"Rudolf prefers parpaun; he fences only because it is done in his set, and is content with mediocrity."

"His mother's son . . ." the Chairman said. "Go on."

"James competes in school tourneys; he seeks praise from me when I visit. He may mature into a good fencer someday."

"Weapon?"

"Epee, I think, though perhaps saber later."

"Continue."

"Katarin and Viola both fence well, for women."

"You have no more to say about them?"

"No . . . they fence because it is done, as they play at nets or ball or swim."

"Are they pretty, Fieddi?"

Hostite cast his mind back; he could see the faces clearly but he had no grasp of what the Chairman's standard of beauty was. "They are young, and rich," he said. "They are not Dancers."

The Chairman laughed. "Your standards are strict, I see. Well, then . . . Iagin Persius. You were sent to the Consellines. What did you find?"

"Hobart Conselline continues in his belief that he is ill-treated. Although he is now the acknowledged head of that family and sept, he still hungers after the approval he feels was given his brother. He is ambitious for himself and his friends; he wants to ensure his secure hold on power for the rest of his life."

"And he is a Rejuvenant?"

"Yes, a multiple. He despises the short-lived who cannot afford rejuvenation."

"And does he know where the Compassionate Hand stands on rejuvenation?"

"He does, sir, and he says it is the one weakness of the Compassionate Hand."

"His religion?"

"He has no belief in any higher power than wealth and influence, sir."

"Ah. Such men are ripe for superstition. Hostite, how about the Barracloughs?"

"Some in the family are believers, but not in our faith. Theirs is debased, decadent, a descendant of those rebellious faiths of Old Earth, which broke away from Holy Church so long ago."

"Hostite! I did not know you could be eloquent." That arch surprise was dangerous; Hostite tried to empty his mind of all but his duty. "So you are passionate about the Church?"

"Sir, I am a member of the Order of Swords; I have given my life to the Order since childhood."

"I know that, Hostite. But I sense in you some deeper emotion. Have you ever had a vision or revelation of Our Lord?"

"No, sir, none that could not be explained as a child's wishful fantasy. But the contact with those unbelievers in the Familias has made me realize what a treasure the True Faith is. They play with their faith as a child with jacks and balls, putting it away in a mental box when it is not convenient. That is not real faith."

"No, of course not. But let us go back to the matters at hand. How stand the Barracloughs on rejuvenation?"

"Most of them over forty have been rejuvenated, sir, but several of the seniors have refused. The Barraclough family has an elective power structure: Stefan, the current head of family, is not actually the eldest son of eldest sons. His older brother Viktor specialized in legal theory, and he refused rejuvenation. His objection was legal-the turmoil that would be caused by multiple rejuvenations. Viktor is now in his seventies. Viktor's daughter Viviane was rejuvenated with the new process at forty; she is now forty-five, but my sources say that she is determined not to repeat the process. Stefan is fifty-seven, and has received two rejuventions, giving him an apparent age of thirty. However, he disapproves of what he calls 'frivolous' rejuvenations."

"Ummm . . . for either of you: to what extent do the non-Family citizens of the Familias regard rejuvenation as a legal or social or religious matter?"

Hostite paused, thinking, but Iagin spoke up quickly. "Because Hobart Conselline is so willing to talk-more willing to talk than almost anything else-I have data on these points. He is very concerned about opposition to serial rejuvenation. This is fuelled both by concerns about the profit margin-Conselline Sept's family investments in rejuv pharmaceuticals are large, and until the Patchcock scandal, these had formed twenty percent or more of the profits-and by concern about the social constraints that might be put on serial rejuvenants. The Consellines introduced and strongly supported the repeal of the law against repeat rejuvenations. He feels that serial rejuvenation, conferring unlimited lifespan, is the earned right of those who have shown their fitness by accumulating the wealth to afford it."

"Ah-and would he apply this same philosophy to foreign affairs?"

"In all likelihood. He follows up advantages in fencing-and, from what I've been able to gather, in other domains as well-with great vigor and intensity. I have observed him at table, and with his family, and would say that nothing is ever enough for him. If he had no access to rejuvenation and advanced medical care, he would eat and drink himself into the grave."

"Truly, the discipline of the Faith saves more than souls," the Chairman said, flashing a smile at Hostite. The Chairman, as lean and fit at sixty as he had been thirty years earlier, had not been rejuvenated and would not be: the Church forbade it. But neither would he inflict damage on his own body for selfish purposes. "So . . . Hobart Conselline, who has become the new head of government, is a man of grudges and jealousies, scheming and ruthless, a man who will not feel

safe until he controls everything. What, Hostite, will the Barracloughs do when he tries to control them?"

"Viktor will fight, with all the legal knowledge he has-but the Familias Regnant has no formal Constitution. Stefan will start by hoping for the best, but if Hobart angers him sufficiently he will lead his Family in opposition. He is not a man of great vision, however. He counters the obvious attack, but does not see the oblique one that covers."

"Why, I wonder, did they elect him head of the Family?"

Hostite cleared his throat. "Of the posssibilities, he seemed least likely to interfere with the others' lives. Lord Thornbuckle was already Speaker, in any case-he did not want the Family leadership as well. His younger brother Harlis was not well-liked. Viktor didn't want it. And although the Familias is far from strict on the gender issue, few of the great Families have women at the head. None of the Barraclough women were dissatisfied enough to make a run for it."

"They have no renegade women?"

"They do, but their tastes run to inconsequentials. Lady Cecelia de Marktos, for instance, breeds horses."

"She was on Xavier," the Chairman said, with a cold contempt that almost loosened Hostite's bowels. He should have known that; he had been listening to what her family said about her. "She might be just a horse breeder, but she has been inconveniently near several disturbances in our plans. She was on Sirialis when Lepescu was destroyed-"

"Lepescu was ours?" Iagin asked. The Chairman gave him a look Hostite would not like to have received.

"No. I would not use that filth. It is one thing to kill-even to maim, as a lesson-but quite another to treat an enemy as less than human. No, what I'm remembering is that Cecelia de Marktos was the one who took the Crown Prince back to his father, and meddled. I did not authorize our agent's attack on her-women are simply not reliable, and I suspect personal jealousy of some sort-but she showed up again interfering with the Patchcock situation. It passes chance that she-a woman never previously far from a horse-should be right at the scene of problems so many times."

"Heris Serrano," Hostite murmured. "The commander was there also."

"Yes. And the Serranos have always had the reputation for neutrality in the Familias. Here they are linked to a Barraclough repeatedly . . ."

"Heris Serrano had resigned her commission; she began her association with Lady Cecelia as a hireling." That was Iagin.

"Easy enough to contrive that, if one wanted to form a duetto." A bonded pair hunting together, that meant.

"Thank you both," the Chairman said then, nodding. "Master, if you will wait a moment . . ."

Hostite backed away from the Chairman's desk until he felt the ridge in the carpet that signalled the correct distance, then turned to go.

Somewhat to his surprise, he lived to cross the threshold. He and Iagin strolled back to the vesting room, and Hostite felt the languid ease that always followed a moment of mortal danger survived.

The Chairman eyed the Master of Swords. "Hostite is our oldest Swordmaster, is he not?"

"Yes, sir."