The Rule of Law

13

The Rule of Law

    Rh’aiiy’hn of Old Rthfrdia woke slowly, blinking in the sunlight that was streaming through his narrow, barred window, and knew he was himself again. Very weak, but all there. Last night’s sleep seemed to have cleared the mists from his brain.

    He lay quietly in the sun for some time, letting thoughts form and dissolve. It was very early in the morning: the days were getting longer. He must have been here for... many weeks, at all events. His brother was not here: good. Rh’aiiy’hn sighed. If only things had been different, they might have— Oh, well. There were several minds present, however: some awake but most asleep. Drouwh’s dog must have gone with him, thank the bears. A little, bright, enquiring mind was watching his. A cat? Prince Rh’aiiy’hn smiled slowly. A little cat was watching and listening. He examined its mind carefully but it bore him no malice: indeed, was incapable of such, he found. He sighed a little. Lucky little cat...

    Yes, The Old Woman was there somewhere, too, if only very faintly, but Rh’aiiy’hn knew without having to think about it that, though she was certainly capable of malice, she bore him none. She would watch and wait and probably never act directly to interfere in the lives of the people: that had never been The Old Woman’s way. The Regent of Old Rthfrdia, who wore the colours of all clans and owed allegiance to none, wondered once again where The Old Women had come from and if their existence had a purpose—and whether, supposing it did, this purpose might have a meaning that his people could understand. Had he had to choose an answer to this last question he would have said that on the whole he didn’t think so: if purpose could exist in a Known Universe that to his wide-ranging mind was as unknowable as it was to the tiny minds of the smah-birds, then he inclined to the theory that that of The Old Women was connected to something bigger and of a far different scope than the destinies of a few million humanoids on a small planet near the rim of the two galaxies. But he would rather not have had to choose an answer: his feeling was far more nebulous than this. Rh’aiiy’hn smiled a little and listened to the smah-birds in the forest, and sensed the nyr, further in the leafy depths, and felt at peace. Later he should make decisions, take charge of his life, but just for now...

    He must have slept again: the sun was higher in the sky, there was activity in the house, and the minds of its occupants jostled and chattered. He glanced at them and dismissed them. The one mind that he was looking for wasn’t there. Then he thought to check the little cat again. There was an instant’s shining awareness and then a far more powerful signal overrode the little cat’s. Rh’aiiy’hn of course did not translate the message into words, he had had no need to do that for over thirty years, now: but what the mind was sending was a very simple message that could have been summed up as a partly-annoyed, partly-amused Very clever!

    I thought it would be aware of you, if any of them were, he responded. He was aware of a wincing reaction, and apologised for his loudness. He received an instant’s slightly scornful amusement. Then he realised the mind had closed itself off from him. For a moment he was shaken by a black anger.

    I can still hear you, it sent.

    Bears’ claws! cried Rh’aiiy’hn. What good is that to me?

    For a moment he thought it had withdrawn entirely and regretted his rashness; then a cool reply came, pointing out that that was scarcely the point.

    What do you want? asked Rh’aiiy’hn bitterly. What are you here for?

    There was a long moment of nothingness, and Rh’aiiy’hn of Old Rthfrdia, who had thought he’d known what loneliness was after those interminable years as Regent, when to make a friend was to risk making a thousand enemies, to trust another being was to risk his own and the boy’s necks and the throne of Old Rthfrdia itself, knew that until this instant he had known nothing of what it was to be truly alone.

    Then the mind sent with a sort of cool amusement: Command is always lonely.

    He was filled with such a shattering relief that he could barely respond at all. Yes, he managed at last. Who are you? How do you know that?

    He felt hesitation but was very sure that he was being allowed to feel it. Then the mind sent simply: The food’s all right now. Eat a lot, you'll need your strength. Drouwh Mk-L’ster’s away. I’m not going away, but you won’t be able to reach me. Don’t try, there are minds here who can pick you up.—Rh’aiiy’hn bit his lip.—There came an afterthought: Don’t contact the little cat, the boy reads it.

    Then he was achingly alone again.

    “He’s stopped,” reported T’m over breakfast, his head tilted to one side.

    “Where’s A’ailh’sa?” asked Jhl hurriedly.

    K’t-Ln’s leg was improving and one of the clansmen brought her downstairs every morning, now. She ceased spooning up yi’ish to report, with a face: “Her Ladyship has the migraine and is confined to her pit. –Menstruating,” she translated kindly.

    Jhl had much ado not to laugh. “I see.”

    “She’s just feeling a bit sorry for herself,” said M’ri on a weak note. “I’ll take her up some khyai’llh tea in a bit.”

    “He’s not dead, is he?” pursued T’m relentlessly.

    “No, I can feel him: he’s sort of resting,” pronounced K’t-Ln.

    “Oh.” He concentrated. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, Roz, do you know who he is?” he asked on a cautious note, one eye on K’t-Ln.

    She shrugged, and examined her nails. “It’s none of my business. –Oh, dear, my nails really need re-culturing, this rough country life’s doing them no good at all.”

    K’t-Ln drew a deep breath. “Just listen for a minute. –You, too, M’ri: leave that plasmo-blasted washing-up!” she shouted.

    M’ri came over to the table, wiping her hands on her apron, looking nervous. “What?”

    “He’s the Regent, that’s who he is, in case anybody here really didn’t know it,” said K’t-Ln with a hard look at the Pleasure Girl, “and whatever the political ins and outs of it might be, The Mk-L’ster’s holding him here against his will!"

    “So?” said Jhl blandly.

    “Look, don’t act dumb with me!” she said heatedly. “You’re the one that told me and T’m to ask the Encyclopaedia about acts and planetary law and being-rights and stuff!”

    “That doesn’t mean I want to get mixed up in some pre-Fed dispute on a primmo dump like this, though.”

    This seemed to go down fairly well: K’t-Ln glared, but not as if she wasn't convinced, and continued: “Well, according to the Encyclopaedia, no-one’s allowed to upset the status quo on a pre-Fed world.” She looked suspiciously at Roz, but the Pleasure Girl only drawled: “So?"

    “So The Mk-L’ster’s gone and done it, he’s broken Feddo law!” cried K’t-Ln loudly.

    “He’s been all right to us, though, K’t-Ln. I mean, he got The Old Woman to fix your head and everything,” said M’ri.

    “That it was his fault that I hurt in the first place? Yeah. Anyway, I’m not talking about that. Look: what I was thinking was, suppose we let the Regent go, do you think he’d promise not to, um, tell on The Mk-L’ster?”

    Her siblings were goggling at her in a sort of blank horror, so Jhl said, somewhat feebly: “You mean make him swear not to prosecute him, before you let him go?”

