Mikhyel laid his pen down, and crossed his arms on the table. "You fascinate me, Raul. And why would the farm- ers leave their farms?"

"Perhaps you would do better to discuss that with Gan- frion, m'lord. I merely repeat what he said to me, and might well misrepresent the situation."

"If Ganfrion has useful information, Ganfrion can come to me," Mikhyel said, and reclaimed his pen.

"Then perhaps you should speak to Captain Ori," Rau- lind said.

And that was all he'd get out of Raulind. But that was enough. Ori, captain of his guard, and a man he'd hired on Deymorin's recommendation, didn't approve of Ganfrion.

"I might just do that, Raul."

"As you will. Master Khyel. Now, about this request for increasing the Harriisidumin hot baths?"

And so, having made his point, Raulind moved ahead.

Raulind was proving endlessly versatile these days, par- ticularly since the staff Mikhyel had brought along had re- luctantly declared themselves unable to work in the moving carriage. They did their best to make up the deficiency when they stopped for the night, and had offered to work around the clock while at the nodes, but Raulind's ability to work, as did Mikhyel, en route, was making that well- intended sacrifice unnecessary.

"Acceptance pile," Mikhyel answered. "And urgent. I know there are disbelievers, Raul, but the Barsitumin baths have saved my life twice. I have to assume others find them as effective. Because the ley baths don't work for everyone, doesn't mean we have the right to deprive anyone for whom they might work."

"My sister was equally fortunate, though at Harriisidum, of course. I queried only because I feared that personal experience might cloud my judgment in the matter."

Not to mention he'd been a Barsitumin bath attendant before he'd moved to Rhomatum. Even so . . . "At your foggiest, Raul, you're fairer-headed than any Syndic I know."

A back-handed compliment Raul knew full well how to interpret. The valet dipped his head in phlegmatic acknow- ledgment, and noted the order on the auto-accept cross-file.

After that, there was silence, as it had been mostly silent in the carriage for days. Mikhyel worked on his personal notes, rewriting them for clarity, expanding them before his memory impressions faded; Raul took the letters and re- quests accumulated at every stop, rewriting those he deemed illegible, and then added them to a summarized listing, filing the original for later referral.

But Venitum was behind him now, as were Harriisidum and Incarodum and Merdum, and even as Mikhyel dealt with the accumulated past, thoughts of upcoming days at Shatum and the thickest of Nikki's reports intruded.

They'd be stopping soonwithin the hour, if he judged correctlyfor all it was still light out, and for all they were running ahead of schedule and might actually have made Shatum before midnight. But he had rooms reserved at the Eagle's Nest, and looked forward to a quiet evening of reflection and review of Nikki's report, a good night's sleep and an easy stage into Shatum tomorrow.

So far, the tours of the Node Cities had been little more than formalities. Save for that momentary dissension at Ve- nitum, all the ringmasters had been quite amenable to his proposals . . . provided Talin Pasingarim, the senior Ring- master of Shatum, agreed to them. And the various leaders all thought the border watch was a marvelous notion . . .

Provided the Shatumin Twelve agreed.

Without doubt, Shatum would set the tone for the entire trip. But he'd known that all along.

Shatum was the second oldest Node City in the Rhoma- tum Web. Only Rhomatum herself was olderexcepting, of course, Persitum. But, historically speaking, Persitum was part of the Mauritum Web, and since Persitum had dropped so precipitously from the Rhomatum Web, Sha- tum could now claim her second-born status without qualification.

Shatum was also second largest, and that was true even including Persitum. Not second in power-umbrella radius in that sense, Giephaetum was slightly largerbut in popu- lation. And in that sense, Shatum would soon outstrip Rho- matum herself, whose citizens voluntarily limited their population growth. ,) Most importantly, Shatum, as the primary inteilehange on the sole sanctioned trade route between the Rhomatum Syndicate and the Kirish'lan Empire, was the undisputed leader of the Southern Crescent of Nodes, a fact Anheliaa had considered carefully in choosing Lidye dunTarim as her successor in Rhomatum Tower.

And thanks in no small part to that decision, Shatum, fifth of the seventeen scheduled stops for the Rhomatumin entourage, would be the first major test of Mikhyel dun- mheric's persuasive abilities.

Not that he had any particular reason for concern, only the natural caution one maintained when heading into ne- gotiations with master merchants. The Alliance of Twelve Guilds would agree to Rhomatum's proposals because the proposals made good common sense, but they would drive a hard bargain. Of that, Mikhyel was certain.

