Chanhacuy left the library, dropping his necklace of office on a chair and gently closing the door behind himself as he went out.  Anen watched in mute amazement.  The old man had not meant his harsh words.  Anen glanced at his mother.  The Dlinnyy, too, seemed stunned.  She spoke slowly.  

"Anen, I've known him for what---thirty years?---and I've never known him to use his devious mind on a family member before."

"He's an old fox," Anen said with grudging admiration.  "The signs of performance were all there, but he was so convincing that I ignored them."  He laughed ruefully.  "That ought to teach me not to be complacent.  Well, let's get on with the business, regent.  Medok needs to be officially informed that he has new duties."  Anen looked over at the men around the long table.  Bardiriom and Mooses were rustling through papers busily, too busily, but Useomkdok was frankly watching.  How much had they heard? he wondered.

"Who asks Medok if he'd take on the administrator's job, you or I?" Anen spoke too quietly for the others to hear.

"Well, you are Kererr but you're not of ag yet.  We're making a contract with Medok, so I suppose I'll have to make the legal agreement, but you rule here, so you ask him and set the terms.  I'm sure he'll accept.  I'll sign whatever paperwork you two draw up."

Anen nodded and walked towards the worktable.  He touched Useomkdok's shoulder and drew him a little away from the others.  "Medok, the job of House Administrator is yours if you wish it.  You know the duties and I'm willing to make a written contract with you.  The Dlinnyy says you'll do the work well.  Will you accept?"

"No!"  Bardirom burst out.  He was quivering from nose to fingertips.  "No!  You can't give the job to him.   I've worked for this Family twice as long as Useomkdok has.  You owe this job to me!  To me!  Not to this upstart son of a minor House!"

"Rogan Bardiriom," the Dlinnyy began soothingly, "I can see you believe you have reason to be upset..."

"Reason!  I've been done out of the job I've worked years for, and by the whim of a woman!"

Anya Kurharay opened her mouth to reply, but Anen made a sharp cutting motion with his hand to silence her.  "You forget yourself, Rogan Bardiriom," he said coldly.  "Perhaps Freemen speak so of their Freemen overlords, but you will not talk of the Dlinnyy of House Kurharay with such contempt.  Do I make myself clear?"

"You do, milord."

There was a subtle sneer in the reply, so subtle that Anen knew if he called attention to it, he would appear petty and ridiculous.  He snapped his mouth closed on a biting reply.  "Lady Mother, did Rogan Bardiriom have grounds for thinking he would be given the job when Chanhacuy---retired?"

"Certainly not!" The Kererr flashed a look at the offending secretary and then away.  "The Freeman has no ear for languages and cannot handle complex accounts at all.  He does his present job very well, but he lacks the skills to move higher.  Lido hired Medok to take over Chanhacuy's position.  I'm sure he made Rogan Bardiriom no promises at all."

And if he did, Bardiriom was a fool to believe in them, Anen added to himself.

"Milord," Bardiriom made a full bow and looked at Anen with pleading eyes.  "I can learn Galax and a hired accountant could handle the mathematics, freeing me to do many other things.  I know the business of this House, lord!"

"You haven't been able to learn Galax in 20 years.  I cannot believe you'd do better now."  The Dlinnyy ran a paper from the table through her hands again and again.  She kept her eyes on the moving paper when she spoke.  "Our House survives on its exports, Freeman.  We must have an administrator who speaks both Galax and Ikonese well and who handles the mathematics easily.  You would have to deal with most of the 1st Merchants stationed here through an interpreter and an accountant.  That is inefficient and expensive, Freeman." She looked up and pinned Bardiriom with golden eyes gone hard and cold.  "You do not qualify for the job.  It is that simple.  You do not qualify for the job!"  The Dlinnyy turned her back to him, picked up a stack of plasti trade sheets, and pretended to read them.

Bardiriom reddened and shot the Dlinnyy a venomous glance.  "I'll never forgive this.  Never!  I'll..."

