He smiled fiercely, doing his sixteen-year-old best to ignore the pain that was now a horribly nagging ache. Seated thus he let them lead him on, one drawing the horse by its harness while the other two walked either side of him, ensuring he did not fall, their hands supporting him in the saddle.

Coming into the courtyard of his uncle's palace, he saw his half-brother, Kung-chih, over by the stables.

He made to call to him, then stopped, frowning. Kung-chih was standing with his back to him, talking to a small baldheaded man. Kung's presence in the stables was not unusual, nor was the fact that he was talking to a servant, but the servant was neither groom nor stable hand, he was Hwa Kwei, one of Tsu Ma's most trusted men, the Chief Steward of his bedchamber. What was the eunuch doing talking to Kung-chih? And why here, in the stables? Kung-chih made a furtive gesture with one hand and Hwa Kwei scuttled away. Then Kung-chih himself strode purposefully across the cobbled space and into a side door, far from the one Hwa Kwei had taken.

Concerned, Tao Chu looked down at the men surrounding him, but they seemed to have noticed nothing.

He grimaced, the pain starting up again more fiercely than before.

"Help me down," he said quietly.

WHEN KUNG-CHIH came to see him later Tao Chu said nothing of what he had seen. Tsu Ma was sitting in the room with them, concerned for his favorite nephew. Tao Chu had told him everything, omitting nothing, and had seen his uncle frown and then laugh with pride as he told him about mounting his horse and riding home."That is indeed how a Prince should act!" Tsu Ma had said, delighted. "And do not worry, Tao Chu, I shall not punish the men for your obstinacy!"

But Kung-chih was quieter, somehow less attentive than he might usually have been. He had said little since that day on the cliff tops- had made no threats nor shown any disrespect to Tsu Ma. He had been kind, almost his old self, yet in small ways he had changed. He no longer confided in Tao Chu; no longer shared his hopes and fears with his young half-brother. He had become insular and broody and subject to sudden moods. Seeing him with Hwa Kwei had therefore awoken Tao Chu's suspicions. He was sure that Kung-chih was up to something.

"How are you, little brother?" Kung-chih said on entering the room. "I hear you have been swimming."

It was an attempt at the old banter that had once existed between them, but now it fell strangely flat.

"I was stupid," Tao Chu said, sighing. "I ought to be dead. I'll not be so lucky twice in my life!"

The comment was not meant to carry any other meaning, yet as Tao Chu looked up into his brother's face he saw how Kung-chih's eyes moved away sharply, as if stung by the words. There was a momentary sourness in his expression, but then he looked back at Tao Chu and, softening, smiled. "Still .

. . I'm glad you're safe."

Are you? thought Tao Chu, seeing that all-too-familiar face in a different light, as if with new-created eyes; seeing the softness, the weakness there. But it was an unworthy, an uncharitable thought, and he felt guilty, knowing that for all his half-brother's self-preoccupation, his love was genuine. Reaching out, he took his hand and pressed it gently.

"I know," he said, and in his mind added, because you need me, Tsu Kung-chih. Need me to save you from yourself. To keep you from falling.

That was, if it wasn't already too late.

JELKA LOOKED UP from the screen and rubbed her eyes. She had been working on the tapes most of the day, selecting and editing those parts he'd find of interest, determined that she would finally get them done.

She had frozen the tape at an image of Titan she had taken when they'd been heading back on the Meridian. The orange surface of the moon was hazed in cloud, the dark red collar in its northern hemisphere showing up strongly. Beyond it, seeming to spear it, Saturn's rings swept in a glorious arc through the star-spattered blackness, the great gas giant itself just out of shot. The sight of it had taken her back to that moment, sending a strange thrill through her.

If only you could have been there with me, Kim. If only you could have seen it as I saw it.

She turned, looking across at the picture of her in her spacesuit taken on the steps of the Meridian. It was strange how comfortable she had felt in it-odd how something in her had responded to the icy coldness of the outer planets.

She turned back, stretching, nodding to herself, then took a print of the image. She would have it blown up and hung on the wall behind her desk. The rest . . . well, the rest was for Kim.

She let the film run, listening to her own voice as she repeated for the camera what she'd been told, facts and figures flowing from her tongue effortlessly. This was the last of them-the last of a dozen eight-hour tapes she had compiled for him from what had been months of material. For almost a year now she hadspent at least an hour a day preparing them, but now they were almost done. Another few hours at most.

And then?

She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure whether to send them to him or hand them over herself. After all, what if he'd forgotten her? What if there was someone else?

