"Cousin Kareen? How may we assist you, ma'am?"

  "Anthora." Relief showed in an infinitesimal relaxation of the muscles in the lady's face. "I am in need of information from Jeeves. It is necessary that my house be destroyed."

  Stored data told Jeeves that this was an unusual request, even from one of Korval's Line Direct. Clearly, Miss Anthora found it so. "Cousin?"

  "I have just now shot Scholar Her Nin yo'Vestra in the spine and in the head; he is not recoverable. I must now insure that he is not easily found and that my library is unavailable to assist the organization of which he was a member." The lady's voice was steady, even stern. It fell to Anthora to cry out, in frank horror—

  "Cousin, Scholar yo'Vestra was one of your oldest acquaintances!"

  "I will grieve later," Kareen yos'Phelium said, sternness perhaps increasing. "He attempted to bribe me to overthrow the Line Direct in favor of my heir! I must make my library unavailable and do whatever else may be done to hinder this—organization. He—spoke of insuring that those of us who have fled will not return, and I am not fool enough to believe that he simply sought to buy them off. Indeed, the notion that we could be bought . . . No. Cousin, let me make haste—permit Jeeves to tell me how to burn . . . ."

  Anthora shook her head. "That will not be necessary, cousin. If need be, I can burn your house from here. But your books . . . ."

  "In my absence, the books endanger Liad—most especially my private indexes and searches, and the catalog of incomplete debts—"

  "Yes, but Cousin Kareen," Anthora interrupted, "why are you here—on Liad? Surely the children . . . Plan B . . ."

  The lady made a sign of impatience. "I have been through this once with Luken bel'Tarda! Necessity. Now, attend me, if you please! My library must not fall into the hands of Korval's enemies. I have here, for an example, partial copies of diary entries outlining the early Plan B arrangements. We must not . . . ."

  "Yes, I begin to see." Anthora inclined her head. Jeeves, who knew her well, was not deceived by her seeming acquiescence to her cousin's necessities.

  "If you will permit my discretion in the disposal of your library and house," she continued, "I will undertake the task. How long do you think it will take you to be gone?"

  "Please give me to the beginning of the next hour. I will away as I came."

  "It will be done as you have said."

  "Flaran cha'menthi, Anthora," the lady said, fervently.

  "Flaran cha'menthi, cousin. For us, it is necessity."

  The screen blanked.

  "Jeeves?"

  "Working, Miss. There are signs of attempts to intercept this communications. Someone is aware that Lady Kareen's unit has been used, and when. I find no indication that it was traced past the second relay, but we must assume that they have been alerted."

  "Thank you, Jeeves. I will be working from the garden, beneath the Tree. Please ask Merlin to join me there. When I am through, I will wish to have a meal."

  "Yes, Miss Anthora."

  She had scarcely taken two steps toward the garden door when the annunciator blared again, simultaneous with the flash of the blue warning light. Anthora jumped, her hand slapping the toggle, and Lady Kareen's image came into view.

  This time, her face held elements of that emotion known as panic.

  "Cousin, I beg that you will not fire the house so soon," she said, her voice perhaps shaking. "The public and the private exits are watched. I believe . . ." She looked sharply aside. "I believe that I am trapped."

  * * *

  The Grand Lake Townhouses

  Solcintra

  She'd briefly felt despair, surely that was the word for it, but as irony would have it, the call on the alternate pocket comm from Jeeves had led her away from that unproductive emotion and toward some measure of composure. As surely as there were alternate means of communication, there were alternatives available to one of Korval—for one born of the Line—in reaction to the hasty and ill-considered action of an enemy. Panic was not an option. Panic, so she had been taught by her mother, killed: passengers, ships. Pilots.

  "Lady Kareen," came Jeeves' voice from the pocket comm. "Miss Anthora has requested that we permit her some time for thought and preparation while I pursue additional information on the structures and demographics of Grand Lake. We are of the opinion, given that persons of superior melant'i attended your meeting, that all interested parties will act with circumspection for some time."

  Interested parties. Who knew that a robot intelligence could be so nice?

  "Indeed," she murmured into the comm; "circumspection seems called for. For the moment, be aware that I have located several other weapons, and will retire to the Stone Study, which is not on the house grid"—and how foolish she had thought that, as a girl!—"By which I mean to say that it can be locked by a manual set-key. From there, I will have access to the kitchen wing, through a serving closet."

  "Position marked and, may I say, strategically sound and defensible." A slight pause, then, "Miss Anthora asks that you activate the in-house intercom to all rooms."

  What a strange request! But there! An open intercom might allow her to discover if someone else gained entry, after all.

  "Yes, of course. I should have thought of that Thank you, Jeeves. If I discover a problem, or a solution, I will call."

  "Noted. Call ending."

  The tone change was sufficient to indicate the call was over, but again she took thought. In these odd and dangerous times, it was necessary for both parties to a call to be certain that the communication had been ended purposefully, rather than cut off by enemy action.

