"Lidye Fericci romNikaenor."

The individuals about the table searched that name for significance. Personal name, family, and wife of Nikaenor.

Acknowledgment of self, of her Shatumin family, but allied, irrevocably, to the House Rhomandi.

At last the ringmaster said, in a tone that augured no argument, "Proceed, Mikhyel dunMheric. We shall hold our piece."

And for the next two hours, Mikhyel held them riveted hell, he had Deymorin riveted, and he'd been there. He explained the historical rift between the brothers, the ef- forts of Anheliaa to promote that rift in order to control the web to her own purposes. And he described the grow- ing unrest in the Outside territories of Rhomatum as An- heliaa's purposes ran counter to their needs.

That admission drew the attention of the two Shatumin Outsiders on this panel: Food Production and Weavers. Be- tween their own operations and imports from Kirish'lan, Shatum provided the bulk of the grain, cotton, and linen for the entire web. Those guilds had to maintain a constant balance between local production and import goods, and could well sympathize with their counterparts in the Rho- matum Val~ '.

Mikhyel im>.ved on to the events of the previous fall, and Anheliaa's attempts (well known to these leaders of Lidye's home city) to find a new master for the Rhomatum Rings.

"As you also know," Mikhyel said, "Anheliaa hoped to revitalize web relations through our marriages, hence Ni- kaenor's marriage to your own esteemed Lidye dunTarim, and my own, still pending, union with Nethaalye dunErrif of Giephaetum Node."

"And what of your other brother," Peri Fericci dunBren- nin. Lawyers advocate, and Lidye's second cousin called out. "What of the man who sits silently beside, ,you, the Princeps of Rhomatum who refused the lady Lidye's hand?

To whom was he pledged? He, who was too fine for a Shatumin woman?"

Deymorin frowned, and sent a silent query to Mikhyel, who answered with similar confusion: "Mistress Lidye was my brother Nikaenor's choice. Ad- vocate dunBrennin."

"Not by our first agreement! Anheliaa promised us the Princeps of Rhomatum for Lidye."

{Anheliaa's secret agreements,} Mikhyel's voice whis- pered in Deymorin's mind. Aloud, Mikhyel said, "The con- tract read otherwise, Lord Advocate. Neither I nor my brother was privy to whatever private verbal agreements you made with my aunt. The signed contract was between Nikaenor Rhomandi dunMheric and the Shatumin Twelve.

The practical contract is between Nikaenor and Lidye, and both those parties are, I assure you, quite satisfied."

"That does not explain why Deymorin Rhomandi re- fused Lidye!"

"If I may, Mikhyel?" Deymorin spoke for the first time, and Mikhyel nodded, but qualified with a silent warning against temper. "What Mikhyel has failed to tell you, is that Anheliaa's methods of petition began not with logic or reason, but with force. Who among you would agree to marriageor any other life-contractunder violent coer- cion? It was not the lady Lidye's hand I rejected, it was Anheliaa's proposal."

A statement of half-fact that was close enough to the truth for this meeting.

"Are we to infer, then, that your youngest brother was weak in his acceptance of Lidye?" dunBrennin asked.

"And that this weak man is left in power in Rhomatum while you two wander about making pretty speeches?"

"Infer, rather," Mikhyel slid in smoothly, "that Anhel- iaa's methods improved after they failed so utterly with Deymorin. More than that, Anheliaa actively sought, it is my firm belief in retrospect, to drive Deymorin out. Anhel- iaa feared that, should we three brothers reconcile, her reign was at an end."

He paused, and all those seated at the table leaned forward: Mikhyel's mouth twitched. "Gentlemen, we have reconciled."

"And Anheliaa's reign is at an end."

"Even before she died. Yes."

"Even though you could, none of you, control the rings."

"There comes a time when tyrants must be stopped. An- heliaa was mad, honorable advocates, there is no other ex- planation for her actions. I bear the responsibility for keeping that madness from the Syndicate for as long as I did. But I saw no choice. She failed to settle on another to succeed her, and to have her true nature generally known might well have instilled panic and anarchy throughout the Syndicate."

"You sought to protect us from reality," Varishmondi's deep voice filled the room. "As your father did before you.

You, who were all of . . . what, thirteen? . . . when he died, knew better then the Syndicates what was best for the web.

Is that what we are to believe?"

There was turmoil underneath as Mikhyel struggled with his own past uncertainties regarding his fitness for the task he'd accepted in his youth. But the face Mikhyel turned toward Varishmondi was cold, hard, and absolute.

"At thirteen, no," Mikhyel answered firmly. "By the time I reached seventeen, yes. Absolutely. I knew the danger of crossing Anheliaa Rhomandi better than any one living.

There was no other way to both end her tyranny and pro- tect the web until she accepted the lady Lidye as her successor."