    “Yeah!” she said eagerly.

    “Doesn’t it depend on what his priorities are?” asked Jhl limply.

    “Um, how do you mean? –Oh,” she said, reddening.

    “Yeah, he could swear he’d do anything!” put in T’m eagerly.

    “Don’t be stupid!” cried K’t-Ln. “He’s a man of honour! Roz didn’t mean that! –Did you?”

    Jhl reflected she could always erase the whole lot, if she needed to. “Not quite. He is a man of honour, T’m, but there are some situations where there’s a greater good and a being would feel it would have to break its word.”

    T’m scowled, but didn’t say that was what he’d said.

    “For the good of the people!” said M’ri eagerly.

    “Yeah,” conceded K’t-Ln grudgingly. “Pretty much.”

    “Well, for what he conceives to be the good of the people,” said Jhl weakly. “The trouble seems to be that he and Mk-L’ster don’t agree on that.”

    “Choice 542,” said K’t-Ln on an uncertain note.

    “Doesn’t the Regent want all the clan lands to go to the clanspeople?” recalled M’ri foggily.

    “YES! Ghrr-brain!” shouted K’t-Ln angrily.

    “Yeah, so we gotta let him go!” said T’m eagerly.

    “NO!” shouted K’t-Ln furiously.

    “But you just said—”

    “I don’t wanna let him go because I agree or disagree with him, or with The Mk-L’ster—in fact I think we’d be better off if all the Lords and the Royal Family were thrown to the bears and forgotten about! And if you imagine for one minute the clan lands’d be safe in the hands of idiots like that lot from the village you’re the biggest ghrr-brain in the two galaxies!” cried K’t-Ln angrily. “All I’m saying is, it’s illegal for him to be held prisoner and the situation changed now, while we’re in Pre-Fed, see? And we oughta do something about it,” she ended on a sulky note.

    “I don’t exactly see...” quavered M’ri.

    Very red, K’t-Ln said angrily: “The Rule of Law! –That’s right, isn’t it, Roz? It’s what makes the Federation different from all the worlds beyond the Outer Rim. And—and if we know about this and don’t do something about it, then—then we don’t deserve to join!”

    Jhl perceived that the grey-green eyes were full of excited, angry tears. Oh, dear: there was nothing like a young being filled with the fervour of its first grasp of the great abstractions for intransigence. “I wouldn’t go that far, K’t-Ln,” she said temperately. “You’re just a few beings: your whole planet won’t be judged on the basis of your behaviour.”

    “But what The Lord’s doing is WRONG!” cried K’t-Ln.

    “Yes, I think so,” agreed M'ri.

    Jhl rubbed her chin. “We could use my lifter to get Rh’aiiy’hn away,” she said slowly.

    “Yeah!” agreed K’t-Ln, brightening.

    “Where to?” asked M’ri.

    Of course Jhl had been through all this in her own mind a megazillion times; nevertheless, possibly four heads were better than one. “Anywhere. Dump him in the Southern Continent until after the Referendum?"

    After a moment T’m said: “That wouldn’t be putting things back the way they were, though.”

    “Er—no,” she admitted. “Very true.”

    Sourly K’t-Ln admitted: “One way the odds are stacked in The Mk-L’ster’s favour, and the other way, they’re stacked in the Regent’s.”

    “Exactly,” said Jhl with a sigh.

    There was a short silence.

    “Oh, dear,” said M’ri faintly.

    T’m began excitedly: “We could still— No, we can’t,” he said. “Kna shit.”

    “It’s the classic definition of a dilemma, in fact,” noted Jhl drily.

    T’m bounced up. “I know! I’ll ask the Encycl—”

    He’d taken one and a half strides before Jhl immobilised him as she once had the little striped cat.

    “Let him go!” shouted K’t-Ln, turning puce. “I know it’s you, don’t pretend!”

    Jhl had been aware for some time that the Regent had heard the entire exchange. Now he sent very clearly: I am receiving very confused images of your physical being but I know that, whoever you are pretending to be, you don’t need to hurt these children in order to protect yourself. Of all the personalities in this house, it is they whom you can trust. –You and I.

    Much of what he thought he was seeing of her was through the eyes of the tiny cat, so it was hardly surprising the images were confused. T’m’s Kitten didn’t see Pleasure Girl Roz at all: it conceived of Jhl as a collection of feelings and odours that it interpreted in its own way, which was very far from that of a humanoid. She smiled, just a little, and said to the two scared girls: “I think you might have heard him sending just then: that message had no specific target.”

    “He can’t feel you at all,” said K’t-Ln in a wondering voice.

    Jhl gave her a mocking look. “Can you?”

    “I can— I suppose I can feel what you want me to, is that it?” she cried angrily.

    “Yes: with your conscious mind. But your unconscious perceptions are very accurate and very acute, K’t-Ln, you should trust them more. –Yours, too, M’ri,” she said, smiling at her.

    “I know you’re not bad,” said M’ri shakily.

    “I don’t think I am, no, in terms of what you mean.”

    “Who are you?” demanded K’t-Ln tightly.

    Jhl sighed. “I'm going to tell all of you the lot. As far as I know it. After that we'll decide whether I ought to erase the knowledge, for your own safety, before The Mk-L’ster comes back from the city. –Come back to the table, T’m.”

    T’m came slowly. “Are you another Old Woman?” he said in a squeaky voice.

    “No!” cried K’t-Ln scornfully. She paused. “I suppose she might be.”

    “She’s an off-worlder,” objected M’ri timidly.

    “Yes. Well, all your ancestors were off-worlders once. Just sit down. –Ready?”

    “Yes,” said K’t-Ln grimly. The others nodded shakily.

    “It isn’t scary, it’s interesting,” said Jhl mildly.

    “Can he hear?” asked K’t-Ln abruptly.

    “No.”

    K’t-Ln was about to tell her to get on with it, but Jhl was getting on with it anyway.

    After a considerable period of silence, T’m squeaked: “Are you really a captain?”

    “Yes.”

    “Ooh, have you got a uniform?”

    “Ghrr-brain,” groaned K’t-Ln.

    Jhl smiled a little. She showed them a picture of her on the bridge in her Durocloth coveralls. T’m’s face fell. Grinning, she showed them her in Number Ones at a plasmo-blasted diplo reception on a plasmo-blasted pleasure-planet.

    “Two galaxies!” he gulped.

    “Who was the man?” asked M’ri with interest.

    Jhl flushed. That had sort of crept in. “That was Lord Vt R’aam. In his Fleet Commander’s— Oh, go on, then.” She showed them Shan in all his sparf-laden glory.