"Bardiriom!" Anen broke in sharply, "say one more word and you'll follow Chanhacuy out of this House's service.  Go to your quarters and cool your temper.  If you wish to resign, that is your choice.  However, you've done this House valuable service and I'd like to see that service continue."

Bardiriom stomped from the room.  He'll bear watching for a while, Anen told himself, and added Bardiriom's name to his mental list of people to check on in a few weeks' time.  Anen hunched his shoulders, then pushed them back and heard the small cracking sounds as his back slightly rearranged itself.  If I expelled everyone with a motive for treachery, he thought bitterly, there would be too few people left to keep the House and castle running.  He suppressed a sigh, aware of the eyes of  Useomkdok  and his cousin. "I'm going to my room for a time, Lady Mother.  Have a page bring me midday there.  Medok, I want to know the names of all my vassals, their financial standing, the financial standing of this House, the cost of restocking for the siege--Generals Rerfidail and Zuluy are preparing a list for you---and the soonest my oath-feast can be held.  Later you can start teaching me about imports and exports and wages and...." He smiled slightly.  "But then, you know what I need to learn and how to teach me, don't you?  One clue.  The Academy trained me to learn very quickly by ear."

Anen ignored the strange look his mother gave him when he didn't go to the curving iron stair to the Kererr's quarters but headed for the hall door.  He mounted the stairs to his little room two at a time, locked its door, sent a message by com to the Family's clinic that he wanted to see Kosh Bubov in his Level 5 quarters in an hour, and lay down on the narrow bed.  Aster crawled out from under the bed, curled, purring, under Anen's chin, and the two went to sleep.

Anen woke with a start in a rush of fear.  Something had touched his cheek.  He rolled away from the touch, grabbing the zapper that was not in his belt, and opened his eyes.  Aster was sitting on his pillow, reaching to pat him with the bare toes of one little paw.  Just Aster.  Anen willed the tension out of himself.  His survival instincts were coming back, but his reactions were slow and incomplete.  He should have heard Aster move, should have had a weapon at hand, should have been able to aim and fire that weapon in a fraction of a second.  His life would depend on it.  He glanced at the door.  At least he had locked that.  Aster nudged Anen's hand demandingly.  Anen rolled the yan-yan over onto its back---at least he presumed it was Aster's back.  It was hard to tell with a yan-yan---and tickled its belly.  The yan-yan let two more legs sprawl out of its fur and purred loudly, then it rolled off the bed and over to the door.  Its movements resembled those of a snowflake in a light breeze.  It sniffed at the crack under the door.

Anen smiled at the little creature.  "Hungry? So'm I.  Let's see what they sent."

A tray lay on the floor outside. A note on top of it said, "Pilot Bubov will be unable to accommodate the Kererr beause he has not yet awakened from the chemical sleep necessary for setting his arm.  I.W. Mokrod."

So, Anen thought, sighing, I can't get your advice for a while, Kosh.  He carried the tray into his room, shut the door, then shared the food with Aster.  He sat long after he had finished, staring blindly at the wall before him, trying to establish connections between what he had just learned and what he remembered, trying to make high probability estimates of what his enemy's next move against him would be, and when.

For the next five days, the conviction hung over Anen that Moaekod would act against him at least once more before the storms of Qildoling stopped all movement on the surface.  During that tense time, the manor's military and household officers crammed Anen with vital details of political alliances; vassals' names and obligations; the laws of siege, duel, and assassination; and reviewed the history and tactics of the Kurhuray/Moaekod feud, beginning with the theft by Anen's great-grandsire's Midnight Ship bride.  In the evenings, he sat with Kosh privately in the library and went over the day's information, summarizing, condensing, trying to remember all that was vital in his House.  He felt saturated with vital information.  He also felt adrift, without the experience to judge which bits of information would be essential to the survival of his House.  On the night of the fifth day he came slowly into the library, closed the door, and leaned against it, head hanging, shoulders drooping.  He rubbed his eyes wearily.  The only other occupant of the room, Kosh  Bubov, who was crouching by the fire, studying it, looked up in concern.  "Anen?"