Mikhyel had decided it was a very good thing Anheliaa had had the grace to depart this world before he'd had to embark on this tour. The ringmasters were much relieved to have the steady leeching from Rhomatum at an end, and his ability to reassure them that the worst was over and that a healthy Shatumin woman was in charge in Rhoma- tum seemed to set all minds at ease.

At least, all these Southern Crescent minds. He had to wonder if the Northern Crescent would respond quite so favorably.

A twinge in his left hand advised him to set the pen aside before the twinge became a cramp. Kneading the tired mus- cles of one hand with the only slightly less tired muscles of the other, he leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes against the light.

He worried at times that the lightning blasted trip to Boreton had caused permanent damage to his eyes. He wasn't conscious of diminished capacity, just oversensitivity, and he wondered if the dark-tinted protective glasses some of the Venitumin factory workers had worn would help.

Of course, he'd look rather silly, walking down a market- place with his eyes hidden behind two blackened circles of glass.

A rustle of papers from the table's far side; Mikhyel cracked his eyelids, found Raulind watching him, a look of advised concern on his face. Mikhyel twitched an eyebrow; Raulind nodded, and returned to his cataloging.

Mikhyel"smiled and let his head drift to the side, swaying with the ftsy movement of the coach.

Considering how much he'd dreaded leaving Rhomatum, he was finding the trip very much to his liking. He had a defined schedule, a defined goal at each stop, and a defined procedure between times.

He also enjoyed the absence of his brothers. Both of them. Distance had cleared them at last from his mind. At each node, couriered letters had reassured him regarding the situation in Rhomatum, as well as the developing situa- tion on the coast.

Deymorin should be well on his way to Mandriisin's estate on the coast,"which was to be his base of operations for the next month; Nikki was pursuing the dam; the rings were stable. . . .

Overall, he had little to concern him. For once.

The link between himself and his brothers that had so completely ruled his life for a time seemed remote now, almost a thing of dreams. If he tried, he could conjure the memory, recall the sensations.

There was a different cramp in his left hand, and his fingertips burned from the bite of guitar strings. Not his fingers: Nikki's. Nikki the poet, Nikki the singer, whose calluses had vanished from disuse.

And Deymorin, the sway and lurch, the stretch of leg around solid muscle and bone, the creak of leather . . .

Deymorin on horseback. Such were his associations of his brothers.

Associations, or had they returned to his head? He began a more concentrated search for them, sensed Nikki's frus- tration, heard the sudden discord of a loose string. And Deymorin An explosion of power beneath him, a surge that had nothing to do with the carriage. Mikhyel jumped; the table tipped; and Raulind grabbed the stacks, saving a day's work.

Mikhyel pulled the cord that would signal the driver to stop the coach. A moment later, pounding hoofbeats pulled up beside them in a clattering spray of gravel.

Thud of feet, a cheerful greeting, and a moment later, Deymorin's face filled the window and Deymorm's cheerful greeting filled the coach.

Chapter Two.

The city spreading out from this Tower-Hill observation deck shimmered with almost painful intensity beneath the Agoran Plains sun. Pale stone and concrete, whitewashed stuccoevery square foot within the power umbrella had been developed, and every square inch reflected that relent- less sunlight.

Along the western horizon. Lake Yakhimarrha shim- mered with deceptive purity.

Shatum was a city bursting with prosperity.

Shatum's founders had been grain farmers, who had been drawn to the fertile Agoran Plains, and shipbuilders, at- tracted to the protected harbors of Lake Yakhimarrha. For such as they, large families had been an asset.

In subsequent years, a flourishing textile industry and the fact that Shatum lay on the one reliably storm-safe overland trade route had assured the southern node's affluence, as well as the current strain on her resources.

Shatumins seemed fond of their crowded streets, and didn't seem to notice when the odd eastern breeze wafted the stench of the sewers through the crowded markets, sew- ers that did little more than hold the city's waste, waiting for the overtaxed leythium growth chambers to accept it.

City engineers added constantly to those growth cham- bers, excavating beneath the city to create pockets where the crystals could grow. Enterprising citizens leased space in those chambers, growing and tending the crystals to their own specifications, controlling the growth of the crystal to form everything from engine cores to exquisitely fine lace.