  The door into the Stone Study was rarely closed. In addition to its lack of an electronic lock, that might, Kareen realized now, be overridden by determined persons seeking entry from outside, it possessed sturdy door-bars evocative of the early frontier days of Solcintra that were not, in fact, merely decorative.

  Her mother had pointed this out to her in the days of her brief youth, when hope had still been high that Chi yos'Phelium's bright daughter would one day be Delm, and Chi had used the Grand Lakes house for quiet parties and meetings in Solcintra. There it was that those who might be uncomfortable being seen entering or leaving the precincts of Jelaza Kazone might still meet face-to-face, or as Chi's appetites dictated, body-to-body, with Korval.

  The urgency born of the immediate thrill of dread and death abating, Kareen moved to the door that concealed the closet-passageway to the kitchen, assuring herself that it, too, was secured with a simple mechanical lock, its scrolled key in place. She then glanced out the single tall thin window, which gave an unparalleled view of the lake and the hills beyond, making it feel as if one were in some rural retreat rather than bordering on the heart of Solcintra. On the lake today were several vessels with sails and several without. She wondered if they belonged to friend or foe.

  The view grew hazy and she realized she was weeping, that tears were welling up despite the necessity of her action, and that . . . she leaned on the wall as the tears flowed—and that . . .

  Her Nin yo'Vestra was dead. He could perhaps have given her as many years as she could have given her absent brother Daav; that difference had never mattered to them. They had first discovered each other at Festival, she near virginal beneath her plumage, his kind and mature attentions both flattering and treasured. When he recognized her some years later at another Festival they'd gone on as if never parted, their friendship continuing, perhaps not entirely according to the dictates of the Code, into their everyday lives.

  But there. Necessity. His studies and family connections took him far from the lists that the Delm of Korval and her seconds had searched; surely he, like her, never was a pilot and never would be, and so her marriage beds had by clannish necessity seen other men, all pilots, in them.

  Eyes closed a moment, Kareen found her breath more regular, her hands stiff from pushing against the unyielding stone wall. She nearly fell into the large leather chair that her mother had favored for lectures, the same chair Chi had sat in when she'd explained to the standing Kareen exactly why the Delm had chosen another husband and sought another child.

  Kareen yos'Phelium Clan Korval, smart as a whip and eager for duty . . . was inadequate to the Clan's needs.

  What pilots saw when faced with a random tumbling ball, she knew not; how they managed not to be hit in the face with it she could not comprehend—as frequent sessions with the autodoc for too frequent bruises and bloodied noses attested. While numbers blossomed to meaning for others, whispering arcane and delightful secrets, for her they remained mere numerals.

  In other words, Kareen was deficient in ways that tutors could not assist her to overcome; her abilities insufficient in ways irreconcilable with the Delm's necessities when one was Delm of Korval.

  "I must," her mother the Delm had said, "I must be prepared to bring to the Clan my full replacement. It is not the fact of having a child that is important, but of having a child who might be Delm."

  This said to the child who found only headaches in the twistiness of numbers and joy in the complexity of Code and deed . . .

  "Understand me," Chi had continued; "it is not your attention to your studies that is at fault. It is that, as some are born unable to see as many colors as others, and others are born with no ear for music. The equations do not speak to you. The healers have said so, the tutors have said so, and the tests have said so. As we discussed the issue, Tutor admired the time you've spent at the work—she had the logs to hand—while proclaiming your energy high no matter the outcome. She also pointed out that energy alone does not pull an equation into balance. "

  Here her mother's eyes had gone soft, her voice wry.

  "Also, it comes to the attention of your Delm that you have given advice to the tutor."

  Already numb with the understanding that she had failed her Clan, Kareen had raised her eyes to the Delm's.

  "I did not 'offer advice'," she asserted, standing as tall as she might, while bearing the weight of her shame. "The tutor had said to me that an equation she offered for solving was straightforward and without complication, and that for comparison I might see solving an issue her clan was facing wherein a hasty giving of nubiath'a upon notification . . . "

  A quick hand-motion by the Delm stopped her.

  "I have seen your work, daughter. The cites were appropriate; the discussion of potential remedies useful and clear. In fact, speaking as one who had been requested to broker the difficulties between those very Clans, your solution was by far the cleanest—and one not discovered by three delms after many days of negotiation and research." A slight pause, accompanied by a one-sided smile; followed by a sigh.

  "And so, the Clan moves forward," her mother said then. "As of today your math tutor and your pre-piloting classes are removed from your schedules. My own schedule has been amended. It is my belief that you have found your calling. Pursue it."

  That had been the last time she'd had complete regard of her Delm, or her mother.

  The intercom blinked, giving out a musical sound entirely unlike its usual alert tone, followed by Jeeves' electronic voice, as clear as if it stood beside her.