Anen slumped into the big leather chair by the fireplace and stared dejectedly at his feet.  "I don't know enough, Kosh.  I can't learn fast enough.  I'm going to make a wrong choice in a tight place and damage my House or even take it down.  And the history of my House is one tight place after another." Anen let his head drop into his hands and was quiet for a moment.  When he looked up, his brown/gold eyes were blazing.  He pounded his fist on the arm of the chair.  "How could my sire do this! Did he hold Astin Moaekod in such contempt that he thought his sons were safe?  Did that mean he was safe?  House Moaekod intends to take this Holding from us and I've been Academy-trained to keep peace!"

Bubov's normally merry face was serious.  His dark eyes held Anen's.  "From Astin, you were safe, considering his incredible ineptitude.  Astin wasn't responsible for your sire's death.  Hasn't your lady mother told you that?  Gaito killed them all with his own hand, first Lido and Ivan, right after Thawtime Congress, then Toben and Din when they attempted to avenge those deaths. He killed Toben and Din and all their raiding party but two from ambush.  He left two Purples alive to tell us what he'd done."

"Sentinels!" Anen stared, unseeing, at the book-jammed shelves across the room.  For a long time his mind was a black emptiness, too stunned to think at all.  When his mind did stir again to thought, it was to Ivan---his wit, his charm, the deep love he and Anen had felt for each other.  Grief came then, sharper and darker than before, and then a savage anger.  The Heir of Moaekod had killed the Heirs of Kurharay with his own hands!

Anen's muscles cried for swift, violent action.  He had to move before his rage ripped him apart and he could not move against Moaekod.  Not yet.  His knowledge was too little.  Anen sprang from the chair, sprinted to the nearest lift, and rode down to level two and the flitter pad.  He heard Kosh behind him just vaguely.  The com-center officer's face dropped with surprise when he saw Anen running across the pad towards a flitter.

"Milord!" he called. "Milord, you can't take a flitter up!  There's a storm'll blow you all the way to Rybalki Holding!"

In that moment Kosh caught up, wrapped his good arm around Anen, and whipped him on the side of his head with the cast.   "Lord," he said urgently into Anen's ear, "stop!  I can guess how you feel, but you can't behave this way in front of your staff.  Anen, listen to me!"

Anen quit struggling and a measure of sanity returned to him.  Kosh loosened his hold but did not let go.

"Milord," he said, louder and more formally, "come.  You could use a little sword practice now."

Kosh hustled Anen into a lift, down one level, and into the sand-surfaced arena.  Anen followed him like a child.  The sword dummy stood in a raked circle of sand, and beside it, on the low arena wall, lay two battered swords.  A xop-hide tunnel lay over the dummy's power cord to protect it from accidental damage.  Kosh pressed one of the swords into the dummy's grip, the other into Anen's turned the dial on the dummy's back to "9--expert," and stood Anen in front of it.

"Imagine that's Gaito.  It's at his skill level.  Kill him, Anen!"

The dummy turned slightly, following Anen's heat, and slid forward.  Anen parried the first blow, then lunged for the dummy's heart.  The dummy brushed his sword aside easily.  The dummy's setting was beyond Anen's usual skill level, but Anen's rage gave him speed and daring.  Kosh backed against the low arena wall and watched Anen lunge, thrust, parry, twist, dodge, thrust, parry, turn, thrust.  At last, when Anen was drenched with sweat and bleeding from many minor cuts, he scored a "moral" blow and the dummy stopped moving.  Anen came to lean against the wall next to Kosh, panting and steaming sweat.

"Thanks---friend," he said, and sank to sat limply at the base of the wall.

"Didn't think you wanted the padded jacket tonight," Kosh explained.  "The dummy can't hurt you badly and a little pain could spur you on to get rid of that---that---"

"Yes," said Anen.