And still, the waste produced by the ever-growing popu- lation outstripped their ability to dispose of it.

Much to the disgust of the privately-owned resorts scat- tered along the shores of Lake Yakhimarrha, a handful of districts simply washed their sewage out into the popular vacation spot. The water quality of the lake was (according to Nikki's notes) the focus of much bitter debate within the halls of Shatum's bureaucratic chambers these days.

All for want of a little self-control in their bedchambers.

Mikhyel shook his head in disbelief and deserted the train station's observation window to claim a newly-vacated front row seat in this elevated waiting room. The chair's previous occupant had joined a half-dozen others waiting at the door at the back of the room, anticipating the arrival of their train, trusting, as these Shatumin seemed inclined to trust, the schedule posted on the chalk b6ard beside that door. ii And indeed, only moments later, the chime that an- nounced the vehicle's arrival rang from the dock below, and the passengers gathered at the back of the room pushed their way out the door and clattered down the steps.

But the train that was about to pull in wasn't the train he awaitedthe inner sense assured him of thatso he remained where he was, affecting an indifference he in no wise felt.

Within the hour, Mikhyel was scheduled to face the Guild Alliance of Shatum, the most influential force in the Southern Crescent, an already difficult, delicate task made infinitely more difficult by Deymorin's unexpected addition to his entourage three days ago.

"Courtesy stop," Deymorin called his unannounced change in plans. An eight-day detour from his planned route to say Hello to his brother's wife's family.

Gross interference, Mikhyel called it.

Mikhyel pushed himself to his feet, and returned to the window, compelled to check, even though that inner sense told him Deymorin was notas he'd promised he would be when he'd left an hour agoon the train that was pull- ing in.

Deymorin, whose mere presence here in Shatum dictated he be included in the upcoming meeting, was late. Deymorin, who could have bowed out gracefully simply by leaving yesterday, or even this morning, was going to single-hand- edly destroy this vital first impression on the Elders of the Twelve Guilds.

Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, Mikhyel closed his eyes against that painful light, and called silently, imperatively. The images he received back, vague impres- sions of control panels and steam-engine schematics, were only marginally reassuring. But Deymorin was on his way.

Deymorin was aboard one of these machines, somewhere out among the chaos of Shatumin streets, and Deymorin would be here in time, or so he silently claimed.

But then, Deymorin trusted these steam-driven vehicles and their exacting schedules.

The previously announced train pulled in to the dock below, venting steam rising in puffs above the engine, and the people milling below surged forward, some to board its open-sided- cars, and others to greet the passengers disembarking.

They'd imrrived in Shatum late in the evening, two nights ago. Since then, their every movement, every schedule had been dictated by these mechanisms. Official tour of the Shatum Tower, dinner with the newly-elected Princeps, Re- kharin dunPwirriin, or the celebrated Shatumin Opera, those events had, beginning and end, coincided with the arrival of one of these strange vehicles at the nearest dock.

Everyone seemed dependent upon the schedules, and for all the streets were crowded, few individuals seemed to walk farther than the nearest station. A cultural adaptation that, to his eyes, had been less than beneficial to the popu- lations' health.

Rhomatumins walked. Some took the pedal-cabs, partic- ularly following a shopping expedition, but for simply get- ting about, they trusted their own feet. Rhomatum was, by and large, a sleek and slender city.

Here in Shatum, the prosperity that threatened its waste disposal equally threatened its fabricated seams.

A grimly diverting thought wondered how long and how hard Lidye, coming out of this environment, must have la- bored to make herself attractive to Rhomatumin eyes, and what would happen to her slender form, now the contract with the Rhomandi was complete. He hoped, for Nikki's sake, that the transformation would prove permanent.

Exactly on schedule, the bell rang three times, and with a puff of steam, the train pulled free of the dock and van- ished down a side tunnel.

They reminded Mikhyel of snakes slipping surreptitiously from one hiding spot to the next.

From this second-story, upper Tower-Hill vantage, he could detect no evidence of Shatum's twelve leylines. Un- like RhomatJim, where those lines were kept clear for the floater-cabs' brightly colored balloons, here, they'd been built over, spanned with businesses and homes. The trains needed no such air space above them, and frequently slipped under and Within buildings.

According to Nikki's notes, thirteen of the eighteen satel- lites now operated similar systems.

