his ever upsetting the duty roster by asking for Hiram when he wasn't scheduled to work. But Pop had asked this time. And now Ran-Del was alarmed. Francesca slipped on the silver evening sandals that went with the dress. "Let's go find Pop."

Nisa frowned. "Dressed like that?"

"Why not?" Francesca grabbed a brooch from her jewelry basket and pinned the edges of her low-cut bodice together. "Now it's decent. Let's go."

They met Ran-Del halfway down the front stairs. "Something is wrong,' he said at once.

"What?" Francesca demanded.

"I don't know." He gasped for breath and didn't even glare at her dress. "I only know something bad is going to happen—soon!"

Psy sense, her father called it. "We're going to find Pop." It occurred to her she should have tried her father's com, and now she had left her own com in her rooms. "Come on," she said, lifting her skirts and racing down the rest of the stairs to the front door.

The compound looked perfectly normal—grass and trees, children playing near the school, a few people going about their business. A woman carrying a small bag toward the security barracks stopped to stare at them. Francesca recognized her as a senior member of the security staff.

"Quinn!" Francesca shouted to her. "Do you know where my father is?"

Marina Quinn moved closer. "I expect he's either on the flyter or still waiting for Toth to pack a bag, Miss Francesca. Toth took my place on escort detail." She dropped her own bag, pulled a com from her pocket, and tapped a control. "Toth," she said, "it's Quinn. Is the Baron with you?"

Just as her com crackled in response, Francesca saw her father's flyter lift above the roof line of the security barracks.

"Yes, we're just taking off now," Hiram Toth's voice said. "What's up, Quinn?"

A tremendous thumping noise echoed from the com, at the same time it resounded through the compound. Francesca stared in horror as a hail of sparks rained down from the flyter. A second later the ground shook as the automated mortar batteries on the security towers opened fire. Flashes of light alternated with loud booms.

The flyter burst into flames, hung in the air for a second, then dropped like a lead weight.

Francesca's heart thumped in her chest. She hiked her skirts up around her hips and ran as fast as she could go.

The door of the barracks opened and people poured out. Alyssa D'Persis shouted orders. A claxon wailed. The automated fire skimmer darted from the hangar, its siren shrieking.

Time stood still. Francesca stopped running. The inferno on the flyter pad burned so hot she could feel it where she stood. A black column of acrid smoke rose into the air and drifted in the breeze. Francesca sobbed, drew in a deep breath, then coughed as the smoke filled her lungs.

Pop was dead. He had to be. Nothing could live in that hell of heat and smoke.

She had to know. She started forward, but hands caught her and pulled her back.

"Francesca." It was Ran-Del. His eyes blinked from the smoke, but his grip on her arms stayed firm. "You're too close. Come back a little."

Numbly, she let him pull her back a few paces. The fire skimmer sprayed fountains of water and chemicals. The flames died down quickly, leaving a blackened hulk, piles of ash, bent and twisted metal.

Pop was dead. Hiram, too. And the pilot and whoever else had been aboard.

Suddenly cold, Francesca shook herself. Ran-Del put one arm around her. She sobbed a quick convulsive sob, and he folded her into an embrace, holding her tightly against his chest.

Pop was dead.

"Get those kids out of here!" Alyssa D'Persis' voice shouted.

Francesca pulled away from Ran-Del. The compound was full of people. D'Persis directed her staff and some of the house servants and office workers who stood looking dazed. A few children had run from the school, followed by a teacher, who stopped and stood with her hand over her mouth. The guards kept everyone back; the servants ran to fetch tools. The teacher shooed the children back toward the school.

Francesca wanted answers. "What happened, Alyssa?"

The security chief pushed her hair back from her face. "Our security program must have malfunctioned. Our own defense system shot the flyter down."

"How could that happen?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out." D'Persis strode over to one of the cooks who stood sobbing and rubbing his eyes. She directed the man back to the house to fetch drinking water for the workers.

Ran-Del put one arm around Francesca and pulled her close. "I need to talk to you."

"Not now." Francesca looked around. Even with D'Persis' directions, people still milled about aimlessly. Marina Quinn had restrained Nisa from getting too close to the fire. Her father's assistant looked ashen, as if she had painted her face with gray paint.

"It's important." Ran-Del took Francesca's arm in a tight grip. "Very important."

Nisa sank to her knees, sliding through Quinn's grasp.

Pop would want her to look after Nisa. "In a moment." Francesca considered the nearby buildings. The barracks was closest. "Help me get Nisa away from here."

Ran-Del let go of her and picked Nisa up in his arms. He followed Francesca up the steps and into the security barracks. As they came in the door, Nisa stirred.

"I can walk," she said.

"I have you," Ran-Del said. "Rest easy."

Francesca surveyed the now-deserted duty room full of benches and desks, and an array of monitors. "Put her on that bench," she said.

Ran-Del set his burden down gently.

Nisa half sat, half leaned against the wall. Tears streamed down her face. "How can you be so calm, Francesca! Stefan is gone!"

Pop was dead. She knew that. "I have to stay calm." She started in surprise when she realized someone was behind her.

Marina Quinn had followed them into the building. "Can I help, Baroness?"

The title stabbed Francesca in the heart. Pop was gone. She was Baroness Hayden now. "Get Miss Palli some water, please."

Quinn disappeared into the kitchen.

"Francesca!" Ran-Del sounded almost angry. "I have to tell you something."

"What?"

His eyes flickered around the room, glanced at Nisa, then back at Francesca. "I should tell only you."

She shouldn't leave Nisa alone. "It's all right. You can talk in front of Nisa."

He hesitated but finally spoke. "D'Persis lied to you."

She frowned, uncomprehending. "What?"

He stepped closer. "When she said she didn't know what had happened, D'Persis lied. I could tell easily. Even with the fear and sorrow all around me, her deceit stank like rotting meat."

D'Persis had lied? She had said she didn't know what had happened. If that was a lie—if she did know—then she must have been a part of it.

Quinn came back with a glass of water that she took to Nisa. "Here you go, Miss Palli."

Nisa took the glass but didn't drink. "Francesca!" Her eyes were huge with distress.

"Don't worry, Nisa. I'll take care of it." Francesca needed more information. She stepped over to the desk com and buzzed D'Persis' private code.

"Yes, Baroness?" D'Persis' voice said in a few seconds.

Francesca could hear the claxon in the background. "I'm here in the barracks with Miss Palli. Could you come here right away, please? It's urgent."

"But—"

"It's urgent," Francesca repeated. "Now, please."

"I'll be right there."

"If you don't need me, Baroness," Quinn said, "I should get back outside."

Francesca raised one hand. "Wait!" She had to think! D'Persis would never have killed Hiram. It couldn't be true. She looked at Quinn. But Hiram wasn't supposed to be on the flyter, Quinn was. Pop had made a last minute change. "I do need you, Quinn." She held out her hand. "Give me your weapon and wait in D'Persis' office, please."

Quinn's face went blank. "Ma'am?"

"Quickly!" Francesca stretched her hand out insistently.

Quinn pulled her shock pistol from the holster on her thigh and handed it to Francesca.

Francesca took it and waved the guard to the open office door. "Leave the door open so you can hear when I call you, but keep out of sight."

Quinn went reluctantly, but she was gone before the front door of the building opened and Alyssa D'Persis stepped inside.

"What is it, Baroness?" She turned from shutting the door and glanced at the shock pistol in Francesca's hand. "Has something else happened?"

"In a way." Francesca pulled a chair away from the main console and pushed it into the middle of the room so that it faced the security chief's office. "Have a seat, Alyssa. We need to talk."

D'Persis' eyes went from Francesca to Ran-Del to Nisa, and back to Francesca. "I have things I need to be doing, Baroness."

"I know that." Francesca pulled out another chair and sat down at an angle to the first chair, holding the shock pistol negligently in her lap. "But there are things I need to know."

D'Persis strode across the room and sat down, swiveling the chair a little towards Francesca. "What things?"

"How could we shoot down our own flyter?" Francesca said.

D'Persis shook her head. "The system is supposed to be foolproof. I can't think of how it could have been compromised."

Francesca let her eyes stray toward Ran-Del, who stood against the far wall with his arms folded across his chest. He shook his head firmly.

"I don't believe you, Alyssa," Francesca said, lifting the pistol. "Would you come out here, Quinn?"

Marina Quinn came through the office door reluctantly.

D'Persis' reaction was immediate. "What the hell are you doing in my office, Quinn?" Her frown deepened. "You were on escort detail today."

Instead of answering, Quinn looked at Francesca.

"Go ahead, Quinn," Francesca said. "Tell D'Persis why you weren't on the flyter."

Quinn cleared her throat. "Toth asked me to switch shifts. The Baron wanted him to go instead of me."

The color drained from D'Persis' face in an instant. "What?"

"Hiram is dead," Francesca said brutally. She wanted Alyssa to suffer, to feel the pain and loss that she was feeling. "Whoever sabotaged that flyter killed him along with my father."

D'Persis' mouth went slack. She slumped in her chair, then bent over as if she were ill.

"Lock the door, Quinn," Francesca said.

The guard moved to the barracks door and secured it.

Francesca got to her feet. "Why did you do it?"

D'Persis only moaned.

"Why did you kill them? Why, Alyssa?"

D'Persis began to rock back and forth. "Hiram is dead."

"You killed him!" Francesca said. "Why?"

"Hiram! Hiram is dead," Tears flowed down D'Persis face. "All for nothing. I did it all for nothing."

"Why?" Francesca's voice rose in volume, trying to penetrate D'Persis' shell of grief. "Why did you sabotage the flyter?"

"Money." D'Persis spat the word out. "Enough money so that Hiram and I could go away from here—be alone, without jobs and rank. Enough money to be happy together."

"You stupid bitch!" Francesca moved closer. Her finger itched to fire the pistol, but D'Persis might not be able to talk if she were in pain. "Pop respected you, and you betrayed him. Even if Hiram hadn't died, do you think he would have stayed with you after he found out what you had done?"

"I had a story ready to account for the money." She wiped a hand across her face and glared at Francesca. "Who are you to call me names? You always had whatever you wanted. What do you know of hard work and sacrifice?"

"Who gave you the money?" Francesca aimed her pistol at D'Persis' stomach.

"I don't know." The words came out with no emotion at all.

Francesca glanced at Ran-Del. He nodded. This, at least, was the truth.

"Just a voice on the com," D'Persis went on, with no inflection at all. "Make sure it was the Baron only, not you. Money was there when it said. The rest to come later. So I did it."

" _I_ know."

Francesca turned her head in surprise at Nisa's voice. She had forgotten Nisa was there.

"I know about hard work and sacrifice," Nisa said, getting up from her bench. She walked with one arm outstretched, her fist pointing at D'Persis. "I know about loyalty. I know you don't deserve to live, Alyssa."

Francesca had just noticed the silvery tip of a weapon under Nisa's thumb when a rapid fire series of tiny pops came from Nisa's hand.

D'Persis gave a short, strangled cry and slid from her chair clutching her throat. Her heels drummed on the floor and then she lay still.

Francesca stared down at the body. D'Persis' throat had burst. Blood spilled from the gaping wound onto the floor. D'Persis lay on her back, limbs sprawled and eyes blank and staring at the ceiling.

Nisa dropped the weapon and put both hands over her face.

Francesca took a deep breath. "Quinn, we need to do something with the body. I don't want anyone to know our security was compromised."

The guard nodded. "I'll take care of it, Baroness—make it look like an outside attack."

Francesca set her jaw. She was Baroness Hayden now. This was her dominion. Whatever she said was law, just like it had been for Pop.

But Pop was dead.

She swallowed. He had done a lot for her. She owed it to him to make it all worthwhile.

She glanced around the room, her eyes moving from Alyssa D'Persis' lifeless form to Nisa, who sat with her face buried in her hands while she sobbed soundlessly, then to Quinn's alert pose, and finally to Ran-Del's grave expression.

Pop had found Ran-Del for her. That was something. Without Ran-Del, she might never have known about Alyssa's duplicity.

If she could keep the House of Hayden independent—a thought came to her, burst into her brain full blown. There was one way to keep Hayden out of the cartels. She could make it so unattractive no one would want it.

"Quinn," she said, "how would you like to be head of Security?"

The woman blinked, stood a little straighter, then nodded. "I'd like it fine."

"Good." Francesca nodded at the floor. "As soon as you take care of the body, I want you to contact Baroness Leong. Ask her to come here to meet with me—this afternoon."

Quinn cleared her throat. "Do I tell her about the—the Baron's death?"

"Yes." Might as well. It would be all over the city soon enough. And the news would have Elena falling all over herself to take advantage of Pop's death—if it was news.

Quinn nodded, took a brief look at the scene and then stepped into Alyssa's office.

"What do you plan to do?" Ran-Del asked.

"First," Francesca said, "I'm going to ask Elena Leong if she knows anything about the murder." She gave Ran-Del a stern look and spoke in a way that made it plain she wasn't making a request. "You'll let me know if she answers truthfully."

He nodded.

"Then," Francesca drew a deep breath, "assuming she didn't murder Pop, I'm going to make Hayden too bitter a pill to swallow."

"How?"

She smiled and was dimly aware that it pained her to do it. "By signing a contract with Leong-Norwalk to sell them everything my House produces at a fixed price."

He frowned, his expression even more grave. "How will that help you?"

He had said you, not us. Still, he would be loyal. Pop had said so. "It helps because anyone who tried to take us over would be stuck with that contract."

Nisa lifted her head. "How can you think about business at a time like this?"

"Because I'm my father's daughter." Francesca looked at Ran-Del. "And by the time Elena Leong gets here, I'll be Ran-Del's wife."

He looked a little pale at the news, but he nodded. "If you wish it, it shall be so."

Francesca looked down at her silvery gown, still pinned with her mother's diamond brooch but streaked with soot and frayed at the hem where she had caught it in her high-heeled sandals. This would be her wedding dress.

But Pop wouldn't be there for the wedding.

### Chapter Sixteen

Watching Francesca stumble back to the house, Ran-Del thought she looked like she herself had been in an accident. Soot and ash covered the silvery gown she wore, and a few streaks of blood stained the hem where she had knelt by D'Persis' body. Her face still had the rigid look of someone numb from shock.

The man Francesca called the butler approached her, a group of anxious-looking servants behind him. "I'm sorry, Baroness," he said. "The security staff have been over the wreckage. There's—there's almost nothing left."

Francesca seemed to pull herself up as he spoke, almost like someone had yanked on a string attached to the top of her head. "I expected that." She sounded brisk enough, but Ran-Del could feel the crushing weight of her grief. "You take care of that for me, please, Chien," she went on, "and have someone call a doctor for Miss Palli. They're taking her to her room. Send someone to sit with her until the doctor comes."

He bowed, and she headed for the house, Ran-Del trailing in her wake. What would happen now that Stefan Hayden was dead?

Ran-Del paused, struck by a grim thought. Had Great-grandfather seen this death and said nothing?

***

Back in their apartment, Ran-Del waited for Francesca to speak. Instead she stood staring out at the terrace where the afternoon sun cast shadows on the flagstones. Ran-Del waited, not sure what he should do.

"Nothing will ever be the same again," she said slowly.

Ran-Del didn't know what to reply.

Francesca shuddered suddenly, as if the events of the day had just hit her. She took a deep breath, and then she turned to Ran-Del, her face resolute.

"All right," she said, "I want to be sure you understand. If you marry me, you'll not only be my husband, you'll be part of the House of Hayden—in my dominion. Do you want to marry me or do you want to go back to your forest?"

Ran-Del opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Abruptly, Francesca looked down at the ruins of her dress. "My god, I must look like hell." She headed for the bedroom but paused in the doorway. "You think about it, Ran-Del. Once I'm changed, I need to do some things, and then you can give me your answer."

She disappeared without another word.

Ran-Del went through the door to the terrace and stood outside. He could still see a faint haze over the compound. All at once a longing for the forest filled him. Among the Sansoussy, no one plotted murder for power or wealth. No one used hidden weapons or treachery. They needed each other to survive.

Here in the city, people had the convenience of machines that did work and made night into day, but lies were common. Ran-Del expanded his chest to fill his lungs with fresh air, but instead he choked on the smoke. He could hear the guard dogs barking in their kennel. Buster never made so much noise.

He didn't want to live in the city. He didn't really want to marry Francesca, either. But he knew his great-grandfather wouldn't allow him to return to the Sansoussy, and if he had to stay here, it would be better to follow custom. He would marry the woman to whom he had already pledged faithfulness, and remain a Sansoussy.

He heard Francesca's voice in the sitting room and stepped into the doorway. She wore a black tunic, black trousers, and boots, and sat at the machine called a terminal. "Confirm," she said.

"Identity confirmed," a mechanical voice said.

Ran-Del had heard machines speak many times, but it still amazed him.

"Code alpha zed," Francesca said. "This is an emergency. I need access to the personal files of Stefan, Baron Hayden."

"Password?"

"Pop goes the weasel."

"Confirmed."

Ran-Del stepped into the room. Francesca glanced at him but held a finger to her lips. He watched silently while she stared at the monitor, scanning through screen after screen of information.

Once she grunted with surprise, but she never spoke until she turned off the machine. "Well, that doesn't tell me much."

"What were you looking for?" Ran-Del asked.

"Something to give me a clue who paid Alyssa D'Persis." She got up. "I didn't find it, but I did see that Sujit Garcia, of Quaiffe-Pringle, sent Dad a takeover offer recently. It was straightforward except that he offered Pop a really good position in the cartel."

Ran-Del didn't know what to make of that fact.

"Well?" Francesca said. "What's your answer on marriage?"

He hesitated one last minute. He could feel her grief, her anger, but also there was fear. Was she worried he would say no? "We will be married."

Relief blossomed. She nodded. "I'll go pin up my hair. What do I do about the braid?"

It seemed so prosaic for a marriage—no joy, no embracing, no happy glances. "You comb it out. I do, too. And then I need some scissors."

She stared at his hair. "Do you have to cut it yourself or can someone else do it?"

"I have to cut it, but someone can make it look better after that."

She nodded and pressed a switch on the desk. In a moment, a voice answered. "Yes, Baroness?"

"I need a barber in my suite in twenty minutes, Chien."

"Yes, Baroness." If the butler was surprised, he hid it well. Ran-Del's psy gift didn't work over the com, so he had so go on voice alone.

Francesca opened a drawer and handed Ran-Del a strange implement. "Here. You just press this button—and be sure to keep your fingers out of the way."

By the time Ran-Del had managed to hack off most of his hair while preserving his fingers, Francesca had pinned up her own hair. The back of her head looked rather prickly as her hair was very short and full of hair pins, but it was definitely off her neck. And it looked neater than Ran-Del's newly shorn head.

She looked at him in despair, but a moment later the door trilled. "That'll be the barber," she said with relief. "As soon as he's done, we'll call the registry office and get married the Shangri-La way."

The barber was quick, and while he radiated curiosity he asked no questions.

Francesca sent him away with a polite thank you, and looked Ran-Del over. "Much better."

He glanced in the mirror and saw a stranger. In his city clothes, his hair cropped almost to his head, he didn't look like a Sansoussy at all.

Francesca turned on her terminal again and sat down in front of it. "Now we do it my way—just to make it stick."

An image popped onto the screen, a fleshy-faced man who looked completely bored. "How can I help you, Citizen?"

"We want to get married," Francesca said.

The man hit some keys on the terminal in front of him. "First party's name?"

"Francesca Wah Hayden."

"Second party's name?"

"Ran-Del Jahanpur," Francesca said.

Some writing appeared on the screen. Ran-Del had learned to recognize his own name. He assumed the other markings were for Francesca's name.

Francesca hit a key and the screen dimmed. "Do the Sansoussy have more than just the two names, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del shook his head. Francesca turned back to the monitor and hit the same key again.

The screen brightened and the bored man spoke again. "Either party ever been married before?"

"No."

"Okay," the man said. "You ready?"

"Yes," Francesca said.

"Do you Francesca Wah Hayden," the man said in a monotone, "willingly commit to this marriage to Ran-Del Jahanpur and agree that all the laws of Shangri-La affecting property and children shall apply to this liaison?"

"Yes, I do."

"Next," the man said.

Francesca moved away from the terminal, and Ran-Del took her place.

"Do you Ran-Del Jahanpur," the man said in the same monotone, "willingly commit to this marriage to Francesca Wah Hayden and agree that all the laws of Shangri-La affecting property and children shall apply to this liaison?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay," the man said with a sigh. "Place your hands on the ID panel; once it clears through Records, you're married."

Francesca put her hand on the panel first, and when the terminal beeped, she moved it and Ran-Del placed his hand there. After a second beep, the bored clerk glanced at his readout. His eyes opened a little wider as if he saw something of interest. Francesca sat down at the terminal again as the man began to speak.

"Right," he said. "A marriage is hereby recorded between Francesca Wah Hayden, citizen of Shangri-La and heiress of the House of Hayden, and Ran-Del Jahanpur, a legal resident of Shangri-La. Does either party wish to record a change of name at this time?"

Francesca hit the dimmer key again. "I have to keep my name, Ran-Del, because this is the House of Hayden. Do you want to change your name to Hayden or keep it Jahanpur?"

The choice confounded Ran-Del. Among the Sansoussy, a married couple always had the same name, whether the man married into the woman's family, or, more typically, the woman married into the man's. In spite of this, he reacted instinctively to keep things the same as they had always been. "Keep it Jahanpur."

Francesca took the terminal out of pause. "No, thank you."

"Very well," the clerk nodded. "Whose account should I debit for the fee?"

"Mine."

"Great," the man said without enthusiasm. "We're done. Congratulations, citizens."

He cut the connection and the screen went blank.

It was, Ran-Del decided, typical of life in Shangri-La that two people could get married without family, witnesses, or any mention of faithfulness.

***

"Come in," Nisa's voice said.

Francesca cast an anxious glance around the room as she entered. Nisa had always been tidy, but now clothes draped the furniture and a tray of dirty dishes cluttered the desktop. The door to the bedroom was open, and it looked equally a mess. "How are you doing, Nisa?"

Tears welled up in Nisa's eyes as she got up from the sofa. "How should I be doing? It's only been three days, Francesca."

"I know." She sounded foolish and insincere. Why did her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth? "Could I talk to you about something?"

Nisa sat down again, arms folded across her chest. "I suppose so. Sit down. What is it?"

Francesca perched on a chair and forgot everything she had rehearsed. "I need your help."

Nisa's chin came up. "I can be out of your way in no time."

"No!" Horrified, Francesca jumped up. "No, I don't want you to leave. I need you to teach me how to run Hayden."

Nisa blinked and glanced around her suite. "You mean—stay here?"

Francesca nodded. "I'd be happy if you'd stay on as my assistant. I could use some help in dealing with Elena."

Nisa didn't answer right away. After a moment, she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I can." She took a step to the window and looked out at the courtyard. "There's too much of Stefan here." She jerked her head at the open bedroom door. "There's a mirror in the bedroom with a door behind it that that leads to your father's room. Did you know that?"

Francesca glanced through the doorway at the ornate frame of the huge mirror. "No, but it doesn't surprise me. This house has other secrets."

"Yes."

Francesca drew in a breath. "Well, if you want to move out, Pop left you an annuity in his will. You're set for life."

Nisa opened her eyes wide. "Did he?"

"Yes, of course." She took a step closer. Why wasn't she good at this sort of thing? "Even if he hadn't, I would have honored what I knew were his wishes. Pop loved you, Nisa."

"Not enough to let everyone know about us."

Francesca snorted. "That was because he was worried about your safety."

Nisa turned toward the window. "Not enough to have a child with me, either."

Francesca managed not to let her jaw drop. She swallowed. "You wanted a child?"

Nisa turned to face her, frowning. "Not _a_ child. I wanted Stefan's child. But he said it was too risky." Her shoulders drooped and she sank onto the sofa. "And now it's too late."

"You mean—" Francesca hesitated. Did she want to do this? Another Hayden child was no threat; the will was explicitly in her favor. But it would seem strange to have a sibling. On the other hand, Pop would want Nisa to be happy. "You mean you'd still want Pop's child, even if you had to raise him by yourself?"

Nisa let out a sob. "Of course. At least then I'd have something of Stefan."

"Well, if you still feel that way in a few weeks, I can arrange it for you."

Nisa lifted a blank face. "What?"

Francesca sat down next to her. "Pop banked his sperm when he married my mother. I know because I saw the container in the vault once, and I asked Pop about it."

Nisa's eyes went wide. "Why would he do that?"

"It was a condition of the marriage," Francesca said. "Mom's parents insisted on it. If something had happened to him before I came along, she could have produced an heir from it."

Nisa's face lit up with more hope than Francesca had seen in days. "Do you mean it, Francesca? You'd do that for me?"

Francesca felt a warm sense of accomplishment. She could still do something for Pop. "Sure I would."

Nisa threw her arms around her. "Thank you, thank you!"

Francesca hugged her back, glad to have the awkwardness out of the way. "Do you want to be Pop's widow? Given enough time and credits, there could be a record of marriage in the municipal databank. I can do it if you want it."

Nisa shook her head vigorously. "No, thank you, Francesca, but that's one thing I don't want. I don't even want the child to be a Hayden. Let him or her be plain old Somebody Palli. _I'll_ know it's Stefan's child."

"Do you want to select for a boy or a girl?"

Nisa smiled with delight. "I don't care! I'll take whichever I get."

"All right." Francesca nodded. "I'll see that it's set up for you. But you need to wait a few weeks, just to make sure you really want to do this."

Nisa hugged her again. "I can wait for a little while. But thank you for giving me something to hope for, Francesca."

"Do you think while you're waiting you could teach me how to run Hayden?"

Nisa looked solemn. "You have a good start. I'll teach you what I can—and hire a new assistant for you."

Francesca hadn't even thought about hiring an assistant. It occurred to her that Ran-Del would be useful in making sure of her new employee's loyalty.

She held in a sigh as she went back to her rooms. Life had been so much simpler when Pop was in charge.

***

Ran-Del stepped into the bar. The sharp smell of a blackwood fire filled the room. He studied the stone fireplace in the corner. From what Francesca had said, it seemed city dwellers considered a fire a good way to give a room ambience, rather like wall hangings or a vase of fresh flowers. For Ran-Del, the woodsy aroma brought a sudden attack of homesickness.

Next to the back of the stone structure, Georges Rangoon sat at the far end of a long table. On either side, people Ran-Del recognized from the warehouse drank, ate, and talked noisily, sometimes all at once.

Georges saw him first. "It's my big fish! Come here, Ran-Del! Come and meet your co-workers."

Ran-Del started to join the group, but a figure blocked his way.

The bar owner herself stood in front of him, a tray of drinking glasses balanced on one hand. A kerchief covered most of her red hair, and an apron hid some but not all of her shape. She stared at Ran-Del's hair. "I see the lucky woman is now even luckier."

Ran-Del didn't know quite what to say. Had it been a compliment? He decided to assume it was. "Thank you."

She shifted the tray, looked him up and down once, and then lifted her chin. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking if you want to come upstairs to my place."

Ran-Del swallowed. "No, there's no point."

She nodded and walked away, vanishing through a swinging doorway.

"Ran-Del!" Georges called. "Stop flirting with Janis and come meet the gang."

Ran-Del decided against arguing that he wasn't flirting. If he said nothing, they would forget it sooner.

"This is Ran-Del Jahanpur, everyone," Georges said. "Ran-Del is going to work with us from time to time." He nodded at the fair haired man beside him, who scowled at Ran-Del. "You've met Brandon. Don't mind him. He thinks making eyes at Janis is his sole right."

Brandon flushed red, and everyone hooted with laughter.

"Don't tease the poor boy," said the elder of the two women, a brunette with a wide streak of white down her hair. "My name is Jena. I keep the customer records in order—and Georges, when Clara's not around." She held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Ran-Del shook her hand, wondering what customer records were. Shaking hands still seemed a peculiar way to greet someone you had never met. Among the Sansoussy, such intimacy was reserved for kinsman and close friends.

"I'm Thelma," said the younger woman, also offering her hand. "I saw you at the warehouse. You've cut your hair since then."

Ran-Del shook her hand. She had a firmer grip than Jena. Ran-Del suspected her shirtsleeves hid a more muscular build than he had seen on most city women.

"I'm Guillermo," said the nearest of the three men, holding out his hand. He had a ready grin, white, even teeth, and deep-set eyes. "Is that knife on your belt real?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said, gripping harder when Guillermo squeezed his hand tighter than a baby tree bear grasped its mother's fur. "Why would I carry a pretend knife?"

The third man leaned across the table to offer his hand. "Why would you carry a real one?"

"This is Arno, our philosopher," Georges said. "Sit down and have a drink."

Arno nodded at the empty seat across from him. "Plenty of room."

"So," Thelma said, twirling one of her short black curls around her index finger, "Georges says you're a Sansoussy?"

"I am." Ran-Del took the seat that was offered.

Their faces turned toward him, curious but not hostile. He could feel the friendship in the air, the sense of being a group. None of them seemed afraid of him, or angry, even if Brandon still smoldered a little.

"Tell us about the forest," Jena said.

Ran-Del leaned back against the seat back. With the sound of the fire crackling, the smell of blackwood burning, the background noise of people talking, he could almost imagine he was back in the forest on a visit to another village. It was the closest he had come to comradeship so far. "What do you want to know?"

### Chapter Seventeen

Ran-Del looked out the flyter window at the roof of Francesca's house. No matter how many times he rode in one of her flying vehicles, he could never completely forget the sight of the burning hulk on the flyter pad the day Stefan Hayden had died.

This time the flyter dropped down smoothly, sliding through the unseen barrier of the force field as if it weren't there at all. The pilot cut the engines at just the right second, and the machine set down as gently as a day bat landing on a branch.

Francesca was waiting when he came down the ramp. She looked him up and down as if four days spent in the Sansoussy Forest could have changed him somehow. Or maybe it was the Sansoussy clothes she was scrutinizing so closely.

"Welcome back," she said as he came near.

Welcome back, not welcome home. She was being diplomatic. He stooped to kiss her cheek. "Thank you."

"How are your grandparents?"

"Fine."

She looked down at the two bags he carried, the one she had given him for his clothes, and the one that held his grandmother's gift. "Did you remember to leave your grandparents the portable com?"

"Yes." He hefted the other bag. "Grandmother sent you a present, too."

A waft of gratification escaped her. "Really? What is it?"

"A baby blanket."

She burst out with a laugh. "Not very subtle, is she?"

"She wove it herself."

Francesca gave him a sideways glance. "Well, it's probably just as well to think about that. We do need to start a family soon."

Ran-Del said nothing. Even after six months he still struggled too much with being married to welcome the idea of fatherhood.

Francesca waited until they were almost to the house to give him the news. "Your warehouse man called yesterday. I told him you were away but that you'd be back today. He said to come by, if you can."

Ran-Del glanced at the sun. "It's late. By the time I change clothes and walk there, it'll be too late to do any work today."

"This one time," Francesca said, "you could take a skimmer."

Ran-Del thought back to his brief time in the forest, and how easily he had gotten tired when he ran to his mother's village. "No, I'll walk or I'll run."

Francesca gave a small sigh. "Still a Sansoussy?"

"Always."

He changed to his city clothes, left his other things in their bedroom, gave Buster a quick pat, and set out for the warehouse. By the time he got there, the whole crew was straggling across the pavement toward Benjie's.

Georges laughed when he saw Ran-Del. "Too late, wild man. We're finished for the day. Come along anyway. I'm buying the first round."

Janis was cleaning off their table when they walked through the door. "Right on time," she said, with her usual detached manner.

Georges hooked a hand through Ran-Del's arm. "Come over here, Ran-Del. I want to talk to you."

The warehouse owner led the way to a small corner table. Janis raised her eyebrows in surprise as the two of them sat down alone, but she said nothing and instead took drink orders from the other Rangoon employees.

"So, Ran-Del," Georges said conversationally, "out of town for a few days, were you?"

Ran-Del nodded. Was Georges asking for a reason? Perhaps he thought Ran-Del was working somewhere else.

"Anything urgent?" Georges asked.

"I went to see my family."

"Everything okay at home in the forest?" Georges prompted.

"Yes."

Georges smiled. "You don't make it easy to make small talk, do you, Ran-Del?"

Phrases that used words he knew in an unfamiliar way perplexed Ran-Del even more than new words. "What is small talk?"

"It's what the Sansoussy don't do, apparently," Georges said with a faint grimace. "I asked you once, and you never answered me. What's a Sansoussy doing here in Shangri-la?"

Ran-Del hesitated. What had brought on this bout of prying? One reason he liked working for Georges Rangoon was that the man had never been overly inquisitive. "Working for you, Georges."