  "Lady Kareen, you may hear odd sounds from this speaker; we are calibrating the connection. Can you hear me?"

  She took a deep breath. When she answered her voice was, of course, perfectly calm.

  "Indeed, Jeeves, I can hear you perfectly. You sound exactly as I expect."

  "Noted. Miss Anthora suggests we will have a plan of action for you within moments. We have identified several potential methods to extract you and the sensitive information from the situation. Please stand by."

  The clock in the hallway chimed.

  "Jeeves!"

  "Lady Kareen?"

  "I have a flight—very soon! It is imperative that I make—"

  "Noted," the robot's voice was chillingly mechanical. Kareen inclined her head to the intercom unit.

  "Thank you, Jeeves," she murmured, added for herself more than for it, "Flaran cha'menthi!"

  * * *

  Jelaza Kazone

  A small thunderclap echoed off the kitchen tiles; air displaced by Miss Anthora's precipitant arrival, Merlin in her ams.

  "Jeeves! I can locate the body easily. But Cousin Kareen . . . she's like fog. No! Like a fog rooted in stone." She leaned heavily against the counter, scarcely seeming to notice when the cat scrambled free and leapt to the floor. There was a certain fixity to her gaze that was consistent with a working trance. She was sweating, which was also not inconsistent with a working state. But this burst of panic in the midst—

  Anthora took a hard breath—another; her heart rate dropped, stress hormones leached away. A third breath and her body was soothed.

  "The house is," she said calmly to the waiting robot, "as reported, surrounded."

  "Noted."

  "Suggestion?" She inquired dryly.

  "Tactical computations engaged, Miss Anthora. Although nominally engaged as a unit under Plan B, Lady Kareen is currently operating as an independent ally in the absence of Val Con yos'Phelium and others of the Line Direct, until she can return to preassigned duties. She has identified and requested the disposition of certain items of value or concern to the Plan. Tactical simplification is indicated: the orderly disposition of the contents of her house will permit focus on other pending issues."

  "Jeeves, are you fully operational at the moment?"

  The robot's delayed response brought her pause, but she resisted the urge to scan . . . .

  "Computationally, I am more efficient and versatile than when originally constructed."

  "Do you have strategic computations also engaged, then?"

  A longer pause, followed by what could have been a short laugh, if Jeeves laughed.

  "I do."

  "We shall discuss them later. Do you have weather-monitoring capability?"

  "Of course."

  "Very good. Please monitor the weather in the area of Cousin Kareen's townhouse."

  Jeeves initiated the necessary protocols. "As you say, Miss Anthora."

  "Thank you. I will work from here, I think."

  She settled herself bonelessly to the floor; closed her eyes, and said—to Jeeves or to herself or to Merlin, busily bathing in a spot of sunlight—"first, the blood and flesh."

  Based on similar situations in the past, Jeeves refrained from replying as her trance state deepened. He also stationed himself to partially block the doors, since the cats inevitably gathered about as soon as they could when wizard-work was being done.

  * * *

  Patience had not been so easy of late. First, she'd been forced to the conclusion that the calling of Plan B, however much she deplored it, fell within the realm of the First Speaker's duties. It was in the diaries, after all, and consistent with the protocols.

  Next, she'd found herself dispatched to multiple errands, most of which any servant might have performed in ordinary times. Then, finding that Luken bel'Tarda's role was set as the one who would guide their mission, she'd had to deal with what he called "the grinding and polishing of small wheels" as the children were gathered, informed of their situations, and in several cases, armed.

  She had arranged and conferred with what patience she could muster, discovering in the man the Delm had appointed her son's protector in her stead—the amiable, babbling rug merchant—someone of quick insight, resilience, and a way with children.

  Then had come the machinations placing her as the one to receive this or that of the late-arriving parcels, and providing her with one last chance to add to the confounding of their enemy. bel'Tarda's contacts were sufficient in the absence of her own staff; smuggler-like, she had acquired three different sets of tickets to the off-world stations, none under her own name.

  Luken bel'Tarda had argued strongly against her delaying departure. He had gone so far as to charge her with risking the children. She had waved him and his arguments aside, certain of what was due her own melant'i And in that, she thought now, as the clock chimed the hour of the second ship's departure, she might have been, perhaps . . . somewhat . . . foolish.

  At least, there had been no risk to the children. Finding her adamant, bel'Tarda had altered his own arrangements—who, after all, notes the movements of a rug merchant?—and was now several days off-world, with those very children in his charge . Hopefully, she thought with a sudden shiver in the pleasantly warm room, beyond the reach of those others of Her Nin's organization.

  She spared a thought then for her own child, whose location had been established, but who had apparently managed to slip out from under the notice of Her Nin's associates. Well. Never let it be said that Pat Rin was anything but clever; and a gambler, so she thought, would have some small skill at defense and misdirection. Surely, he had gone to—