Chapter Ten.

"It's getting late, Nikki," Lidye's breath brushed his ear; he noddedand added another figure to the growing column.

"You must sleep, darling."

"And Deymorin needed these supplies yesterday. It's early in the season. We've had two indifferent crops here in the valley, so even if we could afford to buy food indefi- nitely, the supply might not be there. There's the City's supply, but if Kirish'lan takes offense, as your father threat- ened"

"He didn't threaten, Nikki. That was a warning of what promises had been made."

"Well, Kirish'lan expected part interest in a Tower that might not happen for years, if at all. They supply half our grain and dairy supplies."

He dropped the pen and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes fiercely.

"I simply had no idea, Liddi, how dependent we'd become."

"How could you, when Shatum has been the clearing house. You-all the nodesbuy grain from Shatum. That Shatumin fields have not produced the grain they sold was not their responsibility to reveal. Their profit margin was better on silk worms."

Nikki grunted. "I wonder if they're edible."

"What?"

"Silk worms," he answered, but his attention drifted back.

to the papers in front of him. "Perhaps, if we trained the men, then let them return home, keeping only token forces in the watchtowers . . . We'd need reliable quick-muster procedures, but"

"Nikki, come to bed. You can't solve it all tonight."

He sighed, and pushed back from the table still staring at the maps and columns of figures, knowing the perfect solution existed, somewhere in the mass of information.

Except, they didn't have all the information. Not the giv- ens, not the variables. The Northern Crescent situation needed resolution. They needed to know they weren't fighting two battles . . . or three, if Kirish'lan truly took offense and attacked.

Supposedly, Mikhyel was investigating that situation, and they received daily reports from his men encamped just outside Khoratum. Reports delivered through a highly effi- cient mounted relay system of Ganfrion's establishment.

Deymorin said Ganfrion was just full of surprises.

But rumor out of Khoratum, nearly as fast as Ganfrion's system, maintained a different vision of their brother's do- ings. Rumor claimed Mikhyel dunMheric was making a fool of himself over a Khoratum ringdancer, which even he knew was beyond measure stupid.

And because Mikhyel was being stupid, Deymorin had moved his training maneuvers to a point partway between Khoratum and Rhomatum, and he was having to find the means to feed those troops.

"Come, Nikki," Lidye said, and drew him to his feet.

"At least you have Nethaalye now," he said, and as if she'd been following his every thought, she nodded.

"And grateful to have her, my darling," she said.

"Please, come to bed."

They started for the office door.

Lidye had spent time in the Tower with Nethaalye and expressed confidence in Nethaalye's good will and basic ability. With Mirym for backup, Lidye said, the possibility of stable prosperity and regrowth was very real.

If they were given that chance. The meeting with the Kirish'lani and Shatumin had gone as well as could be ex- pected. They had time . . . at least until the attempt to repair Khoratum had been made. But if that attempt failed {Nikki? Deymorin? Can you hear me, brothers?} "Khyel," he whispered aloud, and Lidye stopped; he al- ready had.

(I'm here, Khyel,} Deymorin's thought whispered in his head; their communication grew easier, clearer, with each use.

{I think we know at least what Rhyys wants to do.} {Rhyys is behind a conspiracy then?) Nikki asked.

{Ostensibly. Ganfrion claims there's another man, a Mauritumin, so he believes.) {Mauritumin? Who?) (Ganfrion has no names yet. They're being remarkably discreet.) And maybe this Ganfrion was making it all up, Nikki thought.

{* trust him.) Mikhyel's thought chastised, with the impli- cation that if he did not, he was petty and stupid.

{Who's the stupid one, brother? Who's the one flirting with a ringdancer?} Silence, and a blackness in the area of his head that was Mikhyel. Then: {I haven't the time, Nikki. Deymorin, we think they're planning a shutdown.) {What kind of shutdown?) {The entire Northern Crescent. The way Persitum did.) "The idiots!" Lidye hissed beside Nikki, and he realized she was holding his hand, and must be getting at least some of the conversation. "That's suicide."

{Quite,} Mikhyel answered. {Hello, Lidye. I'm glad you're here. It's possible they just plan to initiate a blackout, to shut Rhomatum out at a coordinated time to make a point of some kind.) "Perhaps we can hold them . . . if we know the exact time...."

{I'll try to find out. I assume Khoratum will instigate, but I'm not even certain of that. With the talk of Mauritum and Garetti's involvement...) "Garetti might be trying to take Rhomatum down."

{That's what I fear as well. By what I've heard and what Nethaalye said. I'd like to believe they intend it as a dem- onstration only, to intimidate us into some as yet unspeci- fied agreement, but even so, the ramifications} "Are completely unknown," Lidye said. "Nikki, tell him, we'll do what we can. I have an idea. I've been wanting to run some tests . . . It's possible that, among us, we can force them to stay aligned from here."

{I heard that. Nikki, keep that lady around. Dey- morin, are you as close as you feel?) {On your doorstep, fry.) {Thank the gods. I'll see you soon.) Looking forward to it. Life's been too dull here.

I don't know. I think I'm ready for dull.) Had enough adventuring?) I'm . . . tired, Deymio. Very tired.)

(So, why aren't you asleep? You damn well woke me up.

Sense of sorrow, of impending loss, of a cherished body held close.

(So it is true,} Nikki sent. {Rings, Khyel, do you real- ize} (More than you can possibly imagine, Nikki. Good night, brothers.} ~ ~ ~.