    M’ri went bright red. K’t-Ln gulped. T’m was too stunned even to say “Two galaxies.”

    “Space garbage,” said Jhl briskly. They goggled. “Look, this is the real Shan—as much as the vacuum-frozen Whtyllian is ever— Never mind.” She showed them Shan going into battle: the slanted blue eyes blazing, a smile on his lips.

    There was a stunned silence. Finally K’t-Ln croaked: “How many people did he kill that time?”

    “Beings,” corrected T’m numbly.

    “Mm? Oh, off-hand, a few hundred thousand, I suppose. Well, the better part of a battle fleet—” Jhl broke off. After a moment she said: “That’s what Space Fleet’s for. The Federation may publicise the idea of the Rule of Law in the Encyclopaedia, K’t-Ln, but they’re really far more concerned with being able to trade what they want, where they want, and with whatever beings they want, at the prices they decide on, and with being able to grab the mineral rights on any planet they happen upon that’s unlucky enough to be a goodly distance outside the Rim and undeveloped enough to be unable to sign a treaty. And before you ask, any treaties are always on the Federation’s terms.”

    After quite some time T'm squeaked: “Isn’t it supposed to be all of us, though?”

    “IG law represents the collective will of the beings on all the member planets?” said Jhl, raising an eyebrow.

    T’m and K’t-Ln both nodded.

    “That is the general idea, yes. The voting rights are what you’d see as very fair—well, the Bluellians approve of them, so in humanoid terms they must be fair. But what most sentient beings are governed by, as far as I can make out, is greed: not necessarily greed for possessions in all cases, but that sort of thing. So it’s fair to say,” she said, aware that quite a few budding illusions were being shattered here, “that the Federation is ruled by greed. Greed reinforced by strength, and Space Fleet’s the strong right arm.”

    “That’s horrible!” cried M’ri.

    “Pretty horrible, yes.”

    “We can still believe in the Rule of Law,” said K’t-Ln through trembling lips. “And that—that honour is more important than greed. And oppose beings that try to put greed first.”

    Jhl agreed kindly: “Yes. We can try.”

    “I don’t want to be a Pilot after all, if the Federation’s like that!” cried T’m bitterly.

    “Well, you don’t have to be,” replied Jhl mildly.

    “Don’t be so cool and rational about it!” cried K’t-Ln. “Don’t you even care?”

    “Not very much, no. Most of my life I’ve been too busy trying to stay alive to bother about ethical positions.”

    “Go on, sneer!” the girl shouted.

    Jhl scratched her head. “I wasn’t— Oh, Vvlvanian curses! SORRY!” she shouted. “Look, I can’t take another IG microsecond of this Pleasure Girl mok shit!” She removed the mini-web and, scratching her head vigorously, swept her hair back behind her ears with a sigh.

    “You look more like you did in your uniform,” spotted T'm

    “You’re not like her at all,” recognised M’ri faintly.

    “Pleasure Girl Roz? Not much, I sincerely hope,” said Jhl grimly.

    There was a short silence. Jhl was regretting what she’d just said, but after all, it was the truth. “I wasn’t sneering, K’t-Ln; I respect your attitude, only on a day-to-day basis most beings put expediency first: that’s what I was trying to say. Well—life forces you to it.”

    “Yes,” said K’t-Ln, biting her lip. “I see what you mean.”

    Jhl didn’t think she did, entirely: she was too young. And she didn’t think the other two really understood anything much of what had just been said, except that Space Fleet were not entirely “Goodies” after all. However, there was a very long pause. K’t-Ln brooded, T’m scowled, and M’ri looked distressfully from one to the other of them.

    Finally M’ri said: “Would anyone like a cup of fl’oouu tea?”

    “Yes,” said Jhl thankfully. “And shove a shot of uissh in it, for Federation’s sake.”

    “You can salute and say ‘Yes, Captain,’ M’ri,” noted K’t-Ln drily.

    M’ri blushed. “Should we call you Captain?” she squeaked.

    “No, you’re not my crew."

    “Well, I’m certainly not,” said K’t-Ln grimly.

    By the time the kettle was boiling T'm had recovered enough to demand eagerly: “Tell me more about BrTl!”

    “Uh—well, what?” said Jhl foggily.

    “How big is he really?"

    “Pretty big. I could tell you in IG measurements, would that— No. Um—well, it’s mostly neck, I suppose. If he was here...” She figured out about where BrTl’s hip would come. The ceiling was too low, she admitted, as T’m asked excitedly where his head would reach to.

    “Galaxious!” he decided.

    “Kna shit,” noted K’t-Ln.

    “Yes: although his size does come in extremely useful in many situations, it’s not that that makes him BrTl,” said Jhl.

    “I know that!” he shouted, very red.

    M’ri poured the tea and sat down again. “No wonder you know all those occasions and stuff!” she said with a giggle.

    “EQUATIONS!” shouted her siblings with furious scorn.

    “Oh, yes: those!” said M’ri with another giggle.

    “Yeah. I shoulda guessed, that time you told me I’d managed to turn my ship inside-out and park it on top of itself in triple space without even checking the figures,” said K’t-Ln sourly.

    Jhl’s eyes twinkled but she admitted: “It's a text-blob error, K’t-Ln, anyone with Pilot training would recognise it.”

    “Would BrTl?” asked T’m keenly.

    “Yes,” she groaned.

    After a little K’t-Ln said: “Do you think the it-being knows everything?”

    “I don’t know, K’t-Ln: it’s as mysterious to me as it is to you. As to why the it-beings like Trff are apparently content to jog around the universe in the company of lesser minds like humanoids and xathpyroids, I can’t say.”

    “Maybe they need friends,” suggested M’ri.

    “Pooh!” cried K’t-Ln.

    “Well, it’s as viable a theory as any that any being has ever put forward,” conceded Jhl.

    M’ri didn’t understand “viable” but she understood the general drift, and she smirked.

    “Why would they want to make friends of lesser beings, though?” demanded K’t-Ln.

    “I don’t know. I doubt if the it-being sees anything at all, even the concept of lesser, as we do, K’t-Ln. I think we’d have to re-think our most basic assumptions in order to get within a megazillion light-years of understanding a fraction of the Ju’ukrterian mind.”

    K’t-Ln’s brow wrinkled. “You mean, as fundamental as good and bad?”

    “No: far more fundamental than that. Up and down. Left and right. Light and heavy. Asleep and awake. Night and day.” She hesitated, then shrugged fractionally and added: “Binarism.”

    “You’re not joking,” discovered K’t-Ln slowly.

