Besides, there were more important issues in his life than who would be the next radical dancer of Khoratum.

"I've a question for you, Gan."

Ganfrion lifted his glass in invitation.

"When Rhyys came in this morning, his attitude was . . .

well, just a bit too . . . He's always seemed rather melodra- matic, so I might be reading something into his perfor- mance that wasn't there, but it felt as if he came in ready to perform a role. And when he agreed to my terms, it was too pat. Could he have known what I planned to ask? I mean, regarding Temorii. Or did he even care? Would he have agreed to any request? Is he setting us all up with the competition, refusing her so arbitrarily? Rings" He nearly choked on the thought. "Could she be part of his plan?" - This time, it was Ganfrion's eyebrows that lifted. And Ganfrion's eyes shifted to Raulind. "Did you say something to him?"

Raulind shook his head. Raulind did not look happy.

"Very good. Suds."

"What's that all about?"

"Only that Raul and I were discussing that very possibil- ity earlier. Raul, it seems, had the same impression. Just complimenting you on your growing acuity."

"And?"

"I'd say" Another glance toward Raulind, and a sigh.

"Yes, Rhomandi, there's a damned good chance he knew."

"How?" He steeled himself to hear Temorii had been planted on him, but: "The . . . street-boy, Thyerri? I've been following him."

"Thyerri? Why? How long?"

"Off and on. Since before you came out."

"Checking up on me, were you?"

Ganfrion shrugged.

Mikhyel grunted. "Why Thyerri?"

"Followed him from your hidey to the Tower. Several times. He's been a regular visitor. Both sides, unless I miss my bet. I think . . ." Ganfrion shifted, dropped his foot down and leaned forward to balance his elbows on his knees. Glanced again at Raul, then faced Mikhyel straightly. "Just be careful, Khyel. I'll watch Thyerri. You watch Temorii. I'm . . . impressed that you are even able to suspect her. But by Rakshi, man, be careful what you say and do. You're talking about a true dancer. And noth- ing stands between a dancer and a chance to dance."

"Experience, Gan?"

"Experience." Ganfrion drained his glass and stood up.

"I think I'll be going now."

"Aren't you going to help me with this?" Mikhyel asked, gesturing toward the food.

Ganfrion shook his head. "Got plenty while I was talking them out of yours. Save it for Temorii. The mountains make a man hungry."

Mikhyel nodded.

"Just in case you're interested," Ganfrion added, hand on the door. "I've a lead on what these rijhili might be up to."

"Damn you, Ganfrion. Why didn't you say so?"

"Didn't ask, did you?"

"Too fixed on the woman?" Mikhyel asked, and Gan- frion shrugged.

"They're planning a demonstration. Involving the nodes.

When, where, and exactly what, I don't know for certain.

I suspect they're going to coordinate all right. Maybe a shutdown. Whole Northern Crescent."

"Complete what Persitum started?" Mikhyel asked, and Ganfrion nodded.

"I'm also quite certain at least one Mauritumin is in- volved. High up. Very high up." He nodded and opened the door. "I'll be in touch."

Mikhyel glared after him, tempted to follow and demand a better explanation, but knowing there was no more. Ru- mors passed on, that's all it was. But rumors Ganfrion had a great deal of confidence in, else he would have said moreor less.

Ganfrion was trusting him to be able to put two and three together and figure the possibilities on his own. If Mauritum was involved, they might be planning something far more ambitious than a shutdown. With Persitum back in line, they'd have the entire Northern half of the web, and ten of the eighteen nodes. One of them directly con- nected to Mauritum.

And Garetti wanted Rhomatum. Ruined or healthy, he wanted Rhomatum.

He'd contact his brothers laterafter his head stopped poundingand warn them, such as there was to be warned against.

In the meantime . . . "What was that all about?" he asked Raulind.

"The web, sir. I believe he was saying the Northern Cres- cent plans to shut out Rhomatum. Which seems suicidal to me, but"

"Not that, Raul. Temorii. Thyerri. Gan was lying to me."

"Not lying, m'lord."

"Not telling all he knows! Or, rather, not telling me."

"He did speak to me first, sir. And rightly, under the circumstances, I believe. He doesn't know anything. He con- jectures. I suggested he keep his conjectures to himself."

"You suggested."

"Yes, sir."

"Conjectures. Regarding Temorii? And her involvement with Rhyys' conspiracy?"

"Indirectly, sir."

"Directly?"

"I'd rather not say, sir."

Mikhyel wasn't certain whether to laugh or dismiss his oldest companion.

"Is this mutiny, Raul?"

"No, sir. Equity." .

"And if I ordered you to explain?"