Georges gave him an intent look. "You only work for me one or two days a week, at most. You came looking for a job, but you must have something else lined up because you couldn't live on what I pay you." He nodded at Ran-Del's city shirt and trousers. "Your clothes aren't flashy, but I handle enough goods to know first quality when I see it, and you're never short of cash here at Benjie's."

It wasn't a question, so Ran-Del felt no need to answer. He was still sitting silently when Janis came up and set a steaming cup of tea in front of him and a glass of cold beer in front of Georges. Both of them said thank you.

Janis flashed a quick smile and was gone.

Ran-Del decided to take the offensive. "What brought this on, Georges?" He lifted his cup, savoring the warmth in his hand, the familiar spicy scent. "I've worked for you for months without your feeling a need to ask me these things. What's happened to make everything different?"

Georges sipped his beer and studied Ran-Del over the top of it.

"Arno turned in his notice a few days ago," he said abruptly. "His wife's father offered him a place in a shop in Eden. He'll be gone in three days."

What did that mean? Ran-Del waited.

"Sheesh," Georges grumbled. "You should have been a therapist. You sure know how to milk a silence. Do you want the job or not?"

Ran-Del was surprised. "You mean work for you full time?"

Georges nodded. "Yup, same hours as the others. You'd start at a journeyman's rate, because technically, you're new, but you'd go up to full scale soon if you can pass the written test."

Ran-Del sat silently. The offer tempted him, but he had other obligations now. "I'm sorry, Georges. I can't promise to be here every day. I have other commitments."

"Another job?" Georges' curiosity came through clearly.

"Not exactly." He should explain. Georges would only be more and more curious until he did. "My wife needs my help occasionally."

Georges' eyes gleamed brightly as his curiosity ripened. "I spoke to your wife when I called yesterday. Nice looking woman. What does she do?"

"She runs the House of Hayden."

Georges opened his eyes wide as he lifted his glass. Clearly this answer intrigued him. "She works for Baroness Hayden?"

"She _is_ Baroness Hayden."

Georges almost choked, and beer ran down his chin. "What?" He mopped his chin with a napkin.

"My wife is Baroness Hayden," Ran-Del said. "Sometimes she needs me to escort her to business meetings."

Georges stared at him as if Ran-Del had suddenly begun to speak gibberish. "Are you serious?"

Ran-Del frowned at being doubted.

Georges shook his head slowly. "Of course you're serious. You'd never think up a joke like that one."

"Why is it so difficult to believe?" Ran-Del asked, curious himself. He felt more comfortable in the city now, but there was no denying he still had a lot to learn.

Georges snorted. "You may have learned to sit in a bar and order tea like you know what you're doing, but you're still the same wild-eyed primitive I hauled out of the Jordan. The House of Hayden is a big deal, Ran-Del. You can't tell me your wife isn't filthy rich. Why the hell do you bother to work here?"

Ran-Del considered. "I suppose she is rich. She has two large houses and many people work for her. But that doesn't make _me_ rich. I work for you because I need to earn money and this was something I could learn to do."

Georges still stared at him. "I remember now," he said suddenly. "It was in the news bulletins some months ago—right about the time you first came here looking for work. Francesca Hayden got married the same day her father was killed—an outsider, not someone from a Great House. Everyone called it part of her last ditch attempt to stave off a takeover, but the bulletins focused more on the assassination and the business deal than who she married."

Ran-Del nodded confirmation. "Yes."

Georges grinned. "Well, what do you know? For once, the rumor mill was right. I always thought the stories about Baroness Hayden marrying some unknown barbarian were pure fabrication."

Ran-Del felt his face go cold at this description. He put his hand on his knife.

Georges curled his lip. "Don't you go sticking me with that thing, Ran-Del. All you'd do is prove me right and make a lot of bother for the Baroness. She'd have to pay poor Clara a huge chunk of hush money to get you off the hook."

"The Sansoussy are not barbarians."

Georges lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? Do you call it civilized to reach for a knife just because someone insults you?"

Ran-Del could feel his temper rising. "Do you call it civilized to insult someone just for being different?"

Georges grinned. "Cool down. Go soak your head in a bucket if necessary. I know I insulted you, and I apologize. I was just trying to make a point—and maybe to test you, a little."

Ran-Del frowned at this. Georges suddenly reminded him of Stefan Hayden. "Test me for what?"

"Temper, maybe. Or perhaps I mean control. Don't worry about it; it's not as if you passed."

Ran-Del gave an angry exclamation. This was becoming too much like an interview with Baron Hayden to be comfortable. "What makes city people so certain their way is better?"

"Who said it was better?" Georges said equably. "I'm sure the Sansoussy way works better in the forest." He tapped his index finger on the table forcefully. "All I'm trying to point out is, you're not in the forest anymore, Ran-Del. For some reason you don't want to tell me, you came here to Shangri-La to live. You should try a little harder to fit in. Get mad if you want to; just don't go for the knife."

Ran-Del could see some merit in what Georges said. He made himself calm down a little before he spoke. "So I'm a barbarian."

Georges leaned back in his chair and laughed. "I don't think you are, actually. I think in many ways the Sansoussy must be more civilized than the rest of us. You're right that different isn't necessarily better or worse, it's only different."

"Thank you," Ran-Del said, pushing back his chair, "and thanks for the tea, Georges."

"Hold on," Georges said, laying a hand on his arm. "Don't rush off so fast. Do you want the job or not?"

Ran-Del was surprised. "I told you, I can't promise to be here every day."

Georges made a noise with his tongue against his teeth. "I'll make allowances. You can bring a note from the Baroness anytime you need to be off the next day."

"But I won't always know ahead of time—" Ran-Del began to explain.

"It was a joke," Georges interrupted. "Don't be so damned literal. Just call me when you need time off."

"Why?" Ran-Del said. "Why would you hire me when I can't make the same commitment someone else could? I can't read very well, either."

Georges grinned at him. "Maybe I really like the idea of having Baroness Hayden's husband toting boxes in my warehouse. Or maybe with you, at least I know what kind of screw-up I'm getting instead of maybe getting something even worse off the street. Do you want the job or not, Ran-Del? I'm getting tired of asking."

Ran-Del pondered. The Sansoussy never liked to do anything in a hurry. On the other hand, who knew how long Georges would wait? And time spent at Georges' warehouse was more tolerable than time spent in the Hayden compound. "Yes, I want the job, Georges. Thank you."

"Great! You can start next week. Just one thing, though—you have to stick with the reading. If you're going to work for me, you're going to learn to read."

Feeling coerced, Ran-Del frowned. "Why is it so important?"

"Because I like you." Georges grinned, easing Ran-Del's sense of constraint. "I already hauled you out of the Jordan once because you couldn't read a warning sign. I don't want to have to do it again."

Georges was right that reading was a skill he needed. Why should he argue just to prove he had a right to be wrong? "All right. I'll stick with it."

"We've got a deal, then!" Georges said, offering his hand.

Ran-Del shook it with due solemnity.

Georges picked up his beer. "You going to tell them?" he asked, jerking his head sideways at the table where Thelma, Guillermo, and the others sat.

Ran-Del was puzzled. "They'll find out soon enough, won't they, when I show up for work?"

"Not that." Georges waved a hand impatiently. "They already know I was going to offer you the job—or if they don't, they're idiots. You going to tell them who you're married to?"

Somehow Ran-Del didn't like the idea. Georges' reaction had told him that his coworkers might well treat him differently once they found out his circumstances. "Do they need to know?"

"No, I suppose not. You got a problem if I tell Clara about it? I don't like to keep secrets from her. She can keep her mouth shut when it's necessary."

"I don't mind. Can I go now, Georges, or do you have more questions you need answered?"

"Well," Georges said, "since you mention it, care to tell me how you happened to meet Baroness Hayden? I have trouble imagining her hiking in the forest."

"It's not her idea of fun." Ran-Del wasn't ready to reveal the details of his history to Georges yet, but on the other hand, he was reluctant to lie outright. "Her father introduced us; it was an arranged marriage."

Georges's skepticism radiated as clearly as his earlier curiosity. "Her father and your folks set it up, and you two got married?"

Ran-Del nodded.

"How long did you know each other before the wedding?"

"A month or so."

Georges shook his head. "Well, I knew the aristocracy went in for that kind of thing, but I never heard of the Sansoussy being so absurd."

Ran-Del smiled. "Testing me again?"

"Maybe. You did better that time."

"Don't do it too often," Ran-Del said, getting to his feet. "I like you, too, and I'd hate to draw your blood."

Georges grinned at him. "Don't forget to be on time, wild man—if you can read a clock that is."

Ran-Del didn't mind the joke. He had a job.

***

"Well," Francesca said, combing out her hair. She wore it up every day, and Ran-Del rather enjoyed watching her comb it out every night. It came almost to her shoulders now. "I'm happy you're back in time for Julie's wedding."

Sitting on the bed, Ran-Del recalled the bored man on Francesca's terminal screen the day of the flyter crash. The man had shown no interest in recording their union until he had learned Francesca's rank. "Why do I need to be here for that? No one was even in the room for our wedding."

She kept her face composed, but Ran-Del felt a familiar stab of grief from her. "That wasn't typical. If Pop hadn't died, we would have had a big wedding—several witnesses for the actual ceremony, and a huge party afterwards."

Ran-Del held in a sigh. He had hated his engagement party and this party could be worse. "When is this wedding?"

She gave him a look that told him he should have known the answer. She must have told him before and he had forgotten. "The day after tomorrow."

At least he wouldn't miss work since he would start the day after that. "You didn't ask me what Georges wanted."

She turned her head. "Wasn't it for you to work for him today?"

Ran-Del felt a surge of pride. "Not just today. Georges offered me a full time job."

Her expression never changed, but he could feel conflicting emotions. She was a little bit glad and a little bit annoyed. "Did you take the job?"

"Yes."

She turned to face him as he leaned back on the bed. "Why?"

"Why not?" Ran-Del said, irked that she wasn't more pleased. "I need a job. Why not take one when it was offered?"

"I'm glad you're finding your way here in Shangri-La, but why do you need a full time job?" She tapped the brush on her palm in a nervous gesture. "I have more than enough money for both of us?"

Ran-Del sat up. "I told you I won't take your money, and I meant it."

"You live here," Francesca said, "and you wear clothes I paid for—Hayden paid for. What's the difference?"

"I live here because you're here. Sansoussy clothes would cause too much talk, and I can hardly go naked. But when I need new clothes, I'll buy my own."

Francesca threw down her hairbrush and stood up, exuding panic. "Ran-Del Jahanpur, don't you dare go shopping at some cheap retail store to buy clothes. The clerk will tell you a purple serge suit looks wonderful, when in fact, it makes you look like a used flyter salesman."

Ran-Del tried not to sneer. "Clothes aren't important."

She snorted with disbelief. "Then why did you get upset when I started to wear my usual party clothes at our engagement party?"

It always unsettled him when she made a convincing argument against his principles. "That was different."

"Look, I'll give you a veto over my clothes if you let me provide yours. Please, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del hesitated.

Francesca pressed on. "I accept your help. I ask you to come to business meetings with me when I need to know if anyone's lying or trying to trick me. I don't pay you anything for that, do I?"

"I'm your husband," Ran-Del said, offended by the suggestion. "You shouldn't have to pay me."

"Then you shouldn't have to think twice about wearing clothes I give you. It cuts both ways, remember?"

The phrase resonated in Ran-Del's memory. 'You've used that expression before, when you said you'd be faithful if I was."

She smiled, but he could tell she was more on edge than amused. "That's right, I did. By the way, were you?"

"Was I what?" Ran-Del asked, confused.

"Faithful," Francesca said, sitting down on the bed next to him. "If I asked how was Bettine, would I be asking solely about her health?"

Ran-Del recalled his shock at seeing Bettine's sleek body swollen with pregnancy. "Bettine's very pregnant with Grandfather's baby—halfway though her term. Somehow, I didn't have quite the same kind of thoughts when I saw her again."

Francesca looked dubious. "Really? That's pretty quick, especially at your grandfather's age. He must be hot stuff if she's that pregnant already."

Ran-Del smiled reluctantly. It was still difficult to think of anyone but his grandmother sharing his grandfather's bed. "He attributes it to acorn flower."

"What's acorn flower?"

Ran-Del lifted his brows, surprised she didn't know. A few grams of dried acorn petals could buy a dirk or a small cooking pot. But perhaps the peddlers sold the ground powder in the city without disclosing what it was. "It's the flower of the silver oak. It's bright green and grows all up the trunk in the spring time. If you pick the flowers at just the right time, right before the acorns drop from them, and you dry the petals completely and then grind them up, it makes a powder that makes a man both ready and able to perform sexually."

Francesca's eyebrows went up. He could sense a spark of excitement. "Oh, Sansoussy powder! Did you happen to bring any back with you?"

"No," Ran-Del said, offended. "Why? Do I need it?"

"How about if I let you know in an hour?" Francesca suggested, lying back on the bed.

Ran-Del leaned over her, almost but not quite touching her. Her desire rose up like heat from her body. He had missed this during his visit to his family. "You'll know in less than an hour."

Francesca put her arms around his neck and sighed. "I'm glad you're back. Four days is a long time."

"I know. It came to me last night, when I was trying to sleep."

Francesca pulled him down on top of her. "I'm glad you missed me, anyway," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his shirt.

***

Francesca smoothed the folds of her long red gown and studied herself in the mirror. Ran-Del's concern had led to a radical shift in her wardrobe. At least the Sansoussy didn't find showing a little leg to be provocative so she could get away with a long slit up the side of the skirt.

"You're wearing that?" Ran-Del sounded stern.

Francesca turned, exasperated. "How can you disapprove? I'm hardly showing any cleavage and the bodice is positively loose."

He stood looking her up and down. "But it's red!"

She rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with red?"

"It's a wedding."

She held up her hands in a question. "So?"

"How can you wear red to someone else's wedding?"

Understanding dawned as she remembered the red betrothal dress his grandmother had loaned her. "Julie won't be wearing red. Her gown will be all white."

His eyebrows squeezed together in a confused frown. "Is she mourning someone?"

"No, no. Black is mourning, white is for brides."

"Oh."

He still sounded distressed whenever she corrected him. She gave him a quick scrutiny. He looked good in a formal jacket. Too bad he refused to wear a sash instead of a belt. "Don't forget to take the knife off here. If you wear it to the Wah compound, their guards will take it away and you might not get it back."

He got his stubborn look. "I'll take it off in the skimmer."

She decided to let it go. "All right then, we're ready."

They rode in silence, Marina Quinn in the front seat, with Merced beside her, Francesca and Ran-Del in the middle, and two more guards in the back seat.

"Tell me who is in the Wah family," Ran-Del said after a while.

Francesca smiled to herself. Family obligation was one thing he understood well. He hadn't even tried to beg off from this party. "Julie Wah and her two sisters and one brother are my first cousins. Their father is my mother's brother. He'll be there of course, but not Julie's mother, his ex-wife, because she opted out of the House of Wah after the divorce. Julie's Grandfather and Grandmother Wah—also my grandparents—died in a failed hostile takeover several years ago, but her great-grandmother, my great-great-aunt, is still alive. She's ninety-nine and speaks her mind, so try not to look shocked if she says something offensive."

Ran-Del digested this. Or perhaps he was committing it to memory. "Who is to be your cousin's husband?"

Francesca tried not to feel smug. He might know the names of his ancestors for four generations, but she knew who was who in Shangri-La. "She's marrying an Omalley—David Omalley. His older brother Dieter is the heir of House Omalley."

Ran-Del frowned as if he found this objectionable. "Did you not tell me that Dieter Omalley's mother kept his siblings locked in an asylum?"

Well, perhaps he would catch up sooner than she had expected. "Yes, I did. Part of the marriage deal is that David gets to marry Julie and get out of the lockup only if he opts out of House Omalley and into the House of Wah. He's even taking the Wah name."

Ran-Del's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Why?"

She chuckled. "Because once he's in the House of Wah, he's no threat to anyone. He's not in line for the Wah succession, and he won't be able to support his brother's effort to unseat his mother in House Omalley."

Ran-Del glanced over his shoulder at the guards in the back seat, then gave her a questioning look.

Francesca chuckled and patted his knee. "It's not a secret. Everyone knows."

"We're here," Marina Quinn said, grabbing a stanchion as the skimmer made the turn to get in line at the gate to the Wah compound.

Ran-Del looked out the window at the line of waiting skimmers. "There will be a lot of people at this wedding."

Francesca picked up the shawl she had brought in case it got chilly in the evening. "I expect the wedding part is over by now. Only Wahs and Omalleys were here for that. The rest of us are here for the party."

She had to smile at the look of grim resolution on Ran-Del's face. Pop would have said he looked like a Sansoussy doing his duty.

The thought of her father brought a quick rush of grief. Ran-Del turned his head to give her a worried look. She smiled to reassure him, then glanced pointedly at the dirk on his belt.

He looked glum, but he removed his belt to slide the sheath from it, then handed the weapon to Quinn. "Will you take care of this for me, please?"

She turned in her seat to accept the sheathed dirk. "Certainly, citizen."

Ran-Del replaced his belt and stood up when the skimmer sank to the ground with a whoosh of hydraulics as the ramp was lowered.

Quinn stood up and got in his way. "If you two will wait just a moment, Merced and I will check things out."

Ran-Del stayed on his feet while the two of them left the vehicle. "What are they doing?"

Francesca realized this was his first trip to another Great House. They had never made it to Julie's engagement party and she hadn't felt up to attending any of the many social events since then. "Quinn is just making sure everything is set up. A party at a Great House is always conducted under a flag of truce. She'll make sure the white flag is flying and everything looks as it should."

A look of disgust came across Ran-Del's face, but he didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, the skimmer door opened and Quinn stuck her head in. "Everything's set. Come ahead, please, Baroness."

Francesca led the way, with Ran-Del a little behind. The Wah compound was larger than her own, but almost as familiar. The weapons scan was set up right at the front entrance to the main house, so they didn't have far to walk. As they approached the end of the line, Francesca saw a tall, slightly portly figure in a green jacket. A shock of black hair rose above a bald patch at the back of his head. Sujit Garcia would be ahead of them. His guards had already peeled away to take their places with the multi-hued host of security staff from almost every Great House in the city. The Wahs had set up a tent for them, but if it got chilly, the guards would all be wishing for better shelter before the night was out.

Francesca slowed her pace to take Ran-Del by the arm. "Don't forget," she whispered. "Be on the alert for anything that could give us a clue as to who killed Pop."

He nodded.

Francesca turned back to take her place in line while Quinn led their escort to join the other guards.

Sujit turned his head to see who was behind him and smiled when he saw her. "Hello, Francesca." He turned and offered his hand.

Francesca decided it would be safest to prompt Ran-Del. "You remember Baron Garcia, Ran-Del," she said as she released the cartel leader's hand.

Ran-Del murmured a greeting as he shook hands with a reasonable grace.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the memorial service for your father," Sujit said. "Stefan was a good man. I would have liked to have been there."

"Thank you." Francesca thought frantically for an opening that would allow Ran-Del to assess Sujit's guilt or innocence without being rude. "I miss him a lot. We're still trying to track down whoever sabotaged our system."

Sujit shook his head. "You might never find out. Sometimes it's best just to move on."

Stung, Francesca lashed out without considering whether her reply would help Ran-Del's efforts. "Would you give up if someone killed your family?"

"No." Sujit said the one word with finality, then smiled a sympathetic smile. "It's always easier to give advice than to take it." He gave Francesca an appraising glance. "You know, in eight seasons when your contract with Leong-Norwalk is up, you should come talk to me. I would give you a better deal than most."

He turned back to go through the weapons scan before Francesca could answer.

Francesca and Ran-Del got through the scan with no problems and followed the shifting mass of guests into the huge ground floor ballroom. Julie and her new husband waited at the door to greet each guest.

Julie looked lovely in a long, white, full-skirted gown that set off her black hair and ivory complexion. David stood beside her wearing a formal green jacket with a sash of bright blue and gold, Wah colors.

Julie kissed Francesca's cheek but gave her an anxious look. "Thanks for coming. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine," Francesca said, offering her hand to David. "I'm happy to congratulate the new Mr. Wah."

David grinned as he shook her hand. "It sill sounds strange." He slipped an arm around Julie's waist. "But it was worth changing Houses."

"When did your mother let you out?" Francesca asked.

"This morning." David grinned. "The wedding night will be something special. Julie and I haven't been alone in almost a season."

Francesca became aware of movement behind her as other guests pressed forward. She took Ran-Del's arm. "We'll talk more later. Congratulations again."

As they moved away, Ran-Del let out a strange noise, half a snort, half a grunt.

"What?" Francesca asked.

"How can people in this city call the Sansoussy barbarians?" He sounded almost petulant.

Francesca tightened her grip on his left arm. She could feel ropes of scar tissue under his sleeve. "No one burned either of them with a white hot rod to get them to agree. David and Julie wanted to marry, and doing it this way allowed them to have what they wanted."

He didn't answer but instead surveyed the room.

Francesca looked around, trying to see it as a stranger would. The ballroom was large and open. She and Julie had roller skated in it as children, until Old Lady Wah chased them out. Under the myriad faceted overhead lights, two hundred people milled about drinking, eating, talking. Their clothes made a rainbow of colors, flashes of red, blue, purple, yellow, with here and there a splash of black where an older man insisted on wearing more traditional clothes.

"I couldn't tell anything," Ran-Del said in a low voice.

"What?" Francesca said. "Couldn't tell about what?"

"Baron Garcia," Ran-Del said. "He spoke truthfully, but it didn't help because he didn't say anything about the crime itself."

So Sujit Garcia truly thought he could offer her a better deal in eight seasons, when her contract with Leong-Norwalk was up. Francesca searched the crowd, found Freddie first. Even in profile, she could tell he was high. He stood with one arm thrown around a woman whose back was to Francesca, smiling at her with that charming smile Francesca had once known so well. Elena stood nearby, frowning at Freddie but saying nothing. She had Hans at her side. She always made him stand in for his imprisoned father as her escort at social occasions.

If House Leong wasn't behind Pop's murder—and Ran-Del had been certain that Elena knew nothing about it—then it had to be someone else. Francesca raked through the wedding guests with her eyes. Who could it be? House Garcia was still a possibility, or even House Anchiro. And then there were the Quaiffes. She wouldn't put anything past them.

The band struck up a tune and David led Julie into the middle of the floor for a dance. Everyone pulled back to form a circle around them. Old Lady Wah hobbled forward to the edge of the crowd, her white hair sparkling with diamond hair pins as she smiled with approval on her great-granddaughter.

Could it have been the Wahs? Francesca hated to think so. She had always felt tied to her mother's former House. When the House of Wah had joined the Omalley-Chang cartel, her father had insisted she decrease her visits lest she give the Wahs encouragement to press for an advantage he wasn't willing to give.

Pop was gone now. Francesca studied the faces lining the circle. Somewhere in that crowd was almost certainly the person who had arranged Pop's murder.

But how was she going to find out who?

"Hello, Francesca."

Francesca jumped and looked down to find Old Lady Wah at her elbow. "Hello, Aunt Wah."

The old woman tugged on Francesca's arm. "I have to sit down now. Come talk to me." She glanced at Ran-Del. "And bring that good looking husband of yours."

Immediately Ran-Del offered his arm. The old woman took it and hobbled to a chair. Francesca trailed behind them and watched while Ran-Del helped her great-great-aunt to sit down in one of the chairs against the wall.

"How are you doing, Francesca?" the old woman said once she was settled. "It was a terrible shame about your father. He was a sweet boy and always had something pleasant to say."

"I'm all right," Francesca said. Maybe she shouldn't have come. Talking about Pop still made her want to cry.

"Well, at least you have a husband for consolation." Old Lady Wah looked Ran-Del up and down. "A Sansoussy, too." She cackled a laugh. "You look like you know how to provide distraction, young man."

Ran-Del's shocked expression made Francesca suddenly glad she had come after all. He stood next to the old woman's chair with the same deferential pose he had always shown his grandparents, but his jaw had dropped at Old Lady Wah's words.

He swallowed and gave Francesca a look that said plainly he wished himself elsewhere.

"Ran-Del is an expert at distraction," Francesca murmured.

Old Lady Wah shook her head sagely. "Your wife looks a little run down, young man. Be sure to take her home and put a smile on her face tonight."

Francesca had to bite her lip not to laugh. Ran-Del had gone rigid with embarrassment.

Old Lady Wah gave another cackle, reached over, and patted Ran-Del's buttocks. "Now every woman in the room will be jealous of me as well as you, Francesca."

Francesca opened her eyes wide. This was too much to forgive, even for a ninety-nine year old.

"Run along," the old woman said, waving her hand. "Have a few drinks, but not so many you can't enjoy yourself later."

"It was nice to see you again," Francesca said, pulling Ran-Del away before he could explode with outrage.

"Your great-great-aunt may be elderly," Ran-Del said under his breath, "but she has no manners."

Francesca empathized, but felt compelled to defend city ways. "At least she doesn't poke around in other people's thoughts, like your great-grandfather."

Ran-Del didn't say anything, but she could tell he wasn't happy. He glanced around the room. "I wish Great-grandfather were here. He could find out who killed your father very easily."

Francesca's smile slipped as she studied the crowd of increasingly tipsy wedding guests. She needed to know who had killed Pop.

And once she knew, she needed to take action.

### Chapter Eighteen

On his first day of full time work, Ran-Del said his morning prayer, ate a hasty breakfast, and left the Hayden compound before dawn. He ran through the city with an easy stride, loping through the now familiar but mostly deserted streets. The street lighting made it easy to see. By the time he arrived at the warehouse, the sky was golden and the artificial lights had dimmed. No one else was in sight as he crouched on the porch to wait.

A small blue skimmer pulled up a while later, and Georges got out. He came up the steps carrying a steaming mug from which wafted a familiar spicy scent.

Ran-Del got to his feet.

Georges started, his face alarmed. He laughed as he reached his hand to the access panel to unlock the door. "Mighty prompt for a barbarian."

Ran-Del crossed his arms over his chest. "You shouldn't be so rude when there are no witnesses, Georges. I could take my revenge and no one would be any the wiser."

Georges just grinned. "You'd be out of a job, then."

Ran-Del followed him into the warehouse, ready to start his first day. None of the other employees seemed surprised to find him there when they straggled in later. Ran-Del fell into the routine easily enough. He already knew most of the work, and he knew the people well enough to be comfortable.

After his first day, he had one cup of tea at Benjie's then ran home, ignoring the surprised looks of passersby. He showered and sat down to a late dinner with Francesca. When she asked him about his job, he described his tasks and his coworkers thoroughly, but didn't mention anything about Benjie's. Something told him Francesca wouldn't take well to Janis' long-held desire to know a Sansoussy warrior.

After his first week, Ran-Del finally understood the concept of weekends. It felt good to rest when you had worked hard the days before. And payday at the end of the week gave him a sense of accomplishment.

"Can you come to a meeting tomorrow morning in the Leong compound?" Francesca said a week later, at the dinner table.

They usually ate alone, in the sitting room of their suite. "How long will it last?"

"I don't know." She stirred her sautéed crabbagge with her fork. "It's Hans' meeting. He asked for it."

Ran-Del glanced at the time display on the wall. It was so cleverly disguised as a view of the Jordan River, it had taken him a while to learn to read it. The hour was too late to call anyone. "I'll let Georges know first thing in the morning."

She nodded but made no comment.

After a while, Ran-Del became aware of her silence and of her mood. A black fog seemed to hang around her. She had eaten only a few bites of her dinner, and stared at the food as if it were distasteful.

"What's wrong?" Ran-Del asked, pushing away his empty plate.

She lifted her head. "What?"

"Something is bothering you." Ran-Del leaned forward on his arms. "What is it?"

She looked down again. "Nothing, really. It's just that Quinn has given up."

"Given up what?"

Francesca let out a deep sigh. "She's given up trying to find out who killed Pop."

Ran-Del digested this news. He didn't know much about the kind of information Marina Quinn dealt in, but he could understand the concept of a trail that led nowhere. "That doesn't mean you'll never find out. It just means you have to bide your time, be patient, and hope for good luck."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. I hope that proves true."

He put one hand over hers in an effort to reassure her.

Her response was immediate, a warm rush of emotion—gratitude, affection, sadness, and just as she pulled her hand away, desire.

"If you're not hungry," Ran-Del said. "Let's go to bed."

She stood up at once. "Fine with me."

They made love passionately, and when it was over, Francesca lay next to Ran-Del and put her head against his chest. "I'm glad I have you, Ran-Del," she said, her eyes closed.

Ran-Del suffered a pang of guilt. He had come to accept his life in Shangri-La, but he couldn't honestly say to his wife that he was glad he had married her. "Go to sleep," he said instead. "Things always look better in the morning."

***

Hans Leong looked up as Francesca walked into his office with Ran-Del beside her and Merced trailing in their wake. Francesca was struck again by how opulent Hans' office was; the thick carpet wasn't unusual, but the elaborate gilt frames on the pictures on the wall, and the ornate statuary scattered around the room, definitely drew the eye. One nude in the window niche, in particular, always struck her as out of place in an office. It depicted a naked woman with her hands bound behind her. Francesca looked away in distaste every time she noticed it.

"Really, Francesca," Hans drawled, his voice betraying his annoyance as he got to his feet to wave them toward chairs. His own guard looked alert as he stood up. "I'm not my charming—if perpetually wired—brother," Hans went on. "You have a guard with you." He nodded at Merced. "There's no need for your husband to watch you so jealously."

Francesca kept her voice bland as she and Ran-Del sat down, with Merced taking a position behind her. "Ran-Del often advises me on business, Hans, if for no other reason than he's a very good judge of character."

Hans didn't seem to catch the veiled insult. If anything, he looked dubious. "I see."

"Now what is this about?" Francesca asked. It couldn't be too secret if Hans trusted the guard in Leong livery to stand in hearing distance behind his desk.

Hans leaned back in his chair and launched into an explanation. Leong-Norwalk currently bought ore from Hayden mines, contracted with a third party to refine it, and then used the metals in their manufacturing. Elena had asked Hans to explore the possibility of going into the refining business, which would save the contracting costs. Hans had discovered that in order to be cost effective, Leong-Norwalk would have to refine a lot more ore than they currently bought from Hayden and either sell the metal or make more metal goods.

"Could you increase capacity?" Hans asked. "Say double or even triple the rate we get now."

Francesca thought it over. The mines at Hayden showed no signs of being played out any time soon. Her family had tapped only a small part of the mountain range that ran through their land. Still, there were obstacles. "I don't think so."

Hans' eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

Francesca shook her head. "It's not the ore that's the problem, it's the labor. We employ about a hundred and twenty miners. To increase production to the level you're talking about, I'd have to hire a lot more. It's not easy to find workers willing to move all the way out to Hayden."

Hans shrugged. "Transfer some of your employees here in Shangri-La to Hayden."

Francesca gritted her teeth. "They're employees, not serfs. I can't force them to go—I'm not even sure it would be a good idea."

He sat up and leaned across the desk. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you don't know anything about refining," Francesca said. She didn't let herself glance at Ran-Del. He must be either stone faced or frowning by now. "If I were to hire another hundred miners and then your refinery went bust, I'd be stuck with a lot of employees with no work."

He snorted. "Then you let them go."

Francesca lifted her chin. "We don't fire people at Hayden unless they've done something wrong."

Hans lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if to implore divine intervention, then lowered them to glare at her. "That attitude will hardly help you fulfill your obligation to our cartel."

"My obligation," Francesca said, keeping her temper in check with an effort, "is spelled out clearly in the contract I signed. It says nothing about doubling or tripling production of any commodity."

Hans stood up. "This meeting is over."

Francesca jumped to her feet, but Ran-Del was quicker. He had his hand on his belt but there was no dirk there as she had insisted he leave it in the skimmer.

"Fine with me, Hans," Francesca said. "If you have anything constructive to communicate, you can do it over the com."

She left with no more than a hasty goodbye over her shoulder.

Ran-Del never said a word until they were out in the courtyard. He looked around as if to be sure Merced couldn't hear him, and then spoke in a low voice. "Hans Leong is not a good person."

Francesca snorted. "Tell me something I don't already know." Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she shot a hasty glance around the area. A middle-aged man in a loose tan smock and a broad-brimmed hat caught her attention. He stood some distance away, in the middle of an elaborate rose garden. Two armed guards nearby watched while the man in the smock stuck a shovel into the ground and stepped on it vigorously. "Good lord, it's Harry."

"Harry?" Ran-Del said, following her gaze. "Harry who?"

"Harry Leong," Francesca said. She waved but Harry didn't notice her. "I'm glad to see he's still alive. I haven't seen him in several seasons."

"But who is he?" Ran-Del asked.