As if the feel of Temorii in his arms hadn't been enough, Nikki's accusations kept him awake.

Rumors. Of himself and a Khoratumin radical dancer.

Rumors undoubtedly designed to further undermine Mik- hyel dunMheric's already faltering image. And in Rhoma- tum already. Damned difficult to explain unless someone deliberately started them, before the deal was made.

And Rhyys had known Temorii was with him.

It was a setup. It had to be, and willing or not, Temorii was a part of it.

... nothing stands between a dancer and a chance to dance...

Temorii believed Mikhyel had failed her.

Temorii believed Rhyys was her key, now, to the dance.

She'd come here, drunk, to make love with him.

Rhyys' city was the source of the rumors regarding Mik- hyel dunMheric and a Khoratumin radical competitor.

{Oh, Tern . . .} he whispered, in his mind where it was safe, and she sighed and snuggled closer. That she was a dancer, there could be no doubt. What else she might be, might still be mutable, given the right stimulus.

Perhaps, a little ley-driven magic might provide that stimulus.

{Mother . . .} he called tentatively, wondering whether she would hear.

{Ah . . . Mikhyel-child. Where have you been?) Temorii stirred again and whimpered. He spoke softly to her, and when she was quiet, he continued.

{Mother, might I come visit you?) {But of course, Mikhyel-child. I told you just to call . . .} His hand on Temorii's arm began to glimmer.

{No, Mother! Not yet. Tomorrow ...} {Ah! Subterfuge*stealth*deception. How delightful. Of course, my child. Just. . . call. . -f Mikhyel sighed, startled and relieved at the ease with which contact had been made. His mind at last at peace, his eyes grew heavy. Suddenly, as he hovered on the very edge of sleep, Mother's voice returned. {And try to remem- ber a chicken, this time . . .} Temorii awakened the next morning to the effects of her first major battle with a wine bottle. She groaned and ac- cepted Raulind's tea, and groaned and tacitly ignored the fact that she'd come to, fully clothed, wrapped in a blanket and his arms.

He ordered Raulind to cancel his meetings for the day (he still had the headache), took a light meal, then went with Temorii down a narrow hallway and into the dark tunnels beneath Khoratum. Mikhyel thought, as he fol- lowed, his hand in hers, that perhaps Rhyys had not alto- gether misrepresented Temorii's tenure within the Khoratum Tower. Certainly, she knew how to escape with- out detection.

Within an amazingly short time, following passages of dubious origin and great age, they were outside the city, on the uphill side of the Tower complex. Unlike Rhoma- tum, where Tower Hill was the center of the umbrella, Khoratum spread like a fan, downhill, toward Rhomatum.

But it was small, for what he'd expected, given the size and importance of the node within the web. The umbrella should, by comparative size and number of lines, be compa- rable to Shatum or Giephaetum, and it was . . . tiny. And the power within the umbrella weak.

He wondered whether th~t deficiency was another mani- festation of Rhyys' improper spinning. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that Khoratum's buds had not yet been capped. There was so much they could be learning by moni- toring the development of Khoratum, and instead "This was where I first saw them." Temorii crawled under an arch of rocks and settled on her stomach, glanced back and waved Mikhyel forward. Reluctantly, he joined her, though the two of them barely fit, and he wasn't at all certain those very heavy looking rocks would stay put.

"See?" She pointed downslope, and nestled in a courtyard behind the Tower, hidden by high walls, were the prac- tice rings.

"I used to sit here for hours and watch them practice.

All the village youth did, you know. They were looking for a troupe for the capping ceremony, and wanted it drawn from local talent."

She leaned forward, arms crossed beneath her chin, star- ing down the narrow viewing channel. He propped side- ways on one elbow and with his free hand brushed her hair back from her eyes, drawing an inquisitive glance.

"And that was what drew you down to the city for the first time?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Then what . . . ?"

"Watching Kashiri dance."

Kashiri. The name was familiar.

"That was the first Khoratumin radical, wasn't it?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Very good. Barrister."

"You needn't look so surprised. It was in my brother's notes."

"Ah. And did your brother also tell you who and what Kashiri was?"

"If he did, I wouldn't tell you."

She frowned.

"I'd rather hear your version."

"Ah. Meaning, Nikki said: Kashiri was the first Khora- tumin radical dancer. He performed once only, on the opening ceremonies, and then he died."

"Well..."

"I've read your rijhili texts. Barrister."

"You can read?" The question was asked before he thought.

"You needn't look so surprised. All Rhyys' dancers learn to read and write. Even those he dislikes. Rhyys likes to show off his dancers . . . like fancy toys, to everyone who visits. He couldn't have them look or sound like fools, now could he?"

She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Being a Khoratum dancereven a dancer in training, means never wanting for any creature comfort. You wear beautiful clothing, eat the most delicate foods, drink the best wines . . . And we learned to read and write . . .

and some of us must learn just to speak, the language of the invaders."

"The invaders." Mikhyel winced. "Rijhili."

She nodded.

"Like me."

The faintest smile quirked her lips. "Like you, Khy.

Sometimes."

"Not always?"

"Takes more to be rijhili than parents, Khy. Rhyys is more rijhili than you."

"Rhyys was born in Khoratum."

"Exactly." She shifted about to face him, propped up on an elbow, her head cradled in her hand. "We learned to read and write, we learned the history of the web . . .

according to Rhyys' hand-picked tutors. And music and the arts and court etiquette . . . according to Rhyys' hand- picked tutors. And politics and economics of other nodes..."