The Rhomandi brothers had nearly died for the Tower and the City and the web. Even before that, their lives had been subjugated to the Tower and the web since they were conceived. Deymorin's Outside holdings were beyond the Council's reach. The three of them and their servants, Kiyrstin . . . even Lidye, should Nikki so decide, could survive without Rhomatum.

Whether Rhomatum could survive without the Rho- mandi had never been seriously tested.

The elaborately-uniformed doormen swung open the elaborately-carved doors.

As he stood up, Deymorin's thoughts brushed his. He sent an irritated reminder in that direction, fueling it with all his remaining tension. Afterward, he felt purged, Dey- morin's and Kiyrstin's roles no longer as important as they once had seemed.

He slung the document case over his shoulder with some- thing approaching Deymorin's flair, and strode toward that gaping double-wide maw.

The original summons had been to one of the small meet- ing rooms, but a notice left on the door had directed Mi- khyel instead to this, the largest, most ostentatious auditorium in Brinmori Hall, with prime seating for three hundred, and a gallery for twice that number.

All for a meeting with eighteen people.

Intimidation. Anheliaa wasn't the only one skilled with the tactics.

However, in choosing this gallery, those would-be intim- idators overplayed their hand. In general, Mikhyel dun- Mheric, representative of House Rhomandi, felt more at ease in the anonymity of this great hall than he ever did in a more intimate setting.

He stepped confidently through the doors and into the great hall, where prismal skylights sent sunlight in shafts to spotlight the podium at the acoustic focal point of the great, semicircular room.

Only as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, did he realize the change of venue was not the only tactical shift on the part of his would-be intimidators. The hall was packed, standing room only, with Councillors, Syndics, and anyone else who could justify their presence.

Defying all rules of protocol, Mikhyel went directly to that central podium and mounted it.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Rhomatum Web." His voice rang in the eerily, unnaturally silent hall. "The history books describe the Rhomatum Syndicate of Nodes as an economic coalition, a union of legally autonomous city- states joined by a common and irrevocably interdependent energy source.

"That autonomy, my fellow citizens of the web, is our individual strengthand our collective weakness.

"Those same history books show that for the first two decades of the fourth century After the Founding, the Rho- matum Syndicate dealt with little more than trade disputes and keeping the leyroads clear of criminal activity that might interfere with the movement of goods. One by one, in the name of efficiency and profit, we have eliminated the programs that once guarded our borders against for- eign invasion.

"I ask you now to consider what the history books will say fifty years from now regarding the decisions we make today.

"The web, that fragile thread that binds individual cities into a single entity, is faltering. We need look no further than the nearest leylight to assure ourselves of that simple fact. We know the fact; we do not know the precise causeyet.

"While we can rest assured that our ringmasters will iso- late and repair the problem, eventually, even if the web were to be restored to full capacity by the time we finish dinner tonight, the situation that led to our current state would still exist.

"Anheliaa is dying. That can be no surprise to anyone here. Her death will leave an unprecedented void in Rho- matum Tower. We must guard against that void. The mere possibility of a vacancy in Rhomatum has already generated one militant probe out of Mauritum. That immediate threat is gone, but Mauritum remains a very real, long-term complication.

"There can be no question that High Priest Garetti of Mauritum has designs on Rhomatum. He made his interest clear when he sent his junior priest, Vandoshin romMaurii, into Rhomatum along with that probe. Had they managed to coerce their way into the Tower, as was their plan, Van- doshin romMaurii might well have seized control of the rings, securing Rhomatum for his superior.

"Thanks to Anheliaa, and the storm that temporarily took down the web, romMaurii won't be controlling any- thing. Her actions also resulted, unfortunately, in the chaos and loss of energy we're all of us all too familiar with.

However, while concern for our current situation cannot be overlooked, I ask you to consider the possible alternatives.

Annihilation of the rings, or Mauritumin rule.

"Thanks to the historical stability of the Rhomatum Syn- dicate. this first move to test our defenses was hesitant at best. The firestorm destroyed the entire party; there will be no firsthand accounts making their way back to High Priest Garetti. Mauritumin understanding of the event will necessarily be limited to the wildly speculative ru- mors which have been circulating our own cities for the past month.

"I know the truth of those days, my fellow citizens. I am willing to share that truth with you today. But the Mauri- tumin probe is only one incident. That which the incident implies is my concern.

"Rhomatum and her Syndicate have gotten careless, there's no other word for it. There is no other excuse for the defenseless state into which we have fallen.

"Other interests, less traditional, but equally anxious to take advantage of Rhomatum's impending vulnerability, might well be organizing similar campaigns. History tells us that in the early years following the capping of Rhomatum, our rich lands attracted a variety of outsiders, both those who had been trying for generations to settle here, only to be driven out by the storms, and those living under the skies to which Darius shunted the valley storms.

"Until the ring of nodes was nearly complete, the Syndi- cate maintained border watches, and subsidized trained troops that could be ready to leave their farms or kilns or workshops and protect the storm-free corridors against invasion.