"He's Hans and Freddie's father. Elena keeps him locked up here." Francesca became aware that the Leong guards had noticed her staring at Harry.

"We should get going, Baroness," Merced said.

"All right," Francesca said, starting for the skimmer.

The three other Hayden guards waiting on the skimmer looked relieved when they arrived. Merced pounded on the partition to signal the driver. "Okay, Kitty, get us out of here."

Francesca took a seat in the back as the skimmer lifted. "Could you all give us some privacy, please."

"Sure thing, Baroness." Merced opened the partition and stepped through it, hanging on to a stanchion as the vehicle started forward. "Geldorf, you and the others move into the front seat."

Francesca waited until they were out of the Leong gate to speak in a low voice to Ran-Del. "Well? What did you think?"

Ran-Del turned his head from the view of the streets to look at her with solemn eyes. "I don't know anything about the deal, but Hans Leong is an arrogant, heartless, greedy man who'd crush you like a bug if he could."

"I don't need your psy sense to know that," Francesca said. "If I called him a son of a bitch, it'd be true on two levels."

Ran-Del shook his head. "But I can't really help you this time. He never actually lied, but then he wasn't making promises, so I don't know if that tells you anything."

Francesca thought back. "He was making threats more than promises."

Ran-Del nodded agreement, but changed the subject. "Why does Baroness Leong keep that man locked up?"

"Harry?" Francesca thought back to what her father had told her, and Freddie, too, when she had asked. "Until about twenty seasons ago, Harry was Baron Leong. After Elena persuaded him she would make a better leader, he abdicated in her favor. But because he was his father's heir, he can still revoke the abdication any time. Elena doesn't plan on giving him a chance."

Ran-Del frowned. "So he can't opt out of the House, like your cousin's husband?"

He was paying attention to what she said about Great Houses. That was a good sign. "Both abdication and opting out require one to appear in person at the Hall of Records." She remembered their errand and sighed. "I guess this was a wasted morning."

Ran-Del craned his neck to look out the window at the sun still almost overhead. "I can still work half a day, at the least."

Francesca suffered a pang of something approaching guilt for taking him away from his own work with nothing gained. "Can we drop you at the warehouse?"

Ran-Del pointed to an arched bridge up ahead that marked the Jordan's path and the tall spire of the Omalley complex behind it. "You can let me off here. I know where I am, and I can easily walk the rest of the way."

Suspicion suddenly blossomed in Francesca's mind. "Are you trying to get your exercise for today, or are you ashamed to let your friends see your wife?"

He gave her a reassuring smile. "A little of the former, but never the latter."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." His smile faded. "Are you going to ask her to stop, or do I have to do it?"

The compartment door was still open so Francesca didn't bother with the com. "Can you set us down here, please, Kitty?" she called out to the pilot. "Citizen Jahanpur wants to get out."

The pilot pulled the skimmer over to a pedestrian walkway and set it down gently.

Ran-Del bent over and gave Francesca a swift kiss. "See you tonight," he called, jumping from the skimmer before the ramp could be lowered.

Francesca watched him walk away. Was she being paranoid? It would be better to know for sure than to wonder. Of course, the guards and the skimmer pilot would know she was suspicious, but trying to keep secrets from the staff was useless anyway. As the security staff reverted to their former seats and Merced closed the compartment door, Francesca pressed the com switch. No point in shouting her concerns. "I'm ready to head back now, Kitty. But do you think you could go really slowly? I'd like to have a look at something on the way home."

"Sure thing, Baroness," Kitty's voice said. "What do you want to see?"

"It's a warehouse," Francesca said. "My husband is headed there now. Let's just stay well back but follow him, shall we? I'm curious to see what the place looks like."

She watched through the window as Ran-Del turned and headed over the arched bridge that spanned the Jordan, then turned north. Kitty took the skimmer up, headed north but didn't cross the river.

Ran-Del broke into a slow jog trot and kept going for some distance, following the river. Kitty kept the skimmer well back, and Ran-Del never once looked behind him.

When Ran-Del came to an open space, he stopped and looked first at the sky, then at his com, as if he were checking the time. He turned toward the river, headed for a small building perched on the riverbank. It was too small to be a warehouse.

"Let's get just a little closer, please, Kitty," Francesca said. "I'd like to get a look at the name of that place."

"You've got it, Baroness," Kitty's voice echoed on the speaker as the skimmer zipped across the river—an illegal maneuver but not uncommon—and hovered near the building's entrance.

Francesca read the sign. Benjie's. A bar, not a warehouse. She needed to find out just what was going on inside Benjie's. She pressed the com switch again. "Thanks, Kitty. That's fine. Take us home, quickest route."

What she needed, Francesca thought, as the skimmer returned to the western bank, was someone Ran-Del wouldn't recognize. The security staff was out, probably the household staff, too. She nodded to herself. She would have to hire outside help.

***

Knowledge, Francesca found, could be an uncomfortable thing. She debated what she had learned from the detective's latest report while she watched her husband stare intently at a book reader. Ran-Del's hands gripped the thing like it might try to get away, and his lips moved as he sounded out words.

"Still working on the Parker Twin books?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Ran-Del closed the reader and threw it across the room. It hit the wall, leaving a small dent, then dropped to the floor. "No, not any more. They're pointless stories."

Francesca watched his gesture of frustration, unmoved. She was finding it difficult to be sympathetic. "You could read something else?"

"Why?" Ran-Del got to his feet, retrieved the reader, and put it on a shelf. "I'm tired, Francesca. I'm going to bed."

Francesca could feel her ire rising. She had to get control or she would say something she would regret later. But on the other hand, she wasn't willing to let this situation go on without making her objections known. "You might have a little more energy for your studies if you'd take a skimmer to work. Or even," she gave him a level stare, "if you came directly home instead of lingering in a bar eying the barmaid as if she were on the menu."

Ran-Del stopped in his tracks. He turned and stared at her. Could he feel how angry she was?

"You've been spying on me." The accusation in his voice told her she wasn't the only one who was angry.

She felt her face flush hot, but couldn't stop herself from blurting out the truth. "I hired someone without telling him anything about you. He had operatives sitting in the bar all day long, filming everything. I fed the images through my own monitor and had it scan for your face. Once I saw you with the redhead, I went back and watched to make sure she didn't flirt like that with everyone. She didn't; it was just you she favored."

Ran-Del's face reflected disgust, disdain even. "You think there's something going on between me and Janis Uurtemo?"

He knew right away who she meant. Francesca dropped her eyes, tried desperately to calm down. "No. I mean, I don't think you're sleeping with her. I just think you spend too much time there. That woman gives you a hell of a lot of encouragement, and you don't seem to be shutting the door in her face."

His chest heaved as if he had run a long distance. "Were you listening as well as watching?"

"Yes."

"For how long have you done this?" He seemed a little calmer, his breathing more even, but his voice was as cold as ice.

"A little over a week."

Ran-Del suddenly pulled his dirk from its sheath and flung it across the room. The point wedged itself firmly into the wood of a picture frame, and the knife quivered for a few seconds.

Francesca stared at it, her eyes wide in dismay. She hadn't seen him this angry since he was a prisoner. "Is that supposed to make me afraid of you?"

Ran-Del ignored the question. "By what right did you spy on me, Francesca? What gave you the right to eavesdrop on my conversations and take my picture without my knowing it?"

All her anger flooded back. Francesca stood up so that she faced him. "I'm your wife! I have every right to know what you're up to with other women."

Ran-Del crossed the space between them in three long strides and stood so close she could feel his breath on her face. "We are married, Francesca," he said, his voice taut. "I don't refer to your so-called ceremony in front of the com. But when our union was blessed by my shaman, I made a promise to you, and I've kept it. If you can doubt me after that, then there's no point in pretending to be married."

Pretending? Francesca couldn't look at him for a second. She gulped, caught her breath and took the offensive. "How can you think it wouldn't hurt me to see you almost holding that woman's hand? I know married couples who touch each other with less tenderness than she used in handing you your change."

He softened his tone and looked down at her with concern in his eyes. "How can we be married if we spy on each other, if we don't trust each other?"

Francesca bit back a sob. "But you don't tell me anything. You never told me about going to the bar or this Janis woman."

"I told you about how I met Georges. I told you that when I fell into the river, a woman in a bar dried my clothes for me."

Francesca snorted. "That's all you said. From that, I'd have thought she was old enough to be your grandmother."

He had the grace to look ashamed. "I never said that. And you never asked me about friends at work."

"I suppose I should have," Francesca said. "I'm not inclined to do things the direct way, Ran-Del. Sneakiness is in my blood." When Ran-Del didn't comment, she took a deep breath. "I'll try to be more open when I need to know more."

Ran-Del hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepped away. "Good." He walked over to the picture on the wall and retrieved his knife.

Francesca couldn't quite let it go. "Ran-Del?"

"Yes?"

She had to know. It was better to know. "Do you love her?"

"No."

He went into the bedroom without saying anything more. He was already in bed when Francesca undressed and slipped in beside him. They lay side by side, without touching. Sometime in the night, Francesca finally fell asleep, unable to determine if Ran-Del was awake or not. It was the first time they had quarreled and not made it up by making love.

***

Three days later Hans Leong called Francesca early in the morning, and asked for another meeting on the mine proposal, a private meeting with no guards. Ran-Del was meditating during the call. When he sat down at the breakfast table, Francesca debated whether or not to ask him to stay. He had been polite but distant ever since their spat.

"Hans Leong is coming here for a meeting in two hours," she said finally.

Ran-Del looked up from his porridge. "Why?"

"It's the mine thing again."

Ran-Del shook his head. "No, why is he coming here. Last time he wanted you to go to him."

Francesca shrugged. "He said it was on his way." She hesitated and finally added the codicil. "He said he wanted a private meeting, no guards."

Ran-Del reached for his tea. "I will call Georges."

Francesca suffered conflicting emotions. She was pleased he was so quick to help her, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be obligated. "I don't think this meeting will be anything you need to worry about."

Ran-Del lifted his brows. "The man is dangerous, Francesca. He oozes malice like a crested viper oozes venom when you step on it. Psy gift aside, if you won't have a guard in the room, then I should be there."

"All right, then." Francesca tried to sound neutral. "Stay if you like."

He ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, then went to make his call.

Francesca found it difficult to concentrate on work with Ran-Del sitting in her office studying the furnishings. He stared longest at the globe.

"What are you thinking?" Francesca blurted out.

He looked up. "I was remembering being in here with your father, the day before he took us out on the plains."

Francesca recalled the nights spent sleeping next to Ran-Del under the moonlight, the firelight gleaming on his hair, the way he had run beside her while she rode the lamel after his people found them. "I don't like being angry at you, Ran-Del."

"I don't enjoy being angry, either."

A desperate need made her want to ease the tension. "I'm sorry I spied on you. I don't think I said it before."

He smiled, but somehow still looked solemn. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my friends at work and where we spend our time."

The com buzzed in Antonio's pattern, two short buzzes and one long. "Yes?" Francesca said.

"Hans Leong is here," Antonio's voice said.

"Send him in."

Hans stopped short when he came in the room and saw Ran-Del. "I asked for a private meeting."

"Good morning," Francesca said. "I don't keep anything private from my husband."

Hans' scowl contorted his face. "Very well."

Francesca invited him to sit and requested tea from Antonio.

"Why did you come here this time?" Ran-Del said after Antonio left. "You usually want Francesca to come to you."

"Why not?" Hans said, plainly irritated. "It's on my way to my next appointment, as I already told Francesca."

Ran-Del put his left hand behind his neck in the agreed upon signal for deceit. Francesca let out her breath with satisfaction, wondering why Hans would bother to lie about such a little thing.

"Now, Hans," Francesca said, once Antonio had served the tea and departed, "what's this about? Anything new?"

It seemed that the only new development was a potential deal for Leong-Norwalk to buy a refinery. Even without increased production from the House of Hayden, Elena was considering it. But before she made any decisions, Hans related, his mother wanted to sound Francesca out about a possible cut in prices for ores delivered to a Leong refinery.

"The price is already set in the contract," Francesca said.

Hans managed to look hurt. "We already let you market your surplus crops on your own. Surely we deserve a little reward for that?"

"Nonsense." Francesca kept her face calm. Hans was beginning to be a pain. Unfortunately, Elena doted on him, so complaining about him would only make things worse. "I can sell the surplus only because it is a surplus. You don't want it. If you did, I'd have to sell it to you. There will be no discount on the ore, Hans."

"Not even if we were to ensure that you had a larger surplus?" Hans asked.

Ran-Del sat up straighter and moved his left hand to behind his neck again.

Francesca stared at Hans' bland expression. The man was a good liar. She had to give him that. "I'd want that in writing, Hans. And I don't mean a note. The contract would have to be amended."

"I'm sure we could come up with wording you'd like," Hans said smoothly. "Do we have a deal, in principle at least?"

Francesca debated. Ran-Del's hand was still behind his neck. "Not yet. I want to think it over. I need to look at it from all the angles."

Hans frowned and looked from one to the other of them. "We're trying to be nice about this, Francesca. We can demand everything you produce, you know? No more dickering for a few extra credits—the price would be set by our contract."

"I'm aware of that. I make it a point never to sign a contract without reading it first."

Hans continued to push her to agree to mutual concessions, growing more coercive in his language until finally, Ran-Del stood up and glared at him.

"You need to leave now." Ran-Del put one hand on his dirk.

Francesca felt a stab of irritation, but leaned back in her chair as if she were quite relaxed. "Yes, it's time for you to leave, I'm afraid. I have another meeting."

She leaned forward and spoke into the com. "Antonio! Citizen Leong is leaving now. Please arrange for his skimmer to be ready."

Hans got to his feet, a scowl on his face. "This meeting may be over, but you haven't heard the last of this."

He left without a goodbye.

Francesca moved to the window to watch his skimmer depart, just as her father always had, before turning to Ran-Del.

"Well?" Francesca asked. "He was lying?"

"Not exactly," Ran-Del said. "He clearly lied about this compound being on the way to a meeting, but his other speech was less clear. He was both hostile and on edge—not actually lying most of the time but up to something deceitful."

Well, no point in worrying about it. She hadn't made any commitments. Francesca shrugged. "We'll find out in time." She remembered Ran-Del's interference. "I appreciate your help, Ran-Del, but in future, please don't interrupt a meeting like that—certainly don't make a threatening gesture."

He looked unrepentant. "The man threatened you, whether his meaning was clear or not. I cannot stand by at such a time."

The words filled her with warm satisfaction, even if it was protectiveness rather than passion he was expressing. She looked at the time display on her com. "Do you want a ride to work? You're very late."

"No, thanks," Ran-Del sounded resolute. "I'll just have to be late."

After he was gone, Francesca made herself return to work, but it was difficult. Her mind kept jumping from her current project to Ran-Del's feelings or lack of them, to Hans' machinations. All in all, she got very little done that afternoon.

***

Ran-Del had never been late for work without advance notice before. Jena tweaked him happily when he arrived, and Guillermo made a suggestion to account for Ran-Del's lateness that made Ran-Del blush. Thelma caught sight of his red face and started in on him, too.

"So," she said cheerfully, "when do we get to meet your wife, Ran-Del? I'm dying to see the woman who can tame a wild man."

"I'd just like to meet a woman who likes to make love in the morning," Guillermo said. "Where'd you find yours, Ran-Del?"

Mortified, Ran-Del turned his head away and didn't reply.

Without warning, Clara Rangoon stuck her head out of the door to Georges' office. "Run along," she scolded. "You've all got work to do, and I want to talk to Ran-Del for a moment."

Ran-Del walked into the office expecting her to ask him questions about Francesca, but instead, Clara took a seat behind the desk and said, "How's the reading going, Ran-Del?"

"All right."

Clara smiled. "Really?"

"No," Ran-Del said abruptly, happy for the chance to unburden his feelings. "It's not going well at all, Clara. I see no point in it, and it hurts my eyes to sit and stare at a book reader. I wish everyone would just forget about my learning to read."

Clara opened a drawer in the desk and rooted around in it. She pulled a dusty object from the back of a drawer and handed it to Ran-Del. "Here, try this instead?"

Ran-Del took the thing from her, wondering what it was. It was heavier than he had expected. "What is it?"

"It's a book," Clara said, "an old fashioned kind of a book made of paper pages. Over a millennium ago, before there were book readers, this is the only kind of book there was. It doesn't require a power supply or anything but enough light to see by and a knowledge of the printed word."

"How do you work it?" Ran-Del asked, letting the pages flit through his fingers.

"You don't work it," Clara said. "There are no buttons or switches. You simply start at the first page, read it, turn it over, read the back, and keep going until you get to the end of the book."

"Really?" Ran-Del said, intrigued by the simplicity of it. Except for the uniformity of the letters, this was something a Sansoussy could have made.

"Really," Clara said. "Why don't you try it, Ran-Del? It was written a long, long time ago, and it may be hard for you to understand because the story is set on Terra, but it's still a good story."

Ran-Del closed the book and turned it over in his hands. It was so much bulkier than a reader that it had an almost satisfying heft to it. He stared at the one word title until he had sounded it out. " _Kidnapped_?"

Clara nodded. "It's an adventure story. Take it home and try it. It'll be more work than what you've been reading, but it'll be more reward, too."

"Thank you, Clara." A smiled played on Ran-Del's face. He didn't want to tell her why he found the book's title so amusing, but he planned on sharing the joke with Francesca.

Clara laid a hand on his arm. "Is everything else all right, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del was surprised at her concern. "Why, yes, Clara. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

She squeezed his arm. "I don't know." She sounded vague, rather like Ran-Del's grandmother when she couldn't remember where she had put something. "Just a feeling, I suppose. Take care of yourself, Ran-Del."

***

At the end of the work day Ran-Del debated but decided he would go to Benjie's for one cup of tea. He drank it quickly, enjoying the comradeship of the Rangoon table as much as the familiar beverage, and put the empty cup down on the table with a sense of regret. He lifted a hand as he headed for the door. "Good night, all."

"Good night, wild man," Georges called.

Clara gave him an anxious smile. "Be careful, Ran-Del."

Guillermo gave him a grin, and Thelma waved. Ran-Del decided not to wait for Janis to come out from the kitchen. He still felt twinges of guilt when he remembered Francesca's pain.

He stepped from the light of the bar into the cool night air and drew a breath. It was a clear night. Tranquility, the only moon up, was a narrow crescent. The stars shone, not so brightly as at home but still beautiful. His footsteps crunched on the gravel walkway as he headed for the bridge. The night bats called, reminding him of the forest, even if these night bats lived in eaves instead of trees.

As soon as he had crossed the bridge, something niggled at Ran-Del. Was it his psy sense or was he catching Clara's unease? He ran a few strides, then slowed his pace to a jog. Something was wrong. All at once he remembered that he had left Clara's book. He had put it on the mantel over the fireplace at Benjie's so it wouldn't get damaged by spilled beer, and then he had gone off without it.

Was that what was wrong? He glanced back. He could see lights from the bar's windows shining down on the river. Ran-Del dropped to a walk. The book wasn't his property, and he hated to leave it out in plain sight. He had learned the hard way that not everyone in the city was as honest as the Sansoussy. On the other hand, he didn't like to be late getting home, now that he knew how jealous Francesca was of his time at Janis' bar.

Ran-Del's indecision increased. He felt drawn back to the bar. Frustrated, he turned back toward Benjie's and ran as far as the bridge. He would never get home if he kept hesitating. Better to retrieve the book and get it over with.

As soon as he set foot on the bridge, Ran-Del felt a prickling on the back of his neck. He hurried, running fast, and was almost halfway across the bridge when two things happened at once. The door to Benjie's opened, thrusting a long triangle of light into the darkness, and simultaneously a loud noise, like the whoosh of air leaving a confined space, exploded into the air. Ran-Del hit the ground instinctively, glancing over his shoulder as he dropped. A searing pain crossed his forehead, and he felt blood run down his face. Ran-Del cried out as he hit the pavement. He rolled onto the walkway, keeping tight to the bridge railing, and drew his knife.

A shout came from Benjie's. "Who is that? Hey, what's going on out there?"

The sound of running footsteps echoed from the near side of the river. Ran-Del lay still, panting in pain and tried to determine what was happening.

"I got him!" a low voice said triumphantly from the darkness.

"Shut up!" a second voice said urgently. "He's down, but I don't think he's dead. We've got to finish him to get paid."

Ran-Del stayed very still, his body pressed against the railing, his knife tucked out of sight.

Two figures in black flitted to the foot of the bridge. Ran-Del could see the slender barrels of their weapons, one long and the other short, glinting in the pale moonlight. There were more shouts from Benjie's, and Ran-Del was vaguely aware of movement from that direction.

One assailant stepped closer and raised his rifle-like weapon to his shoulder. Ran-Del gathered his strength and then rolled out of the way as the unknown weapon blasted a hole in the bridge railing behind him.

Ran-Del came out of his roll in a crouch and lunged for his attacker, knife at the ready. He misjudged the distance, and his blade bit into his attacker's leg instead of his torso; the man screamed just as his partner fired his smaller weapon from close range.

Ran-Del didn't cry out. He had no more strength. He lay on his back in the middle of the bridge while a long, narrow rent across his chest leaked his heart's blood onto the paving stones. He heard the two men's footsteps run off into the darkness just as more footsteps approached from the far side of the bridge. He was only dimly conscious when Guillermo leaned over him and shouted back at the others.

"It's Ran-Del! He looks bad. Someone call for a med team!"

### Chapter Nineteen

Francesca stared at her monitor without seeing the numbers displayed. Why did Ran-Del insist on spending so much time at that bar if he wasn't in love with the redhead? And what could she do to stop him from going there without making him feel like a prisoner?

Her com beeped in her assistant's signal.

"Yes?" Francesca said. "I thought you'd gone home."

Antonio's face popped onto her screen, looking strangely lifeless. "I—that is—ah, you have a call, Baroness."

Something was wrong. "Who is it?"

"It's—it's a man named Georges Rangoon."

The warehouse owner? Francesca sat up. "Put him through."

Georges Rangoon's craggy face filled the screen. His eyes looked bleak. "Baroness Hayden?"

She knew. As soon as she saw his face, she knew. "Yes?"

"It's Ran-Del. You'd better come right away."

***

Francesca stared into the blackness of the night sky as the flyter streaked across the city. Please, she thought, please don't let Ran-Del be dead. It wouldn't be fair. She had already lost Pop suddenly, with no warning. It couldn't be the same for Ran-Del.

"There's the bridge, Baroness," the pilot called from her compartment. "I don't see anywhere I can set down."

Francesca peered down into the darkness. The harsh cone of light from the belly of the flyter illuminated a scene from her nightmares. Someone lay flat on a stone bridge, surrounded by a still, unmoving mass of people. An ambulance approached, claxon blaring, and people moved out of the way so it could park at the edge of the crowd.

"Send me down with the transport pad," Francesca ordered, rushing to the rear of the flyter.

She rode down with only Marina Quinn and Merced for company. People dashed out of the way as the flyter lights illuminated their descent. Francesca clenched her hands. Neither of her companions spoke except when Quinn warned her to wait for the platform to stop moving before jumping down.

"What's wrong?" Francesca demanded, rushing forward to where Georges Rangoon and a gray-haired woman stood looking down at a med-tech who knelt next to Ran-Del.

The med-tech ignored her and looked up at Georges Rangoon. "How long has he been dead?"

***

Francesca couldn't seem to get enough air. She stood in the hospital waiting room, Marina Quinn on one side of her, Merced on the other side, and looked at Clara and Georges Rangoon standing silently on the other side of the room. Where did they fit in all of this?

"Don't you want to sit down, Baroness?" Quinn asked.

"No, I don't." Francesca crossed her arms over her chest, almost clutching herself as she breathed rapid, shallow breaths. "Where the hell is that doctor?"

Quinn made a soothing reply, but Francesca couldn't have repeated what she said. A moment later, the door slid open and a petite, dark-skinned woman, her hair as gleaming black as her stethoscope, stepped into the room.

"Which of you is the patient's wife?" she asked.

Francesca stepped forward, Quinn and her minion right behind her. "I am. Is he alive?"

The doctor looked at her, curiosity mixed with sympathy in her gaze. "Yes, he's alive. We resuscitated him with no difficulty. We were able to repair the damage to his heart and lungs, and the less serious head wound, and then we got his heart working again and replaced the lost blood. He's off automated life support except for the ventilator, to give his lungs time to heal—and of course we're pumping him full of drisophenine."

Francesca let out a deep exhalation. She hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath. "What's drisophenine?"

"It's a drug that helps the brain to repair itself," the doctor said. "Fortunately, Baroness, your husband wasn't dead for long. However, we're taking no chances. Drisophenine must be given promptly if it's to be of any use. Otherwise, any brain damage would be permanent."

"Brain damage?" Francesca said. She could feel the blood rush from her face,

"The med team got him into the stasis box promptly." The doctor sounded as if she were speaking to a small child. "Brain damage shouldn't be a problem. It's merely a precaution."

"Can I see him now?" Francesca demanded.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. He's not conscious yet, but you can see him if you wish."

Francesca followed her down the corridor, her two protectors following close behind. The doctor led the way to a room filled with medical equipment. A medtech stood in front of the bank of monitors, his back to the body lying motionless on the only bed in the room.

Francesca stepped up to the bed and looked down at her husband. He didn't look like a Sansoussy now. He barely looked human. A mass of tubes and cables snaked over his chest, a transparent mask covered his mouth and nose, and the nurturing embrace of an organic bandage hid most of his forehead. He lay perfectly still with his eyes closed but the tubes and cables rose and fell in a reassuringly regular pattern.

Francesca took a deep breath of relief. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked the doctor.

The woman glanced at the electronic chart displayed on the wall over Ran-Del's head. "He should be, but I can't give any guarantees, Baroness. The head wound wasn't so bad. He had a groove cut in his skull, basically, but the brain wasn't affected. The chest wound, however, was fatal. The heart was penetrated—sliced open, really. We've repaired the damage, as I said, but with surgery on that scale, complications are always possible."

"What was the weapon that caused the head wound?" Quinn asked, interrupting suddenly.

"Hard to say for certain," the doctor replied. "My guess would be a beamer. A laser cuts cleanly, either like a knife or like a drill, depending on how it's used. That's how the chest wound looks. The head wound was different; the damage was less localized. The main force of the blast actually penetrated the skull—the groove I told you about—but there was peripheral damage. Pieces of flesh and scalp looked as if they'd been burned with acid; we had to do extensive tissue repair. That's why my guess would be an energy beamer of some sort."

Quinn looked as if she might have asked another question, but the portable com console strapped to her forearm beeped, and she stepped back to take the call.

"Excuse me, Baroness," she said after a moment, "the police would like to talk to you. They're downstairs."

"In a moment," Francesca said, still staring down at Ran-Del. She sighed and stood up straighter. He wasn't dead. The doctor sounded as optimistic as was possible in these circumstances. She had to stop worrying and start thinking about what to do.

"How long until he's conscious?" she asked the doctor.

The woman shook her head. "I'm not pushing him to come awake, Baroness. He'll be in a lot of pain, and the less I have to medicate him, the better. Our monitors show that his vital signs are all stable, but he seems to be quite restless, almost as if he were having bad dreams. Without my forcing it, I'd expect him to be awake by tomorrow morning, but I couldn't say for sure."

"All right," Francesca said with a sigh. She straightened her shoulders as she turned toward Quinn. "Let's go see what the cops have to say."

The officer who waited in an empty office wasn't one of the two who had been first on the scene. This man was older, and wore a captain's uniform. He rose politely when Francesca came into the room.

"Good evening, Baroness," he said, offering a hand. "My name is Captain Uvalde."

"It's hardly a good evening," Francesca said as she shook hands. She needed better control. Curtness would only alienate this man. "Who tried to kill my husband?"

"We don't know, yet, Baroness," Captain Uvalde said. "That's what I need to speak to you about. This crime is in our jurisdiction, physically, but as the victim is your husband, that gives you dominion rights. Do you want us to handle it? If not, we'll back off and turn it over to your people." He glanced at Quinn curiously.

Francesca frowned, annoyed at having to make a decision so soon. "What have you found out so far?"

"Well," Uvalde said, "it was clearly an assassination attempt. They may have planned to make it look like robbery and then not had time, or they may simply not have cared, but no effort was made to obtain the victim's money or valuables.

"There were two different weapons, too. From the damage to the bridge and your husband's wounds, we're guessing a high-powered beamer and a laser pistol—both illegal. It looks like a simple case of assassination. The perps might be new at it, though, because they muffed it. If they'd waited until your husband was walking through the business district, where the offices are all closed, he could've been shot and bled to death with no one the wiser."

Francesca didn't let herself think about the possibility. After only a short time, Ran-Del's brain would have been hopelessly damaged, even if his body could be resuscitated. "Anything else?"

Uvalde reached into an evidence pouch and took out a narrow-bladed knife sealed in plastic. Blood covered the blade. "Do you recognize this, Baroness?"

Francesca jumped. "Yes. That's Ran-Del's—my husband's—dirk. He always wore it."

Captain Uvalde nodded sagely. "That's what his friends said. Looks like he got at least one of the perps, at least enough to draw a fair amount of blood. We're testing all the blood on the scene very carefully. If there's blood besides your husband's, we'll have an iron-clad clue from the DNA. If the perp's DNA is on file, we'll find him from that."

"If?" Francesca said. "Shouldn't everyone's DNA be on file?"

"Theoretically," Uvalde said. "But sometimes people move here from a farm or the suburbs and never get properly registered—or they sneak some credits to a crooked clerk in Records and get themselves taken out of the system." Reluctance showed in the flicker of his eyelids, as though he didn't like admitting this. "If there's enough cash behind this operation, it'll be difficult to trace the hit men."

"You said men?" Quinn asked. "Do you know that for certain?"

Uvalde shook his head. "The first witness on the scene said he thought he saw two people running away—no height or weight or even gender, just two shapes. One of them was limping."

"It's not much to go on," Quinn said.

"No," Uvalde said. "It's not. Do we go with what we've got, Baroness, or do you want to handle it yourselves?"

Francesca glanced at Quinn. Her face gave no clue what she was thinking.

"I'd like to talk to my Security Chief for a minute, if you don't mind, Captain," Francesca said.

"Certainly, Baroness," the captain said with a bow.

Francesca waited until he had withdrawn to the corridor. "Well, Marina," she said, "what do you recommend?"

"It depends, Baroness," Quinn said, "on which is more important—locating the scum or dealing with them once we find them."

Francesca understood. Yielding jurisdiction to the municipal police meant yielding justice. If the police caught the assailants, the stiffest sentence they could receive for attempted assassination was mental conditioning. Francesca's right to punish whoever hired them would be lost.

On the other hand, if she kept her right of dominion, she could mete out whatever penalty she desired, including death, so long as she could demonstrate the guilt of those she punished—if she could find them.

"We haven't had any luck finding out who killed Pop," Francesca said.

"We already knew the assassin for that one," Quinn said. "All we had was one electronic funds transaction to try to nail down whoever paid for it."

Francesca shook her head. "Even if we find the hit men, what guarantee do we have that it won't just lead to another electronic credit drop?"

"There's no guarantee, but this hit doesn't seem as smooth." Quinn scrunched her face into a speculative scowl. "I don't think it was as well thought out. It has a sort of last minute feel to me."

Did that mean different circumstances or a different killer? "Do you think the same person who killed Pop tried to kill Ran-Del?"

Quinn shrugged, as if to deny knowledge. "Who knows? I'd think it's likely, but on the other hand, are the people who had a motive to kill the Baron also likely to have a motive to ice your husband once your father was gone?"

It was a good point. Pop had almost certainly been killed by someone who planned to take over the House of Hayden through her. The same motivation could apply to the attack on Ran-Del. Unless the Sansoussy had somehow made an enemy on his own? "Motive is the key. Who would have benefited if Ran-Del had died?"

Quinn smiled, a strange, twisted grimace. "I think you should rephrase that, Baroness. He did die. It's a case of who would've benefited if he had stayed dead."

Francesca sucked in her breath at the thought. She considered her choices for a few seconds, then shook her head. "I know more about the cartels and Great Houses than that captain does. I have better ways of finding out who's in bed with whom, so to speak, than anyone on the police force. What I don't have," Francesca said regretfully, "is access to municipal records."

"If it's purely a case of getting information from them," Quinn said with a slight grin, "credits will do it for you every time. The captain admitted as much."

"That's another good point," Francesca said. "Realistically, Marina, do we have a chance of finding them on our own?"

"Realistically, Baroness," Quinn said soberly, "we don't have that good a chance, but it's as good as or better than the one the police have."

Francesca stared at the wall. "If I give this up to the cops and it was the same person who paid for both murders then Pop's killer could end up sitting in a nice cozy mental hospital."