Varishmondi's mouth tightened, but whether in humor or anger, Deymorin would not wager a lump of coal.

Turning his attention to include all the advocates, Mi- khyel continued, "YouIu~llow Shatumin's ability to control the Rhomatum Rings and to insinuate herself into Anhel- iaa's good graces gave me options I had not had in ten years."

That pleased them. And Varishmondi, never taking his eyes from Mikhyel, settled into his designated seat at last.

"About your brother's exile into Persitum . . ." the ring- master interjected, referencing an event Mikhyel had men- tioned but not yet explained in detail.

Deymorin believed that oversight had been made by de- sign and opened his mouth to protest, only to find his voice frozen in his throat. - "Yes, Ringmaster Pasingarim?" Mikhyel answered.

"Is it true? Has Anheliaa, in fact, perfected the legendary art of instant leyportation?"

"I wouldn't call it perfected," Mikhyel said smoothly, and that paralysis in Deymorin's throat eased, leaving him little doubt as to its origin.

"But she can do it."

"Could."

"And did. To youboth."

Mikhyel faltered. Mikhyel had kept reference to himself minimal, maintaining, Deymorin was certain, a buffering distance between himself and the events he was describing.

"What was it like?" the ringmaster asked, possibly out of genuine curiosity, possibly smelling blood.

What was it like. . . . No one had ever asked him that.

It was fallingendlessly. And it was sudden pain. And fear. And it was Kiyrstin, which rendered all the other asso- ciations harmless.

But the thoughts that breached the barrier between him- self and Mikhyel were very different. There was no Kiyrstin to temper the ordeal. Falling as well, but fierce light, burn- ing, a sense of being pulled apart, stretched from one hori- zon to the other.

And horror. Horror that made his brother's naturally pale face turn a sickly shade of white. And Deymorin feared for him, feared for the control he'd held over his audience, who watched him now with hawklike intensity.

Deymorin, throwing surreptition to the wind of necessity, gripped Mikhyel's elbow, and through that hold, sensed Mikhyel's mortification, his struggle for control, his anger at his own weakness, and the knowledge he'd been outma- neuvered; and Deymorin sent back bolstering reassurance, and an image of the ringmaster rude enough to bring the color back to Mikhyel's face, and a near-hysterical silent laughter.

"Unpleasant, Ringmaster Pasingarim," Mikhyel an- swered firmly. "Most unpleasant. Not an experience I'd rec- ommend. If we are fortunate, the secret died with her."

And not a sentiment, from his expression, which the hon- orable Ringmaster of Shatum shared, for all he let the mat- ter drop.'

But Deymorin continued to worry, his confidence in Mi- khyel shaken. And, indeed, Mikhyel's eloquence did not return in full, and his hold over his audience appeared markedly diminished. While they listened, it was not with the enraptured attention they'd shown before.

"We've heard rumors," the princeps said, "that link the honorable Princeps of Rhomatum with an invading force out of Mauritum."

"Hardly an invasion, sir," Mikhyel said. "And his associ- ation was accidental, a result of his precipitous expulsion from Rhomatum."

Mikhyel went on to explain how Deymorin's exile had placed him in the hands of a Mauritumin scouting party that had brought with it a machine capable of destroying Rhomatum Tower. Wood creaked as weight shifted in the elaborately carved chairs, and disbelief permeated the room.

But Mikhyel looked pointedly at the ringmaster and said, "The machine controlled lightning. I remind you of the Aslimarin incident."

All eyes followed Mikhyel's, and the ringmaster, his own veracity now challenged, nodded. "Such a machine is known. Aslimarin was a small subsidiary of Orenum. Thirty years ago, one of these . . . lightning generators . . . was presented to that tiny bud's ringspinner. The demonstration destroyed the bud, and nearly everyone involved in the demonstration. Such a machine set into action within a ring- chamber the size of Rhomatum could indeed cause a chain reaction that might destroy the Tower, if not the entire web. But," the ringmaster qualified, casting Mikhyel a chal- lenging gmnce, "it would have to be employed within the chamber itself."

Mikhyel tipped his head. "They planned to gain access to Rhomatum Tower through Deymorin."

"Willing participation?"

It was not Mikhyel's most diplomatic explanation: anger didn't begin to cover the emotion that flared in the room, this time aimed directly at himself.

"Not willing, no," Mikhyel said, facing that anger without flinching. "Deymorin thought, and still maintains, that the technology has theoretical validityfor the Outside. With proper controls. That, however, is for the future;Vhe point at issue is that it was a deliberately aggressive-move on Mauritum's part" : "But if, as you suggested, that aggression was in response to Anheliaa's failing health and the potential vacuum in Rhomatum Tower, the fact that the lady Lidye is obviously in control there should eliminate both their temptation and our need to arm a defense."

"Rhomatum is under control now. How would you judge the quality and health of the web. Ringmaster Pasingarim?"