"When all the satellites except Khoratum were capped, the effectively continuous storm belt proved a more com- pelling deterrent than any human sentinel, and those bor- der raids trickled to a virtual halt.

"And then, Anheliaa came to power. Anheliaa, my friends, has had an agenda her entire life. That fact is or should be no news to all of us. Anheliaa wanted Khoratum capped, and over the years she pushed programs that shifted the web's energies and tax monies toward that sin- gular purpose. She needed growth chambers beneath all the nodes, and she needed strong redundancies within all the Towers: she was prepared, my fellow Syndics, to sacri- fice every ringmaster within the web to control Khoratum.

"However, Anheliaa did cap Khoratum, without the loss of a single life, and we all know the result of that capping has been a decade of absolutely reliable ley-energy.

"A fact that we, as a collective unit, have rather blithely overlooked, was that Khoratum's capping also brought a significant reduction in the storm belt, both in width and intensity.

"I hope we have not delayed action for too long.

"Because as Anheliaa approaches her final hours, and with the control of Rhomatum Tower in doubt, our relaxed borders will appear increasingly attractive to outsiders. If the Syndicate is to survive in anything approaching its pres- ent form, we must reinstate the old patterns, revive the border watches and work as a unified nation, not indepen- dent entities.

"I personally accept no small part of the blame for this oversight. The Rhomandi have traditionally represented the interests of the web as a whole, not the interests of an individual node-citynot even Rhomatum. But I have be- come personally and painfully aware that for a generation, the Rhomandi have provided no true guidance, no vision toward a secure future.

"The Rhomandi are paying now for that dereliction.

"The Rhomandi are also coming to you armed with po- tential solutionsif you're interested.

"Everyone in this room knows that Anheliaa made indi- vidual agreements with every satellite Tower to ensure their cooperation in the capping. Some of those agreements are on record, others are not, though we all know they exist, for all we pretend they are secret.

"If the Syndicate intends to enforce those agreements, my brothers and I will not fight. Once Anheliaa is dead and unable to contest the decision, the Rhomandi fortune will be at your disposal, and the Rhomandi themselves will leave Rhomatum forever. Because such a decision, consid- ering the scope of this unpredictable and unavoidable disaster, would ruin House Rhomandi financially before it satisfied all claims likely to come forward. But if such is the choice of the Syndicate, then the time of the Rho- mandi is past, and my brothers and I have agreed that we will not be the source of yet one more division within the Syndicate.

"Obviously, House Rhomandi would wish otherwise. If the web is to continue, we need cooperation, not division.

Rebuilding and regrouping, not blind vengeance. I hope, before I leave today, we will have come to an understand- ing that is best not for any individual, not for any individual node, but for the entire Rhomatum Web."

He paused for breath. . . .

"Whatever questions you have, I shall answer.

Willingly."

He could feel their eyes on him. Feel the opposing energ- ies of hope and fear, confidence and distrust.

"Whatever advice I can offer, I shall give. Willingly."

That sensation was nothing new to him.

"If you would like to consider the House Rhomandi solu- tions, just ask."

It was the energy of life itself.

He let a slight smile curl his lip.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Rhomatum Web," he ended, in the voice one frustrated critic had said could con- vince a hungry snake that an egg was a rose, "Mikhyel dunMheric is at your service."

8 d 8 "I told you we should have walked," Deymorin said, as he handed Kiyrstin from the floater-cab to the Brinmori Hall dock.

"Better late than windblown, JD." Kiyrstin swept past him, her skirts held precisely free of the dock. "Politicians understand contempt. Besides, if that brother of yours hadn't run off with the Rhomandi coach, we'd have been here in plenty of time, now wouldn't we?"

Deymorin flipped a coin up to the independent cabby, who single-handed it, tipped his hat, and eased the floater free of the dock, pedaling off in search of another fare.

"You know it was a mistake." Ignoring the throb in his head, he took the stairs two at a time to catch up with her.

"Jerrik said Nikki thought we'd gone over already."

"Well, he was wrong, wasn't he?"

"And we were cutting it damned close."

Her mouth twitched. "True." She smoothed the front panels of the form-fitting bodice. "Even?"

"I'll let you know when my head quits vibrating. Rings, the lad can pack a mental punch."

"You three had best sort that out soon and lay down some ground rules, before one of you kills the other."

He grunted. Her point was well taken, but hardly neces- sary. Mikhyel's kindly reminder to get his ass to the meet- ing had sent him to his knees on the Rhomandi House threshold. One hesitated to consider what might have hap- pened had he been on horseback, or standing on a Tower balcony.

His hip throbbed in memory of just such a fall that had nearly killed him once and long ago, and on the wake of the thought, a desperate plea from Mikhyel, elsewhere in this building, begging him to shut his head up.

(Sorry,} he sent back, and put forth the effort to block his thoughts, concentrating on the simple, practical aspects of placing one foot in front of the other. The technique wasn't completely effective, but Mikhyel claimed it helped.