Quinn said nothing.

"All right," Francesca said abruptly, "we keep it. You hire extra people if you have to, but you get going on this, Marina."

"Yes, Baroness," Quinn said with satisfaction.

Captain Uvalde looked almost relieved when Francesca told him her decision.

"Certainly, Baroness Hayden," he said, with just an intimation of a bow. "I'll wrap up the datawork when I get back to the skimmer. There'll be a report in your mailbox by the time you get home."

"I'm not going home," Francesca said wearily. "Not for a good while."

***

For a long time, Ran-Del was conscious only of pain. He floated in an ocean of pain. It ebbed and flowed with tidal variations, but it was always there. Eventually, he felt himself begin to surface—not to be free of pain, but to distinguish all the permutations of it.

There was the pain that burned his lungs and made each exhalation a minor torture. Another pain ached in the very center of his chest, deep and dull and steady. A third pain began at his forehead and flowed down his neck and shoulder, not constant but building slowly, increasing in intensity until a faint pressure on his arm caused almost total oblivion.

There was one last pain he couldn't classify. It had no specific location, no association with any specific part of his body. This pain was a hurt of the mind rather than the body. It took Ran-Del a long time to realize that it was fear rather than pain. It came and went, this fear. Sometimes it wasn't there at all, and then it would grow suddenly. A few times it swelled to enormous proportions, accompanied by frightening visions of himself, vacant, dull-eyed, listless. When this happened, the fear obliterated his pains and his sense of self and everything else. Ran-Del would moan and try to move away from the fear, but he couldn't make his body obey him. He heard voices speaking over him without in any way registering what they said.

***

"Beg pardon, Baroness," the medtech said politely, "but he doesn't seem to like being touched. It makes him fret."

Francesca moved her hand from Ran-Del's arm. "Maybe you're right." She watched him anxiously. "Is he getting better? He looks so pale, and he still hasn't woken up."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," the medtech said reassuringly. "His breathing is much stronger, and he's healing just fine. It's worrying that he hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he's definitely getting better."

***

All at once Ran-Del realized he was in a hospital. It wasn't because of the smell; Ran-Del had recognized that the air had a strange scent, but he hadn't known that it was hospital air. Now, however, he saw himself lying motionless in a hospital bed, a vision so strong and compelling he couldn't reject it as he had the many other visions that seemed to inundate him. Ran-Del had seen pictures of hospitals in the news bulletins, and he knew he must be in one now.

Ran-Del was aware of the desire for him to open his eyes, to awaken from his almost-dream state. He couldn't remember not being aware of it, and yet he knew that it wasn't his own desire. He wanted nothing more than to lie still, to avoid the pain and the fear as much as possible. That was what he would do—nestle down like an armored mole sleeping in his burrow over the long winter months, trying to escape the cold and the notice of predators by digging deep within the earth and sleeping, soundless and motionless.

And then the ocean of pain began to recede, and Ran-Del could feel his body again—soft cloth under his fingers, faint, cool air moving across his cheek. He could move his limbs and know that he was controlling them. He heard sounds—someone moving around in the room, faint pings of electronic equipment, a hissing breath from a machine. And then a low voice spoke to him insistently.

"Ran-Del," it said. "Wake up, Ran-Del! Open your eyes and look at me."

The voice wasn't at all familiar, and Ran-Del ignored it.

"I don't understand," the voice went on. Ran-Del could sense the speaker's frustration. "I know he's conscious. He's got to be."

Ran-Del could feel the fear grow suddenly.

"Could it be brain damage, doctor?" said a second voice. This one was definitely familiar. Ran-Del knew it quite well.

The first voice made a noise of denial. "Nonsense. There was no noticeable deterioration in brain function. You can stop worrying about that, Baroness."

Ran-Del almost frowned in concentration. Baroness? He knew what the word meant. But Francesca wasn't a baroness. Her father was a baron, but she was simply Francesca Hayden. Abruptly, Ran-Del remembered the raging fury of the burning flyter. No, Baron Hayden was dead. Francesca was a baroness, now. And they were married.

Ran-Del reached up to touch his hair, to reassure himself that he wasn't still dreaming. His hand came in contact with something else, something soft but bulky. He tried to push it out of the way.

A cool touch on his hand brought a flood of images into his mind—peculiar machines, rooms full of very sick people, bodies cut open and draped with cloths.

Ran-Del moaned in protest and pulled his hand away.

"Don't touch the bandage!" ordered the first voice.

Ran-Del opened his eyes, compelled to see if his visions were true.

A room swam into focus, a strange room with no windows, no natural light. The woman who bent over him seemed to be scowling. She wore her black hair pinned back from her face, and her clothes had a neat, almost prim appearance. The scowl softened to a smile as she saw him looking at her.

"There," she said. "That's better. How do you feel, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del studied her without answering her question. There was another woman behind her, and Ran-Del lifted his head to look at her. A stabbing pain in his head told him this wasn't a good idea.

"Ran-Del!" the second woman said, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"

Ran-Del winced as he laid his head back down on the pillow. "Hurts."

"Just keep still," the first woman said soothingly. "The medication will accelerate your healing. The pain should be much less in two or three days."

"Hurts," Ran-Del said again, fretfully.

The woman reached for a small canister, adjusted a dial, and popped it into a tube.

"I think it'll be best to increase your dosage of pain killers just a little." She pressed the tube against Ran-Del's arm, and he felt a now familiar pressure. She must be a doctor.

"Ran-Del," the other woman said anxiously. "Do you know me?"

Ran-Del stared at her face for just a moment, fearing this was a test of some kind. Did he know her? Yes, of course. "Fran-chess-ca," he said slowly, having trouble with so many syllables in one word. "Wife," he added faintly.

The woman smiled with relief.

"There, you see?" the doctor said comfortingly. "I told you not to worry."

The medication took effect and Ran-Del watched their faces blur and fade into nothingness.

***

Two days later, Ran-Del was much clearer in his thinking. He was more alert and aware of his surroundings, and he had decided that it would be best not to tell anyone what he was experiencing, not even Francesca.

His wife came to see him every day, sitting with him for hours at a time. Touched as he was that she cared enough to do it, he wished that she wouldn't stay so long or sit so close to him. The medtechs were bad enough; they grasped his arm to give him a hypo, tucked in his bed covers, even bathed him, and the flood of perceptions that washed over him when they did these things was almost more than Ran-Del could bear.

His pain made Francesca reluctant to touch him, but he knew her well, and even extreme closeness made it impossible for him to shut her out of his mind.

Ran-Del closed his eyes. Was he going insane? Were other people's thoughts intruding on his own, or did he somehow make up these flashes of images and words that popped into his head when he came into contact with others?

A young woman came into the room, a medtech he had never seen before. She wore the drab green hospital uniform they all wore, but on her it looked almost alluring. Her hair was golden, like Bettine's, but unlike Bettine, she wore it quite short, a gleaming golden cap that set off her elegant face nicely.

She was brisk and professional in her movements, but her eyes studied him with a more personal interest. Ran-Del turned his face to the wall, unable to look at her as she studied his body and speculated on the more intimate aspects of his injuries.

Ran-Del had never even thought to ask the doctor about the possibility of permanent damage to his nervous system. Just at the moment, the idea of the kind of prolonged, intimate contact that the medtech was thinking about terrified him. Ran-Del almost broke out in a sweat from worry.

The woman's thoughts drifted to her own affairs, and Ran-Del had a fleeting vision of her, wrapped in a naked, sweaty embrace with a black-haired man. When she moved away from him the image faded.

"Ran-Del?" Francesca said, leaning over in her chair. "Are you feeling okay?"

Ran-Del turned his head back to face his wife.

"I'm fine," he said, smiling a little to reassure her. Her concern for him came across as clearly as her affection. "I'm just a little tired."

Francesca stood up. "I think I'll run along and let you get some rest, then. I'll come back later tonight."

Ran-Del steeled himself for the goodbye kiss he knew she would give him. He managed not to flinch, and even returned the kiss.

He had drifted in and out of sleep, eaten a meal, and then slept again, when he became aware of another presence in the room.

Janis Uurtemo stood by the door, watching him.

Ran-Del smiled a greeting. "Hello, Janis. I'm sorry I can't get up." He pressed the control on the bed so that he was propped up slightly.

She moved closer and studied him carefully. "I wasn't sure you were awake."

Ran-Del tried to chuckle but the rasping sound that came out alarmed even him. "It's hard to tell these days."

Janis took a seat in the chair formerly occupied by Francesca. She had a bag with her, and she reached in and took out the book Clara Rangoon had given Ran-Del.

"You left this in my bar," she said, laying it on the bed next to him.

"Thank you for bringing it." Ran-Del stroked the cover lightly, feeling the coarse fabric under his fingers. "This book saved my life. If I hadn't gone back for it, I'd have been way on the other side of the river when they attacked—too far for anyone to hear what was happening or to help me."

Janis clutched her hands convulsively. "I'm glad you left it, then." She looked almost fierce. "Your wife is Baroness Hayden," she said, as if accusing him of a crime.

"Yes," Ran-Del agreed, although it hadn't been a question.

"You never told me."

"Does it matter?" Ran-Del was suddenly aware that, although she was quite close, he felt no emanations from Janis except the old familiar emotional ones. There were no thoughts or images flooding his mind.

"I suppose not," Janis said bitingly. "A wife is a wife, at least to a Sansoussy. Although," she added, "marrying into the House of Hayden seems to have been rather more dangerous than anything you could have done in the forest."

Ran-Del laid his head back against the pillow. Weariness made him long for a less personal subject to discuss. "You never told me how your grandparents came to be married. How did a woman of the Sansoussy marry a man from the Horde?"

Janis hesitated, as if she weren't sure she wanted to reveal this information. Finally she leaned back in her chair and spoke in a flat, deliberate tone. "Granny was a warrior. She lived in the north village of the Timber Cat People. Grandpa captured her on a raid—took her back as his prisoner and claimed her as his woman under their laws."

Ran-Del blinked. It reminded him just a little of his own marriage, but with the roles reversed. The woman had been the prisoner.

Janis leaned forward and put her chin on her hand. She seemed to realize she had his full attention. "The first night, Grandpa had her tied up in his house. She wasn't struggling or anything; she was meditating. He just watched her for a long time. Then he untied her, and she almost killed him trying to escape, so he tied her up again.

"Grandpa wasn't married," Janis said, almost as an aside. She had left her hesitation behind and told her ancestors' story with relish. "The Horde have very different ideas about men and women than they do among the Sansoussy. Grandpa had had several women but none he had wanted to make his wife. A wife has standing of sorts—rights, privileges.

"Anyway, when he met Granny, Grandpa fell for her in a big way. He never forced himself on her, even though back then he thought he had a right to, because he was afraid she'd use the Fifth Discipline. But he kept her tied up for weeks in his house. It wasn't much of a house, from what Granny said," Janis added, smiling her amusement. "Anyway, after more than a month, Grandpa offered her marriage, and Granny refused him. He got really angry at that, and started talking wild, but Granny just sat there and let him rant. Granny had psy talent, and she knew him pretty well by then. She wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"Anyway, after another week, Grandpa was getting pretty grim—angry all the time and cussing Granny out a lot. Then one night, he snuck Granny out of the house, and out of the holding—that's what the Horde call their villages—to where he had horses waiting. Have you ever seen a horse?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "They don't live in the forest, but the Horde ride them when they come to raid our villages."

Janis nodded. "They're Terran animals. The Horde steal them from farms, sometimes. Anyway, Grandpa put Granny on a horse, still all tied up, and he rode with her all the way back to the edge of the forest. When they finally got there, he untied her and told her she was free to go."

"What did she do?"

Janis grinned at him. "She kissed him. She told him so long as it was clear that it was her choice, then she chose to stay with him. The only thing was, she wouldn't live with the Horde. She said she wouldn't bring up sons to be raiders and daughters to be subservient."

Ran-Del nodded. He could understand a reluctance to adopt a despised culture.

"The Timber Cat People would've killed a man of the Horde after that raid," Janis said, "so they came to a small farming town not too far from Shangri-La. They married, had a place of their own eventually, and raised five children. My mother was the middle child. She met my dad when she came into the city to shop. After Grandpa died, Granny came to live with us. She used to tell me stories when I was growing up, stories about the Sansoussy, and what it was like to live in the forest."

Ran-Del wondered if the Timber Cat people ever knew what had happened to their woman warrior. They would have mourned her as dead after her capture. Perhaps she had preferred to let them think that. "And that made you want to meet a Sansoussy," he said. "Why didn't you just go to the forest? My people aren't hostile to strangers."

Janis shrugged. "I don't know. I was only twenty when Dad died, and I inherited the bar. I was too busy learning how to run it to take time off for traveling. And somehow," she shot him a look from under her brows, "I always had an idea that someday I'd meet one on my own, just like Granny met a man from the Horde."

Ran-Del shook his head, intrigued by her story but too tired to pay proper attention. "You're too romantic to be practical. From what I know of the Horde, your grandmother was very lucky to survive let alone to fall in love."

Janis stared at the red bead on Ran-Del's caste bracelet. "You must have been in at least one fight yourself?"

Ran-Del nodded. "Three. One was when we were on a hunt, and we ran into a band of outcasts. The other two were attacks on my village."

"And you killed someone?"

She had told him her history. It didn't seem fair not to do the same. "I earned my warrior's bead in my first fight. We were set upon from ambush. I was last in the line, because I was the youngest, so I had the most time to draw my bow. I shot a man through the chest. He died within a few minutes."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen. I had just come of age a few months before."

"What about the other two fights?" Janis asked. "Did you kill anyone then?"

Her continued interest in his fighting career struck him as gruesome. "Why do you want to know?"

Janis met his gaze for a second, but then she looked away. "I want to know about you. What's wrong with that?"

"I'm married, Janis," Ran-Del said, keeping his voice gentle. Perhaps Francesca was right and he had led Janis on. No more. "If you know anything at all about the Sansoussy, then you know what that means. We don't believe in half measures—marriages where people are free to do as they please."

"Your wife's not a Sansoussy." Janis voice was sharp. "What makes you so sure she sees marriage the same way you do?"

Something jabbed at Ran-Del's conscience. He realized he would hate Francesca talking this way to Freddie Leong. "I won't discuss my wife or my marriage with you. If you have trouble accepting the situation, perhaps I should stop coming to Benjie's."

"I can accept it," Janis said quickly. "I just worry that your perception of it isn't accurate."

Her argument sounded harmless enough, but Ran-Del knew better. "Even if that were true, then it would be my problem, not yours."

"All right," Janis said, lifting her chin. "I'll shut up about it, Ran-Del. But I can still be your friend, can't I?"

Ran-Del managed a smile. "Among the Sansoussy, we have a saying. It's impossible to have too many friends."

Just at that moment, the door opened again. Francesca stood in the doorway, her eyes looking as cold as ice. Ran-Del felt her anger at once. It rolled into the room, filling the corners and somehow displacing air so that Ran-Del felt short of breath.

Janis stood up abruptly. "Well, I'll be going, Ran-Del. I hope you're better soon."

"Thank you for bringing the book," Ran-Del said.

Janis murmured an inarticulate reply. She answered with no more than a nod when Ran-Del introduced her to Francesca, and quickly fled the room.

"What did she want?" Francesca demanded.

Ran-Del let his head drop back on the pillow. A rush of hot, angry thoughts pushed at him, even from across the room. "She came to see me because I was hurt. Don't you visit friends when they're ill or injured?"

Francesca didn't answer. Her mood changed to concern as she took in his appearance. The anger in the room dissolved into worry. "You look terrible. I'll tell the guards not to admit anyone else for a few days."

"What guards?" Ran-Del asked, lifting his head.

"There are at least two Hayden security staff outside your door day and night."

Ran-Del frowned. Was he a prisoner again? "Why?"

Francesca moved closer. "Let's be realistic, here, Ran-Del," she said as she sat down. "Someone tried to kill you; we don't know who yet, and they could very well try again. You're going to have to be a lot more careful from now on."

Ran-Del let his head drop back on the pillow. "What's involved in being more careful?"

"Well," Francesca said, hesitating, "the most important thing is that you should always have an escort when you leave the complex—two people at least—more if the situation demands it. And you need to tell Quinn when you're going out and where, so she knows what's going on."

Ran-Del closed his eyes, exhausted. "It sounds very much like being a prisoner again."

He could hear the frown in Francesca's voice. "Does that mean you're not going to be reasonable about this?"

Ran-Del opened his eyes and sighed. "I don't know. There's no point in worrying about it. I can't even get out of bed right now."

"You'll be better soon," Francesca said firmly. "The doctor said you're doing splendidly. She's asked a rehabilitation specialist to stop by tomorrow."

Ran-Del's heart leaped with hope. "When can I go home?"

Francesca looked pleased at his eagerness, even though she quickly dampened it. "You were fatally wounded only four days ago. You still need a lot of care."

"I could lie in bed at home as easily as I lie in bed here." When Francesca smiled more widely, Ran-Del saw in her mind her joy that he had twice called the Hayden compound home.

She stood up and plumped his pillows, then moved Clara's book to the table by the bed. "I'll talk to the doctor. We could always get doctors and medtechs out at the complex—whatever you need, Ran-Del."

Her concern enveloped him, a warm, muzzy, amorphous cloud that was so comforting, Ran-Del almost enjoyed it.

"Have you eaten tonight?" Francesca asked.

"Yes."

"Then go to sleep," Francesca said firmly. "I'll sit here and watch you, and if you're not asleep in fifteen minutes, I'm going to call a medtech and ask him or her to give you something to make you sleep."

She sat back down in the chair and watched him silently. Ran-Del's last thought as he felt himself drifting off again was the sudden recollection that he had not detected any intellectual intimations from Janis Uurtemo.

### Chapter Twenty

Two days after Janis' visit, Ran-Del felt well enough to perform the morning ritual and meditate for a few minutes. The warm comfort of samad state helped him considerably, even though he came out of his meditative trance to find his room full of alarmed medtechs who didn't understand why his heart rate had dropped.

Ran-Del dismissed them with a brief explanation and picked up _Kidnapped_. Francesca had brought him a dictionary so that he could ask it for definitions when he found words he didn't understand, and he had made progress in following the story even with its alien setting. He was immersed in the book when the door opened and Georges Rangoon stepped into his room.

"Hello, Georges," Ran-Del said, pleased to have another visitor.

Georges grinned and looked him over, then offered his hand. Ran-Del could sense Georges' relief as he shook hands, all the while seeing images of his own blood-soaked body.

"Hello, wild man," Georges said. "You're looking better than I expected for someone who was dead last time I saw him."

"Thank you for helping me."

Georges shrugged, his mind full of chaotic scenes of Francesca's flyter hovering over the damaged bridge. "We didn't do much but call the med team." He looked down at the book in Ran-Del's hands. "Clara told me she gave you that book. How are you doing with it?"

Ran-Del could see a warm, affectionate image of Clara as Georges spoke her name. "I need to keep a dictionary handy, but it's better than a regular book. It feels real."

Georges grinned happily. "I'll tell Clara." He gave Ran-Del a quick scrutiny. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." It was true. The rehabilitation exercises helped because they made him less restless. "I still sleep a lot. I hope Clara doesn't mind if I keep her book for a few weeks."

"Don't sweat it. You can bring it back when you come back on the job."

Ran-Del didn't answer for a moment. "I think you had better look for someone else, Georges," he finally said. "I won't be coming back."

Georges' eyebrows knitted in a quick frown. "I thought you were expected to make a full recovery. That's what the Baroness said when I called her."

Ran-Del nodded. "I certainly hope so, but that's not why I can't work for you anymore."

"Then why?" Georges demanded.

Ran-Del had had time to think it through. "Because whoever killed Stefan Hayden didn't care who died with him. If they look at what happened to him and what happened to me, they might decide to do a more thorough job. I don't care to put my friends at risk like that, Georges."

Georges mulled this over and stuck out his lower lip. "You going to hide there in the Hayden compound and not come out?"

"No," Ran-Del said, hoping it was the truth. "Not if I can keep my wife from locking me up. But I can't have a job outside. If someone were to try again, that's the first place they'd do it."

Georges nodded reluctantly, a vision of his warehouse in flames leaking from his mind to Ran-Del's. "You may be right, but it kills me to have to say it."

"Why shouldn't it? It killed me to learn it."

Georges guffawed. "You're making progress, wild man."

They spoke for a few more minutes. Georges filled Ran-Del in on what had happened that night on the bridge, relayed greetings from the other staff, and then related a few anecdotes about Guillermo's still unlucky social life.

A voice at the door interrupted.

"Sorry, citizen," said a man's voice. "It's time for your exercises."

Ran-Del looked up to see a familiar face. The black-haired man coming in the door wore a tunic like a medtech, but Ran-Del couldn't place him. The man turned his head, and his profile clicked in Ran-Del's memory. He didn't know this man personally. He had seen him only in the mind of the golden-haired medtech who still tended him sometimes.

Ran-Del said goodbye to Georges without really paying much attention. He let the specialist shift his body and move his limbs but all the while his mind was working. His new gift was real. It wasn't his imagination. Somehow his psy gift had expanded.

He needed his grandfather.

***

A week later, Ran-Del was relieved to be moved to the Hayden compound. He was surprised when Francesca had his hospital bed set up not in their bedroom, but in Nisa Palli's old suite.

"Your medical staff can stay in the sitting room in case you need them," she explained as a medtech helped Ran-Del climb into the bed.

Sitting up in bed, Ran-Del was too grateful for the isolation to question her choice. Nisa's former bedroom looked almost as bare as a hospital room, as Nisa had taken her furniture when she moved out. A table and two chairs in one corner looked very temporary. Only a full length mirror mounted on the near wall reminded him that the room had been a bedroom.

Buster came in when the medtech left the room. He trotted to the bed, his eyes bright as he looked up at Ran-Del.

"Here, boy!" Ran-Del called.

Buster took a few steps back, got a running start, and hopped up onto the high bed.

"Ran-Del!" Francesca said. "Is that a good idea?"

Ran-Del rubbed the stiff bristles down Buster's spine with relief. Real his new gift might be, but it didn't work on Buster. He felt nothing from the Sansoussy hound except the warmth of his small body as the dog lay down beside him. "Why not? He won't hurt anything."

When she didn't argue, Ran-Del decided to press his advantage. "In a week or so," he said, looking out at the view of the gardens in the afternoon sunshine, "I'll be able to walk more than a few steps and get around more. I'd like to go back to the forest to visit my grandparents."

Francesca exuded consternation. "It's too soon to think of going so far away."

"I'll ride in one of your flyters," Ran-Del said. "All the way this time, not just to the edge of the forest."

Francesca set her jaw. "I don't mean to malign your people, but a Sansoussy village is a primitive place."

He could see images of people in Sansoussy clothes washing open sores in a creek, eating undercooked meat from dirty plates, beating their clothes on river stones to wash them. Insulted and balked of relief, Ran-Del seethed. "I'm not your child or your chattel, Francesca. If I want to go visit my grandparents, I'll go."

"Not in my flyter," Francesca said with satisfaction, "

It would take weeks for Ran-Del to heal enough to walk there, and many days to make the journey. He also saw in Francesca's mind a resolve to restrain him if he tried.

She refused to argue further and finally left him alone with Buster, to rest.

Ran-Del lay back on the now-familiar hospital bed and tried to think of a way he could get to his village by himself. He couldn't, and after a while he slept.

He woke convinced someone was in the room. When he looked around, a figure stood in the near corner, barely visible in the fading daylight from the window. He knew it was Francesca.

Ran-Del sat up, and the lights came on.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right." Ran-Del had no idea what time it was, but he was quite sure he hadn't heard the door chime. "Where is Buster? And how long have you been here? I didn't hear the door."

She smiled. "Buster is in the kennels, and I didn't use the door—not the regular door."

"What other door is there?"

She stepped to the ornately framed mirror on the wall and ran her hand behind the frame. The mirror slid into the wall, showing a gaping black rectangle behind it.

"This one," Francesca said. "My great-great-grandfather was paranoid as hell. He had several passages built into the house as escape routes. The other end of this one comes out in his bedroom—our room, now. That's how Pop was able to keep his affair with Nisa a secret."

Ran-Del was intrigued with the door. "How does it work?" he asked. He put his feet down on the floor.

"Ran-Del!"

He held up a hand to fend her off. "I'm fine. I'm rested now, and I walked farther than this in the hospital."

She oozed worry as he walked gingerly across the bedroom floor, but she demonstrated the action of the hidden door lock to him.

"At the other end there's a door hidden in the paneling beside our bed," she added. "That's why I chose this room for you."

"Would the lock work for me?" Ran-Del asked.

"All the locks in the house work for you." She smiled when she said it. She seemed to have mellowed now that he was on his feet.

"I appreciate your concern, Francesca." He steeled himself to touch her shoulder. "But I wish you wouldn't treat me like a child. I need to visit my grandparents."

Her softer mood evaporated, replaced by stern resolve. "I already called them on the com. Your grandfather answered. I told him what had happened."

Ran-Del could see his grandfather's face, his expression grave but calm. "How did he take the news?"

Her nose wrinkled. "I don't know. He seemed concerned but not surprised."

Ran-Del suffered a jolt of amazement. Had Grandfather known about his attack ahead of time?

"Are you hungry?" Francesca said. "I ordered dinner to be brought here so we could eat together."

Her words brought the realization that he was ravenous. "Yes, I'm hungry. I could eat a lamel."

She smiled, and he could tell she was relieved that he hadn't mentioned his grandparents again. "We're having prairie hen instead."

"That will do." Ran-Del started back for the bed, a little weak at the knees by the time he made it there.

He would have to get stronger as soon as he could or he would go crazy here in this city full of people.

***

Two weeks later, Ran-Del could walk from one side of the compound to the other without resting. It was time to test Francesca's authority over him. Shortly after breakfast he headed for the front gate.

Two uniformed staff waited in the security booth as usual. The taller one stood up abruptly when Ran-Del approached. "Good morning, Citizen Jahanpur."

The man sounded uneasy, but Ran-Del noted that he felt nothing from him through the barrier, not even emotions.

"Good morning," Ran-Del said. "I'm going out."

"Well, now," the man said, "that's a problem, citizen. I'm afraid the door won't open for you. Just so you'll know, we've been ordered not to let it open while you're nearby, either."

Ran-Del stood calculating his options and decided he had none. He wheeled around and headed toward the house to find Francesca.

Antonio's office was empty. Ran-Del walked through it and opened the door to Francesca's office. His wife stood in the middle of the room, arms folded across her chest, chin lifted resolutely.

"Hello, Ran-Del," she said evenly.

Ran-Del could tell from her thoughts that the guards had called and told her about his attempt to leave. She had even sent Antonio away so they could argue privately.

"I want to go out for a walk," Ran-Del said, stopping two meters in front of her. "Why did you change the security system so I can't leave the compound?"

"It's not safe for you to go out," Francesca said.

She was afraid for him. Ran-Del got a grip on his temper. "I'm your husband. How can we have a marriage if you're going to treat me as if I were Buster?"

Her face went pale; her fear spiked. "Someone wants you dead, Ran-Del. Quinn found the hit men just this morning—in the city morgue. They've been dead for some time but it was clear that they had been killed by a shock pistol, modified to give a fatal charge. According to the pathologist, they died in agony."

Ran-Del could see the picture in her mind, and it sobered him. At the same time, he needed freedom. "I can't live like this. I hated your father because he locked me up. Do you want me to hate you?"

Francesca looked away for a moment; her worry changed, became at once less physical and yet stronger. "No," she said in a low voice. "But it won't be forever, Ran-Del. Please, please _try_ to understand."

"I understand that you don't want me to get hurt." Ran-Del took a step closer, and her distress filled his mind. "But _you_ have to understand that you can't be the one to make my decisions for me. I'd rather be dead than live like that." When she didn't answer right away, Ran-Del added one more argument. "This isn't something you can build a compromise on, Francesca. I have to be free. There's no other way."

"All right!" Francesca almost shouted her answer. She turned toward the com. "Security!"

In a second, Marina Quinn's voice answered. "What is it, Baroness?"

"Would you please change the security program again, Quinn? Fix it so my husband can enter and exit the compound any time he wishes."

Quinn's face popped onto the nearest monitor. "Very well, Baroness," the security chief said, "if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Francesca said wearily.

The screen went blank.

"Thank you," Ran-Del said.

She looked at him with her eyes filled with the same dread he felt from her. "Don't you go out and get yourself killed again, Ran-Del Jahanpur."

"I won't."

She gave a harsh crack of laughter. "Like you could stop it." She shot him another anxious look. "Would you be willing to take two security staff with you when you go out?"

Ran-Del debated. Much as he disliked the idea of not being alone, he could see the sense of it, especially in his present condition. And she was, after all, asking him and not telling him.

"Yes," he said. "This time, anyway. I might do without them in the future."

Francesca's eyes lit with hope, and she called Quinn back and requested two guards to meet Ran-Del at the front gate.

The two security staff were waiting when Ran-Del got there. One was Merced, and the other was a woman Ran-Del didn't know by name. Merced was looking at Ran-Del with a sour expression on his face.

"Good morning," Ran-Del said, steeling himself for contact as he offered his hand. "I know your last name is Merced, but I don't know your first name."

Merced took his hand with an ill grace that matched the dislike Ran-Del felt. "I don't really see a need to be social, citizen—not considering that you once took me out with a kick that left me wondering if I'd ever be a father."

"You were helping to hold me prisoner at the time," Ran-Del said. "I should think you could see it as self defense if you tried—especially since you later kicked me when I was bound and helpless."

The woman scoffed at her companion, who looked embarrassed by this reminder of his own lapse. "Don't mind Eduardo," she said, emitting good will as she offered her hand. "My name is Fiona Geldorf, citizen, and I don't have any problem at all with being social."

"That's good," Ran-Del said, "since it looks as if we're going to spend a good part of the day together. You can start by calling me Ran-Del."

The two of them exchanged glances.

"That's against regs," Merced said. "We're supposed to address you with respect."

Ran-Del smiled. "You can say Ran-Del as respectfully as you say citizen."

"You've got a point, Ran-Del," Geldorf said cheerfully. "And besides, we can always explain that you insisted."

"Where are we going?" Merced said impatiently.

"Into the city," Ran-Del said, turning to place his palm on the ID panel. The gate opened at once, filling Ran-Del with elation. "I don't know how far we'll get, because I'm not in great shape right now, but we'll see."

He made it all the way to Benjie's, although it took him three times as long as it had taken him to walk there the first time. He had to stop several times, to rest, and both Merced and Geldorf hovered around him anxiously.

Both of them exuded relief when they crossed the threshold at Benjie's.

Ran-Del sat down at the Rangoon table with a profound sense of accomplishment. He had made it on his own two feet. If he pushed himself every day, eventually he would be strong enough to run to the Sansoussy Forest.

Janis came over to take his drink order, and again Ran-Del noted that he sensed nothing from her except concern—no thoughts or images.

"Good to see you on your feet," she said. "The Rangoon crew will be here for lunch soon. Do you want tea while you wait for them?"

"Yes, thank you."

Geldorf and Merced declined refreshment, so she went off to the kitchen.

The two guards exchanged glances and Ran-Del could see they were both speculating on whether Janis was the reason Francesca had been so interested in Benjie's. Merced was sure of it, Geldorf less so.

Ran-Del held in a sigh. Lack of privacy was just one more reason why he had to get away for a while.

And then the door opened and the crew from Rangoon's came in. Ran-Del felt himself enveloped in a warm rush of good wishes. Georges insisted on buying Ran-Del's lunch.

Ran-Del ate, drank three cups of tea, and listened to a lot of chatter about what was going on in the warehouse. By the time his friends got up to go back to work, Ran-Del was ready to go home. When he stepped outside, he found a Hayden skimmer waiting.

Ran-Del glanced at Merced. He could see from Merced's thoughts that he had called for the skimmer.

The guard shrugged. "You look pretty beat. It seemed like a good idea."

"Glad to see you're being sensible, Ran-Del," Georges said, coming up behind him. "Stop by any time."

Ran-Del sighed. He was tired. He started for the skimmer and felt a rush of relief from Merced.

Ran-Del leaned back in his seat. He would go out every day, and he would do the exercises the doctors had given him as often as he could. He had to get back to the forest—soon.

***

Ran-Del had managed to keep sleeping in the hospital bed, even after Francesca had dismissed the medtechs, simply by telling Francesca that he slept better in it. She had agreed to keep it, but she had the bed moved to their suite. Ran-Del hadn't been able to come up with a reason not to move the bed, so he had slept every night in the same room as Francesca, all the while ignoring her tentative suggestions for more intimate contact.