    “No.” Jhl drank tea calmly. “I could go one of those bun-things of yours, M’ri,” she noted.

    M’ri gave a loud giggle, and bounced up. “Yes, sir, Captain!”

    “You will have to erase all this,” noted K’t-Ln drily.

    “Mm.” Their eyes met: they smiled.

    “What? But I don’t wanna forget BrTl an’ Trff!” wailed T’m.

    “No. Well, one day, if I ever get out of this pile of mok shit,” said Jhl, swallowing a sigh, “you’ll get to meet them. If we’re not all in a Feddo jail.” She winked at him.

    “On Vvlvania mining the magma pits!” he choked.

    “You got it,” conceded Jhl. They giggled.

    M’ri had fetched the biscuit barrel. “We might as well finish them. –Who feeds you in space?” she asked curiously.

    “The ship, of course.”

    The crunching stopped and there was an awed silence.

    “You three don’t need to help me, K’t-Ln,” said Jhl on a cautious note. “I just thought you ought to know that—well, to a certain degree—our intentions coincide.”

    “Ye-es... What’s the Fleet Commander really want you to do, though?” she demanded.

    Jhl shrugged. “I’ve told you as much as I know. Find Rhan. Send a message.”

    “That’s what I thought,” K’t-Ln admitted.

    “You must love him very much,” decided M’ri softly.

    Jhl took another biscuit, annoyed to find her hand was shaking slightly. “I don’t know, any more. I thought it had worn off. I thought that was why I was doing it: because it had worn off and because I owed him one. Something like that. One last big effort, and then I’d be free of him, I wouldn’t owe him a thing.”

    “Did you owe him anything, though?” asked T’m, faint but pursuing.

    “Not materially, no. But emotionally, I suppose I thought I did: he had offered me everything a being of his wealth and position could, T’m, and I’d—uh—laughed at him. When I wasn’t yelling at him.”

    “I see,” said M’ri slowly.

    “Well, I don’t!” said K’t-Ln in a loud and sulky voice.

    Jhl gave her an ironic look. “Mm. Well, I dunno. We go back a long way, me and Shan. He’s more like an old comrade than anything, I suppose.”

    M’ri leant forward eagerly. “Would you feel worse or better if it was BrTl that had lost all his mind-functions, though?"

    “M’ri!” cried K’t-Ln in horror.

    “I don’t mind, M’ri, it’s such a relief to be me again,” said Jhl with a smile. “It’s a reasonable question.” She scratched her head. “It’s very hard to say, because when you’re a mammal, sex does tend to complicate things, doesn’t it? But I think it would be as bad. And then, BrTl is my First Officer, I suppose in a way I’d feel a lot more responsible.” She shrugged a little.

    “It’s not as simple as one or the other, you’re dumb!” said K’t-Ln fiercely to her sister.

    M’ri merely looked smug and drank tea.

    After a moment K’t-Ln said grimly: “Well, do you agree it’s only fair to set the prisoner free?”

    Jhl sighed, and gave up trying to resolve the dilemma. “Yeah. So—we do it?”

    Their eyes shone, even the timid M’ri’s. “Yeah!” they breathed. “We do it!”

    “They’re really going!” gasped T'm, as the clansmen’s battered old lifter rose slowly from the paddock.

    “Yes. The order’s as real to them as if The Lord had really given it,” said Jhl without much enthusiasm.

    In the warm kitchen, silence fell. Their momentary euphoria had evaporated. They looked at one another uncertainly.

    “Okay, then: I’ll do it,” she said.

    K’t-Ln had begun to struggle to her feet. Now she collapsed into her chair again. “You’ll have to,” she said sourly.

    “No! I’ll come!” cried T’m stoutly.

    “Is he tied up?” quavered M’ri.

    “Shackled,” said Jhl.

    M’ri gulped.

    “He’s a very gentle being, he wouldn’t dream of hurting any of us, M’ri.”

    “Yes, but—but he might be very angry,” she quavered. “And—and he is the Regent.”

    “Well, you can curtsey to him!” snarled K’t-Ln.

    “I could bow,” offered T'm.

    “Bow if you like. And come if you like, he won’t hurt you. I’m going up,” said Jhl impatiently. “Come on, if you're coming, T’m.”

    The passage door closed after them. The Mk-L’ster sisters looked at one another.

    “She must have been in lots and lots of battles,” said M’ri faintly.

    K’t-Ln gnawed on her lip. “Yeah."

    “I bet he will be angry,” said M'ri.

    “Shut up!” she snarled.

    Silence fell.

    Upstairs they looked at the door of the attic room.

    “He's not sending!” hissed T'm.

    “He knows we’re here,” said Jhl mildly. She shot the bolts back and turned the heavy metal key.

    “Go on,” said the little boy hoarsely.

    She put the blob-key in its lock.

    After some time during which Jhl’s cheeks got redder and redder, T’m squeaked: “Can’t you do it? I’ll help!"

    “That won’t be any use. The blob will only respond to certain encodings, and he’s got it set to Jhm M’D’nl’d Mk-L’ster’s and his own— Intergalactic clown!” she shouted, hitting herself on the forehead.

    “Can you make Jhm M’D’nl’d Mk-L’ster think he’s been ordered to come back?"

    “I don’t think I need to,” she said drily. “Given the available encodings in this neck of the Old Rthfrdian woods.” She asked the man inside to think Open at the blob-lock.

    Just that? he sent in immense surprise.

    “DO IT!” shouted Jhl at the top of her lungs.

    The door swung open before the sound of her voice had died away. Jhl and T’m stared at the slim man standing shackled in the middle of the small attic room.

    Rh’aiiy’hn of Old Rthfrdia said drily: “I’d have done that months ago if I’d known it was so—” He gulped. “–Easy,” he finished weakly, staring.

    “She’s not really a Pleasure Girl,” began T’m hastily: “she’s—”

    Jhl put a hand gently on his bony little shoulder. “He knows I’m not,” she murmured.

    Rh’aiiy’hn went on staring.

    Finally Jhl recommended drily: “Close your eyes, it might help to reconcile appearance with reality. Or to tell one from the other—whatever.”

    “Is that your true appearance?” he said feebly.

    She scratched her head. “Given a few nips, tucks, liftings, lowerings, polishings, pearlizings—” She felt his hurt bewilderment. “Sorry. Yes. I’m not a metamorph.”

    “She took the mini-web out of her hair,” the little boy said.

    Rh’aiiy’hn smiled at him. “Did she? That would change her appearance somewhat. You must be T’m, I think. How’s T’m’s Kitten, today?”

    “Good!” he beamed. “Um—sir,” he croaked.