And at least he'd gotten, in that brief contact, and the residual awareness of his brother, a sense, almost a flavor, of satisfaction.

"How's the meeting going?" Kiyrstin asked.

"Fi" He biinked at her, wondering how she'd guessed, but they were at the lift, and he dared not inquire in front of the silver-haired operator. They rode upward in silence, and when they were again alone and headed down the third-floor corridor. "How?"

"Did I know you were talking with Mikhyel? I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps something about the silence, and that vacant, witless look you get, I suppose."

"That obvious?"

"To a stranger. Rags."

"You might have said something before now."

"Waiting for the right moment."

"After the humor wore off?"

She glanced up at him, a seductive challenge.

"Dammit, Kiyrsti, it's not funny. It's one thing for me.

Mikhyel can't afford to appear a fool."

"Mikhyel doesn't."

"Oh. Here it . . ." He stifled the curse that rose, sent a worried query to Mikhyel, received in return a vision of a crowded hall, a demand to hurry, and the first hint of real concern. {OH our way, fry.) He grabbed Kiyrstin's hand and pulled her toward the staircase. When she protested, he said, "He's done it, Kiyr- sti, he's done it. The lot of themSyndicate and Council every damned one of them, all there, and he's got them.

You, m'love, are his icing." He laughed aloud as he pulled her up the stairs. "He's terrified what's going to come through the door. What have you done to the poor lad, Shepherdess? You should see the mental image he has of you."

"They were captivated from the moment she entered the room. She was . . . superb." Mikhyel raised his wine in a toast to Kiyrstine romGaretti, who was seated next to ~ Deymorin at the head of the formal dining table Next to where Nikki should, by rights, have been sitting.

But Nikki had insisted otherwise, and so sat in his old posi- tion, on the table's west side, next to Lidye, his legal wife, whose formal dinner arrangements had forced Nikki to make that gesture.

Lidye had meant wellfor everyone.

He suspected that she'd sensed his disappointment at being left out of such an important meeting before she ever agreed to accompany him on the drive and that her deci- sion to risk the Tower and go with him had hinged more on his need than her desire.

And because he'd suspected that, and trying to be consid- erate to everyone's needs, he'd cut the drive short and then counted the stitches in the floater-cab on the ride home, thinking nothing about politics or his brothers, trying to keep his head quiet, the way Deymorin said he could.

He and Lidye had been sitting in the ringchamber when Mikhyel's exuberant victory announcement had rung in his head. He'd tried to keep that knowledge from Lidye until he could escape from Lidye long enough to have Jerri write a note that he could show Lidye and claim it was from his brothers.

It had all been very complicated. And all because his wife couldn't be trusted with their "secret."

On receiving the note, Lidye had immediately set in mo- tion this fine celebration, in part, he was certain, to remind his brothers of the New Order in the household. She meant to imply they should not have left him out. But she just didn't know. She didn't realize it didn't matter at all to him that Deymorin was still acting like the Rhomandi.

He only hoped when the time came (after Anheliaa was too dead to contest the reversion) and Mikhyel filed the papers to reinstate Deymorin as Princeps, Lidye wouldn't try to fight the action out of some mistaken sense of loyalty.

To him. Which was a pleasant thought, however wrong- headed in this case.

Besides, when Mikhyel had arrived filled with gratitude and praise for Nikki's adult attitude and his thoughtful de- cision to vacate the city, Nikki had almost forgotten that he had ousted himself from that very important moment.

Because he hadn't been there to foul the mental water, Mikhyel had enthralled them allSyndics, Councillors . . .

and Deymorin.

Deymorin had said Mikhyel's eloquence would have daz- zled Darius himself.

And thanks to Mikhyel's golden tongue, the Syndics were looking to Mikhyel for leadership through the political maze ahead, as they were looking to the commanding Daymorin to organize the border watch they'd agreed was vital for the web's future safety. As they were looking to Lidye and Anheliaa to stabilize the web.

And to Nikaenor they looked fornothing. Nikaenor was to stay out of the way. Everyone's way.

Nikki sighed and picked up his fork.

"DunHaulkh had already sent a team of examiners to the Boreton Turnout," Mikhyel was explaining. "The facts of the destruction were never in question. The factions and forces behind it were. All the equipment that hadn't been burned beyond recognition bore the Darhaven crest."

That was because romMaurii had stolen the wagons from Darhaven . . . at the same time romMaurii had taken him prisoner. Nikki wondered if Mikhyel had told them about that. If Mikhyel had told them how his younger brother the current Princeps of Rhomatumhad been stupid and gotten himself shot and tied up like a pig for slaughter and had had to be saved by his older brothers.

"... and combined with my simultaneous disappearance, they were justifiably suspicious of the Rhomandi. They wanted proof, or at least substantiating evidence of Mauri- tum's involvement, and Kiyrstin" Mikhyel kissed his fin- gers in her direction. Deymorin's gesture, not Mikhyel's.

"Kiyrstin provided all they could wish for, and dared them to disbelieve her."