He knew she was disappointed, but he couldn't bring himself to contemplate prolonging physical contact in the way she wanted. He debated again about telling her what had happened, but still decided against it. He wasn't sure how she would react, especially since he couldn't be close to her without her thoughts seeping into his. He kept to himself as much as possible and made plans to walk to the forest—mapping out a route, counting his remaining cash, and making note of a store where he could buy supplies.

He was almost ready to put his plan in motion, but he felt a need to test himself. He would run hard to the other side of the city and back. If he made it, then he would leave the next day.

It was a workday for Francesca. Ran-Del called her on the com set. He had come to appreciate the com, because it transmitted absolutely no whiff of thought or emotion.

"What is it?" She sounded cross. Ran-Del could see that she was busy. Antonio hovered at her elbow, intent on some detail of her schedule.

"I'm going out into the city," Ran-Del said. "You asked me always to tell you."

She pursed her lips for a second before she answered. "I thought you were staying in today?"

"I'm feeling cooped up. I won't be gone more than a few hours."

"Whom are you taking with you?"

Ran-Del had learned how to check the duty roster. "Merced and Pagiani."

"Where are you going?" Francesca asked next.

"I told you—into the city." It always annoyed him when she tried to pin him down so precisely.

"All right." Francesca cut the connection almost before the words were out of her mouth.

Merced was waiting in the security booth by the gate when Ran-Del approached with Buster. The woman next to him was Arlene Pagiani; she was petite, coming no higher than Ran-Del's shoulder, but she was very well muscled, and was the terror of the practice room at hand to hand combat.

"Headed anywhere special, Ran-Del?" Merced asked, noting the dog's presence. Janis had refused to allow him in her bar.

"No, Eduardo," Ran-Del said, as they stepped through the gate. "I just want to wander. Let's head to the river and then follow it."

Ran-Del set the pace, running quickly. He felt really good today, very like his old self. There was no sense of strain or weakness.

After an hour, Ran-Del could sense Merced's distress, and he slowed his pace, and then dropped to a walk. "Are you all right, Eduardo?"

"I'm fine," Merced said, breathing heavily. "I can keep going if you want."

Ran-Del shook his head. He could take a break, but it felt good to be back in shape and not need one. He walked over to the water's edge and stood looking down at the barges that were making their way up and down the river. Small blue and green day bats swooped down near one barge where a man threw food scraps into the water. The little animals caught the food in the air and flew off to their nests to eat it. Buster stuck his head through the railing to watch them, his quick blue tongue darting from his mouth as if he were licking his lips in anticipation.

"That's illegal," Pagiani said indignantly. "They're supposed to wait and recycle it in the usual way."

"Going to have a cop on each bridge, Arlene?" Merced sounded cynical.

"They're beautiful day bats," Ran-Del said, wishing he could move away from the two guards, but they always stayed close on either side of him. "I never saw any that color before. What are they called?"

Pagiani shrugged. "Who knows? You have to watch out when you're standing underneath one. That's all I know about day bats."

"Threshers," Merced said unexpectedly. "Mostly they live on the plains and eat seeds from the wild grasses. They clip off the stalks and pick the seeds out with their claws."

Ran-Del was surprised. "Are you interested in animals, Eduardo?"

Merced looked noncommittal. "Not that much. But I grew up on a farm."

Ran-Del answered absently. Something was troubling him. He couldn't tell what it was for several minutes. He stood over the water watching the boats and tried to determine what was bothering him.

Finally, he concluded it was his psy sense. It wasn't at all like he had felt before he was attacked. There was no sense of being a target, no feeling of physical danger, but still, something was wrong, something bad was about to happen.

It would be best to head back to the compound. His test was adequate. He knew he could make it to the forest. He didn't say anything to either of the others, but merely called Buster to heel. His escort followed him without argument as he started back toward the Hayden complex at a brisk run.

They made it in record time. Merced was panting again when they got back to the front gate. Once they were in the compound, he and Pagiani were officially off bodyguard duty. The woman trotted back toward the security barracks, but Merced stood bent over, catching his breath, and called after Ran-Del.

"Hey, Ran-Del," he shouted. "Do me a favor and let me know next time you're going out. I'll arrange to take leave."

Ran-Del waved a hand but didn't stop as he headed back toward the house. He sent Buster off to the kennels with a voice command, and kept going by himself.

The closer he got to the front door, the worse it got. Could it be another attack on the House? The sense of ominous gloom weighed heavier and heavier on his shoulders. Ran-Del slowed as he neared the front door, and then turned to take the side door that led to the staff wing. The feeling eased a little as Ran-Del let himself into the house.

He stood at the end of the corridor and debated what he should do. A man came out of one of the rooms at the far end of the corridor, and Ran-Del recognized Antonio Vanderloo, Francesca's assistant, who shared an apartment with his wife and two children. Antonio stopped and turned to say something to someone still in the room.

Impelled by his sense of dread, Ran-Del ducked behind a set of draperies. He felt very foolish, but at the same time, he didn't want Antonio to see him wandering the halls of the staff quarters.

"I don't know," Antonio said, his voice barely audible in the distance.

Ran-Del moved the draperies and saw the assistant dart a quick glance at either end of the corridor, as if he were making sure it was empty. Antonio stepped closer to the door and spoke again. "She told me," garbled sounds, "break for an hour." More garbled sounds, "... if she had something going with this guy" ... "slept with half the city before ... married." The rest of it was indecipherable.

Apparently the person still in the room said something but Ran-Del couldn't hear it at all.

"Oh, all right," Antonio said, more loudly. "I'll go see if they're still there."

Ran-Del waited soundlessly as Antonio turned away from him and headed the other direction toward the main wing of the house. He didn't see Ran-Del at all.

The Sansoussy stood frozen, thinking over the implications of Antonio's speech. Francesca had sent Antonio away during working hours. Francesca wasn't a Sansoussy, and didn't think of marriage in the same way he did. Francesca was with a man.

Ran-Del began to walk slowly down the corridor, getting angrier by the second. Finally, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in an effort to control his fury. He wasn't entirely successful. He was about to start the mantra for the First Discipline, but when he opened his eyes he realized he was standing in front of Nisa's former suite where he had slept for so many nights, and he realized why he had come this way.

He opened the suite door and went straight to the bedroom. The lock on the mirror frame opened easily. As soon as Ran-Del stepped into the hidden passage, lights came on. He followed it for several meters, took a small flight of steps, a couple of turns, more stairs, and then walked a long straight stretch. At last the passage ended in a small, square space with a narrow door and an access panel. He placed his palm to the panel and waited.

The door slid open silently.

Ran-Del stepped into the room, then stopped dead. Francesca stood by their bed, locked in an embrace with a tall, fair-haired man whose back was to Ran-Del. His hands were inside her blouse, and she was pulling his shirt over his shoulders. They were kissing passionately, oblivious to Ran-Del's presence. Francesca's hair had come down, and spilled around her shoulders, just as it always did when she and Ran-Del made love.

Rage consumed Ran-Del. It flowed over him in an angry tide, blotting out all his senses—his perceptions of their passion, the sounds they made. Even the light in the room seemed to dim from his fury. Ran-Del crossed the room in two long, furious strides. He wasn't conscious of drawing his dirk but somehow it was in his hand.

Francesca saw him first. Her eyes flew open, and she opened her mouth to scream a warning to her companion. Ran-Del pulled the man away from her, then grabbed him by the throat in a one-handed grip. Taken by surprise, the man's first reaction was anger; Ran-Del perceived quite clearly his intention to bluster, to demand an accounting for this crude behavior, but Ran-Del's grip was too tight to allow him to speak. Then he saw the knife, and Ran-Del could feel fear flow from him, like scent from a crushed tea vine.

"Ran-Del!" Francesca cried, "Ran-Del, please, don't kill him!"

Her words frightened the man even more; his terror seemed to Ran-Del to fill the room. Francesca grasped Ran-Del's arm, and Ran-Del could feel her fear, too. After a moment, he was surprised to realize that she was terrified not for herself or for the stranger—she was afraid for him.

"Please, Ran-Del," she pleaded. "Please, don't kill him! He's with the Wong-Reilly cartel. They'll demand your death, and I might not be able to bargain. Please, Ran-Del, let him go!"

Ran-Del's head reeled as their thoughts and emotions flooded his mind at the same time that he was feeling such intense anger of his own. He backed away from Francesca and slammed the fair-haired man against the wall. He kept his grip on the man's throat and held his dirk to the terrified stranger's bare chest. "Give me a reason not to kill him!"

"We didn't do anything," Francesca said, hovering frantically. "I slept with him a few times, three seasons ago, but we didn't do anything this time. I swear I won't see him again, Ran-Del. Just let him go, please?"

"You'd be in bed with him by now if I hadn't come in," Ran-Del almost spat out the words. He pressed the tip of his knife into the man's flesh just enough to make him bleed freely. A small line of red trickled down the man's chest onto his stomach and then to his trousers.

"Maybe I would have been," Francesca said, half sobbing and half accusing, "but I'm not. Besides, you have no right to be angry about it. You did the same thing to me."

She thought she was speaking the truth. She truly believed that he had been unfaithful. Ran-Del dragged the tip of his knife farther down the stranger's chest to make a shallow cut about fifteen centimeters long.

"If you touch my wife again," Ran-Del said, staring into the stranger's sweating face, "I'll make the cut deeper and rip your heart from your body. Now get out!"

Ran-Del swung the other man by the throat, and dragged him to the door. The man gasped for air as Ran-Del pressed the access panel for the door to the sitting room. He almost threw the stranger through the doorway. The man landed on the sitting room floor with a heavy thud and lay, gasping and groaning, as the door slid shut. Ran-Del thumbed the door lock and turned back to Francesca.

She was watching him intently. Her fear had turned to anger. "You have no right to come in here and act like that! You might easily have killed him."

"I would've killed him," Ran-Del said, "except that I could tell you weren't lying. Why would you think that I had betrayed you?"

Francesca closed her mouth in an angry frown and then immediately opened it again to shout at him. "Why do I think you're fooling around on me? Maybe because we haven't made love in weeks. Maybe because you avoid me when you can, and ignore me when you can't. You won't sleep in the same bed—you won't even let me touch you!" She stopped for a moment, and swallowed hard.

"I remember our betrothal—until death shall part us, your great-grandfather said. Well that happened, Ran-Del. You died. Maybe you think that lets you off the hook. You spend all your time in that bar with that woman who looks at you like you were a glass of water and she was lost in the desert. Don't you dare lie to me, Ran-Del Jahanpur!"

"I never lied to you, and I never slept with Janis."

Francesca gave a derisive snort and folded her arms across her chest. "When we were first betrothed," she said, her voice as cold as her thoughts were hot, "you never went more than two nights in a row without wanting to make love. It's been thirty-nine days, and you've pushed me away every time I tried to get close. Why would you do that—how could you do that—unless you had something going with someone else?"

"There is no one. I never slept with anyone else in my life except for you. Can you say that?"

"No," Francesca snapped. "You know perfectly well I can't. I was honest about that before we married. But I haven't gone to bed with anyone except you since the day we were betrothed."

"Until today."

Francesca became conscious that her blouse was completely open. She wrapped it around her and tucked it into her trousers. "Today I got fed up," she said, her voice dripping the same bitterness that radiated in her thoughts. "You went off again, with hardly a word to me. When Preston Sandoval came to see me about a deal for our surplus canvas crop, he started to flirt. I let it go a little farther. I never thought you'd come back and turn into some kind of jealous maniac. If you don't want me, why can't I find someone who does?"

"I never said I didn't want you." Ran-Del took a deep breath. She was being truthful. She hadn't planned to be unfaithful, nor had she expected him to return.

"Then why have you changed toward me?" Francesca demanded. "Why haven't you touched me—literally not touched me—in over a month?"

He had to tell her. No matter how badly she took the news, it was better than her thinking he had been disloyal. "Something happened to me after the attack."

She wrinkled her brow. He could tell she wasn't sure of his meaning. "Are you ill?"

"I recovered my health completely. It's not that I'm ill—I'm—I'm different."

"How do you mean different?" Francesca said insistently. She wanted to believe him, but so far his explanation had confused her. "What's different about you? You seem just the same except you don't want to touch me anymore."

"I don't want to touch anyone." Ran-Del took a deep breath and tried to find the right words. "If I touch someone, I can't shut him out of my head. It's as if my psy sense expanded suddenly—exploded, almost. Instead of just emanations from people's emotions, now I can sense everything—what they feel, what they think—and not just people I know."

She was hopeful but skeptical. Ran-Del could see it in her pose as clearly as in her thoughts. "You mean you can see into my mind now?" she said.

"Yes. When I'm close, I can tell what you're thinking." He paused for a second to explore the images he saw. "You're remembering the last time we made love. You thought of it as a test, just to see if I was telling the truth."

She stared at him, wide-eyed with alarm. "You can tell exactly what I'm thinking?"

"If I'm near enough, it's hard to shut you out. If you—if anyone—touches me, their thoughts become a flood washing over me. I can't keep them out."

She took a step closer. "And that's really why you haven't wanted to make love?"

"Yes. That's the real reason." He tossed his knife onto the bedside table. "Why were you afraid for me, Francesca?"

"What?" she asked, uncomprehending. Her mind was still reeling from the shock.

Ran-Del could feel her relief mixed with fear. She was happy but frightened of the change in him. "When I had that miserable excuse for a man by the throat, you were afraid, but it wasn't for him and it wasn't for yourself. You were afraid for me."

She looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I thought you were going to kill him. If you had—if you had—"

Her tension came across as an excited edginess, mixed with remembered concern. She had been afraid he would kill her lover and suffer the consequences. She had worried more about what would happen to him if he killed Preston Sandoval than about the possibility of Sandoval dying. She loved him.

Ran-Del stepped closer and deliberately put one hand on Francesca's shoulder. The warmth of her thoughts was so overwhelming, his whole body shuddered. He could sense compassion, great tenderness, intense longing. He saw himself as Francesca saw him—someone exciting and incomprehensible, someone who aroused her emotionally as well as physically. Ran-Del felt his own desire stir and then leap to a frenzy. He pulled her close against him and found that the strength of his own passions helped to mute his perception of hers.

When he put his arms around her, Francesca put her head up to study his face.

"Is it all right?" she asked.

"Yes." It was more than all right. When Ran-Del kissed her, he could no longer sort out the source of what he felt. His thoughts and hers mixed inside him in a chaotic swirl of desire, concern, and affection.

Francesca seemed to be almost equally swept away. A second later, the door chimed in gently muted tones. Francesca broke off the kiss and said a single angry word.

"I beg your pardon, Baroness?" Marina Quinn's voice said politely through the speaker.

"Go away!" Francesca ordered.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Baroness," Quinn's voice said, "but a gentleman out here says that your husband nearly killed him. He has a minor wound," there was the sound of protest in the background, "a minor wound," Quinn repeated firmly, "but for your own safety, I must ask you to open this door."

"I'm quite safe," Francesca said. "You can tell Citizen Sandoval that we'll pay damages. Tell him to see me—tell him to call me tomorrow."

After a brief silence, the door chimed again.

"I told you to go away, Quinn," Francesca said.

"The gentleman has agreed to leave," Quinn's voice said. "However, I must insist that you open the door, Baroness Hayden."

"You can have my voice prints analyzed for stress," Francesca said. "I'm not lying. I'm quite safe, and if you try to open that door, you're fired."

Ran-Del took Francesca in his arms again and pulled open her blouse. Francesca gave a small moan of pleasure as he bent his head down and kissed her breasts. Quinn's voice distracted him from the moment.

"We're going now, Baroness," Quinn said. Ran-Del thought he could detect amusement in the security chief's voice. "Please remember," Quinn added, "that the alarm system is now active, and any screams will be interpreted as a request for assistance."

"I'll keep it in mind," Francesca said with a gasp. "Now go away!"

There was no answer. Ran-Del laid Francesca down on their bed. She pulled him down on top of her, and he could feel desire rising from her as palpably as heat rose from a fire. Her passion swallowed him up, and Ran-Del didn't fight it. He felt what she felt, and her thoughts echoed in his head. He knew what she wanted as soon as she did, and he felt her response to his touch just as she experienced it.

When it was over, Ran-Del finally pulled away, unable to bear further contact.

Francesca pulled the bedclothes around her and clung to her edge of the bed studying him anxiously. "Are you all right, Ran-Del?"

He could still feel her concern, even in the midst of the glow of satisfaction. "Yes. But I need to go to my grandfather. I need to learn how to control this new gift, before I go insane."

She nodded. His talent worried her. "I think that's a good idea. I can have a flyter take you there tomorrow."

Ran-Del propped himself up on one elbow. "I don't want to go by flyter. I want to run there and back. I know it'll take a long time because I'm still not as strong as I should be, but I need the time alone. These last weeks have been—very difficult for me. I need to be alone with no other minds crowding mine."

She was reluctant, but she could see the logic of it. "All right. But why don't you take an escort until you're out of the city? You can take a portable com, too, and pack what you need from the kitchens so you don't have to stop to hunt."

She was thinking of their sojourn on the plains when they had been chained together physically as he now felt linked mentally. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth, a fleeting touch that brought another rush of tenderness and concern from her.

"When will you start?" she asked when he pulled away.

He glanced at the window to study the sky. "I have to make preparations. I'll start first thing tomorrow."

Francesca sat up, still wrapped up in the bedclothes. "All right, Ran-Del." She cocked her head and looked at him. "What do I say if they call from that place where you used to work?"

"Say I've gone back to the forest for a few weeks. I don't know how long I'll have to stay, Francesca. I've never had to do this before."

Francesca looked solemn. "Take as long as you need, Ran-Del. Just be sure you come back to me in the end."

"I will." He knew it was true.

### Chapter Twenty-one

From atop a small rise of land, Ran-Del studied the southwestern horizon. The russet and gold prairie grasses waved gently in a light breeze, under the golden dome of a nearly cloudless sky. When he turned around to face northeast, he could see the small farming town that bordered Shangri-La, a cluster of only a few dozen houses surrounded by fields and barns.

"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you, Ran-Del?" Fiona Geldorf asked, the breeze ruffling her short black hair as she squinted against the sun. "It seems pretty foolish to come out here all by yourself after what happened before."

Ran-Del could feel her worry, but caught none of it himself. "If you were an assassin intent on murdering someone who'd been warned by a previous attempt, would you expect him to travel on foot all the way from Shangri-La to the Sansoussy forest?"

She made a face. "You're saying it's safe because it's so crazy, no one would anticipate it?"

When Ran-Del nodded, she shook her head with disgust.

Gilmartin, the other guard, said nothing. Ran-Del could see in his mind that he was eager for the Sansoussy to be out of sight so he could call for a skimmer to pick them up.

Ran-Del decided to give him his wish. He slipped on his pack, picked up his bow and quiver, and started out with a wave of his hand. He set an easy pace, to reassure Francesca when Geldorf reported back to her. He ran easily, every step feeling closer to freedom. Even his Sansoussy clothes felt less constraining.

His pack contained the amenities Francesca had persuaded him to take, including an electronic compass and a tiny portable stove. Those two items and a portable com were the only obvious high tech objects he carried other than the food that Francesca's staff had provided.

When he made camp that night and read the instructions on the disk-shaped packet, he realized it was intended not only to preserve the food, but to heat and reconstitute it. When he pulled a small tab on the disk, it expanded to a full-sized plate of hot food in just seconds. It wasn't as good as the food Francesca's cooks prepared, but it was much better than dried trail rations. Pulling a second tab set off a decomposition that assured that the waste Ran-Del buried would return to the soil in a short time.

The next day Ran-Del put on his Sansoussy clothes, packed his things and set out. He kept to the same pace, not pushing himself too much. His mind began to heal. Without a constant barrage of other people's thoughts and perceptions to distract him and make it difficult for him to think, he felt like himself again.

He let his thoughts roam free as he ran, letting himself feel the wind on his face, the sun on his shoulders, and at the same time reflecting on his life—what had happened to him, what he done in response. It came to him that he wasn't the same man who had stepped into Stefan Hayden's trap. Not only had his psy gift changed, but his ideas and perceptions of the world were now completely different. It took him some time to decide that he could still call himself a Sansoussy.

***

After seven days of slow but steady running, Ran-Del finally sighted the Sansoussy Forest on the morning of the eighth day. He stepped up his pace as he moved into the cool familiar dimness. He was coming home, and the Sansoussy traveled light and fast.

He wasn't precisely certain where he was in relation to his village. The first creek he forded might have been any stream or rivulet. Finally, he saw a clan marker, a small twig from a lace palm wrapped with blue thread and pegged to a tree. He was in the territory of the Night Bat People, whose sign represented the blue twigs used in making that animal's nest. He had entered the forest too far north, so he turned south and kept going.

After a few hours, the forest began to take on the indefinable characteristics of the familiar. When saw his own clan marker, placed carefully near the path, he knew he was home. He had sighted a second marker when he sensed another presence ahead of him in the forest. He had become so used to being completely alone that it shocked him to feel another mind, even at a distance. Whoever it was stayed well ahead of him. Ran-Del kept going, not slowing his pace at all.

When he came near his village, he again sensed a presence, but this time he knew quite well who it was. He slowed to a walk, waiting for his grandfather to reveal himself.

Isayah stepped out from a clump of trees.

Ran-Del stopped and bowed his head.

Isayah took his time, as if he were looking Ran-Del over thoroughly, but finally he gave the traditional greeting.

Ran-Del lifted his eyes and gave the reply, inspecting his grandfather as thoroughly as the older man had inspected him. Isayah looked hale enough but worried.

"You look well," Isayah said, "considering."

"Considering I was dead?"

Isayah frowned in reproof. "Don't joke about it, Ran-Del. It's not at all funny."

"No, Grandfather, it's not."

Isayah let out a reflective sigh. "I think I had best not embrace you, not in the state you're in. I only hope your grandmother will show the same restraint, especially," Isayah stared at Ran-Del's chest, "when she sees those scars."

Ran-Del had to ask a question. "Did you know what had happened to me before Francesca called, Grandfather?"

Isayah nodded. "Oh, yes. Father saw it clearly in his seeing, the day before your betrothal. Several days after your last visit to us, he let me glimpse that part of his vision, so that I'd be prepared for what was to come to you. "

Ran-Del had another question, one he would never mention to Francesca. "Did you know Stefan Hayden would be killed soon after we returned to Shangri-La, Grandfather?"

His grandfather shook his head emphatically. "I didn't, certainly. Your great-grandfather might have, but I doubt it. He told me he saw a great conflagration in the Hayden household. He suspected it meant death, but he didn't understand what was burning or how to prevent the fire." Isayah shook his head, not in denial but in distress. "Sometimes a seeing is like listening to a story teller when you have to leave the room from time to time. It can be difficult to make sense of the story."

Ran-Del pondered this as Isayah turned toward the village. Ran-Del fell in step beside him, walking close beside him but taking care not to touch his grandfather.

"How is Grandmother?" Ran-Del asked.

"She's well," Isayah said. "She's busy now, because Bettine is near her time, and Mina has changed from using the girl as a servant to waiting on her hand and foot."

"And how is Great-grandfather?"

Isayah was silent a moment, and when he spoke there was a catch in his voice. "He's failing. The end could come any time for him. He's very old, and these last few weeks, particularly, when he knew his vision had been fulfilled, he's let himself slip away from us. I think he feels ready to die."

"I'm sorry, Grandfather," Ran-Del said. "I know you love him very much."

His grandfather's eyes looked very sad. "Do you love him, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del knew better than to lie. "I don't know. I thought I did before the day he threatened to cast me out, but even then, I was always a little afraid of him. It's hard to love someone you fear."

Isayah nodded. "That's true. When I was small, I was afraid of him, also, but then he changed toward me, and I came to love him. When I was grown, I knew that he loved me."

He glanced at Ran-Del. "He saw himself in you, I think. It was a bitter disappointment to him to award you only one glass bead after your first Ordeal."

"My _first_ Ordeal?" Ran-Del asked, taken aback. "Do you mean I'm to have another?"

"Of course. That's the first step. Before we can help you, we must know what we're dealing with. It'll be hard for you—much harder than the first time—but it must be done."

Ran-Del slowed his pace a little. "Just like Great-grandfather?"

"Yes," Isayah said.

They had reached the outskirts of the village now, and were walking on the path through the houses. A few people called out to Ran-Del, welcoming him back. Ran-Del answered them but didn't encourage anyone to chat. He was busy noticing the way different people's minds intruded on his own when he got close, and a thought struck him.

"Grandfather," he said, "why is it that I don't see your thoughts as I do so many others?"

Isayah smiled. "Because I've learned the control provided by the Sixth Discipline. Once you learn it, we'll be able to converse without words, as Father and I do. Until then, I'll do my best to keep my thoughts to myself. I know it's distressing at first."

"When I woke up in the hospital," Ran-Del said, "I thought I was going insane."

"A psy gift can seem that way when one has no control over it."

They found Mina in her great room, just putting the kettle on. She opened another ceiling flap to let in more light, and then turned to greet Ran-Del, who waited, head bowed respectfully. She looked him over fondly but instead of giving him the usual greeting, she suddenly gave a cry of distress as she saw the still-new scar on his chest. She almost touched him then moved back and fluttered like a wounded day bat. "Those scars! What you must have suffered!"

"It wasn't that bad," Ran-Del temporized. "They gave me drugs in the hospital that made me almost numb. And when those stopped, I could use the Disciplines."

Mina put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, and your poor head!" Ran-Del could feel her distress easily.

"You sit down, too, Mina," Isayah said. "I'll make the tea."

He got the tea leaves from the canister and checked the water. It wasn't boiling yet, so he sat down with them at the table.

Mina was still distraught about Ran-Del's injuries. "That old man!" she muttered. "He knew what would happen. He sent Ran-Del off to the slaughter in the hope he'd become more like him—with no warning, no word of caution! He might have been killed!"

Ran-Del exchanged glances with his grandfather. His grandfather's grave look told him Mina didn't know the full truth about what had happened to him in the city.

Isayah let Mina ramble on for a few minutes. When he got up to make the tea, he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"What's done is done, Mina. I trusted Father's vision, as we all have in the past. If anyone has a complaint, it's Ran-Del, and I don't hear him saying anything."

Mina sniffed. Ran-Del's heart was wrung by the familiar mannerism. It brought his childhood back, to sit here with his grandparents and watch Isayah gently bring Mina around to accepting Ji-Ran's actions.

"As if Ran-Del would complain," Mina said.

Isayah smiled but then he sat up straighter and looked attentive. "Father's awake. He wants to see you, Ran-Del."

Mina's mouth tightened into a hard, straight line, but Ran-Del slipped from his stool, excused himself, and started for the door.

"He's in his bedroom," Isayah said. "He doesn't get up much anymore."

Ran-Del hadn't been in the shaman's bedroom for a long time. From the day he had been hauled back to the home village of the Falling Water People, a shy and frightened child of ten seasons, he had almost always faced Ji-Ran Jahanpur in his great room.

The curtain was across the doorway, so Ran-Del scratched politely and waited until Ji-Ran called for him to enter.

His great-grandfather had made an effort and was sitting up in his bed. Ran-Del approached and waited respectfully. Ji-Ran took even longer than Isayah had to issue a greeting.

"It's good to see you at last, Ran-Del," the shaman said. His voice was hoarse and scratchy but still strong. His chest rose and fell with noticeable effort.

"It's good to see you, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del returned the greeting.

Ji-Ran laughed his soundless laugh, his frail body shaking. "Is it? I'm dying. Tell me what the next world is like, Great-grandson. You've been there already. How many men can say that to their great-grandsons?"

Ran-Del considered. No one had asked him this question. "I don't remember it at all, except that I remember being cold."

"Sit," Ji-Ran directed.

Sansoussy beds were quite low to the ground, so Ran-Del had to sit on the floor to avoid having his own head higher than his shaman's.

Ji-Ran's eyes watched him greedily as he moved. "You've recovered well from death. Your body has healed itself."

"Yes, Great-grandfather."

Ji-Ran scrutinized the scar across his chest. "I saw you die and rise again, but I didn't understand how it was possible. What was it that cut your heart so cruelly? Your blood flowed like water on the stones of the bridge. It made Isayah weep to see it."

"It was a laser pistol," Ran-Del said. "That's a weapon that can make light sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone, and even steel."

Ji-Ran made a noise of disgust. "Why would anyone want such a weapon? Light exists to make plants grow, and to illuminate our path. What more is needed from it?"

Ran-Del decided that the question was rhetorical and didn't answer.

Ji-Ran looked him over solemnly. "You've learned a lot about the city."

"Some," Ran-Del said.

"I don't see hatred in your heart," Ji-Ran said suddenly changing the subject. "Do you hate me for sending you to your death?"

"I didn't stay dead, Great-grandfather."

"That's no answer," Ji-Ran said impatiently.

"I don't hate you. I had realized before I came here that you must have seen what would happen to me, and what the effect would be. You must have thought it would be worth it."

Ji-Ran blinked and smiled a slow, broad smile. "It isn't now, but it will be one day." He leaned back against the wall and gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "I only wish I could see it. I wish I could confer with you as I do with Isayah, in the deep, direct dialog of the heart. But, it's just as well, boy. With a gift such as yours, it's just as well I'll be gone before you learn to use it. I might not be able to keep you from seeing more, and sometimes it's dangerous to know too much."

This monologue left Ran-Del perplexed. What could he see that would be dangerous? "Pardon, Great-grandfather?"

Ji-Ran laughed again, not as soundlessly because he wheezed a little and then coughed. "I'll be dead by tomorrow. Isayah knows. He hasn't wanted to discuss it, but I've seen it in his mind."

Such absolute assurance nonplused Ran-Del. "I'm sorry, Great-grandfather," was all he could think of to say.

The old man's eyes bored into him for a second, and then their light faded. "Don't be sorry for me, boy. I've had a long, full life. I loved two women and several children, and I served my people well. What more can a man ask for from his life?"

When Ran-Del didn't answer, Ji-Ran waved his hand dismissively. "Go away, now. I'm tired, and I want to lie down."

Ran-Del stood up, uncertain what to do. He hesitated, and then he walked over to where his Great-grandfather sat and kissed the old man swiftly but gently on the cheek. Then he took one of Ji-Ran's hands between his own in the Sansoussy gesture of farewell between kin. He was surprised by the lack of perception this contact brought, and he realized that even in his weakened state, Ji-Ran must have much greater mental control than his grandmother did.

"Goodbye, Great-grandfather," Ran-Del said.

"Goodbye, Ran-Del," Ji-Ran said softly. "I'm honored to have been your ancestor."

Stunned by the accolade, Ran-Del ducked out the door without saying anything more.

***

Ran-Del rested for the rest of the afternoon. He ate dinner with his grandparents and Bettine. It was a very quiet meal. Isayah said almost nothing; Mina had to coax him to eat. The atmosphere subdued even Bettine.

Ran-Del slept in his old room. Isayah had built a new room for Bettine, cutting a door in a storeroom wall, and adding on yet another component to the rambling house. Technically, Bettine was entitled to her own great room, too, but she hadn't yet expressed a desire for one, so Isayah had let it wait.

In the morning, Ran-Del was awakened by his grandmother's presence. He opened his eyes to find her standing next to his bed.

"Get up, Ran-Del," she said gently. "Your great-grandfather died last night."

Ran-Del washed and dressed hurriedly, performing the morning ritual with an unseemly haste. Death imposed duties on everyone. Mina put him to work filling the cistern with water, so that Ji-Ran's body could be decently washed and dressed for its journey. After Ran-Del had carried bucket after bucket, she sent him off to help with the building of the funeral boat.

Because it was their shaman who had died, the whole village helped with the preparations. It was important that Ji-Ran Jahanpur's death rites reflect well on his clan.

By late afternoon, everything was finished. The villagers carried the body of the shaman on a bier, with Isayah, Mina, Bettine, and Ran-Del walking single file behind it. Behind them six sturdy young men carried the sharp-prowed funeral boat, built to float only once upon the water, until the flames would sink it beneath the surface.

The young men launched the boat into the shallow water of the river's edge, downstream from the rocks that made the waterfalls. The married women made a pyre on the boat, a nest of highly flammable dried lace palm fronds, interspersed with small sticks of medicine wood. Isayah and Ran-Del waded into the water and carried Ji-Ran's remains to the boat. He had been a big man once, but now his body was thin and frail. Isayah and Ran-Del laid him on the pyre and then each of them removed the black bead with the shaman's silver inlay from his caste bracelet and placed it in the corpse's right hand. Isayah lit the pyre with a torch kindled from Ji-Ran's own hearth.

As the new shaman, Doan spoke the words of farewell, and the six young men propelled the boat into the current. The river caught the flaming craft, and carried it swiftly. Blue and white smoke drifted upward in the breeze, making smudges on the golden sky, as the boat traveled speedily downstream.