    “‘Great Lord,’” corrected Jhl drily.

    “Great Lord,” said T’m faintly.

    “No: please just call me Rh’aiiy’hn,” he said.

    “So you’re as much of a federo-demo-nut as is claimed,” said Jhl drily.

    “I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t understand that,” he said.

    “Mm? Oh,” said Jhl feebly. She’d turned her translator off, it was weeks since she’d bothered with it. And in any case it was such an up-market translator that it would probably have switched itself off when her Old Rthfrdian had reached a respectable level.

    “Two galaxies, don’t you know what that means?” cried T’m, staring at him.

    “Being shut in an attic for six months without benefit of the IG Encyclopaedia is hardly the best culturing ground for developing a grasp of Intergalactic slang,” noted Jhl.

    Rh’aiiy’hn passed a hand over his hair. “Has it been that long?”

    “So I gather, yes. Come downstairs, it’s like the vacuum-frozen plains of Gwrrtt up here.”

    “Er—yes. Can you undo these?” He gestured at the shackles on his ankles.

    “Crystallise them!” urged T'm excitedly.

    “Um—hang on.” Jhl concentrated on the molecular structure of the shackles. Then she looked at their lock, and smiled. The shackles fell off with a little clatter.

    “C’n I have them?” asked T’m eagerly.

    Jhl rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

    He scooped them up eagerly, not neglecting to cast a wary eye up the man as he did so. “It’s loads warmer in the kitchen,” he said, going over to the door.

    “Yes: off you go,” agreed Jhl.

    T’m scampered out with his booty.

    Rh’aiiy’hn hesitated; then he said in a low voice: “Thank you, Captain.”

    “Are you all right?” she demanded baldly.

    “Yes. I— A bit weak, it must be the combined effects of confinement and the drug... I had no idea you were a woman,” he said faintly.

    Jhl had actually grasped that. Although she’d had a good idea of what he looked like, she hadn’t realised how very like Shan he was: the same golden-tan skin, the high cheekbones, the winged jaw and the pointed chin, plus the slanted azure eyes that he shared with his brother. But above the golden skin the hair was a dark auburn, not Shan’s shining black.

    “Possibly sex is less significant in the scheme of things than we mammalian humanoids are predisposed by our genetic encoding to believe,” she said grimly. “Come on, Lord Rhan.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s lips twitched a little, but he didn’t correct her pronunciation or the term of address. He followed her slowly down the first flight of stairs. Halfway down he murmured: “Is there a scheme of things?”

    The powerful mind was shielded from him but he saw her slender shoulders shake infinitesimally, and was very pleased with himself.

    Jhl paused before the last flight of stairs. “I should warn you that M’ri may be overawed by your consequence and that K’t-Ln, though she wanted to free you, will probably be very truculent."

    “Yes,” he agreed.

    “You’d better lean on me,” she said abruptly.

    They descended to the ground floor very slowly, the Regent leaning heavily on Jhl.

    In the kitchen she assisted him into the big leather armchair. M’ri was looking in disappointment at his grubby shirt and shabby riding breeches. Jhl’s lips twitched but she merely said mildly: “Bring some more wood in, T’m, would you? Lord Rhan’s rather cold.”

    “It’s cold as the vacuum-frozen plains of Gwrrtt in the attic!” T’m informed the company, as he scrambled for the back door.

    Jhl introduced the Mk-L’ster sisters and he said, smiling at them: “Thank you for helping to set me free.” Disconcertingly, it was Shan’s smile, but this was a far gentler and much, much nicer personality.

    K’t-Ln growled that they hadn’t done anything and he pointed out, very nicely, that they had agreed that that something should be done, which was what counted. Whereupon M’ri suggested a cup of tea, blushing and dropping a shaky curtsey.

    “It had better be khyai’llh tea,” said Jhl briskly before the Regent could speak. She dropped a hand on his shoulder. “He’s shivering: it’s reaction. Not to say withdrawal from that muck they’ve been feeding him. Get him a warm rug, M’ri, and then the tea.”

    M’ri didn’t giggle and say: “Yes, sir, Captain!”, she just nodded silently and scurried over to the big carved wooden chest that held a selection of rugs and some battered leather pouches. Jhl assumed she was in awe of the Regent, grubby hunting attire notwithstanding, not realising that she had spoken to the girl as she might have to a very junior member of her ship’s crew, and it was not at this moment the Regent of whom M’ri was in awe.

    Rh’aiiy’hn of Old Rthfrdia, who was also accustomed to command, had realised it, however. He leant his head back and closed his eyes, trying in vain to reconcile the dainty, black-haired physical presence of the girl who had rescued him with the personality that took for granted that its orders would be obeyed and the powerful mind that controlled it.

    It was late afternoon when he woke from a doze to find himself alone in the kitchen but for a stripey cat on the shabby hearth-rug. The fire was almost out. He was looking round him dazedly, trying to gather his wits, when the back door opened and a slim figure in baggy nyr-hide breeches came in, lit by the glow of afternoon sunlight.

    “Hullo, Captain,” he said weakly.

    Jhl grinned. “I thought I might as well get out of that vacuum-frozen draped garment I was masquerading in.”

    He smiled a little. “Was it the Lady A’ailh’sa’s?”

    “Yeah: last year’s!”

    His lips twitched. “The ladies of the Court are all like that.”

    “So I gather. Fancy a shot of uissh?”

    “Er—yes. If you think I should?”

    “If you pass out, we’ll know you shouldn’t have,” she replied equably, pouring.

    He gave a little shrug, and drank.

    “You haven’t passed out,” she noted.

    “No.” He looked at the open back door, and sighed. “It’s wonderful to see freedom and know I could just— Could I just walk out into it?” he asked with a wry smile.

    He wasn’t reading anything from her, that was for sure. Well, he wasn’t stupid. Jhl made a face. “Only as far as the lifter paddock. We haven’t decided what to do with you yet. And I can’t decide how much you should know. Do you know who your father was?”

    “A Whtyllian lord. –You must be able to read it all,” he murmured.

    “Yes. I’m checking up on you. It’s less tiring, too."

    “I see,” he said slowly, frowning. “I’m sure you would win, if it came to a tussle of minds with my brother.”

    She eyed him drily. “Uh-huh.”

    “What is it?"

    “I’m wondering what would happen if the pair of you ganged up against me.” She added with a grin, re-filling his glass: “Shan always said I’d make a rotten commander: no grasp of strategy.”

    “No,” he said, smiling slowly. “–Who is Shan, an old comrade?”