The ringmaster slouched in his chair, frowning, but he didn't contradict Mikhyel's analysis.

"The damage has been done, honorable advocates. In the end, it was not necessary to access the Tower. In the end, Anheliaa sacrificed her own life in order to bridge the gap to the machine and destroy it, before it could destroy her rings. But even so, the web was degraded. The web needs time to renew itself. How long that will take is be- yond our reckoning. In the meantime, Mauritum knows our weakened state and may well try again. We must look to the old sources to protect the border."

And what, Deymorin started to ask, had happened to Mikhyel's prime concern, the united efforts of the ring- chambers to renew the Khoratum line? But the question froze in his throat and: {Separate issue, Deymorin. With the ringmaster alone.

Don't give them an excuse to wait on the border patrol act.} "And those in the Mauritumin party?" The ringmaster persisted. "What happened to them?"

"Most were killed in the firestorm that destroyed the machine," Mikhyel answered.

"And the others?"

"Innocents who, by sheer luck, happened to be separated from the others."

"Innocents. Like Garetti's wife?" said one voice.

"Garetti's whore, more like," came from another.

The freeze began again in Deymorin's throat, only to melt in the flare of Deymorin's anger. {Damn you, Khyel!) Mikhyel turned green and swayed; Deymorin clenched his jaw and sent an additional silent, though gentler, warn- ing to his brother, that he'd better clear this one up immediately.

"I sea*rumor has, indeed, preceded us," Mikhyel said, finally, tut his voice was hoarse and ragged. "However, rumor only speculates. Without the lady romGaretti's assis- tance and cooperation, we'd none of us be here. She has continued to share with us the extent of her knowledge regarding contemporary Mauritum and Mauritumin poli- tics. Unfortunately, her knowledge did not extend to the planned invasion of the Rhomatum Web. She was as taken by surprise as we were."

"So she claims"

"Truth," Deymorin stated flatly, coldly, and all eyes were once again on him. This time, he was content to note, with a touch of fear.

And on that conversation-ending note, Mikhyel opened his briefcase, heretofore lying unregarded on the table be- fore him. He took out bound volumes, and moving about the table, placed one before each advocate, squared pre- cisely with the table's edge.

Deymorin didn't get one.

{Copies were made, brother. One for each member of each meeting we'll be conducting. Yours are in your luggage.} At Mandriisin's. Deymorin thought as loud and outraged a silence as he could imagine.

Mikhyel, unmoved, said to the advocates, "This contains all I've told you and more. I have included unedited deposi- tions from all members of the Syndicate special investiga- tion committee. As you will discover, through the lady romGaretti's efforts, and those of my brothers, the Mauri- tum threat was, at least for the time being, blocked.

"There is, however, no reason to believe they will stop at that one subversive act. No reason to believe they haven't already spies drifting among us. Anheliaa is dead.

There is no acknowledged successor. No one properly trained. Anheliaa had delusions of immortality that blinded her to the inevitable until too late."

Mikhyel paused. The flip of papers slowed and stopped.

Advocate eyes returned to Mikhyel.

"And without Anheliaa," Mikhyel continued, "without the full power of the rings, Rhomatum is helpless against the forces of Mauritum, the entire web ripe for takeover.

Or so Garetti believes." Mikhyel lifted his copy of the re- port. "Honorable advocates, I suggest we prove Garetti of Mauritum woefully uninformed." *.

Chapter Four.

"So, my fellow conspirators, have we at least a verbal understanding?"

Mikhyel gathered the unsigned contracts into a pile and placed them in the center of the table that nearly filled the small room. Elsewhere, a Shatumin celebration feast was in progress, in a grand hall filled with light and laughter, music and dance.

And food. A great deal of food. And drink.

He hoped to all the nonexistent gods that Deymorin was leaving the wine in his cup.

"To the extent that we can make promises, dunMheric, yes." Shamrii dunKharec held out her hand and Mikhyel gripped it. "We will speak to our respective seniors, and advise them of the situation. Luck of the radical, we'll have your contracts signed and back in your possession before you leave."

Here, ambience was limited to muted leylight and the strong scent of brewing pachii.

"I regret the necessity of dealing in such a back-room manner," Mikhyel said. "However, under the circum- stances"

"No need to explain further, dunMheric," Kharlo dun- Uchra said, and he gave a light laugh. "We've all of us had to deal with obstructive seniors before."

"My brother," Mikhyel countered firmly, "is not obstruc- tive. Neither, let it be understood, is he my senior where it regards these matters. Not legally, not personally. He is Princeps, but on these documents, his signature cannot override mine. This is a legally binding agreement between the two of us. He does, however, tend to operate on a system of personal integrity that does not hold up well in a court of law."

"Meaning he's a trusting sod."

"Meaning he, himself, would never go back on the spirit of a promise."