But not Rhomatum. He'd read the proposals to introduce the new technology into the capital city. He'd been mildly intrigued, probably he would have supported the promoters had they come to him, but he'd had other, more'lmmediate concerns, and the floaters and transport lobbies had proved overwhelming. The Rhomatum City Council Kadad refused to accept the proposal for debate, and so his opinion had gone unheard.

According to those reports, one such steam-powered en- gine could transport five times the cargohuman or other- wiseof one of the floater-cabs, twice as much as the balloon-assisted cargo-haulers that operated on the lines between nodes. But the Syndicate of Nodes was based in Rhomatum, and subject to those same, organized pressures, and thus far none of the proposed internode rail systems had found support either.

He was sorry now that he hadn't pursued his initial inter- est. Despite his personal aesthetic reaction to the trains, despite his reservations about their effect on the people who relied too heavily on them, their efficiency was undeni- able, and with the current reduction in available ley energy, efficiency might be precisely the incentive for the Syndicate at least to give the steam engines a trial.

He made a mental note to have Paulis look into it while they were here, to track down the current usage patterns and the efficiency ratings, and comparatives to the pre- collapse numbers.

Always supposing, of course, that Deymorin didn't take over this trip entirely.

His left hand tightened into a fist around the folio's shoulder strap. A .ring glittered in the bright sun. A Rho- mandi ring. A copy of that one lost at Boreton; duplicate of one Deymorin wore and a third on Nikki's left hand.

Deymorin had presented his brothers with those rings the morning Mikhyel had left Rhomatum. A gesture of soli- clarity and equality, or so Deymorin had claimed that morn- ing in front of the collected household.

He relaxed his fist, twisted the ring around his finger with his thumb, wondering why he felt less an equal and more a sworn manMikhyel gorDeymorin. There could be worse fates, but he preferred honesty in oathtaking.

He believed in freedom of choice.

Deymorin's generous gesture, coming without warning and in front of witnesses had left him without that option.

Thanks to that underneath sense, he knew that such a sub- jugating qath had not been in Deymorin's surface thoughts as he plaqed the ring on Mikhyel's hand, but the under- neath ser~ did not necessarily penetrate to Deymorin's deepest thoughts, and the granting of a family ring was the oldest expression of that singular relationship between two men.

Deymorin knew the history of the gesture as well as Mi- khyel. Better, he'd wager.

Suspicionsof a sort he'd hoped never to harbor again about his brother. Mikhyel sighed, raised the ring momen- tarily to press against his lips, and wondered, given the choice, how he would have responded.

He let the hand drop.

A puff of steam rising from beyond the Muradashi Build- ing heralded the arrival of another train, one that inner sense declared to be Deymorin's. Releasing his uncon- sciously held breath, Mikhyel shifted the briefcase shoulder strap to a different bruise and dropped down onto the chair, his knees simply giving out with his relief.

"What if he's not on this one either?" a guttural voice asked from the row behind him.

"He is," Mikhyel answered, without turning back.

A snap of paper underscored Ganfrion's disbelieving grunt.

Mikhyel debated explaining the unconventional link be- tween himself and Deymorin to his unconventional body- guard. The question had been moot until Deymorin had showed up, but he found he had an unreasoning desire for Ganfrion's good opinion.

Or perhaps it was simply a desire to ruffle the inmate's arrogant conceit.

Not that personal opinion should make any difference. As long as Ganfrion accepted his paycheck, Mikhyel dunMheric was the most sagacious individual in the universe. The realiza- tion that one day Ganfrion might not show up for the pay- check caused Mikhyel to keep his peace about certain strengthsand weaknessesin the Rhomandi arsenal.

Another puff of steam and the cheerful, light bell an- nounced the imminent arrival. The bulk of those waiting gathered their belongings and headed for that back door.

When they'd arrived late last night, the train had carried them from the stables outside the perimeter wall to the Hilltop Inn where they had spent the night in regal splen- dor, a last-minute change of venue he suspected he owed to Deymorin's presence, .ii Not that he'd spent much time in the large ahfl comfort- able bed, having been far too busy preparing for this up- coming meeting.

But looking out across those tightly packed roofs, splen- dor was not the norm, here in Shatum. Like Rhomatum, Shatum had had a power-umbrella increase when Khora- tum had been added to the web, new territory into which their Families' younger generations had expanded eagerly, expansion that now had their populace scrambling, so Nikki's report said, to accommodate their energy- disposessed homeowners, and their next generation.