They all stood silently on the shore and watched, until even the smoke could be seen no more. When the last of the smudges had faded from the sky, the people dispersed into family groups and made their way home.

Ran-Del walked beside his grandfather, watching the older man closely to see if he needed help. Isayah was sorrowful but composed. He had had, Ran-Del realized, a lot of time to prepare for this moment.

When they reached their own house, Mina took Bettine inside to make her some warm broth before bedtime. Isayah led Ran-Del off to look at the revelation lodge.

"Tomorrow morning," Isayah said, "you'll go into the lodge for your true Ordeal. You won't come out for two days, perhaps three if you have a difficult time of it. You'll be given water, but nothing to eat for that time."

"I remember," Ran-Del said.

Isayah shook his head. "It'll be different this time. It's always more wearing on those who have true psy talent, especially for you because your gift came to you so suddenly that you have little control over it."

Ran-Del felt a quiver of fear. "Do you mean that it'll be painful, Grandfather?"

"Almost certainly it'll be painful." Isayah's eyes looked grave. "You're no longer a young boy with only the most innocent of memories. You're a grown man, a warrior; you've been married for most of a season, and you've just had a painful experience. Opening your mind to your inquisitors will be—traumatic."

"Who will it be?"

Isayah sighed. "Me, Ali, Doan."

Ran-Del nodded. Ali was a little older than Doan, and like Isayah he had four beads on his caste bracelet. Ran-Del's inquisitors would be allowed to take breaks, to sleep, and to eat. Ran-Del would be kept awake as long as possible, and he would never be alone.

***

The next morning, Ran-Del found himself sitting nervously on the thin carpet that covered the floor of the revelation lodge. A small fire burned, for light rather than heat. One ceiling flap was open to allow the smoke to pass out of the lodge. Almost the only thing in the lodge besides the carpet and the fire was a pallet, a rough wooden frame covered with a mattress made of leaves and grasses.

Doan sat opposite Ran-Del, with Ali her left and Isayah on her right.

"Ran-Del Jahanpur," Doan said, "it has become necessary to examine you again, in the Ordeal of Revelation, so that we can assess your true abilities. Do you submit your body and your mind to this proceeding?"

Ran-Del hesitated. He had no real choice. He needed their help if he were ever to be able to live with his new gift. "Yes."

"Very well." Doan held out her hand.

Ran-Del handed her his caste bracelet. He would get it back once the Ordeal was over.

"We will begin with the Disciplines, as usual," Doan said.

This was as it had been before. Under their direction, Ran-Del went through each of the Disciplines in turn: the First merely to meditate and clear the mind, the Second to deal with anger and regain self control, the Third to conquer pain, and the Fourth, for extreme pain or distress. Finally, it was time for the Fifth Discipline.

Ran-Del lay down upon the pallet and began the mantra. He felt himself slowing down, growing less and less aware. Eventually, his mind found a deep, foggy nothingness and his heart stopped completely; and then Doan's mind was there, bringing him back from the edge.

They gave him a few minutes rest after that, and a small cup of water. Then they began the next step.

Doan was the primary inquisitor. She sat across from him again and held out both hands. "Take my hands, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del held his breath as he put out his hands. She grasped them firmly, and he gasped from the shock.

It was different from contact with Francesca or the medtechs. There was a flood of feeling, yes, but it was controlled, like the difference between water poured from a pitcher and water rushing from a broken water barrel. Instinctively, Ran-Del tried to pull away but Doan wouldn't release her grip.

Ran-Del wanted to scream. It was if his mind were being assaulted. Isayah and Ali each reached out and clamped a hand on his arm. Ran-Del shrank back even further.

"Don't fight us!" Doan said. "Open your mind, Ran-Del Jahanpur!"

Ran-Del couldn't make himself do it. He tried to pull away from them, and when they wouldn't let go, he tried to shut them out of his thoughts. It was a stalemate; he couldn't keep them out completely, but they couldn't get past his barricade to his inner self.

They sat for some time, Ran-Del struggling frantically, mentally and physically, and the three of them holding him steady, refusing to give up.

Finally, Ran-Del's body revolted and he sank to the ground unconscious.

***

When Ran-Del recovered his senses, he found himself lying on the pallet with his wrists and ankles tied tightly to the frame.

Doan's face appeared over his within seconds of when he opened his eyes. Ali joined her, but Isayah wasn't in the sight.

"Why am I bound?" Ran-Del demanded.

"Because you're fighting us," Doan said. "Once you've become receptive, we'll untie you."

She laid a hand on Ran-Del's arm, and he tried to jerk back from her. Ali moved to Ran-Del's other side, and laid a hand on his other arm. Ran-Del gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream, to demand to be released, but instead he focused on keeping their intrusion out of his mind. Doan and Ali were just as determined to break down his mental barriers. It took longer this time for Ran-Del to lose consciousness, but eventually, his eyes rolled back and he sank back on the pallet, limp and still.

They kept at it for hours, two of them at a time. When Ran-Del woke next, his grandfather was there with Ali. After that it was Isayah and Doan. When Ran-Del awoke from that session, it was to the bitter odor of an herbal stimulant. They weren't waiting for him to come to by himself, now. They weren't letting him rest at all.

Ran-Del was exhausted. His limbs ached from struggling against his bonds, and he was wearier from his mental battles than he had ever been from a hard day's work. Isayah sat beside him and wiped his forehead gently with a cold cloth. Ran-Del shivered at the sudden coolness.

"Yield, Ran-Del," Isayah said. "You know we won't hurt you. Let us in, and it'll be much easier."

"I can't, Grandfather," Ran-Del said desperately. "I've tried, but I can't."

Isayah's eyes looked down at him with sadness. "Then we'll have to keep going until you have no strength left to fight."

They started again.

Ran-Del lost track of time, but he was vaguely aware of stars visible through the ceiling flap. They untied him long enough to let him relieve himself and then gave him a cup of water to drink. Ran-Del didn't struggle when they pushed him back down on the pallet and bound him again. He was conserving his strength for the inner battle.

Finally, as the dim light of dawn began to spill into the lodge, Ran-Del surrendered. He lay, conscious but quiescent, and offered no resistance of any kind.

Doan smiled in triumph, and Isayah closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. They began the real Ordeal.

Ran-Del could feel their presence, all three of them, almost as if they were under his skin. They moved through his mind, uncovering his memories as if they were unpacking boxes. Ran-Del let them see whatever they wished to see. They spoke to him with their minds and demanded that he answer back in the same way. They pushed him to try to use his gift on them, to try to break down their own barriers. Ran-Del did as he was told.

At last, when they had found out all they needed to know, they let him sleep.

When he woke he felt stronger, but he still had no will of his own. The Ordeal went on as they tried him again and again, testing his abilities, forcing him to try to use his mind in ways that he hadn't anticipated. Doan would roll a many-sided die and demand that Ran-Del predict how it would land. When he was correct, he was left in peace, but when he was wrong, she inflicted pain upon him. He wasn't often right. He had no more luck in trying to control the path of the die, or in otherwise affecting his surroundings, and again he was punished for it.

By the end of the third day, Ran-Del was weary to the bone. He felt as if he would never be let out the lodge, never see the light of day again. He sat cross-legged on the bare earthen floor by the pallet, enduring all they sent against him until, finally, Doan stood and announced the end.

"The Ordeal of Revelation is finished," she said. "You may rest while we decide our decree."

Ran-Del blinked as he looked up at her. It was over. He started to rise, and then fell back on the pallet, too tired to stand up.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he knew he must have slept for a long time because the bright morning light streamed in through the open ceiling flaps when he woke. His grandfather sat on the ground next to him, watching him closely.

"Good morning, Ran-Del," Isayah said.

Ran-Del sat up. "Good morning, Grandfather."

"How do you feel?"

Ran-Del considered. "Like a timber cat dragged me through the forest and then let the tree bears play tug of war with me."

Isayah laughed and stood up. "Come and have some tea. You'll feel better."

Ran-Del got to his feet carefully. He was hungry and thirsty, but more than anything, he wanted to wash and change his clothes.

"Before you go back to the house," Isayah said, "you might want to put this back on." He handed Ran-Del his caste bracelet.

Ran-Del took it carefully, his eyes scanning the beads anxiously. There was the carved stone clan marker in the middle, with the three blue beads next to it, and then one silver bead and a plain black one. On the other side of the clan stone was his red warrior bead and four sky-gold glass beads.

"Four beads?" Ran-Del said. "How can I keep the red bead and still have four glass beads?"

"A warrior bead is never rescinded once it's earned," Isayah said. "It was Father's choice to smash his, as a penance. You've done nothing wrong and have no cause to punish yourself."

"Four beads!" Ran-Del said again.

Isayah smiled. "It should be five. Certainly your ability to see into other minds will be stronger than mine once you learn the Sixth Discipline, but it was decided not to award a fifth bead because you have no reliable means to see the future, and thus should never be a shaman. You'll never hold a seeing, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del smiled back. "I don't regret it. Especially not if it's anything like an Ordeal."

Isayah laughed again. "If you think the Ordeal was bad," he said lightly, "think again. We have a lot of work to do."

***

After twelve days studying with the elders of his village, Ran-Del stopped his work long enough to go visit his mother and spend a day with her. After his return, he rested and then began a daily regimen of several hours practicing the techniques of the Sixth Discipline that the elders had taught him.

By the twentieth day, he had mastered what he needed most to learn. He could shut out all distractions from people nearby, and he could even control the flood of thoughts and emotions when he touched someone. Even contact with his grandparents was bearable; the deluge became a manageable stream, intelligible, but not overwhelming. Isayah was pleased with his progress.

"You'll have to keep practicing," he said. "But you know the techniques now. It's merely a matter of doing them over and over again, until you no longer have to think about it. The Sixth Discipline will be part of your everyday life."

Ran-Del nodded. "Thank you, Grandfather."

Isayah smiled, but Ran-Del could see a hint of anxiety in his eyes. "You won't often be among others with the same gift. Among ourselves, we often use our minds as much as our voices. But never forget the rules. Unsuspecting strangers are entitled to their privacy. Unless you have a reason to suspect duplicity or you fear they mean harm, you have no right to prowl around in people's innermost thoughts. Only the most cursory contact is permissible."

Ran-Del thought about life in Shangri-La. "You'd think from that description that I'd never have cause to use my psy gift, and yet I know that it won't be so."

Isayah nodded agreement and folded Ran-Del into an embrace. With the strength of the Sixth Discipline in place, Ran-Del relished the comfort of his grandfather's touch. He remembered what his great-grandfather had called it—the deep, direct, dialog of the heart.

"Be well, Ran-Del," Isayah said. "Guard your temper and try to be tolerant of different customs—as much as you're able."

Ran-Del flushed, knowing that his grandfather was referring to the incident with Francesca's erstwhile lover. Isayah projected reassurance.

"You need to talk to her more," he said. "Even Mina and I have to talk, sometimes. And remember to give her credit for what she does, no matter what's in her mind."

"I will, Grandfather."

Ran-Del set out for the city after breakfast the next day. He felt much stronger, both mentally and physically, than he had when he arrived, and he ran with ease, delighting in the sights and smells of the forest. He made it out of the forest quickly and used the electronic compass to set his course for Shangri-La.

He camped that night under the stars, the small stove burning brightly all night.

The next morning Ran-Del woke to ominous gray skies. The prospect of traveling all day in the rain had no appeal. On an impulse, he pulled the portable com from his pack and called Francesca.

She looked half asleep but alarmed. "Is anything wrong?"

"No," Ran-Del said, "except that I've gone soft from living in Shangri-La. It looks like rain out here. Do you think you could send a flyter to pick me up?"

She laughed, relief as strong in her voice as amusement. "I'll call Quinn and set it up. Keep the com active so we can track you."

Ran-Del packed his things and went looking for shelter. He found a small clump of trees and made a rough tent from his tarpaulin. Large drops of rain began to spatter him just as he tossed the pack inside it. Ran-Del ducked under the tarp and sat down to wait.

It took a little over two hours for the flyter to show up. The rain had let up to a light drizzle, and Ran-Del stepped out from his shelter to signal his location.

The pilot waved back as she set the machine down some twenty meters away from the trees, while Ran-Del swiftly gathered his things. He trotted out to the flyter just as the pilot let down the ramp.

Merced climbed down from the flyter and took Ran-Del's pack. "Jeeze, Ran-Del. You look as sorry as a wet dog."

"I am a little damp." Ran-Del glanced around the cabin. Merced was the only passenger. Through the window in the bulkhead he could see Kitty Lui maneuvering the flyter for takeoff. Ran-Del could feel Merced's curiosity, but the techniques his grandfather had taught him worked well at keeping the security guard's thoughts from leaking into Ran-Del's mind. "Kitty's here to fly this machine. What are you here for, Eduardo?"

Merced grinned. "To protect you from Kitty, I guess."

Ran-Del took a seat hastily, to save himself from being knocked off his feet as the flyter lifted and banked sharply. Kitty wasn't hanging around.

Merced took a seat across from him, and studied him openly. "You look better than you did when you left. It's hard to believe you were ever dead."

"Thank you," Ran-Del said politely.

"The Baroness will be glad to see you." Merced seemed inclined to chat. "She's been a little antsy lately."

"Antsy?"

"Nervous," Merced said. "On edge, kind of."

Ran-Del didn't comment.

"That guy you stuck your knife into showed up the day you left," Merced went on. "The Baroness had Antonio buy him off and show him the gate. That's one guy that the Wong-Reilly cartel had better not send again, huh, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del remembered his grandfather's words and tried for patience. "Does everyone in the Hayden complex feel free to discuss their employer's private life or is it just the security staff?"

"Oh, it's pretty much everyone," Merced said cheerfully. "We'd never say a word to outsiders, but once you sign on with a Great House, you feel like you're a part of it. A lot of families have been with Hayden for generations. No one ever said anything about how the late Baron brought you to Shangri-La, even though we all knew about it." He glanced at Ran-Del as if debating how much to say. "Before you came along, we used to spend a lot of time trying to guess who Miss Francesca would wake up with next—and who she'd end up marrying."

Ran-Del said nothing, but his silence failed to discourage Merced.

"The betting was heaviest on Freddie Leong," the guard went on. "She seemed pretty sweet on him, and we figured he'd be too out of it to object to her having other, uh, friends."

Ran-Del's felt himself tense. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

Merced held up a hand. "Heck, no. If the Baroness has anything to say about it, you're going to be around for a long time. We don't know how you did it, but we're all real impressed. She sure has changed."

Ran-Del gritted his teeth. He wasn't even back in the city and already he was losing his temper. "She wasn't married before."

"Okay, okay," Merced said. "Have it your way. So, what happened? The guy went too far and you set him straight, huh?"

Ran-Del shrugged. "It was a misunderstanding."

Merced laughed at this. "Pagiani was there when Quinn called the alert. Sounds to me like this guy got your _point_."

Ran-Del didn't read any malice or spitefulness from Merced, only simple curiosity. If it was impossible to keep the staff from gossiping, then perhaps it would be best to put things in a better light. "Francesca and I made an agreement. She thought I'd broken it. Once she understood that I hadn't, then everything was fine."

Merced nodded sagely. "She was jealous of the redhead at Benjie's. I figured as much."

Ran-Del lost his patience. "It's no concern of yours, Eduardo."

"Don't get in a sweat," Merced said. "I like all my organs where they are, thank you. No need for you to rearrange them."

"Then keep your tongue behind your teeth!"

"Well," Merced said with a smile, "the thing is, Ran-Del, I've been elected to give you a message."

"A message?" Ran-Del said, surprised.

"Yup. From the staff—the household staff, security—just about everybody."

It seemed odd. City people used technology to communicate, not messengers. "Why you?"

"Because," Merced said with a grin, "no one else wanted to deliver it."

"And you're not afraid?"

Merced shook his head. "Nah, I've seen you take jokes from the guys at Benjie's. You can get hot if you think someone's stepping on your space, but you've never drawn your knife on a friend."

Ran-Del digested this. "So what's the message?"

"Well, the thing is, Ran-Del, we understand that you wanted to go home and see the folks. I mean, what with being killed and all. But we'd all appreciate it if you'd try to keep the trips home a little shorter."

Ran-Del thought it over. In a way, he could see humor in the situation, And it told him Francesca was being faithful. "Antsy?"

"She had Antonio in tears yesterday, and Chien was so upset, he broke a vase. Even Quinn is feeling it."

Ran-Del sat back in his seat. "I'll keep it in mind. Meanwhile, you can assure everyone I have no immediate plans to travel again."

"Glad to hear it," Merced said with a grin. "And now you know what I'm here for."

### Chapter Twenty-two

Francesca met Ran-Del's flyter when it set down in the complex. She looked well, although Ran-Del detected a hard edge to her smile. She waited for Ran-Del to approach her, not offering an embrace until he put his arms around her, and then she almost melted against him in relief.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Everything's fine," Ran-Del said, reveling in the warmth of her affection. "Thank you for meeting me. I know you're busy."

She smiled impishly. "I took the afternoon off. Poor Antonio is still trying to reschedule a meeting."

"Good." Ran-Del slung his pack over his shoulder and took her hand. "You can help me unpack."

They almost didn't make it into the bedroom. As soon as the sitting room door closed behind them, Ran-Del dropped his pack and pulled Francesca close for a kiss. Her response engulfed Ran-Del in a sea of passion. He ripped her shirt open and pulled it off of her so swiftly that Francesca radiated alarm.

"Wait!" She pulled away from him. "There's something I need to tell you first."

Ran-Del followed her across the room as if he were drawn by invisible ropes. "What is it?" He caught up to her as she slipped through the bedroom door.

"It's important—" she started to say, and then she stopped as he kissed her again.

Ran-Del made it last. The feeling of arousal was delightfully tantalizing; he could feel Francesca's anticipation as well as his own. The Sixth Discipline gave him enough control to keep the intensity pleasurable.

Ran-Del let Francesca's surface thoughts float toward him. She had taken steps to allow her to conceive. She needed an heir, and wanted a child. He stroked her neck as he ended the kiss, letting his hand drift down her body until he found the fastening for her trousers. "Don't fret, Francesca. I know, and I want a child, too."

She relaxed in his arms. "I missed you. You were gone a long time."

Too busy removing what remained of her clothing, Ran-Del didn't answer. Francesca gave a small sigh of pure pleasure and quit trying to make conversation.

They spent the afternoon catching up on each other's news. Ran-Del heard the details of Preston's visit; he didn't tell Francesca that Merced had already told him one side of it.

The news about the Leongs was really news. Francesca was quite pleased with herself. "I found out why Hans Leong was pushing so hard on the mine deal."

"Why?" Ran-Del could see a hint of the answer bubbling to the surface of her thoughts, but he resisted the temptation to learn the rest of it that way.

"He was trying to pull a fast one on his mother. Elena knew nothing about his offer to cut the cost of ore in return for a larger surplus. Hans wanted to have the deal all set up and then present it to her as an example of his astuteness. At least that's the story Elena is telling. I have a feeling that what she really found out was that some of the cost savings would have gone straight into Hans' private account."

"You mean he was trying to steal from his own mother?"

"Worse," Francesca said. "He was trying to steal from the cartel. Hans is lucky Elena caught him before he pulled it off." She chuckled to herself. "I'll be interested to see if he's the same cocky bastard at the party tomorrow night—always assuming Elena lets him go."

"Are you going to a party?"

" _We're_ going to a party," Francesca said. "The Wahs are throwing a celebration because Old Lady Wah is a hundred seasons old tomorrow."

Ran-Del swallowed a protest. No matter how much he detested Shangri-La's social scene, kinship was an obligation he understood—even kinship with an evil old woman with no manners.

Francesca expressed her condolences on hearing about the death of Ran-Del's great-grandfather, and shock at the details of Ran-Del's Ordeal.

They were lying naked in bed with Francesca nestled in the curve of Ran-Del's right arm. She reached over and touched his caste bracelet. "So you took off a black bead because your great-grandfather died, but they gave you three more glass beads?"

Ran-Del nodded. "I was surprised they let me keep the warrior bead. I knew Great-grandfather didn't wear one, so I assumed they'd taken it away after his second Ordeal."

Francesca gave him a blank look. "I thought a shaman wasn't allowed to be a warrior?"

"They're not," Ran-Del said. "Don't you know about great-grandfather? I assumed someone must have told you his story—Grandmother, maybe?"

"No one told me anything. Pop said something once, about your great-grandfather having seen his share of suffering, but that was all."

Ran-Del was intrigued. "I wonder who told him about it."

Francesca made a gesture as if to brush the question aside. "I don't know. Anyway, tell me what happened to your great-grandfather."

Ran-Del shifted his position to get comfortable, pulled her close against him and began his tale. "When Great-grandfather was a boy, he wanted to be a warrior, like his father. But as he matured, his psy sense got stronger and stronger. At first he tried to fight it completely, and then he tried to limit it, and then, finally, Great-grandfather hid it from everyone."

"Like you did with me?" Francesca said.

He grinned. "In a way. But Great-grandfather's talent dwarfed mine. He not only masked his abilities, he managed to learn the Sixth Discipline from those around him without their ever knowing it. When the time came for his Ordeal, Great-grandfather let his inquisitors think he had let down his barriers—to them it seemed that he had—when in fact, he was more in control of the Ordeal than they were.

"In the end, Great-grandfather was awarded only three beads. With three beads, you're not a person of power, and you can be a warrior, or anything else you wish—except, of course, a shaman.

"So Great-grandfather became a warrior and was happy in his choice.

"And then he met a woman named Iris, and loved her almost as soon as he saw her. They married and had two children, a boy and a girl, and then when Iris was carrying a third child, tragedy struck."

He looked down at Francesca, wondering how much detail he needed to give so that she would understand. "When the Horde attacks, if they manage to take a village unawares, they steal people—young women and children. When an adult is taken, we know there's a good chance she'll use the Fifth Discipline, but children don't know how to do that yet. We think that's why they're taken most often—that, and because they can be changed more easily."

"Changed?"

"Yes, changed from Sansoussy into the Horde. A few older ones escaped, so we know that children who are stolen are raised to be members of the Horde. And because of this, there are some among the Horde who have psy powers. They may not know as much as we do about how to use them, but the talent is there."

Francesca stared, her eyes wide in fascination.

"When a Sansoussy child is stolen in this way," Ran-Del went on, "we mourn him as dead. We hold a memorial and ever after speak of that child as if he or she had died.

"Anyway, Great-grandfather had felt his psy powers growing even stronger as he grew older, but he had said nothing about it. And then one day, he knew that an attack was coming soon. He was relieved when Han-Ri, the shaman, told the villagers to prepare. They sent runners to warn the other villages nearby, and the warriors laid an ambush while the rest of the village went into hiding.

"When you prepare an ambush, it's always in the night, because the Horde attacks at dawn. Some of the warriors light fires in the houses, so there'll be smoke, and then they hide inside. The remaining warriors climb into the branches of trees, ready to drop down on attackers. Great-grandfather waited, with all the others, feeling the attack growing nearer and nearer.

"And then eventually, he had a vision, as he crouched in the darkness, of the old men and women and children being attacked as they hid in a stand of bamboo fern. He went to the commander of the warriors, and told him what he had seen.

"Great-grandfather's pleading persuaded the man to send almost half the warriors to see if it was a true vision. It was.

"The Horde had sent a small force in this secondary attack, and Great-grandfather and the others were able to drive them back. But before they succeeded, Iris was killed trying to fight off a man who was attempting to take her son. The boy leapt forward and snatched up his mother's knife, so the raider killed him, too. Then he grabbed Iris' little girl and retreated with the others of the Horde."

Francesca's eyes widened in alarm, and Ran-Del felt her sympathy.

"Great-grandfather wept for days," Ran-Del went on to finish his story. "He confessed how he had hidden his talent. The elders argued what to do with him but realized no one could punish him more than he had been already. After his true Ordeal, they awarded him six beads. Then, a year later, Han-Ri told Great-grandfather it was his duty to marry again. When Great-grandfather refused to do it, Han-Ri inflicted punishment upon him—that's how Great-grandfather's arm was burned so badly—and finally, Great-grandfather submitted."

"Just as you did?" Francesca interrupted.

Ran-Del nodded. "Except that I hadn't loved someone else. Great-grandfather's heart was cold toward his new wife. By the time that Great-grandfather came to love Johanna and my grandfather, it was too late for Johanna to have more children."

Francesca frowned as if she found the story unsatisfactory. "What happened to the little girl who was taken?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "She was only three seasons old, much too young to have escaped. The villagers mourned her as dead."

"But," Francesca objected, "for all you know, you have a great-aunt living among the Horde."

"No," Ran-Del said. "Even if she's still alive, she's no longer a Sansoussy, and she's no kin of mine."

Francesca changed the subject. "You never mentioned what the Sansoussy use for birth control."

Ran-Del wasn't clear on the term. "Are you asking how we keep a woman from conceiving?"

Francesca nodded. "I can't believe Sansoussy women have a baby every season or the forest would be overrun with Sansoussy by now."

Ran-Del chuckled at this image. "Women who have enough psy sense can control their own bodies using a special Woman's Discipline. Those who don't ask another woman to help them. If a woman ends a betrothal, the shaman or an elder always makes sure she isn't with child." He looked down at Francesca's face, studying her intently. "When did you decide you wanted to have a child, sweetheart?"

He could feel her satisfaction at his use of this endearment.

"About a week after you left." She gave him a tentative smile. "You were gone a long time."

"I know," Ran-Del said, keeping a straight face. "I really missed being able to take a hot shower."

She rolled away from him and turned her back, sulking.

Ran-Del kissed her shoulder. "And I missed you, too. Come and enjoy the shower with me."

Francesca allowed herself to be persuaded, and Ran-Del took the longest shower he had ever taken since he first woke up in the Hayden complex.

It wasn't until midmorning of the next day that Ran-Del decided to go to Benjie's. He had a theory, and he wanted very much to test it.

Francesca was back at work, and he called her and told her that he was going out. She was pleasant but abstracted as she answered him over the com.

The two security staff waiting for him at the gate were Fiona Geldorf, and a man named Brewster whom Ran-Del knew only slightly but Geldorf seemed to know well. Ran-Del ignored their banter and set out for the river. He let himself travel at a real Sansoussy pace, running the entire way without stopping once.

He didn't see Janis when he came in the door. Francis was serving drinks to a trio of men at the bar, workers from another warehouse.

The crew from Georges' place were at their usual table, just finishing lunch. They called out Ran-Del's name when they saw him, making Geldorf frown.

"Ho, wild man!" Georges cried. "You're back!"

"Hello, Georges," Ran-Del said, crossing to their table.

He pulled up a chair and sat down at the end of the table. Geldorf and Brewster also found chairs and sat on either side of him.

"You have a new watchdog, Ran-Del," Thelma said teasingly. "What's this one's name?"

Ran-Del introduced Brewster, who looked taken aback at the informality. Geldorf merely winked at Guillermo, who was eying her appreciatively.

"Welcome back to civilization, Ran-Del," Georges said.

Ran-Del smiled. "Actually, I've just come from there, Georges."

The warehouse owner roared with laughter and slapped Ran-Del on the back heartily. "Oh, ho, tweaking me back, are you? It's a good thing you don't work for me anymore."

"How is everything at Rangoon Storage Systems?" Ran-Del asked.

"We missed you this morning," Jena said. "We were trying to get a transport loaded when that damn number six lifter stuck again, right in the middle of the aisle. Guillermo almost fell off another lifter trying to get it reset."

"You should get rid of that machine, Georges," Ran-Del said. "It's broken more than it works."

Georges agreed solemnly. Jena asked how Ran-Del was feeling, and everyone expressed satisfaction at how well he had healed.

Ran-Del was aware of Janis behind him before he turned around and saw her approaching.

"Hello, Ran-Del," she said warmly. "Welcome back. Like some tea, on the house?"

Ran-Del answered affirmatively. His escort declined, as always. Janis took other orders and cleared a half dozen glasses and plates from the table. She had just started to the kitchen with the tray when Ran-Del sent a delicate, tentative mental inquiry in her direction, almost a tap on the shoulder with his psy sense.

Janis dropped the tray.

One of the glasses hit the back of an empty chair and smashed into pieces. Several people jumped up to help Janis clean the mess, Ran-Del among them.

Janis was red-faced as she piled bottles and crockery onto the tray. "Sorry," she muttered.

Ran-Del carefully collected several pieces of broken glass in his hands.

"Put those on the tray," Janis said, holding it out to him.

"There's too much there already. I'll just put it straight into the recycler for you. Where is it?"

"In the kitchen," Janis said.

Ran-Del followed her as she went through the door. He had never been in the kitchen at Benjie's before. He didn't recognize all the appliances, but an enormous urn for making tea was almost identical to the one in the huge central kitchen of Francesca's house.

Janis put her tray down. "There." She pointed at the recycler.

Ran-Del carefully dropped the broken glass into the chute. A small sliver of glass had wedged itself in his palm.

"Oh, now you're bleeding," Janis said.

"It's nothing," Ran-Del said. "It'll stop in a moment."

"I've got a medkit here, somewhere," Janis said, hunting around in a cupboard. "Here it is."

She set the kit down on a table and opened it. "Give me your hand, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del held out his bleeding right hand, and Janis took it between her own hands. The effect was electric.

"Oh," Janis breathed, surprise and elation radiating from her. "I thought that was you." She tugged his caste bracelet around until the four sky-gold beads were on top. "Ohmigosh!"

Feeling a rush of vindication, Ran-Del asked her a point blank question. "How many beads would you have, Janis, if you had a caste bracelet?"

She looked up at him. "We don't rate people like that—and we'd certainly never advertise it like this if we did."

She tugged the bracelet as if to hide the glass beads, and the black and silver beads became visible. "Oh, your great-grandfather died. I'm sorry, Ran-Del."

"Thank you. Who is 'we,' Janis?"

She darted him a look. "You could find out without asking."

Ran-Del shook his head. "That's against the rules."

She cocked her head and looked at him with interest. "We have similar rules."

Ran-Del's chance to respond was lost as the door slid open. Brewster stood in the doorway.

"Sorry," he said cheerfully. "Regulations. Can't have you out of sight, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del set his jaw. He could feel Janis' annoyance, as strong as his own, as she fastened a sterilizing bandage on his hand.

Her thoughts came through to him, clear as crystal. _We'll talk later_.

Ran-Del responded the same way. _All right_.

Janis stayed in the kitchen when Ran-Del made his way back into the bar. Brandon glowered at Ran-Del, and Jena commented on the bandage, but no one else made a remark until the lot of them got up to go back to work.

"Take care, wild man," Georges said. "Remember, the city has its dangers, too."

"I'll remember," Ran-Del said.

He sat sipping his tea, waiting until Francis was in the back room and Janis had gone back into the kitchen. Then he stood up.

"Wait here, please," he said. "I'll be back in a moment."

Geldorf looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, Ran-Del. It's against regs. We're supposed to keep you in sight at all times."

Ran-Del debated about trying to insist on being left alone and decided against it. "I see. Let's go then."

He set an even brisker pace back to the complex. Geldorf was out of breath and Brewster was red-faced and puffing when they got there. Ran-Del left them at the front gate and headed back to the main house. He spent the afternoon trying to come up with a good way to tell his wife that he needed to leave the Hayden complex without his security escort so that he could talk to a woman alone. He couldn't think of one.

He was still debating his options the next morning at breakfast. He decided the only possible course was to come right out with his intentions.

"Francesca," he said, to get her attention. They always ate breakfast in their sitting room because Francesca had a bad habit of watching the news bulletins while she ate.

"Yes, Ran-Del?" she said absently, her eyes on the monitor.

"I'm going out again today. I need to leave the escort behind. Do you want to call Quinn, or should I?"

"What?" She didn't absorb what he had said for a second, and then it hit her. "Why? Where do you want to go that you can't take an escort?"

"It's not so much where I want to go," Ran-Del said, "it's that they won't let me be alone, even for a second. I need to talk to someone privately."

"Who?"

There was a long silence. Ran-Del realized he couldn't tell Francesca who without also telling her why, and he didn't want to give away Janis' secret without her permission. "I can't tell you."

Francesca switched off the monitor. "It's that woman, isn't it?"

Ran-Del tried for reassurance. "I'm not contemplating an affair, Francesca. There's no need for you to be jealous."

Francesca folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him. "What is this about, then?"

Ran-Del suppressed the desire to imitate her reaction. She was taking things the wrong way and insisting on controlling his life at the same time. "It's about my need to have some freedom, for one thing. I can't live like a pet, shut up in the house but taken out for an airing every now and then."

Irritation leaked from Francesca. "I don't treat you like a pet. If you'd be more sensible about going out, I wouldn't need to be so—so—"

"Meddlesome?" Ran-Del suggested. "Arrogant? Dictatorial?"