"I'm afraid I'd have to quit, sir."

"Quit. Just like that."

"Yes, sir."

Suddenly, the conversation lost any hint of humor. Tem- orii had been a personal project, an indulgence. Now, she seemed to be encroaching directly on the safety of his real purpose here.

"Who are you protecting, Raul?"

"You, m'lord Mikhyel."

"Explain."

"If Can is correct, and you are not told, no one is hurt when the truth comes outand it will, if Gan is correct. If I am correct, and he tells you his suspicions, I might never recover a friend I've come to hold very dear."

"Meaning, whatever Thyerri and Temorii are involved in, I should allow them to play it out for a while."

"Something like that, m'lord."

"Damn it, Raul, this isn't a game!"

"I'm well aware of that, m'lord."

And Raulind knew as much about web politics as Mi- khyel dunMheric. And far more about people.

He pressed fingers into his eyes, striving to counteract the pounding, internal pressure. Whatever Ganfrion suspected, whatever Raulind did, it could wait until morning. Perhaps longer. He could order Ganfrion to explain, and Ganfrion would, but he would lose Raulind if he did ask. Raulind didn't make meaningless threats.

And it was too soonmuch too soonfor that sacrifice.

"Do m& a favor?" he asked.

"Of course, m'lord."

"Help me get rid of this damnable headache."

He was lying facedown on the grooming table, half- asleep, with Raulind's spidery fingers working their magic on the knots in his back and shoulders when the entry bell rang. Insistently.

"I'll see who it is, sir," Raulind murmured, and draped a bathing sheet over him.

He kept his face buried in his crossed arms, trusting Raulind to get rid of whoever it was. After some unmarked time, Raulind returned and was once again working on his back. Tentatively at first, then hard enough to wake him up.

"Raul. what"

A murmur and fingers poked his ribs. He yelped and struggled upright, still groggy. But the tickling fingers pur- sued him, and giggles filled the room.

"Dammit!" He swung his legs over the side of the table, swept his blinding fall of hair back, while simultaneously defending his ribs from Temorii's relentless pursuit. Even- tually, he got his hands on her wrists and held them away long enough to catch his breath. She was still giggling.

He thought, from the smell of her breath, she might be drunk. When she collapsed forward against his chest, he was certain of it. He cursed softly, put his arm around her shoulders, and brushed the hair off her face.

Her head fell back, she smiled up at him, for all she couldn't see him, not with those distended, half-crossed pu- pils. Her fingers tickled his ribs again; he jumped, she gig- gled, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He searched the room desperately for Raulind, but Raulind had deserted him, gone to his own peripheral room and shut the door.

"Tern," he said, "I think we should"

Her mouth stopped him. He groaned and fought the in- clination to crush her to him. She was fully clothed and drunk. He was bare beneath the sheet and too damned sober.

"I came back, Khy," she whispered against his lips. "I wasn't going to, but I came back." She pressed against him and buried her fingers in his hair. "You lied to me. Said you'd get me the dance, and you can't. But you didn't mean to lie to me, did you, Khy? You didn't mean to be cruel and make me hope?"

"Tern, please." He held her back, and for a moment she hung between his hands, swaying, then she wrenched free with a cry, and flung herself at his waist, holding as if for her very life.

"You do want me, Khy, don't you?" she murmured into his side, and one hand ran up under the sheet to caress his thigh.

"More than life itself," he said, and his voice sounded hoarse, even to his ears, but he pulled free of her, never mind it left the sheet behind, found his quilted-satin robe and buttoned it securely, as she sank to the floor in a ball.

If she was Rhyys' plant, it was only the offer of the dance that had driven her to this action, only the excess of wine that made it possible. Rhyys might well hope to establish some hold over Mikhyel dunMheric through this painfully vulnerable conduit.

Painful indeedfor both of them. He wanted her, he couldn't deny that fact, but not this way. She thought she had no options.

He knew better.

When he had himself under control, he returned to her and drew her to her feet.

"More than life itself," he repeated. "More than my life.

But not more than yours."

She put her arms back around his neck; he pulled them free.

"Listen to me, Tern." And when her mouth sought his again, he shook her. "Listen to me! I wasn't lying to Rhyys.

We can get you inside without anyone seeingat least, I think we can."

The momentary spark of hope faded from her eyes and her head fell forward to lie against his chest.

"I should have warned you before I brought it up with Rhyys. I'm sorry. I'd simply lost track of what I'd told you and what I had not. There is a way, but I haven't been able to test it yet. If not? What have you lost?"

Her head came up, and her tear-filled eyes said: everything.

He brushed the hair back from her face. "I want to go with you into the hills tomorrow."