    Jhl could see he really didn’t know and had made no connection between the name and the mention of his father. As Shank’yar had once mentioned, Rh’aiiy’hn’s mother had never been privileged to learn his father’s real name. She was tempted simply to open her mind to this son of Shan’s, who was at once so like and so very unlike his father, but that would have been poor strategy indeed. So instead she told him as much as she’d told the youngsters.

    Rh’aiiy’hn rubbed his pointed chin slowly. “I see. Has he a hidden agenda, do you think?”

    Jhl hadn’t suggested this: she was pleased to see he’d thought of it for himself. She nodded silently.

    “Mm. Not merely Drouwh’s pwld mines?"

    “I really don’t think so. The Vt R’aams are already immensely wealthy. So while he wouldn’t say no to becoming the richest being in the Known Universe, that wouldn’t be an end in itself. –Too boring,” she explained with a twinkle.

    He nodded, and after a moment asked: “Does he have other sons?"

    “Not full sons, no: you and Drouwh are the only ones that he endowed with a full share of his genetic encoding.” He didn’t understand, not surprising in a being from a primmo little world like Old Rthfrdia. She explained calmly. Rh’aiiy’hn evinced neither surprise nor distaste, which did surprise Jhl considerably.

    “I think he may be looking for an heir, then,” he said slowly.

    “Yeah. Why in Federation couldn’t he have waited until after F-Day?” she demanded on a cross note.

    “Is that what off-worlders call it?” he said, his lips twitching. “I think possibly he thought I might not be alive by F-Day. Perhaps he wanted you not only to find me but to see that I’m kept safe. Indeed, to rescue me, as you have done,” he said politely.

    Her eyes twinkled. “You’re unlike him in many ways, but you’ve got that in common, at least! Um, it’s hard to explain: that way of... ironically distancing yourself from yourself and your own situation, I suppose. –Drouwh doesn’t do it at all,” she added, half to herself.

    Rh’aiiy’hn looked at the little frown on her ivory forehead and said softly: “No?” And wondered if she knew that he was reflecting that possibly that was a point in his favour, then, and if she could sense the galloping of his heart; and knew bitterly that the answer to both these questions was undoubtedly Yes.

    Jhl swallowed. After a moment she said: “Don’t feel like that.”

    “Like what?” he returned on a harsh note.

    “Humiliated,” she said, licking her lips. “I have to do it, at this stage: I have to be sure of you. And even if you’d done the Course, I doubt if you could shield your mind from me: I’ve got too strong. But once I’m sure I can trust you, I won’t look. –Unless I have to,” she added honestly.

    He smiled a little but said curiously: “How can you not look?”

    She eyed him drily. “Well, apart from the fact that in most parts of the Known Universe it's considered cursed bad manners to look without permission, the Course teaches you how not to.”

    A dark tide of red rose up the strong neck that was so like Shan’s and he said: “I suppose I’ve been prying into other beings’ minds all my life. Unthinkingly assuming that because I had the ability, I had the right.”

    “Everybody’s like that at first.”

    “Hardly for forty years, though,” he said on a bitter note. “Do you despise me?”

    “No. I just said: everybody does it; until the Course or maybe their own society teaches them different.”

    “Which was it for you?” he asked, looking into the big dark eyes.

    Jhl grinned cheerfully. “Oh, the Course! I’m a Bluellian; not many of my people have mind abilities, either. Uh—sorry: the Intergalactic Mind-Control Course.”

    “I see. –I do know of Bluellia: grain and grqwaries, mainly. Plus some tourism?"

    Jhl nodded feebly. Even though his mathematical ability was almost zero, his mind held a childlike image of the two galaxies, and he had situated Bluellia pretty accurately in it. “You know more than most Old Rthfrdians, then.”

    “Yes. As a member of the Royal Family I was given a solid grounding in intergalactic economics and history, trade, diplomatic matters—that sort of thing.”

    “I see.” She had seen a picture of two lonely little auburn-haired boys in a large schoolroom, grinding away over their lessons whilst outside the rest of Old Rthfrdia leapt and played in some sort of summer festival.

    Rh’aiiy’hn laughed weakly. “Feeling sorry for myself, I’m afraid! At least there were the two of us, it would have been much worse alone.”

    “Uh-huh. Not your brother: your cousin, is that right?”

    “Yes. Jhms All’yhaiyn. I miss him,” the man said.

    “Yes,” said Jhl gently. “So the boy Ruler is your cousin’s son, is that right?”

    “Yes. He calls me ‘uncle,’ but that is the relationship.”

    There was a short silence.

    Then Jhl leant forward. “Lord Rh’aiiy’hn, why don’t you want to abolish the monarchy?”

    Rh’aiiy’hn sighed. “Surely you— Oh, very well. I swore to Jhms All’yhaiyn on his deathbed that I’d do my best for the boy until he reached the age of majority. To my mind that doesn’t entail throwing his inheritance away, whatever my own position on monarchy, constitutional or absolute, might be.”

    She could see clearly enough that his own position could well be summed up as outright socialism: Choice 8,096—something like that? It was written up in the Bluellian Archives somewhere, no doubt, but they’d been in the Federation for so many generations— “So your word is your bond?” she said flippantly.

    His lips tightened. “Can we not argue about it, please, Captain?"

    “I’m not arguing: I can see there are circumstances where you would break a promise to a dying being.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn leant his head against the back of the big leather chair and sighed. “Yes. I suppose there are.”

    Jhl looked at the strong golden throat in the open-necked, coarsely-woven shirt and felt absurdly shaken.

    There was a long silence in the old kitchen.

    “Possibly,” the man said at last with a sigh, “Drouwh and I might have been able to reach some sort of agreement over the question of the monarchy—at least an agreement that the question could be left until the boy comes of age—if it wasn’t for the business of the clan lands. -Am I making sense?” he asked suddenly.

    She nodded and he passed a hand over his face and said: “Of course. Even if he hasn’t spoken to you of his position, you must have read— Yes."

    “I needn’t necessarily have been interested, however,” noted Jhl, very dry. The more so because of that shaken moment, earlier.

    “Er—no,” he said, looking at her with a startled expression and a certain mental recoil.

    “Go on,” she said, swallowing a sigh.

    “We haven’t been able to reach an accommodation. He insists on the minimum devolution of clan lands dictated by IG law: fifty percent by area to the people.”

    Jhl just waited.

    “I can see why!” he said on an irritable note. “You must be able to see— I’m sorry. No, well, in the short term of course it would create far less furore than full devolution. It might even keep the Lords quiet for the next generation. And of course it’s less likely to stir the townsfolk up against the clanspeople. But... I can’t reconcile it with my conscience. –Possibly you’re more aware of my motives than I am, and you can see it isn’t my conscience at all,” he added with a tiny, twisted smile. “But to put it simply— No, that’s wrong,” he said, frowning. “To put it as truthfully as I can, nothing short of full devolution seems fair to me. Drouwh’s way leaves the Lords still with immense wealth and the people with nothing very much. The fifty percent by area that their Lords choose to allot them, in fact."