She pushed her chair back and jumped to her feet. She seemed to be suffering from a fit of temper, but she said nothing for a few seconds, until she got it under control. "I gave you a choice, Ran-Del. You didn't have to marry me. You'd seen our complex; you knew how Pop and I lived. You could have said no."

"I married willingly," Ran-Del said, getting to his feet to face her. "But I never agreed to give up my freedom. Among the Sansoussy, marriage doesn't mean surrendering the right to go where you please. We have no barons or baronesses. We're all equal."

"I suppose a shaman doesn't give orders?"

Ran-Del started to retort, but the com set buzzed demandingly.

Francesca turned toward the desk, the anger Ran-Del felt from her showing in her stance. "What is it?"

"I beg your pardon, Baroness," a voice said apologetically. "This is Brewster at the front gate. There's a woman here asking to see Citizen Jahanpur."

Francesca stood very straight. "Have someone escort her to my quarters, please."

"Don't you need to know her name, Baroness?" Brewster sounded astounded at her order.

"I'm quite sure I know it already." Francesca cut the connection and looked at Ran-Del.

He had nothing new to say, so he said nothing. At least the matter was resolved. He could talk to Janis here.

"Well," Francesca said, in a voice cold enough to have chilled water in seconds, "I'll leave you alone, Ran-Del, since you have a guest coming. I'll be in my office if you need to tell me anything."

The pain he felt from her moved Ran-Del to protest. "Don't be foolish, Francesca. I can see what you're thinking, and you're wrong."

"Am I?" Francesca smiled bleakly.

"Yes." Ran-Del crossed the space between them and took her in his arms. "There's nothing between Janis and me. After I speak to her, I'll tell you what it was about, if I can."

" _If_ you can?" Francesca's voice sounded as rigid as her body felt. "What would stop you?"

Ran-Del sighed with frustration. "I'll try to explain it later."

She pulled away and made for the door.

A few minutes after she left, the door trilled. Ran-Del called for it to open. When it did, he stared in shock. Every bit as much as Francesca, he had expected his visitor to be Janis Uurtemo. The woman who walked through the door was a good thirty seasons older. Her hair might have been any color once but now it was a distinguished gray rather than Janis' reddish brown.

"Clara," Ran-Del said, trying to hide his astonishment, "it's good to see you."

Clara Rangoon's eyes twinkled. "Hello, Ran-Del. It's good to see you, too."

It reminded Ran-Del of the traditional greeting among kinsmen, except it was backwards; as the elder, Clara should have spoken first.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you by calling so early," Clara went on. "Georges informs me that the Sansoussy are early risers."

"Usually I am. This morning, though, I, ah, stayed in bed a little later than I normally do."

He and Francesca had made love that morning, for the fourth time since Ran-Del's return.

Clara smiled. "I'm sure you deserved to take a break."

"A break from what?" Ran-Del said. "I'm unemployed and completely idle."

"Well, in a way, that's what I've come to see you about, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del studied her, suddenly conscious of the fact that he didn't sense random thoughts from her, any more than he had from his grandparents or Janis. Clara nodded.

_Yes._ She was still smiling. _You have it now._

It took Ran-Del a second to realize that Clara hadn't spoken aloud.

***

Francesca sat at her desk and tried to think of a single useful thing she had done that morning. She had to admit that, so far, she had been worse than useless. Not only had she not accomplished anything positive, she had made Antonio clench his jaw twice by snapping at him, and she had seriously annoyed Elena Leong when she called to inquire about a change in their delivery schedule.

Francesca decided to face the problem. Heedless of the fact that it would set tongues wagging, she buzzed the security booth at the front gate.

Brewster was still on duty. He sat up straighter when he saw who was calling him.

"Yes, Baroness?" he inquired politely.

"Has my husband's visitor left the complex yet?" she demanded.

"No, Baroness," Brewster said. "Merced took her up to the house and no one has called to have her escorted out yet."

"Thank you." Francesca cut the connection before her anger could show on her face. She couldn't believe Janis Uurtemo would have nerve enough to stay for nearly two hours on an uninvited visit. What could they be doing—Francesca got up from her desk and left the office, brushing past a startled Antonio with a hasty explanation.

For one minute, Francesca considered repeating Ran-Del's trick of entering the bedroom through the hidden door, but she decided that that would have too many unfortunate allusions to her own near-unfaithfulness, so she headed for the front door of the suite.

When she came through the door, she was brought up short by the sight of her husband sitting on the sofa drinking tea with a gray-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar.

They both looked up at her as she came in.

Ran-Del rose politely. "Hello, Francesca. I'd like you to meet Clara Rangoon."

Francesca stood, speechless with surprise.

"Actually," Clara said, staying seated but holding out her hand, "we've already met, Baroness, but you were rather upset so you might not remember it."

Francesca shook Clara's hand and got a grip on herself at the same time. "Oh, yes; I remember meeting you at the hospital. You're Georges' wife."

"Yes," Clara said. "I help with the books at the warehouse, so I know Ran-Del quite well."

"I just remembered," Ran-Del said, sitting back down as Francesca sank into a chair. "You were worried the day I was attacked, Clara. You must have had a vision."

Clara nodded. "I did, but it wasn't strong enough to do any good. I knew something nasty would happen, but I couldn't tell what it was, and after I was away from you, the feeling faded."

"Most of mine are like that," Ran-Del said. "It's very annoying to have intimations rather than clear pictures—rather like remembering that you meant to do something but not being able to recall what it was."

"Sometimes it works better for me," Clara said cheerfully. "And occasionally, it's completely wrong—I assume because something changes the sequence of events. The vision fades and goes away by itself."

"What are you two talking about?" Francesca asked in exasperation.

"Foretelling," Ran-Del said.

"Precognition," Clara said simultaneously.

They both grinned. "Same thing, different words," Clara added.

"It seems," Ran-Del said, "that not all the people with psy abilities left the city. It's just that the ones who remained hid themselves. They were afraid to let anyone know they had gifts."

"We're still afraid," Clara said. "That's why no one said anything to Ran-Del when he first came here, even though we knew he was an empath; we didn't want to give ourselves away."

"Who is we?" Francesca asked.

"Me," Clara said, "Janis, and a dozen or so others in our circle."

"Janis?" Francesca said with distaste. Yet another reason to dislike the red-haired woman.

"Yes," Clara said. "Janis is rather like Ran-Del; she's a strong telepath, but her precognition is almost nonexistent. For me, the balance shifts the other way. I have enough telepathic skills to be conversant with other telepaths, if I'm close enough to them, but I also have flashes of visions that are often compellingly correct. Ran-Del was telling me about how his great-grandfather used to hold seeings. I understand that you witnessed one?"

Francesca smiled sourly. "There wasn't much to see." She crossed her arms over her chest and got to the point. "Why did you come to see Ran-Del, Clara? Are you having a reunion?" She sounded rude, but she didn't care. First Ran-Del wanted to keep her away from his friends, and now it turned out they were all more like him than she was.

Clara didn't look affronted. "Not exactly, Baroness. I wanted to talk to Ran-Del about a job."

"A job?" Francesca said. "Doing what?"

"Training young people." Ran-Del sounded entirely too eager. "When Clara's friends locate young people with psy talent they try to help them."

"What kind of help?" Francesca asked.

"Help like my grandfather gave me," Ran-Del said. "A psy gift can make you think you're going crazy."

"Yes," Clara said. "Ran-Del will be particularly useful because his talent grew so quickly."

"So you're going to do it?" Francesca said. "You're going to work with these people?"

Clara and Ran-Del exchanged glances, and then Clara stood up.

"I think I had better be going, Ran-Del," she said. "I told Georges I'd stop by the warehouse, and he worries when I'm late."

"I'll see you to the front door," Ran-Del said.

Francesca offered her hand and said goodbye but even to her own ears she sounded aloof rather than warm. She walked back to her office wondering if this new task would throw Ran-Del into Janis Uurtemo's path. It seemed to Francesca that it was bound to—and there wasn't much she could do to stop it.

***

Ran-Del braced himself when the skimmer set down in the Wah compound. Being a guest at a party in Shangri-La was almost as bad as being the host. It was true that Caroline Wah's relations had the chore of waiting in line to receive all the guests, but the guests themselves had to spend an equal amount of time wandering about through a crowd of all the same people who had come to every other party. He saw Priscilla Cho off in one corner. She wore a few strips of cloth wound around her torso and very little else.

Ran-Del looked around for Francesca. His wife wore one of her skin-tight body suits, but this time she had draped a loose outer robe of iridescent purple over it. Ran-Del was amused to note that while several women approached and spoke to her, no men came anywhere near her.

Ran-Del walked up to where she stood sipping a glass a wine and frowning.

"I hope you're happy," she muttered to Ran-Del as he slid an arm around her waist. "Everyone's heard about what you did, and now they all act like I have the plague."

Ran-Del smiled. "I'm quite happy, thank you. I consider it an improvement."

As if to give the lie to Francesca's complaint, Freddie Leong approached and gave Francesca a fond kiss on her cheek. "Hello, Francesca darling," he said, his speech just slightly slurred, his eyelids drooping over his blue eyes. "Will you protect me from your wild man if I ask nicely?"

Francesca gave a little laugh. "Of course, Freddie. Ran-Del wouldn't hurt you, would you Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del looked Freddie up and down. "Not if he keeps his hands off of you."

Freddie smiled his sleepy smile and took a sip of his drink. "I'm shaking in my boots," he said in a mocking tone.

Ran-Del focused on his wife's former lover, allowing himself to scan the surface of Freddie Leong's thoughts. Freddie truly wasn't afraid of him, which surprised him. It shocked Ran-Del to realize that Freddie wasn't afraid because he didn't care whether he lived or died.

Francesca looked at Freddie anxiously. "What are you on, Freddie? You'll kill yourself one of these days."

"With any luck," Freddie said. "And it's none of your business, my sweet. You washed your hands of me long ago."

"I still care what happens to you," Francesca said. Ran-Del could sense that it was the truth.

"I know you do, Francesca," Freddie said, and Ran-Del heard genuine affection in his tone. "It comforts me to know there'll be one real mourner at my funeral besides Dad."

"Don't talk like that, Freddie!" Francesca said, concern drowning out her earlier warmth.

"If you're going to give me orders," Freddie said cheerfully, "I'll be off. I get enough of that at home."

Francesca studied his back as Freddie strolled off and joined a group of people standing around a fountain that spewed wine from several levels.

"I worry about him," she said.

"What is he to you?" Ran-Del said. "Do you still love him?"

"No," Francesca said, "but I'm fond of him, and I think it's a shame when someone throws his life away."

Ran-Del took consolation in her truthfulness. He followed her gaze across the room to where Hans Leong stood with his mother and Peter Norwalk. Hans looked rather as if he would prefer to be elsewhere, but Elena had a firm grip on his arm.

"It's incredible to me," Francesca said, "that Freddie and Hans are brothers. I don't know any two people who are more different."

Just at that moment, the elder Leong sibling turned and saw Ran-Del. He sneered and then looked away.

"I agree they're different," Ran-Del said. "What's the father like? Does Freddie take after him?"

"I haven't spoken to him in several seasons. Elena never lets him leave their complex."

Ran-Del raised his eyebrows and gave her a meaningful stare.

"Don't give me that look!" Francesca said. "I'm nothing like Elena Leong."

Ran-Del let his silence speak for him.

"All right," Francesca said in exasperation. "I'll tell Quinn that you need to leave the escort behind sometimes. In fact," Francesca said, "just to be sure that you have all the freedom you could want, I'll show you how you can leave our compound anytime you like, with no one the wiser."

"How?" Ran-Del asked.

She glanced around reflexively. "I'll tell you later. You never know when someone might be running a bug."

The idiom perplexed Ran-Del, but he caught her meaning. He considered trying to read the information from her mind, but he preferred not to intrude unless it was necessary. If he could chide her into loosening control by comparing her to Elena Leong, life in Shangri-La would be less stressful.

"Francesca!" someone called.

Ran-Del looked around and saw that Caroline Wah had come into the room and set up court in a chair in one corner. Her eldest daughter was calling Francesca to come over to pay her respects.

"Excuse me, Ran-Del," she said.

Ran-Del watched his wife bow over the old woman's hand, and kiss her cheek dutifully and reflected that there wasn't much difference between city and forest when it came to family rituals. When he glanced up and saw Priscilla Cho headed his way, he ducked swiftly behind a pillar before she could spot him.

His new position gave Ran-Del a good vantage point to study the Leong-Norwalk group. He saw Elena bend her head to whisper something to Peter Norwalk. Ran-Del was close enough to see that she was clenching her elder son's arm as if she feared he might try to pull away from her.

Hans didn't try to get away, but he was glaring at someone intently. When Ran-Del followed Hans' line of sight, he was startled to see that the man's venomous stare was directed at Freddie Leong. His very stance projected such animosity that it troubled Ran-Del. A moment later, Hans shifted his gaze, and Ran-Del found himself staring into a look of pure hatred.

Instinctively, Ran-Del put his hand to his belt. There was no dirk there; he had left it at home rather than surrender it at the security check. Hans smiled as if he understood Ran-Del's gesture and then his eyes flicked back to his brother.

Ran-Del wondered for a moment if Hans intended any harm to Freddie. He used the Sixth Discipline to focus his talent on Hans for a second and what he saw in the man's mind made Ran-Del stand frozen in surprise. After a moment, he got his breath back and looked around for Francesca.

She was trying to free herself from the circle of elderly offspring around Caroline Wah. Ran-Del walked up and took her by the arm. She looked considerably surprised but not in the least annoyed when he pulled her into a shadowy niche and caught her up in a passionate embrace.

"I know who killed your father," Ran-Del whispered in her ear.

Her look of pleased anticipation vanished. After half a second, she nuzzled his neck and whispered back at him. "Who?"

"Hans Leong."

### Chapter Twenty-three

Francesca froze for a second, stunned by the words, and then ran her fingers through Ran-Del's hair, trying to look as if she had no thought in the world beyond a little diversion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "But I don't know why."

Francesca leaned her head against his chest as if she were merely being affectionate and tried to get a grip on herself. "Can you find out?"

"If he thinks about his reasons, I can," Ran-Del said quietly.

Francesca nodded once, and then pulled away, smiling but shaking her head as if to say that this wasn't the place for what he had in mind.

A little while later, she had maneuvered herself and Ran-Del over to where Elena stood. Hans and his mother were conversing alone, almost arguing. He seemed to want to move away from her, and she seemed determined that he should stay beside her.

"Hello, Elena," Francesca said pleasantly.

"Good evening, Francesca," Elena said, her voice glacial.

"I'm sorry I was so abrupt on the com the other day," Francesca said, putting a generous dose of contrition into her voice. "I had just found out something rather upsetting."

"Any problems at Hayden?" Elena asked, her interest rising visibly.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Francesca said, trying for an earnest tone. This was a new level of lying; she wasn't used to having so much riding on her ability to deceive. "My new security chief discovered that the flyter crash that killed Pop was arranged by our previous security chief. Apparently, she miscalculated, because she was killed, too, but still, it's distressing to think that someone you trusted could betray you like that. Someone must have paid her an awful lot of money."

Elena made sympathetic noises. Hans said nothing, merely stood quietly and watched Francesca's face as she described her efforts at tracking down whoever had hired Alyssa D'Persis to betray her employer. His eyes flicked once to Ran-Del's face, but they darted back to Francesca very quickly.

"Well, good luck, my dear," Elena said, with ghoulish enthusiasm. "It doesn't do not to exact retribution, you know. If people see you as a safe target, they'll strike again."

"Yes, I know that." Francesca didn't even try to mute the steel in her voice. If Hans sweated a little, so much the better. "Believe me, Elena, I have every intention of seeing justice done."

A loud burst of laughter from the other side of the room made her turn her head. Freddie was attempting to drink directly from the wine fountain without bothering with a glass. He succeeded only in dousing himself with wine and ceased his efforts with a laugh. One of the women near him handed him a drink, and he tossed it back in one gulp.

When Francesca turned back, Hans was scowling and Elena frowned heavily.

"Come along, Hans," Elena said, her hand digging into her son's arm. "It's time to take your brother home."

Hans moved reluctantly. Francesca stared after him, wondering what reason he could have had to want her father dead.

"Wait," she said to Ran-Del, laying a hand on his arm and not giving him a chance to speak first. "Tell me when we get home and not before."

They stayed several minutes to avoid suspicion, and then politely said good night to the guest of honor.

Ran-Del sat in silence beside Francesca all the way home. Conscious of the four security staff sitting in the back of the skimmer, she made no attempt to engage him in conversation.

Only after they had entered their own quarters did she sit down wearily and look up at Ran-Del. "Now, tell me everything. Why did Hans kill Pop?"

Ran-Del moved across the room and sat across from her. "Because of me. Elena had told him she still thought she could get Hayden into the cartel by arranging a marriage between you and Freddie."

Francesca drew in a sharp breath. If she hadn't waited to marry Ran-Del, Pop might still be alive.

Ran-Del frowned. "You can't blame yourself. You didn't kill your father. Hans did."

She waved a hand. "I know. Go on. Why was Hans so set on bringing Hayden into Leong-Norwalk?"

His frown eased. "Hans had hopes of using Hayden as his own springboard; Elena doesn't know it yet, but Hans is plotting a takeover of their House. The mine deal was part of Hans' plan."

Francesca fought the urge to let her jaw drop. Hans was more like his mother than she had realized.

"When Hans found out you were betrothed to me," Ran-Del went on, "he thought he had to act quickly, before the marriage happened. He sank most of the money he had into bribing D'Persis, but he didn't count on you acting so quickly when your father died. He thought you'd be so upset that you'd turn to Freddie for comfort."

Francesca digested this. If she hadn't had Ran-Del, and Freddie had come to console her, she might well have let herself fall for him again. "But how did Hans know he could bribe Alyssa? She'd been with us for years. How did he know she'd bite if he offered big enough bait?"

Ran-Del looked apologetic. "That part was less clear. Apparently, he knew about her and Toth, and that Toth had broken off their relationship. He decided to use the information to gamble that D'Persis could be turned against your father for a price."

Francesca stared off into space for a second, an image of the burning flyter in her mind. "That bastard! I thought it might have been Elena, but it never occurred to me that Hans would act on his own. I'll get him for it, Ran-Del. So help me, I will."

He looked worried. "I don't understand the laws here. Can you call Hans to account yourself?"

"I can, and I will. It happened here in the complex, so my law is the only law that counts."

Ran-Del's worried expression grew into an active frown. "What will Elena do if you execute Hans?"

The thought gave Francesca pause. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it." She had another thought, and she looked at Ran-Del again. "What about the attack on you? Was that Hans, too?"

Ran-Del nodded. "Yes. He's suspicious of me. That day he came here to talk about the mines, he suspected that I was signaling you. He's heard stories about the Sansoussy, and, if he doesn't quite believe all of them, he does accept that empathy is possible."

Francesca twisted her mouth. If Hans had voiced his suspicions to anyone, it could dilute Ran-Del's usefulness.

Ran-Del shook his head. "Hans is playing his own game. He decided to get me out of the way because he still wants to get his hands on Hayden. He needs the resources to finance his takeover of Leong-Norwalk. He's angry at Freddie because his brother won't make a push to capture your affections."

Francesca smiled grimly. "What a nice old fashioned expression for it—to capture my affections?"

"Freddie knows nothing about it," Ran-Del said. "Hans is operating alone."

Francesca frowned and tapped the table top in front of her with her fingernails. After a moment, she got up, paced a few times, and then went over to the com set. "The first step," she said resolutely, "is to get more information."

In a few seconds, Quinn's face appeared on the screen.

"What is it Baroness?" she asked. "Did anything go wrong at the party tonight?"

"No," Francesca said. "In fact, something went right for a change. Could you come to my quarters, please, Marina? I've got some information for you."

***

Later that night, Ran-Del lay in bed and studied Francesca's profile as she lay next to him. Her eyes were wide open, but it didn't look to Ran-Del as if she were seeing anything. The only illumination came from the slender crescent of Tranquility that shone through the windows.

"Francesca," Ran-Del said quietly.

She didn't stir for a second, and then she turned her head. "Yes, Ran-Del."

"It's all right to grieve. You loved him very much."

She went back to staring at the ceiling. "You hated him, didn't you? I remember when he was holding you prisoner, and you tried to get away. You would have killed him then."

"I would have then," Ran-Del said. "But whatever bad feelings I had, I put them aside when I came back here with you."

Francesca lay as still as ever, and then her lip began to tremble and she covered her face with her hands. Ran-Del could feel her sense of loss and pain rising. "I miss Pop. He was the only family I had for so long, and I miss him so much!"

Ran-Del folded her in his arms and pulled her close against him.

Francesca clutched at him frantically, and then sighed. "I remember that night out on the plains together. I wanted you so badly, Ran-Del. I could have cried from frustration when you decided to stop."

Ran-Del stroked her body, running his hands from her neck down her torso and then down her thigh. He didn't speak until he had opened her nightgown and slipped it over her shoulders. "Do you want me to stop now?"

"No," Francesca whispered. "No. You know I don't, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del laid his body across hers, and gave himself up to her feelings. Desire mixed with a wild grief, and Ran-Del burned with rage and longing at the same time. They made love fiercely, and then Francesca wept quietly in his arms until she slept.

***

Francesca was staring at the monitor like Ran-Del might stare at a lace palm, waiting for a tree bear to move. Ran-Del wished he understood what all the columns of numbers meant. Clearly Francesca was elated by them, but Ran-Del had no idea why.

"Well, Baroness?" Marina Quinn asked.

Francesca smiled. "You've done very well, Marina. We've got all the pieces now. We know where the money came from, and how he gave it to Alyssa, and we can show Leong-Norwalk that we're doing them a favor."

"I doubt if Baroness Leong will see it that way," Quinn said dryly.

"She might," Francesca said, "if I work it right."

"What are you going to do?" Ran-Del asked, after Quinn had left.

Francesca raised her eyebrows. "Can't you tell without my saying anything?"

"I don't like to do that with you—not at that level," Ran-Del said. "It's one thing to see just what you're thinking at the moment and another to go burrowing around in your mind as if I were on a treasure hunt."

"Would I notice if you did?" Francesca asked.

"I doubt it. Most people aren't that self-aware. I wasn't, before my gift grew."

She lifted her brows. "The thing is, I have to make Hans pay for his crimes in a way that shows the whole city it's not safe to kill a Hayden. At the same time, I have to make sure that Leong-Norwalk accepts my verdict and won't come after me."

It seemed like a difficult task to Ran-Del. "How are you going to do all that?"

Francesca shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

He got to his feet. "Well, I have a session with a student this afternoon."

Her expression didn't change, but he could sense her distaste. Still, she didn't try to dissuade him, but merely glanced over at the row of bookcases against the wall. "Are you going to leave from here? Or do you need to go back to our suite for anything before you go out?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "I don't need anything. I'll try this exit this time. I'd like to see what the passage looks like at this end."

"It isn't just another way to the same passage," Francesca said. "Great-great-granddad was much too paranoid to have two escape passages with the same exit. This one comes out from a vacant house just beyond the walls. Did you have any trouble last time?"

"No. Not at all." The doors had opened for him with satisfying ease. "I figured out where I was once I came outside by the park." Ran-Del came over and embraced her gently. "Thank you for giving me a way out."

She sighed. "Please be careful."

"I will." He pulled her out of her chair and held her close. "I don't want my child to grow up without me," he said, laying a hand across her stomach protectively.

"I don't either," Francesca said, putting her hand over his.

Ran-Del grinned. "It was so quick. I've only been back a few weeks."

"It only takes a few minutes," Francesca said dryly.

Ran-Del laughed and kissed her, and then he stepped over to the last set of shelves. He reached past the figurine of a unicorn on the top shelf to press his hand against the access panel that looked just like the wall round it. The shelf swung away from the wall silently, revealing a steel door.

The door slid open when Ran-Del put his hand on the second access panel. He stepped through it with a cheerful wave over his shoulder to Francesca. She looked glum, but he couldn't help smiling. He finally had work to do that was worth the doing.

***

Two days later, Ran-Del waited in an alley beside Marina Quinn and wondered how a woman could do Marina's job. There were occasionally women warriors among the Sansoussy, but it was rare enough to cause comment.

There was an almost imperceptible beep, and Quinn lifted her wrist to her mouth.

"Yes?" she murmured into the portable com.

Ran-Del couldn't hear the reply clearly, but Quinn nodded. "He's on his way downstairs," she said.

Ran-Del looked at the building to their right, and wondered what had compelled Hans Leong to hire a whore to receive his attentions when the women in Shangri-La seemed so free with their favors.

"Now," Quinn said, "you're sure you'll know if he's got backup handy?"

"I'll know if he knows about it," Ran-Del corrected. "If his mother's having him followed without his knowledge, we're out of luck."

"We're more than out of luck," Quinn said, with the ghost of a laugh. "We're screwed."

Ran-Del smiled but didn't answer.

Quinn studied his face. "That's a really handy talent you've got. Mind telling me why you told me about it? The Baroness didn't want you to; I could see that."

Ran-Del looked at her steadily. "I wanted you to understand that I'd know if you tried to betray us."

Quinn nodded. "I can see that." The com beeped again, and she stepped back into the shadows. Ran-Del stepped back with her, and in a few seconds, Hans Leong came out the back door of the brothel and walked briskly down the steps.

Ran-Del stared at him, concentrating all his energies on reading the man's thoughts.

"He has two guards waiting in a bar around the corner," Ran-Del said. "There's no one else, not that he knows about."

"Let's move, then," Quinn said, pressing a key on her com.

***

Elena Leong sat in Francesca's office and tapped her fingertips on the table next to her. "I fail to see what's so important about your figures for your second harvest," she said as she pushed the monitor away. "Are you telling me that you won't meet my order or not?"

"Not exactly, Elena," Francesca said.

"And why couldn't you come to see me?" Elena demanded. "I'm not accustomed to being ordered to appear. If you're up to something, Francesca, I'll see to it that you pay for it."

"I'm sure you would." Francesca started to say more, but a light flashed on her desk, and she touched a switch immediately. Elena's rugged-looking security guard tensed anxiously, making Eduardo Merced sit up and take notice. Francesca merely smiled at her monitor, nodded and then turned back to her guest.

"Well, Elena," she said, relief making her almost giddy, "I think I'd better fill you in on a few things before we go any further."

"What things?" Elena said.

"Check the monitor again," Francesca said. "You'll find it much more interesting than crop yields."

Elena turned back to the display and frowned to find it completely different. She scanned it rapidly, and then she turned a pale face toward Francesca. "Where did you get this information?"

"It's an interesting thing," Francesca said. "It was impossible to trace where Alyssa D'Persis got her blood money from when I had to start from her end, but once Hans showed his initiative by trying to cheat you on the mine deal, I began to think of him as a likely suspect. When we looked at his end of it, Quinn had no trouble finding out where the money came from."

Elena's face sagged. One eyelid twitched. "What do you want?"

Francesca forced her features into a smile. "Only justice, Elena. Nothing more, nothing less."

The door opened and Marina Quinn came in with a small crowd behind her. Elena's guard drew his weapon, but Quinn paid no attention to him. She stepped to one side to reveal Hans Leong, his arms bound behind him. A small cut marred one cheek, and his clothes were rumpled, but other than that, Hans looked unhurt. Ran-Del and three Hayden security guards walked behind him.

The Sansoussy stepped aside and let Quinn shove Hans into an empty chair.

Elena stood up, her eyes wide with distress. "Hans! Have they hurt you?"

Hans smiled bitterly. "I suppose they have. What are you going to do about it, Mother?"

Elena reeled where she stood. "I had nothing to do with this, Hans." Her hands fluttered helplessly, and then she seemed to come to herself. "Francesca, I demand that you release Hans immediately. If you don't, Leong-Norwalk will call you to account."

Francesca smiled; it was easier this time, because she had a pretty good idea what Elena's reaction to her news would be. "I already sent Peter Norwalk a copy of that report, Elena. He knows quite well that Hans has been stealing from the cartel for over two seasons. I expect you knew, too, but you were hoping to keep it from Peter."

Elena drew herself up to her full height. "I'm the head of Leong-Norwalk."

"For now," Francesca said. "We'll see if you can hold off Peter now that Hans has given him such good ammunition."

Elena's face lost all expression. She looked at Hans and seemed not to see her son at all, but only a liability.

Hans must have realized his danger. "So I was a little greedy, Mother," he said, his tone conciliating. "Why shouldn't I be? We do all the work, and Norwalk takes too big a share."

Elena hesitated, and Francesca decided it was time to play her hidden ace.

"Sit down, Elena," she said, taking a small tube out of her pocket. Elena's guard stepped in front of his employer, but Francesca didn't move toward the other woman. Instead, she walked to where Hans sat with a Hayden guard on either side of him.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Hans," she said, smiling with satisfaction.

Elena pushed her guard aside. "Francesca!" she screamed.

Francesca held up the tube for her to see. "It's nothing lethal, Elena—just a nice, strong dose of nempathenol."

Elena stopped in her tracks and looked at her son.

Hans' face contorted in fear. "No! No, don't let her, Mother! She's lying; she'll kill me!"

"Not yet, Hans," Francesca said, pressing the tube against his neck. "First we want the truth."

Hans tried to come out of the chair, but the guards held him down. The hypo hissed, and then Hans stopped struggling and slumped back, his face artificially calm and composed.

Francesca waited a few seconds and then stepped back and studied Hans. "Now, we can begin. Tell me your full name, Hans."

"Hans Anchiro Leong." Hans' voice was clear but expressionless.

"Did you pay Alyssa D'Persis to kill my father?" Francesca asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" Francesca said. "Why did you want Pop dead?"

"I thought if I got Stefan out of the way in time, you'd marry Freddie instead of the wild man."

"Why did you want me to marry Freddie?"

"Because I could control Freddie. He's drugged out of his mind half the time. I could have made him do what I wanted, once I got my foot in the door."

"And what would you have done once you had your foot in the door?"

"Take over."

"Take over what? Hayden?"

"First," Hans said. "First Hayden and then Leong-Norwalk."

"What about your mother?" Francesca asked. "What happens to her if you take over Leong-Norwalk?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether she tries to fight me. If she does, I'll have to put her out of the way. If not, I'll shut her up in the compound. Let her keep Dad company."

"How would you put her out of the way?" Francesca asked, as politely as if she were asking about the weather.

"Best to do it while she was asleep," Hans said. "Might be able to make it look like Freddie did it, or maybe Dad."

"You mean you'd kill her?" Francesca asked, looking at Elena.

"Yes," Hans said.

Elena turned away, her hand across her mouth, her shoulders shaking with anguish. After a second or two, she straightened up and turned to face Francesca. "You can stop now. I've heard enough."

Francesca handed the other woman the hypospray. "Here," she said, surprised to hear a trace of compassion creep into her voice. "You can keep this. In case you have any doubts later, you can have it analyzed. There's absolutely nothing in it but nempathenol."

"I believe you," Elena said, but she took the tube anyway.

"Do you want to stay, Elena?" Francesca asked.

Elena glanced at Hans sitting upright in the chair, staring straight ahead. She shuddered and looked away. "No." She glanced back at Hans for a long moment, and then bit her lip. "No, if you don't mind, Francesca, I'd rather go now."

Francesca nodded. "Marina?"

Quinn looked at her staff. "Brewster, Geldorf, Nomura, the three of you will escort Baroness Leong to her skimmer and see that she leaves immediately."

The three Hayden guards stepped aside to let the Baroness and her own guard precede them. Elena took one long last look at her eldest son. She didn't speak to him again, but she paused as she walked past. She caressed Hans' undamaged cheek with one hand for a few seconds and then kissed the top of his head. Her shoulders sagged as she started for the door, but she never once looked back.

Quinn waited for the door to close, and then turned to Francesca. "What now, Baroness?"

Francesca went to her desk and took out the beamer she had taken from Nisa. She stood a few meters in front of Hans Leong and pointed it at him.

Hans sat still and didn't move. His eyes stared straight ahead, not blind but merely unresponsive.

Francesca stood with her arm outstretched. Hans had killed Pop and Hiram and many others. He had killed Ran-Del once, and might try again if got a chance. He deserved to die.

But she couldn't do it. She couldn't kill someone. This wasn't business. It wasn't firing someone or ruining a deal, or making money at someone else's expense.

It was killing. Taking human life. And she couldn't do it.

***

Ran-Del could tell from Quinn and Merced's expressions they expected Francesca to fire. Quinn had her arms crossed over her chest, and Merced stood next to her with his own weapon already drawn.

Francesca wouldn't do it. Ran-Del could read her indecision, her anguish. She wanted Hans dead, but she didn't want to have to kill him.