Titan receded slowly, the bulk of Saturn moving into the shot, dwarfing the tiny moon, the swirling striations of its northern hemisphere filling the screen. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. She let it run, knowing that whatever else happened, he, at least, would get to share this much of her experience.

So small our world is. Like a tiny speck of dust in a vast, echoing hall.

Slowly the image of Saturn shrank, slowly the darkness filled the screen. She shivered, frightened by the intensity of her feelings.

He had promised he would wait. Seven years, he'd said. Seven years.

There was a knock. She leaned forward and pressed HOLD, then turned to face the door.

"Come in!"

"Jelka?" Her father took a step into the room and looked about him. "Can you spare me a few moments?"

"Sure." She turned back, pressed SAVE, then blanked the screen. She could finish it later.

"How's Pauli?" she asked, going across to him and kissing his cheek.

Tolonen grinned. "Oh, he's fine. He's resting now. That new tutor of his makes him work. Sometimes I wonder if he's not a bit too hard on the child."

"He's a good child," she said, taking his arm and leading him out of the room. "And a bit of discipline won't harm him, will it? You forget how strict my tutors were with me."

"I guess so. But then, you were always a tough one. Headstrong too." He laughed. "Still are, I guess."

They went into his study. While he sat, she walked about the room, picking books from the shelves, then putting them back.

"So what is it?"

He looked up from his papers and grunted. "Just, er . . . a few details to sort out. For the party."

"Ah . . ." The invitation to Kim-that was what this was about. Steeling herself, she went across and sat, facing him across the desk.

"Here." He took a small pile of bright red envelopes from his tray and handed them to her. "You'd better check them before they go out."

She took them, nodding to him, but afraid to look.

"I was wondering about the music. I've booked the Chi L'ing Ensemble. I've been told they're very good. But maybe you feel they're a bit too . . . conventional."

She would have laughed but for the tension at the pit of her stomach. "It's all right," she answered, hervoice small. "The Chi L'ing will be fine."

His smile was businesslike. "Good . . . then that's settled."

She stared at him, trying to read his face while her fingers sorted through the pile, counting the cards.

Eleven. There were only eleven. But she had made twelve additions to the list. She wetted her lips, then spoke.

"There's one missing."

"Pardon?" He looked at her, then, understanding, gave a brief laugh. "Oh, I see. Yes . . . Old Joss Hawkins is dead, I'm afraid. Died a good eight, nine months back. I thought you'd heard."

She stared at him, mouth open, then looked down, flicking through the envelopes.

There! Six down. She stared at her father's handwriting on the envelope, surprised. Kim Ward it said, then gave his address at the SimFic labs. She looked up again. "I thought . . ."

"You thought?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Good. Then let's look at the catering. I've been thinking that maybe we should change a few things. ..."

AFTER she'd GONE, Tolonen sat there deep in thought. It was just as he'd suspected. No ... as he'd feared. He had seen it in her face. He'd thought it finished with, but it wasn't. She was still obsessed with the Claybom-still determined on being with him.

He sighed, then sat back, steepling his fingers under his nose.

Rich or not, genius or not, it could not be countenanced. His daughter and a Clayborn. No, it was unthinkable. His family would be a laughingstock, his daughter's chances at a real marriage destroyed for all time. He had to do something. Defying her was no good-he knew that now. But there were other ways.

He sat forward and pulled his diary toward him, opening it at that day's entry. The card he had been given lay there where he'd left it. He picked it up and stared at it, then, grimacing, drew the comset across to him and tapped in the number.

It rang, once, twice, a third time. I'll try later, he thought, about to put it down, but then the signal changed and a voice answered him.

"Hello. Madam Peng here. Can I help you?"

He cleared his throat. "Madam Peng . . . it's Marshal Tolonen here. A friend of mine gave me your number. I-I have a problem I hope you can help me with."

KIM STEPPED FROM the sedan and looked about, taking in the breathtaking opulence of the place.

The Mansion was a big three-story building in the Han style with sloping tiled roofs, but the gardens, too, were expansive, with a small river and an orchard on the far side of an ornamental bridge. Fake clouds drifted slowly across the blue of the ceiling fifty ch'i overhead, while the walls gave views of distant mountains. He had seen its like before, but he'd never thought to own such a place.

Reiss had called him just over an hour back and told him to go and see it. If he liked it it was his, whetherhe signed the new deal or not. If not, well, there would be others.

"Shih Ward?"

He turned as a middle-aged Han in dark green business silks strode toward him down the gravel path.