    “I agree with you: it isn’t fair.”

    He looked at her doubtfully.

    “On the other hand, I agree with him that the fifty percent solution seems the least likely to lead to outright blood-letting. It’s a far more practical approach. –I agree with both of you, in short,” she added, very dry indeed.

    Rh’aiiy’hn sighed. “Yes.” He hesitated. “And on the monarchy?”

    She made a face. “Now that I’ve heard your reasons, I agree with both of you there, too.”

    “Bears’ claws,” said Rh’aiiy’hn, very faintly.

    Jhl got up abruptly and strode over to the open door. She stood glaring out across the vehicle paddock with her back to him.

    Rh’aiiy’hn watched her for a while. She didn’t turn round. Finally he said: "Where are the children?"

    “Mm? Oh: T'm’s gone into the forest in search of some sort of edible fungus—not lr, something else—and K’t-Ln and M’ri are just outside on the grass.”

    He rose and came slowly up to her shoulder. K’t-Ln was sitting up very straight with her bow in her hand while M'ri was placidly sewing. “Aren’t they pretty?” he said with a smile in his voice.

    “What? Uh—yes, I suppose so.”

     There was a short silence. “When is Drouwh due back?” he said hoarsely.

    Jhl sighed. “Another three days.”

    “And if he should be early?”

    “I’ll hear him.”

    “I see.” He swallowed. “I’m very fond of him, you know,” he said in a low voice.

    “Yes,” said Jhl vaguely. “Uh—yes,” she said, blinking suddenly. “How long have you known he was your half-brother?”

    “For a very long time. Mother has always known: my father told her. According to him it was in the nature of a genetic experiment. I don’t know if that was true or not. But certainly by the time he turned to the lady poet of the Lower Cwmb—I’m sorry, that’s Lady Mk-L’ster—Mother had refused several times to leave Old Rthfrdia and become his wife. Forgive me, I’ve forgotten the IG term.”

    “IG-legal bond-partner. Yes, apparently his mother has always been keen to see him bond-partnered to a—” Jhl paused. “Princess,” she said in Old Rthfrdian, very dry.

    “Yes. But a member of the Old Rthfrdian Royal Family does not desert her duty.”

    She was gazing vacantly across the grass and he realised she wasn’t really interested in the topic. Certainly not in him, Rh’aiiy’hn, as an individual being. At the most as a—a genetic experiment! he thought bitterly.

    Eventually she said: “Drouwh has no idea you’re brothers. I can’t understand why he never picked it up from your mother.”

    “I doubt if he ever bothered to look. The point never occurred to him, you see. Do you think it will be a great shock to him, when he does find out?”

    Jhl replied simply: “You know him better than I do, what do you think?"

    A flush rose to the high cheekbones; he said angrily: “How can I possibly know him better than you do?"

    “I know the structure of his mind and his biochemistry and his genetic encoding. I know him on a cognitive level, I suppose. Of course I can recognise and classify his emotions, but that isn’t the same thing as having known him all his life as... as an individual being,” she ended on a dubious note. “That doesn’t put it very well; I’m not used to talking about this sort of thing.”

    “You mean my knowledge of him is more... instinctive? Intuitive?”

    Jhl shrugged. “Non-cognitive, anyway. –So?”

    Rh’aiiy’hn bit his lip. “I think it will be a great shock to him. The more so since he doesn’t even know his father was an off-worlder.”

    She shook her head. “He’s pretty sure of it, now. The Old Woman said to him, quite casually, that the man he thinks of as ‘the Dad’ wasn’t his father. That doesn’t worry him, but he doesn’t like the idea that his powers may be from an off-worlder.”

    He winced. “He wouldn’t, no. Our Old Rthfrdian traditions are very dear to him, but it’s more than that… How can I put it? I think it’s a matter of his conception of his self-hood. Most Old Rthfrdian clansfolk feel themselves to be deeply linked to the land in a way I can’t explain.”

    “Ye-es... Isn’t it the female line that matters, with the clans, though?"

    Rh’aiiy’hn smiled suddenly. “You’re rationalising it, Captain! I see what you mean by understanding him on a cognitive level. Legally, socially and—er—genetically, I suppose, it is traditionally the female line that is considered to matter, but what I’m talking about is a matter of feeling, not of law or social custom or genetics.”

    Jhl nodded. “I've never been any good at emotional stuff,” she said casually.

    He swallowed. “Er—I see.”

    “Having mind-powers doesn’t turn you into a different personality,” she said drily.

    “No-o... But you have always known of your powers, surely, Captain?"

    “Not entirely.” She shrugged. “Oh, well—” Rh’aiiy’hn listened with interest, not speaking. “I’m still me, essentially,” she finished.

    “Ye-es... I see. Yes,” he said, very softly: “one has power over others, not over one’s self... over the physical shell, yes, but not...” His eyes turned inward, and became remote. Jhl could feel he was taking a second look at his own capabilities. She didn’t pry. Finally he said: “Could you alter another person’s—I beg your pardon—another being’s personality, Captain?”

    “No. I could make the being believe different things about itself, but I couldn't alter its fundamental self.”

    “Mm...”

    “One would be as immoral as the other,” she noted drily.

    “Yes. –Captain,” he said slowly: “am I right in thinking that the principal reason Drouwh kidnapped me was that his faction found it impossible to make any headway with me reading their intentions?”

    “Yes. He can see as clearly as you that it’s now given his side precisely the sort of unfair advantage that you had before, if that’s what you were going to say.”

    “No,” he said, shaken again to find she wasn't reading what he was going to say before he’d said it. “No... Listen, Captain,” he said with considerable forcefulness, “I fully appreciate your dilemma. Simply to take me back to the Court would merely replace the current unfair situation with the former one. So what I’m proposing is that you temporarily remove, or block, both my mind-powers and his. Until the Referendum’s over.”

    Jhl gulped.

    “Can you?"

    “I think so... I never thought of that,” she said feebly.

    Rh’aiiy’hn smiled pleasedly.

    “You look so like him when you smirk like that!” she said in a shaken voice.

    “Like Drouwh?”

    “No. Like your father.”

    “Oh. I didn’t think I was smirking, precisely."

    Jhl smiled crookedly. “No, you weren’t. It was just the—the expression. You’ve got his intelligence and his good looks, but you’re not very like him, really.”