He rose slowly, pulled his sopping wet tunic away from his skin, and headed for the sanitary.  Shortly afterward, washed, and dressed in an exercise suit borrowed from the military storeroom beside the sanitary, Anen joined Kosh in the hall outside the arena.  Behind them was the armory with its smells of sweat and weapons' oil.  Anen tipped back his head and sniffed deeply the powerful smell of the "horses" stabled along the two halls on the other side of the arena.  He stared at the arena's stone wall, stared at it hard, as if he could by will see through the manor's central core to the stall where Bara stayed over winter.  Bara.  Anen resolved to make time to come down and exercise Bara.

His sight and mind returned to the stone wall before him, to the stone walls of the rooms behind him and above him.  Above him.  The kitchens in the core above the arena, the Charming Haunt above the kitchen, the library and Haunt galleries above that, the Kererr and Dlinnyy's quarters above that, the conservatory above that---hundreds of meters of thick, gray stone.  And the ventilator fans.  And...

He made an important gesture.  There was that to deal with, too, the weight and the grayness and the months of confinement.  He strode down the hall, around the corridor past the quarters of the animal workers, and past the first two of a row of colored doors.  He pushed open the third.  Kosh put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Anen, what are you doing?"

"I have to go outside."

"Outside? Outside!  You're still out of your mind!"

"It's something I have to do. Now.  But I'm no fool, Kosh. I'm going out through one of the city's escape lifts, not through a castle lift where one of my disapproving cousins might see me.  I won't go beyond the service shelter, and I'm taking you with me, at least as far as the lift."

"There's a storm outside."

"There's a storm inside, too. Kosh, I've been away from here too long.  I've learned to need fresh air and wind and real sunlight and openness. Buruq no longer feels like home to me, it feels like a trap.  Even if there were no Moaekods, Buruq would feel like a trap to me.  that's the part of the rage, Kosh.  If I can get rid of that part, I can use my anger instead of letting it use me, like it just did." Anen gripped Bubov's upper arms.  "I can't afford to lose control of myself, Kosh, not now.  Not with Gaito waiting to catch me in a serious mistake." Anen looked into his friend's doubtful eyes.  "Trust me, Kosh.  I've learned a lot about myself in the last five years.  You don't have to understand my need, just come with me. Please!"

Kosh looked very dubious, but he followed Anen through the door, down a flight of steps to the hovercar garage and into a car.  Anen spun the steering wheel and drove into Buruq.  

The city slept in the blue glow of imitation moonlight.  Anen felt impatient with the pretense of surface light.  Buruq's buildings seemed more crowded together, dirtier than he remembered them, the streets seemed far narrower and rougher and more winding.  The hovercar sometimes brushed against the potted trees along the walkways.  In some of the narrower streets, pedestrians, had there been any that late at night, would have had to take shelter in doorways to avoid being run over.  The air felt thick.  Anen had forgotten the smell of Raaros, the sour, musty smell of too many people crowded into tight quarters whose filters were seldom cleaned.  The buildings loomed over the car, dark, heavy, suffocating.  Anen felt confined, bound, at the edge of panic.  He flung the car down a painted yellow path that led to one of the city's emergency exits, his hands shaking.  The cobbled street turned and twisted, narrowed, broadened again, and ended in a stark, empty emergency plaza.  Anen sprang from his seat, wild with the need to get out, and strode across the plaza to the long equipment rack beside the lift, Kosh close behind.  Their bootsteps bounced echoes from the smooth stone walls.

Anen grabbed a survival suit and a breathing mask from the rack, then spun, breathless, tense., "Guard the lift, Kosh?"