"I am Chang . . . Hugh Chang from Supernal Property." He bowed and shook Kim's hand at one and the same time, then turned, indicating the Mansion. "Beautiful, isn't it? It's rare for one of these really big Mansions to come on the market, but Director Reiss asked me to look out for something and notify him first. So here we are. I understand you're interested in acquiring something special."

Kim stared at the man a moment, irritated by his bullish, overfamiliar manner, then answered him.

"I haven't really thought about it."

"But I thought-"

"Just show me," he said, moving toward the house. "I want straight answers to my questions. And don't try to persuade me to buy it. If I like it, I like it. If not . . ."

He swept past Chang, imagining the look the man gave him behind his back, but right now he didn't care.

It had been a bad day-a very bad day so far-and even this could not really lift his spirits. Losing Ravachol had been a body blow, and though he'd set to the task again at once, it was more to disguise his feeling of loss, of alienation from the task at hand, than to seriously solve the problems that had come up.

The truth was, he felt like giving it all up. He felt like calling Reiss back and saying no, keep your company, I want none of it. At the same time he recognized that it was only a passing mood, and that however bad he felt now he would feel better in a day or two. Well enough, perhaps, to start anew.

As he approached the huge double doors to the main house, two guards stepped forward to bar his way, then backed away hurriedly as Chang waved them aside.

"Security is tight, as you see," he said, coming alongside Kim as they went into the shadowy hallway.

"There are six guard towers in the wall and special security barriers at both lifts-as you saw on the way in. We've recently installed a special electronic tracking system for the perimeter walls and emergency seal doors inside the house itself."

Kim glanced at him, surprised. "Is that normal?"

Chang shrugged. "You know how it is these days. No one's safe. Not even up this high. Not unless they've got all this stuff."

Kim stopped, turning to him. "And the people who owned this?"

"They took great precautions. In the eight years they were here there wasn't a single breach of security."

"So what happened to them? Did they get tired living like this? Or did they buy something even bigger?"

"Like a stack?" Chang laughed, then grew serious again. "No. You want a straight answer, right?"

"Right."

"Okay . . . They were killed. Butchered in their sedan. They'd gone to a charity ball run by that new group, you know, the New Conscience Movement. Seems like they were targeted. A terrorist cell tookthem in the lift coming up. The death by a thousand cuts. Very messy, so I'm told."

Kim nodded, sobered by the story. He looked to his right up the broad main stairs, then turned, looking through to the kitchens. It was all very dour and ostentatious. It simply trumpeted its wealth. Moreover, the place was huge. One could have a hundred children here and still not fill it. Even so, it didn't have to stay like this. With a little imagination he could make something of it-turn part of it into a research center, another of the wings into a lab complex. After all, money was no object now. He could do pretty much as he wanted.

Yes, he thought, but what would ]elka say? What does she want?

For a moment the absurdity of his situation almost made him laugh. Here he was, looking round a First Level Mansion-a place worth, what, a hundred, a hundred and fifty million yuan?-that was his, gratis, if he said yes, and the only thing stopping him was whether a young woman he hadn't seen in seven years-and who he couldn't be sure even remembered him-would like to live there.

He huffed out a breath, exasperated with himself, then looked at Chang again. "Okay. I'll take it. But I want to make changes. That's possible, I assume?"

Chang beamed. "As far as we're concerned, Shih Ward, you can burn the place down and start again from scratch. What you pay for is the deck itself. The Mansion"-he made a dismissive gesture-"you could replace this for ... oh, twenty million?"

"As little as that, huh?"

Chang nodded, unaware, it seemed, of the irony in Kim's voice. "Naturally, should you wish to make changes, we could put you in touch with the very best construction technicians. Craftsmen, they are.

Why-"

"Thank you, Shih Chang, but I think I've seen enough. Draw up the papers and send them to Director Reiss. If I wish to see the place again I'll know who to speak to, neh?"

Chang smiled, then handed Kim his card. "Just press the reverse and it'll put you in direct contact."

Kim stared at it with a professional interest, then pocketed it. He was about to turn away, when it came back to him what he'd meant to ask earlier.

"By the way . . . about the previous owners. What group was it that attacked them?"

The smile faded from Chang's face. "It was the Hand. The Black Hand. No one else is so audacious.

Why, I'm told-" He stopped, realizing he had overstepped the mark, then bowed. "Forgive me, Shih Ward. I don't want to keep you."

Kim nodded, then walked out and across to his sedan. Yet as he climbed inside he was thinking of all he'd heard recently. There was no doubting it, they were living in troubled times. Society had changed.