    “If he’s the devious character you've described, I'm rather glad of that!”

    “Mm,” she agreed on a wry note.

    “Well, what do you think?” he said hopefully. “Could you do it without hurting Drouwh?”

    “Um... He’d have to let me, or be asleep, I think. Um, yes, I could make him believe he’s never had any powers. People would notice, though.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn rubbed his jaw. “That’s a point. I suppose they’d notice with me, too."

    “Well, yes, if your faction’s in the habit of asking you what Representative So-and-So's thinking!” she said strongly.

    He smiled a little wistfully. “Something like that. I haven't really got a faction.”

    “You could have fooled me!”

    “No. There’s only a handful of us. Off and on we’ve had a precarious alliance with the conservative group led by old Lord Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd, but the only thing we have in common with them is a desire to preserve the monarchy.”

    Jhl looked at him incredulously. She looked into his mind. “Bones of Brqa,” she said numbly. “And most of them wouldn’t half mind getting rid of you!”

    “Exactly. They’ve got hold of Allie, without me to protect him, I’m afraid. No doubt filling his head with their reactionary rubbish,” he said tightly. “I beg your pardon, Captain: All’yhaiyn, the Ruler.

    Jhl smiled suddenly. “Is that his name? Drouwh thinks of him as ‘the boy.’”

    “He’s not so unlike Fh’Ly’haiyn and Rh’n’lhd as he fancies, then,” he noted drily.

    Choking slightly, Jhl said: “Yeah! Um... Well, if it’s that bad, and I send you back without your mind-powers, you won’t be safe.”

    He shrugged. “I can take my chances.”

    “No, Shan didn’t send me all this way for you to end up with a dagger in your back. –I’m almost sure,” she muttered, grimacing. She scratched her head. “I suppose I could go back with you: watch your back.”

    “Wouldn’t I wonder who you were, though, Captain?” he said politely.

    Jhl laughed suddenly. “Sometimes you do sound just like Shan! Look, do you think you could stand it if I left your memory of your powers, and only blocked the powers themselves?”

    Rh’aiiy’hn went very pale. “I think so.”

    Jhl frowned over it. “I think it’s the only fair way. The same with Drouwh, I think... Though I think I’d better erase his memory of me.”

    “Erase?”

    “It’s easier than blocking a memory. But I’ve been practising with Stripey. I’ve got quite good at blocking specific memories, now. I suppose it would be morally indefensible to erase a memory of Drouwh’s just because I’ve got an uneasy feeling it might be safer for me if I did."

    “It most certainly would!” he said strongly, missing the dry note, unaware that his response was precisely what she had expected from him.

    “Yeah.” Jhl leant against the door-jamb, gazing out across the wide stretch of lawn to the old stone wall and the forest.

    “Could we go outside for a walk before you do it?” he said in a low voice.

    “What?” she said, jumping. “I'm not going to do it right this minute, you intergalactic clown!"

    Rh’aiiy’hn of Old Rthfrdia stared at her, his winged jaw sagging.

    “Oh—Vvlvanian curses,” said Jhl limply. “I'm sorry. I suppose that was what you call lèse majesté, here.”

    “And for which we’d throw you to the bears—mm,” he murmured. “No, it was... salutary!”

    Although he was smiling, Jhl could see he was remembering his dead cousin and reflecting with some bitterness that since Jhms All’yhaiyn’s death there was no-one in his life who used that unceremonious tone with him. She looked hurriedly away from the memory and said gruffly: “Of course we can go for a walk if you feel up to it, Lord Rhan.”

    “Yes. –Just ‘Rh’aiiy’hn’,” he murmured.

    “Yes. Sorry. Rh’aiiy’hn.”

    They walked slowly out onto the grass.

    “May I ask what your name is? Or would it be safer for you if I know you only as ‘Captain’ and—what is it the children call you? Roz?”

    “It might be safer for Shan,” admitted Jhl. She gave him a quick mind-picture of Shank’yar playing with his toes, and L’Thea masquerading as her in the Mullgon’ya nursing home.

    “Bears’ claws,” he said, shuddering.

    “Don’t let any of the kids see that, will you?”

    “No,” he said faintly.

    “I can’t see how you knowing my real name would endanger Shan, but he’s got a lot of enemies. I think it had better be Need-To-Know only."

    “Er—what? Do you mean I don’t need to know it?”

    “Yes.” Jhl looked dubiously at her translator. It was off: she repeated slowly in Old Rthfrdian: “Need-To-Know only. It’s a Space Service term.”

    “I see.” Rh’aiiy’hn clenched his fists and added in a low voice: “And if I said I did need to know?”

    Jhl replied in a hard voice, not looking to see why he thought he did: “I’d say you didn’t.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn said nothing. He walked on slowly towards the old stone wall at the back of the vehicle paddock, long mouth tight.

    Jhl could both see and feel he was overtiring himself. But as he didn’t ask for help, she didn’t offer any. Finally he reached the wall and dropped onto it with a sigh. She came up slowly. “Lovely day,” she said.

    “Indeed.” After a moment he added with some difficulty: “Is your part of Bluellia like this, Captain?"

    “Much flatter.” She looked around her and said: “The colours are basically the same, though. Blue sky, green grass. Standard c-based, o-breather territory, really.”

    “What?” he said dazedly.

    Jhl glared at the translator, which was still off, and said loudly to it: “He didn't understand that, hunk of space junk!”

    The translator immediately replied: You phrased it correctly. His knowledge of Basic Bio is at fault, not your Old Rthfrdian.

    “YES!” she shouted furiously, hauling it off and hurling it down the lawn. “And SHUT UP!”

    “Was it communicating with you?” asked Rh’aiiy’hn numbly.

    “What? Oh. Yeah, it’s the latest model. Fleet Commanders and up: Shan got it for me.” She sat down beside him, sighing. “It’s never actually had the plasmo-blasted cheek to speak to me directly, before, though.”

    His lips twitched.

    “What?” she said suspiciously.

    “Well, I know very little about blob technology, Captain,” he said apologetically, “but if it’s as sophisticated as you say, possibly it’s—er—learning from you at the same time as—?” He paused delicately, eyebrows raised.

    Jhl laughed so much she nearly fell off the wall. “You’re more—like Shank’yar—than I thought!” she wheezed.

    Rh’aiiy’hn smiled. But to himself he thought on a bitter note, trying not to care if she was listening: Not enough, though, am I?

    Jhl wasn’t listening. She was very tired. She sat on the old stone wall in the sun, quietly soaking up warmth, senses just enough on the alert to be aware of any approaching being, not thinking at all.