Just as Francesca dropped her arm with a sob, Ran-Del stepped behind Hans Leong and jerked his head back by his hair. Three startled faces stared at him as he drew his knife and sliced Hans' throat in a quick motion that completely severed the major arteries in an instant.

Blood spurted everywhere, and Ran-Del swiftly pushed the body to the floor so that none of it reached Francesca.

His wife stood with a stricken look in her eyes. "You killed him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ran-Del nodded. Unconsciously, his left hand touched the red bead on his caste bracelet. "That's why your father brought me here, Francesca. He knew that one day you'd need a warrior."

### Chapter Twenty-four

The next morning, Ran-Del woke early to find Francesca sleeping soundlessly beside him. She was so still, he wondered if the medicine the doctor had given her would allow her to wake.

He rose and showered, moving quietly so as not to disturb her. Once he was dressed, he took a seat by the bed and watched Francesca sleep. Finally, she stirred, her forehead wrinkling in a scowl as if she were having a bad dream. Even in her sleep, Ran-Del could sense her distress.

"Francesca?" he said.

She sat up abruptly and glanced wildly around the room as if she weren't sure where she was. Her gaze came back to him. "Did you kill Hans, or did I dream it?"

"I killed him," Ran-Del said. "He needed killing, and I didn't think you really wanted to do it."

She shuddered. "I thought I wanted to. But it was different when he was sitting there, bound and helpless."

Ran-Del nodded. "I knew it'd be difficult for you. It's always easier to kill when your blood is hot."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and emanating distress. "Have you ever done that before, Ran-Del?"

He shook his head. "Not like that, no. I killed men in fights before, but I never had to execute anyone."

She looked at the scar on his arm and then she looked into his eyes. "We're so very different. I always knew it, but somehow, it only made you exciting, before."

Ran-Del stared back at her. "And what does it make me, now, Francesca?"

Her eyes sparkled with tears, although none had fallen yet. "It frightens me. How could you kill Hans like that, without a moment's hesitation?"

Ran-Del leaned forward and laid a hand on her stomach. "He was a threat—a threat to you, and to me, and to our children. It was a good time to kill him. He wouldn't feel it so much because he was drugged, and no one else would be put at risk by the manner of his death. It may have shocked you and made a mess on the carpet, but that kind of death should be shocking and messy. Otherwise, we'd grow too used to it."

Francesca drew in a long, deep breath and put her arms around him. Ran-Del could feel the rush of her thoughts and fears as she touched him, momentarily overwhelming even the control his grandfather had taught him.

He held her tightly and stroked her arm. "It's all right, sweetheart. I'm not a savage who takes pleasure in killing. I just didn't want to make anyone else do my work for me."

She clutched him tightly back, and they sat for a long time before Francesca finally pulled away.

"Thank you, Ran-Del. Thank you for giving me justice."

***

Four days later, Ran-Del buzzed the security office and told them he was leaving the complex. When he arrived at the front gate, he found Eduardo Merced and Fiona Geldorf waiting. Geldorf seemed a little subdued, but Merced was his usual self.

"Hello, Ran-Del," he said cheerfully, noting Buster's absence. "You headed for Benjie's?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "Why so eager? Have you got your eye on Thelma?"

"Maybe," Merced said. "Fiona here won't give me the time of day, so I thought maybe Thelma might like to go out sometime."

"I don't like to date people I work with," Geldorf interjected, with some of her usual spirit. "It's nothing personal."

"I know it's not," Merced said, unperturbed. "But I'd like to get personal now and again."

Ran-Del smiled as they argued back and forth on the wisdom of relationships at work. He traveled at a slow, easy jog, not wanting to push himself. In some ways, he wasn't in a hurry to get to Benjie's. He wasn't at all sure what his reception would be.

It was late in the afternoon when they came over the bridge. Ran-Del had timed his visit carefully, so that his friends would have finished their shift and be through with work for the day. The three of them came in the door as they always did, Ran-Del first and the other two right behind him. An instantaneous silence fell over the room. Everyone swiveled in their seats to look at Ran-Del.

Janis looked up from her place behind the bar. "Hello, Ran-Del," she said, with studied casualness. "Tea?"

Ran-Del nodded. "Yes, thanks." He glanced over at the Rangoon table. It was occupied as usual. Even Clara was there.

Georges Rangoon pulled an empty chair from a nearby table. "Have a seat, Ran-Del."

Ran-Del came over to the table and put his hand on the back of the chair. "Does anyone mind if I sit here?"

There was an exchange of glances.

"No," Jena said firmly. "Of course not, Ran-Del. Sit down."

Ran-Del sat, and the security staff pulled up chairs and took their usual places on either side of him.

"Hello, Eduardo," Clara said. "Who's your friend?"

Merced introduced Geldorf to Clara.

"Pleased to meet you," Geldorf said. "I didn't know Georges was married."

Clara chortled and nudged her husband. "I hope you haven't been deceiving young women again, Georges."

Georges smiled broadly. "As if I would dare, Clara. You'd kill me if I so much as tried."

An awkward silence blossomed.

"So, Ran-Del," Thelma said, taking the direct approach as always, "is it true you were the one who exterminated that Leong guy?"

Ran-Del leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Hans Leong had killed Francesca's father. He would have succeeded in killing me if you all hadn't gotten medical help for me."

Guillermo leaned forward eagerly. "How'd you do it, Ran-Del?"

"I slit his throat," Ran-Del said, surprised by the question. "I thought everyone knew the details. Quinn told me she followed custom and put the body on display as a warning."

Georges shook his head. "The Leongs came and got it after only an hour or so. No one here really got a look at it, and there were a lot of rumors flying around afterwards. We all figured it was you because the one fact we knew was that he was killed with a knife."

Ran-Del glanced around the table at all their faces. He saw everything from morbid curiosity to anxious dread. "What do you want to know?"

"Is it true you carved your name on his chest?" Brandon asked.

"No," Ran-Del said indignantly. "I killed him with one stroke, from behind. I didn't want him to see me, and feel any fear, so I did it very quickly."

"I'll say," Merced said. "We never even knew it was happening until it was over."

"You were there?" Thelma asked, her voice squeaky with nervous excitement.

Merced nodded. "Surprised the hell out of me. Made quite a mess, too. We had to throw out the carpet."

"So that was it?" Georges asked. "One quick stroke from behind and it was over?"

Ran-Del nodded agreement. "That was all there was to it. He had confessed. There was no point in dragging things out any longer."

Georges' eyes flicked from Geldorf to Merced. "But you still have your watchdogs, Ran-Del, in spite of having taken care of the person who hired those two assassins?"

Ran-Del gave a half-hearted shrug. "Francesca worries. I don't want her to worry, especially not now."

Clara smiled. "Is that a subtle Sansoussy way of telling us she's pregnant?"

Ran-Del was surprised by the rush of pride he felt in answering. "Yes. It should happen next season. He'll be an autumn-born."

There was an easing of tension around the table at this news.

"Congratulations, Ran-Del!" Jena said enthusiastically.

Everyone else added their good wishes; Brandon seemed particularly heartened by the news. Janis put a cup of tea in front of Ran-Del but said nothing.

"Ho, wild man," Georges said. "You need more than tea. We should celebrate! Bring Ran-Del a beer, Janis."

The bar owner looked to Ran-Del. "Would you like a beer, Ran-Del?"

Ran-Del glanced around the table at the only friends he had in Shangri-La. "Yes, thank you."

Georges insisted on buying a round for everyone, so that they could toast Ran-Del's good news. There were several toasts by the time they had finished the round, and then Georges ordered another. Ran-Del drank with the others, not noticing any particular effect until he stood up to leave and the room lights seemed to swirl as he turned his head.

"You okay, Ran-Del?" Georges asked.

"I'm fine," Ran-Del said, feeling very happy. "Don't worry, Georges. I have my watchdogs to see me home."

Geldorf took his arm before Ran-Del could run into Francis, who was clearing the next table. "We'll get him home all right," she said.

Ran-Del looked around for Janis to say goodbye to her, but she was nowhere in sight. Merced took his other arm and the two of them gently led him outside. It was beginning to get dark, and long shadows reached across the water.

"You're not used to beer, are you, Ran-Del?" Geldorf asked.

"No," Ran-Del said, pulling away from them carefully. "But don't worry about me. I feel fine. I feel wonderful, in fact."

"Ran-Del!" a voice called.

Geldorf and Merced were instantly alert, but Ran-Del knew who it was before she stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello, Janis," he said, feeling strangely triumphant. "I wondered where you'd gone."

"Could you come upstairs for just a moment, Ran-Del?" Janis said. "I'd like to talk to you."

Ran-Del took a step toward her. She was standing at the foot of the stairs that led up to her apartment. "Wait here," he said to the two security staff.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ran-Del," Geldorf said, catching at his arm.

Ran-Del could feel her apprehension but suffered none of it himself. He felt too good to worry about appearances. He twisted out of her grip. "Just wait here."

Geldorf looked at Merced, who shrugged helplessly. The two of them took positions on the bottom step as Ran-Del walked up the stairs behind Janis.

She opened the door to let him in, and then shut it and locked it behind him.

"What did you want to talk about, Janis?" Ran-Del asked. He thought he knew, and as she came closer he was sure of it.

"This," Janis said, and she put her arms around him, pulled his head down, and kissed him on the mouth.

Ran-Del's head swam from a combination of beer and the ardent desire that Janis projected. He started to tell her he had to leave, but her hands moved over his body and somehow his will slipped away from him.

Janis knew it; he could feel her mind merging with his own, her thoughts and feelings flowing over him. He knew just how much she had wanted this moment, how often she had thought about it, planned for it, waited for him to come to her. The force of her need was so strong, it made Ran-Del gasp. A moment later her hands pulled his shirt open.

Ran-Del swayed, and Janis dragged him over to the sofa. She half fell and half lay down, pulling him down with her so that he lay almost on top of her. Ran-Del bent his head and kissed her neck, and then pulled open her blouse to kiss the top of one breast. Janis pulled her blouse open wider, and Ran-Del kissed her other breast, and then tugged her blouse open the rest of the way.

Janis slid his shirt over his shoulders and pulled it off completely. Her urgency and the sight of her body as she slipped off her blouse and trousers made Ran-Del breathless with anticipation.

Janis pulled him down on top of her again, and the heat of her desire rose up, engulfing him as he caressed her. Every movement of her body made him aware of his own needs.

Janis gave a small moan of pleasure and suddenly Ran-Del was reminded of Francesca.

The thought of his wife made Ran-Del instantly aware of what he was doing. No! No, he shouldn't be here! He sat up abruptly and fought to clear his head.

Janis looked up at him and frowned. "What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

Ran-Del recited the mantra for the First Discipline in his mind and struggled against the effects of the alcohol and her passion.

"What are you doing?" Janis cried. "Ran-Del, stop it! You'll ruin it! Please, Ran-Del!"

Ran-Del felt himself regaining control, felt the mild, calming influence of initial samad state sweep over him. He sat up straighter, refusing to look at Janis lying nearly naked next to him, and let his body relax and slow itself.

Janis sat up next to him. She picked up her clothes and glared at Ran-Del. "Why did you come up here with me if all you were going to do is meditate?"

Ran-Del let out a deep breath and stood up. "I'm sorry."' He pulled on his shirt. "I shouldn't have come."

She bit her lip and looked away.

Ran-Del fastened his shirt and went to the door. He felt rather as he had that day that Georges had pulled him from the Jordan. "You should find someone, Janis. If you don't want Brandon, then find someone else. Go into the forest if you want to meet a Sansoussy. I'm married. I have a wife, and soon I'll have a child. I can't be yours, and that's all there is to it."

Instead of answering verbally, Janis sent an angry mental blast at him. Ran-Del let himself out and walked down the stairs.

Merced and Geldorf both looked up as they heard his footsteps.

"Well," Merced said with a grin, "either you work incredibly fast, or you got out of there just in time."

"Shut up, Eduardo," Geldorf said. "Do you want a skimmer, Ran-Del? You look a little wobbly, and we can have one here in ten minutes?"

"No," Ran-Del said. "Thank you, Fiona, but I think I need the exercise."

"Whatever you say, Ran-Del," she answered. "Tuck your shirt in, and we'll get started."

By the time they reached the Hayden complex, Ran-Del was feeling more like himself. He had a late dinner with Francesca without her noticing anything different in his manner. Ran-Del decided that it would be best to say nothing about his excursion to Benjie's. He hoped that Geldorf and Merced would decide to do the same.

***

Francesca had wondered what Elena Leong would do, once she got over the shock of hearing her eldest son calmly describe how he had planned her demise. She found out five days after Ran-Del killed Hans Leong when the security booth buzzed her to tell a Leong skimmer was asking for admittance.

"Is it Baroness Leong?" Francesca asked, surprised.

"No, ma'am," Merced said. "It's the other son—er, it's Freddie Leong."

"All right," Francesca said. "Send him up to my office—no, wait, make that the front parlor."

"Yes, Baroness," Merced said. "Uh, the only thing is, he has two security staff with him, and he says they have to come with him."

Francesca frowned and then realized that Elena would hardly take chances with her only remaining offspring. "That's all right. Let him keep them."

Francesca rode the lift down to the first floor and walked quickly to the small front parlor, usually reserved for social visits. She didn't want to risk Freddie noticing the new carpet in her office.

When Freddie came in the door, it struck Francesca that he looked different in some way. She had a sudden qualm and wondered if she should have called Quinn to ask for security. And then Freddie smiled at her, and Francesca knew it would be all right.

"Hello, Francesca darling," Freddie said, kissing her cheek as usual. "How tactful of you to see me here instead of in your office."

Francesca studied him, trying to figure out what made him look so different. There was both an energy and a weariness to him that hadn't been there before.

"I'm surprised to see you," Francesca said. "The funeral was only yesterday."

"I know. It was an ordeal, believe me. We appreciate your forbearance in not coming, by the way. I'm to tell you that."

"Do you mean your mother sent you?" Francesca asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes," Freddie said bitterly. "I don't take a step these days, unless Mom orders it."

"Why not? She never tried to control you before."

Freddie smiled but there was no warmth in his blue eyes. "She had Hans before. I was merely window dressing and could do as I pleased. Now I'm the hope of my House, and my mother has me very firmly in hand." He jerked his head at the two security guards standing discretely at the back of the room. "You don't think my keepers are there to protect me, do you? My mother knows better than to suspect you of a revenge killing. No, my two little friends are here to stop me from anesthetizing myself in any way."

Francesca frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

Freddie held out his right wrist and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a device not unlike the cardiometric resuscitator that Pop had once forced onto Ran-Del. "I mean she's dried me out, my sweet. For the first time in five seasons, I'm stone cold sober. If I so much as take a sniff of anything interesting, or even a sip of wine, this thing sets off alarms, and my little buddies drag me home and stuff me into a basement room to endure the tortures of the damned."

Francesca studied him again, noting the slight tremor of his hands and the faint circles under his eyes. "Oh, poor Freddie! Do you mean she made you give it all up cold?"

He nodded. "It doesn't get much colder. I was home when she got back from your place, all gray-faced and tottering from the horror of the situation. After she informed me that my sibling was not only a first class bastard but a multiple murderer, I adjourned to my room, to put myself in a more accepting frame of mind.

"About an hour later, she burst in with a couple of her tame goons, and they literally dragged me to the infirmary. She had the doctor go over me with some impressive medical hardware, and he told her that I was properly pickled. When she asked the quickest way to un-pickle me, he said just to cut me off. He warned her that it would be painful, but she didn't seem concerned. Since that moment, I have never been alone."

Francesca put a hand on his shoulder. "Poor Freddie! I'm sorry you're suffering, but I'm happy that someone's finally making you stop killing yourself. Is it very bad?"

Freddie took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, and then turned it over and kissed her palm. "It's terrible. But the worst thing is, she's doing this to me now, when I haven't a hope of getting you back."

Francesca smiled, but shook her head. "You don't want me back, Freddie. You're the one who ended it, remember?"

His eyes burned into hers in a way that she hadn't seen in a long time. "Oh, yes. I remember. I remember I told you it was over because I couldn't stand the thought of all our ugliness touching you. That's when I started using, when I realized anyone I liked would run from me in horror once she met my family."

Francesca dropped her gaze to her hands. "I'm sorry, Freddie."

Freddie touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand. "I know," he said softly. "I know, my sweet. My God, what I wouldn't give for one more chance with you."

"Once you're truly well, some woman will see through all that hardened cynicism to the kind, tender man underneath."

Freddie sighed. "Maybe. But she won't be you, Francesca." And then, heedless of the two men behind him, Freddie leaned over, pushed her against the back of the sofa, and kissed her passionately.

Francesca wasn't expecting it. For one second, she thought about fighting him off, but she didn't feel in the least threatened, and the kiss awoke in her tender memories of the time when she had loved Freddie Leong as much as she loved anyone in the world. She didn't resist, and in the end, she kissed him back.

Freddie finally let her up. His blue eyes were very sad, but he had a faint smile on his lips. "Thank you for that, my sweet. I don't suppose it's safe to ask for anything more?"

Francesca realized he was referring to Ran-Del's reputation for jealous rages. "No. It wouldn't be a good idea at all."

"Just as well. I was never good at settling for second place."

Francesca raised her eyebrows. "Did you come here to ask for second place, Freddie?"

"No. I didn't come here to ask for anything at all. My mother sent me merely to report that we shall expect the next shipment on time—no delays."

Francesca was even more surprised. "I see. Business as usual?"

"Precisely. The Leong-Norwalk cartel won't be delayed merely by an execution in the family. Business comes first, as always."

Francesca nodded. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I wouldn't expect anything less of Elena."

"Neither would I." Freddie stood up abruptly. "You will be sure to thank your husband for me, won't you, my sweet?"

"Thank him for what?" Francesca asked, astonished.

"For saving me from committing fratricide," Freddie said sardonically. "Either that, or Hans would have killed me. It would have been one or the other, eventually."

He kissed her hand again, and moved to the door, but his two guards blocked the way.

"Sorry, sir," the shorter one said. "You know the rules."

Freddie sighed and held out his arms. The shorter man frisked him, briskly but efficiently, while the taller one ran a small, portable scanning device over Freddie's body.

"All clean," the taller man said. His companion nodded, and the two of them stepped out of the way to allow Freddie to pass.

"You see?" Freddie said to Francesca. "My life has become a living hell."

Francesca shook her head. "No. It's better now. It was hell before, but you didn't know it."

Freddie smiled his twisted smile. "I'd settle for not knowing, right about now."

"Goodbye, Freddie," Francesca said.

"Goodbye, my sweet," Freddie said. As they walked down the corridor, he turned to the shorter of his two keepers. "I'll give you each a hundred credits if you'll get me one bottle of good booze."

"Sorry, sir." Francesca thought she detected a trace of sympathy in the man's tone. "But we've already been warned what'll happen to us if you succeed in getting lit."

Freddie sighed. "Sobriety is not all it's cracked up to be, my friend."

***

Francesca told Ran-Del about Freddie's visit that night at dinner. She didn't tell him that Freddie had kissed her, but she wasn't surprised when Ran-Del's gaze narrowed as she spoke.

"And?" he said.

She sighed. No matter how useful his talent was, it had its down side. "And then he kissed me." She paused, but Ran-Del still looked expectant. "So—so finally, I kissed him back."

Ran-Del's mouth tightened into a straight line. "Are you quite certain you don't still love him? Why else would you kiss him?"

"It's not that I love him. It's was just that he's so—so bruised, right now. The poor man is suffering. I didn't have the heart to push him away."

Much as Francesca's story annoyed Ran-Del, he admitted to himself that he was resentful mostly because he felt too guilty about what he had almost done with Janis to chastise Francesca about a mere kiss. He tried to unclench his jaw and said nothing more about it, aware that Francesca was pleased he was being so reasonable.

That night, Ran-Del lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Francesca's deep, even breathing, and tried to determine what was bothering him so much.

Eventually, he realized that it was shame. When he had gone up the stairs with Janis, he had known quite well what was in her mind, and he had gone anyway. Ran-Del knew now that neither Geldorf nor Merced had any plans to mention the incident to anyone else, and thus, Francesca was unlikely to find out about it. Nevertheless, Ran-Del knew himself, and this was enough to make him feel guilt. He dismissed the idea that it was the beer that had led him astray. The Sansoussy didn't drink alcohol because it fogged the mind, but they knew better than to allow drunkenness as an excuse for misbehavior. It was only luck that he had thought about Francesca in time to stop himself from committing the crime of adultery.

The more he thought about his actions, the more disturbed Ran-Del became. He considered what would have happened if he had done such a thing while he lived with his own people, what his grandparents would have said. The image of his grandfather sternly questioning him about his time on the plains with Francesca came to mind, and all at once, he knew what he had to do. Finally, having resolved his dilemma, Ran-Del was able to sleep.

In the morning, he waited until Francesca had gone to work, and then he investigated the fireplace in the bedroom. Francesca had turned it on a few times, because she thought it made a romantic setting for making love. Ran-Del considered that as nonsensical as turning on the recycler or the dishwasher.

Unlike the fireplace at Benjie's, Francesca's fireplace didn't burn real wood. Carefully sculpted imitation logs never changed and were never consumed. Luckily, the flames and the heat were real enough, but Ran-Del saw no implements for tending a fire, not even a poker.

Ran-Del opened the door hidden in the carved wooden moldings and followed the passage to the second hidden door that led to the bolt hole near the park. Once he was out in the city, he walked to the commercial district and kept walking until he found a shop that sold hardware. After he found what he needed among the building supplies, he made his purchase and headed back the way he had come.

When he got back to the bedroom, Ran-Del turned on the fireplace. He took the steel rod he had bought and placed it carefully in the center of the artificial fire, directly over the flames, and then he hunted for something to protect his hands from the hot steel. He had just knelt in front of the hearth when he sensed Francesca's presence coming nearer.

Ran-Del jumped up and turned off the fireplace. Francesca came in before he could move away from the controls.

"Oh, hello, Ran-Del," she said. "I didn't think you were here. I called and there was no answer."

Ran-Del glanced at the com set and realized he had ignored the message light. He never set the com to give him a verbal reminder because he hated having a machine talk to him. "I went out for a walk, but I came back," Ran-Del said with partial honesty.

"Is it me or is it warm in here?" Francesca asked. She walked closer to him and then she stopped and looked at the fireplace. "Have you had the fire on?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "Whatever for?"

Ran-Del didn't answer. Francesca stared at the fireplace again. "What's that?" She pointed at the steel rod lying across the still hot artificial logs.

"Francesca," Ran-Del said, "I need some privacy. Could you go into the other room for a few minutes, please?"

Francesca moved closer still and studied the rod and the leather gloves on the hearth. She stopped abruptly and glared at him. "You're going to burn yourself, aren't you?"

"Please, Francesca, I need to be alone for a while."

"I will not leave and let you torture yourself," Francesca said angrily.

Ran-Del sighed and turned the fireplace back on. He walked back to the hearth and knelt down beside the fire. Just as he did, the flames flickered and went out.

Ran-Del looked up and saw Francesca with her hand still on the control.

"Francesca!" he said rising to his feet, incensed. "This is my business. Will you please go away and leave me alone to do what I have to do?"

"Why? Why do you have to burn yourself? Have you done something wrong?"

"Yes," Ran-Del said. "Now, go away."

"What was it?" Francesca shuddered suddenly. "This isn't because you killed Hans for me, is it?"

Ran-Del hesitated, but he couldn't let her think that he was punishing himself for that. "No. It's nothing to do with that."

"Then why? What could you have done that would be so bad—" Francesca stopped abruptly and stared at him suspiciously. "Did you sleep with Janis Uurtemo?"

"No."

Francesca continued her scrutiny. "Are you telling me the truth, Ran-Del?"

"Yes." And then the strain of keeping his crime a secret became too much. "We didn't make love, but I went upstairs to her apartment with her."

"I see." Francesca moved closer to him. He could feel pain and anger warring in her. "What happened, Ran-Del?"

Having admitted the truth, there seemed no point in hiding the details. "She kissed me. I kissed her back, and then we—we started to undress. After a little bit, I knew it was wrong, so we stopped."

"'After a little bit'?" Francesca repeated. "How far did it go in that little bit?"

Ran-Del shrugged. "She had most of her clothes off. I had my shirt off. We were—touching."

Anger won out. Ran-Del could feel Francesca's ire becoming hotter and hotter and billowing out from her like a storm cloud. "Touching? Touching? I see why you were so understanding about Freddie Leong kissing me. What's one little kiss—in front of two security guards—compared to naked touching all alone in Janis Uurtemo's apartment?"

"I wasn't naked," Ran-Del said.

"But she was?"

"Not quite." Ran-Del could still remember the way Janis' body looked, lying on her sofa.

"So what stopped you?" Francesca said. "There you were, half naked and alone with this red-haired nymph. What made you stop what you were doing, Ran-Del? Did she get an attack of conscience?"

"No, I did. I thought about you, and I knew I shouldn't be there. I made myself stop."

Francesca flinched, as if his words were painful, and indeed he felt pain radiating from her. "I see. It was your Sansoussy upbringing?"

"Partly. And partly I didn't want to hurt you."

She looked away, and then she glanced down at the fireplace. "If you stopped, why do you have to abuse yourself like this? You didn't actually commit adultery, did you?"

"No. But I know right from wrong. I did wrong, Francesca, and I have to inflict punishment on myself."

She pursed her lips. "If you wronged anyone, you wronged me, and I don't see any need for corporal punishment."

"It's not up to you," Ran-Del said, as gently as he could.

She stepped close and touched his arm tentatively. Her anger had abated. "Not even if I forgive you?"

Ran-Del put his arms around her. He could feel her fear for him, much as he had felt it the time he had caught her with Preston Sandoval. "I hope you do forgive me, but it won't make a difference about what I have to do now."

She put her other hand on his chest as if to hold him at bay. "I'll have the fireplace turned off permanently."

"Francesca," Ran-Del said, "we've talked about this before. You can't control me. I can't live like that, with someone else making my decisions for me. I'm an adult, and a Sansoussy, and I have to have the freedom to live the way I was raised."

She glanced down at the steel rod and shuddered. "Even if it means torturing yourself for no good reason?"

Ran-Del shook his head. "It's up to me to say what reasons are good ones for what I do. It has to be up to me."

Francesca turned her head and laid it on his chest, clutching his shoulders convulsively. Ran-Del held her tightly for a moment, and then he released her and gently pushed her away. He switched the flames back on, and then knelt in front of the hearth.

Francesca stood for a few seconds and then she started for the door. She stopped and spoke without looking back. "I'll be in the sitting room if you need me."

"Thank you."

Ran-Del waited on his knees for a long time while the rod heated. He watched the flames, and he thought over what he had done and why it was wrong. He recalled walking up the steps to Janis' apartment, knowing what she planned, and it came to him that he had been very lucky. If he had stayed, he would eventually have had to tell Janis that the affair had meant nothing to him. And if he had lost Francesca, he would have hurt himself as well as her.

Finally, Ran-Del removed his shirt, and then he pulled on one of the gloves. Wrapping the other glove around the end of the rod for extra insulation, he lifted it from the fire. The steel glowed white hot.

Quickly, before the rod could cool, Ran-Del held it straight across his chest and pressed it firmly against his flesh. The pain, exquisite and overpowering, made Ran-Del jerk reflexively as it washed over him, cleansing him of his transgression. Ran-Del counted slowly and silently, forcing himself to feel every moment of suffering. After five seconds he pulled the rod away and dropped it on the hearth.

Ran-Del took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was over. He picked up his shirt, got to his feet, and switched off the fire, smiling to himself as he thought about what his grandmother would say if she could see Francesca's fireplace.

His wife was waiting for him when he came into the sitting room. She looked up from where she sat on the sofa, and her eyes darted to the burn on his chest in consternation. "Oh, Ran-Del! How could you do it?"

"It wasn't that bad."

She had a medical kit on the table beside her, and she picked it up. "Let me put something on it."

"In a few minutes." Ran-Del sat down beside her.

"Why not now? Why take a chance on letting it get infected?"

"Because I need the pain. Your medicine has a pain killer in it. I need to feel the pain for just a little longer."

"How can you need pain?"

"It helps, sometimes," Ran-Del said leaning against the back of the sofa so that he was half reclining. "When I feel this pain, I remember that I almost hurt you very badly."

Francesca leaned back with him, and Ran-Del slipped his arm around her.

"I don't want you to suffer anymore," she said, staring at the burn. The charred flesh puckered at the edges of the wound; he had burned himself right on top of the scars from the laser pistol attack. "How could you do it?"

Ran-Del smiled. "I'm a Sansoussy. We have our own ways of learning."

"Learning? What could you possibly learn from doing that?"

He pulled her close against his side and kissed her forehead. "Pain can be a teacher; so can reflection. While I was kneeling, watching the fire burn, I had time to think over many things."

She looked apprehensive, and he could feel her worry. "What things?"

"The most important thing was that, finally, I came to know myself—to know my feelings." He looked into her eyes and saw fear. "I came here because my Great-grandfather ordered it, Francesca. But if I were released from that order tomorrow, I wouldn't go back to the forest. Great-grandfather was right that my destiny is here. I want to be where you are, to live in your city, and raise our children together."

Francesca watched his face intently, as if she could tell if he spoke the truth if only she watched him closely enough. "Are you certain, Ran-Del?"

He nodded. "Quite certain, sweetheart," he said, and he bent his head and kissed her gently. "I love you."

Francesca sighed. Ran-Del could feel relief and happiness flow from her, where rage and jealousy had been not so many minutes ago.

"I'm glad," she said simply. "And I'm glad that it was you who went hunting alone in the forest, that day when my father went looking for a Sansoussy to marry me."

Ran-Del smiled and his eyes went to her waistline. "I'm sorry he didn't live to see you happy with me. And I'm sorry he won't see his grandchild." It was true. He hadn't thought he could ever regret Baron Hayden's death, but he did.

She sighed again, with sadness this time. "I'm sorry, too, Ran-Del." Then she chuckled, and Ran-Del was curious.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was thinking—Nisa's baby will be my brother—our son's uncle."

Ran-Del smiled. "That's nothing. Bettine's baby will be his great-aunt."

This made Francesca laugh. "Well, why not? It's the same thing, really, except here in the city we accomplish it with technology. The Sansoussy just use an old man and a young woman, the oldest trick in the book."

Ran-Del pulled her as close as he could without adding to his discomfort.

Without asking him for permission, Francesca opened the medkit and took out a tube of antiseptic. She broke the seal and then sprayed it over the burn.

Instantly, Ran-Del felt the pain recede. "Thank you, sweetheart."

After Francesca put the tube back in the kit, he took advantage of the lack of pain to reach out and pull her tightly against him, and then he nuzzled her neck gently.

Francesca stared down at his chest. "Ran-Del, are you going to want to do _that_ to our children?"

The question shocked him. "Children are never burned. If they misbehave, they might be switched, but never anything worse. You're only allowed to inflict punishment on yourself after you're of age."

Francesca looked solemn. "We're so different. We'll have to work hard at getting along."

"That's true in many marriages. Now that we love each other, it'll be easier."

Francesca stroked Ran-Del's bare chest, carefully avoiding the area with the burn. His eyes met hers.

Just as Ran-Del leaned down to kiss her, the com set beeped in a loud insistent tone that said Francesca's assistant needed her right away.

Ran-Del grinned as he watched her stalk to the com set, cursing the whole time. As soon as she finished the conversation, he came up behind her and embraced her tightly, amazed at the thoroughness of the anesthetic spray.

"I have to go," Francesca said. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You married a Sansoussy, and I married a Hayden. We both have burdens we must bear."

She turned in his arms and embraced him. "True, but there's always tonight."

Ran-Del hugged her back. "There's always tonight."

After Francesca had gone, he lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had spoken with truth and with certainty. He loved her, and he wanted to stay with her. Life in the city would be better because of that.

And now that he had mastered the Sixth Discipline, life in Shangri-La should be safer. If the old shaman's vision was true, it was here that Ran-Del would find his destiny. The question remained: what was it that his great-grandfather expected that a man of power could do in this city?

Or was it a matter of what the city would do _to_ him?

### Acknowledgments

Like a lot of writers, I depend on a critique group for feedback. Mine is called the Writer's Group From Hell, but it's actually a wonderful group of people, and I would like to thank all members, past and present, for their help with this book.

I would also like to thank my copyeditor Risa Stewart for her painstaking efforts at polishing both this manuscript, and the one for the sequel _No Safe Haven_. And finally, my thanks to graphic designer Monica Jorgensen, for doing such a great job on the covers.

And of course, I have to thank my husband and my kids, for eating all that bottled spaghetti sauce.

Carmen Webster Buxton