Bubov nodded.  Anen rode up to the surface, putting on the suit and mask as he went.  He knew what he must do and wondered if he had the strength to do it.   The lift stopped.  Anen stared at the heavy doors.  Outside was all that Mirl'da V was and Raaros was not.  Slowly, he stretched out his hand and pressed the button that opened the lift door.  Wind and piercing cold swirled in.  Anen stepped out of the lift and walked to the edge of the entrance shelter.  This was Mirl'da V.  A storm blocked out the sun, the sky, the land, everything beyond the shelter entrance.  Anen shoved his right hand into the grip at the edge of the shelter.  Beyond was only a gray-whiteness striped with wind-driven snow.  The wind screamed across the plain, scouring down to the frozen ground.  It tugged at Anen, pulling him toward the mountains.  He clamped his fee hand onto the grip on the opposite side of the shelter and resisted the insistent tugging.  Ice fragments rattled against his face.  Frost covered the mask and crept over the lower edges of the suit's goggles.  Men had died in that wind, the breath sucked out of them.  Anen listened to the wailing wind, the scraping sound of ice pellets streaming past, the shush of snow driven into and over the drift against the shelter's side.  He knew the next 5 months would be like this---storms and cold and screaming wind.  For three of those months no one went onto the surface for any reason.

Anen let himself think of the emerald green of Raaros---trees, grasses, hills, plains, bathed in sunshine or frequent gentle mist, rainstorms that did not destroy, snowstorms that lasted only hours instead of days, winter sports impossible on Mirl'da V.  He saw the huge, gentle snowflakes of winter, pale green springs that stretched into bright, mild summers, and summers that slowly turned into autumns blazing with colored leaves.   He thought of walking and playing with friends without fear of assassins, of friendships with young women without outraged cries for marriage or blood, of Din most of all.  Big, blond, powerful Din, who'd been closer to Anen than even Ivan.  Ivan who should've been Kererr.

Anen bit back a surge of grief and took advantage of a momentary lull to move deeper into the lift shelter, out of reach of the clutching wind.  Between protecting walls, he removed the mask and breathed the sharp, cold air.  It pinched his nose and made his lung burn, but it was real, uncirculated.  Until Vrowuzis, this harsh, killing wind would be all the unprocessed air there was.  He replaced the mask and walked out again to the edge of the gray light and racing snow.  He clung to both hand grips.  It was Rarros or my own freedom for the life of my house, he told himself.  I've traded warmth and sunlight and joy and friendship for duty and Family and this unwelcoming world.  I've made my choice.  I must make that choice. I must make it worth the price.

He lost track of how long he stared blindly into the fierce night.  He was painfully aware how far he had to go to become an effective Kererr.  He was also aware that Astin Moaekod's paralysis drastically shortened the time he had in which to learn. At last the cold penetrated even the survival suit, and Anen turned away from the storm and walked determinedly through the thin layer of snow inside the shelter to the lift.

Kosh and Anen did not talk on the ride back to Buruq castle.  Anen was preoccupied with his thoughts and Kosh had the wisdom not to interrupt him.  Anen hopped out in the castle's courtyard and, rather curtly, asked Kosh to garage the car for him.  He glanced up at the nursery windows, their window boxes dim shadows in the "night" of the courtyard, the gypsy-flowers and trailing ferns in them mere lumps in the darkness.  He paused in the dim corridor outside the Charming Haunt to smell and feel Buruq, then he charged up two flights of stairs to his room and flung open the door.  He stood in the doorway and looked at the prints and paintings imported from other planets.  They had been his dream, his escape, for as long as he could remember.  When he had failed to meet Lido P. Kurharay's standards on the target range or in the arena, he had spent the hours of punishment here, visiting in mind the verdant reefs of Strao 38, the Grand Bazaar of Zabim V, the Tarian Naval Academy on Raaros, and other places on other planets.  Well, he had seen those verdant reefs from orbit and had purchased a xop-hide chest in the Grand Bazaar on Zabim V.198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzVSEm4X4FW

He walked the few paces that separated him from the large painting of Raaros and its two tiny moons.  He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly across the quiet, blue-green face of the planet, calm, peaceful, the Quadrant HQ for the Federation of the Divine Planets.  His hand dropped to his side, and he stepped back, away from the painting.  For several minutes he savored its colors and its memories, then he carefully took it and all the other pictures down, stacked them, neatly, and tied them into manageable bundles.198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSGMKTqdUKq