Having missed lunch, Valleroy was very glad to be greeted by a lavish table set along one side of the main cafeteria. They arrived just in time for the last dinner shift, but most of the department heads had waited for Nashmar's return.

Though glad of the food, Valleroy wasn't in the mood for social conversation. He addressed himself only to the meal and steadfastly held his peace. In this company he was a respected craftsman whose services came at a high premium. He'd sustained enough abuse that afternoon to make his status here terribly important to him.

"Hugh," said Klyd softly, "it's been a long day. Wouldn't you like to get some rest?"

Valleroy looked up dazedly to find the long banquet table deserted but for the remains of the meal. He gulped the rest of his drink and rose. "Guess I just failed my diplomacy exams."

"Eccentric behavior is expected of artists. You'll feel better in the morning."

As Klyd and Valleroy moved out into the corridor, the kitchen staff swarmed out with clean-up wagons as if they'd been waiting for the visitors to leave.

"You must know this place pretty well?"

"Imil is laid out very much as Zeor, except it is oriented west to east and in mirror images. We'll have the guest suite overlooking the main gate."

"I've never been up there... I mean in Zeor."

"You will, no doubt, be pleased to note that the suite has two large, separate bedrooms."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad." Valleroy blushed pink under his tan. He had lain stiff as a corpse the whole night, afraid Klyd would make some unthinkable advance.

Turning into a wide staircase, Klyd laughed. "If Yenava knew what you were thinking, she'd faint! Channels are virtually incapable of anything but a vigorous, if intermittent, heterosexuality."

"You must be reading my mind."

"Of course not. But your emotions are a blazing beacon to anyone who has studied Gens as intensively as I have."

At the third floor, the stair led into a richly hung hallway lined with sculptures that seemed to be genuine antiques. They marched the gauntlet of pre-Sime statues acutely aware that their common ancestors had created these masterpieces.

The artist in Valleroy hungered to study them more closely, but his eyes were too heavy with sleep.

Klyd ushered him into the guest suite. "That will be your room. I'll take this one."

Nodding blearily, Valleroy made his way to his bed and fell into a sound sleep that was broken only by bright sunshine and a persistent knocking on his door.

**Naztehr! Naztehr!"

It was an unfamiliar voice and an unfamiliar title. Only half awake, Valleroy growled, "Yes? What do you want?"

"Naztehr Hugh, Sectuib Farris requests your attendance in the Sectuib's office as soon as possible."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon, Naztehr."

Valleroy groaned. He'd slept the clock around and more, a very rare thing for him to do. "Tell him I'll be there as soon as I get dressed."

"Thank you, Naztehr."

Valleroy wasn't accustomed to veneration. Coupled with the luxurious surroundings, it made him uncomfortable... as if he'd stepped far out of his class and was about to be caught gate-crashing. He hauled himself out of the cozy bed to face the day, whatever it might bring.

Half an hour later, scrubbed, shaved, and immaculately attired in clean Zeor coveralls that had been laid out for him... new and apparently tailored to an exact fit... he presented himself at the office of the Sectuib of Imil.

He was shown into the inner sanctum immediately, as if he were somebody important. The young women working in the outer offices turned appraising eyes on him as he passed. It all made him very nervous.

The inner office itself was very like Klyd's... clean, businesslike, well organized, and overflowing with work. But there the resemblance ended. One wall was hung with layer upon layer of life-size fashion sketches. In the corner near the court window, a manikin was dressed in a flowing evening gown, while behind the door posed a well-dressed athlete manikin resplendent in iridescent shut and incredible tan. They were, Valleroy noted, Sime manikins.

But the most startling thing in the room was the fact that Nashmar leaned against a bookcase while Klyd lounged at ease in the chair behind the desk. Valleroy gaped at this reversal of roles. To cover his reaction, he said, "Good morning, Sectuib..." and then realized he didn't know the plural of the title. "Uh, Sectuib Nashmar, I'm sorry if I kept you waiting."

Nashmar exchanged a cryptic glance with Klyd and said, "You needn't be overly courteous, Naztehr. Klyd?"

Flowing to his feet, Klyd paced around the desk. "Hugh, of course the final say is up to you... but I've agreed to trade four days of your time for a young channel of Imil named Zinter. Starting today, if you concur."

Valleroy searched that dark face for some cue, but found none. "You expect to leave me here for four days?"

"Oh, no!" sputtered Nashmar hastily. "Imil would never think of separating a channel from his Companion. Don't worry, Naztehr, we are an honorable Householding!"

"Oh," said Valleroy, trying to look relieved. "Sectuib Farris, this is in the best interests of Zeor?"

"Sectuib Nashmar knows"-Klyd emphasized that word delicately-"that Zeor must have someone just like Zinter... young but with great potential... and Imil must have that catalog. This seems like the most natural solution to both problems."

"If it is in the best interests of Zeor," said Valleroy, copying a phrase he'd heard many times, "then it follows it must be in my own best interests." He turned to Nashmar. "I am at your service, Sectuib."

Nashmar laughed, that short tense laugh Valleroy had come to associate with the high-pressure administrators of Householdings. "You needn't go to work until you've had breakfast... or lunch, whichever your prefer. I'll notify Brennar to prepare your offices."

"While you are about it," said Klyd to the Head of Householding Imil, "don't forget to dispatch that messenger to Zeor for me."

"I'll send him around to pick up your letter. He'll be at Zeor by tomorrow night at the latest."

"Fine. Hugh, I could use some lunch."

"Sounds like a good idea."

They left together and headed for the cafeteria. "Four days!" said Valleroy when they'd rounded a corner out of earshot. "Stacy will have my hide if..."

"Not here! Remember Hrel?"

Looking suspiciously at the massive stone walls, Valleroy said, "How could I forget? Do you think... ?"

"If they can do that at Zeor, they can do it anywhere." He added for the benefit of passers-by, "I know what you're worried about. How can Zeor get along without me for another week? Well, that's just exactly the reason we need Zinter. Yenava is due to give birth in a few weeks, but it will be twelve years and more before the child will be able to assume any of my responsibilities. Zinter is already mature. He can be trained quickly."

As they rounded the corner leading to the cafeteria, Valleroy muttered in English, "You know damn well that's not what's worrying me. Four days!"

Stopping in his tracks, Klyd turned and backed Valleroy against the wall, gripping the Gen hands in a peculiar hold. Then, under cover of the din from the kitchens, he said, "Hugh, I couldn't help it. It was give in or blow our cover. Nashmar knows us, and he knows I've had my eye on Zinter for a very long time."

Valleroy tried to squirm loose. "Let go of me! I've half a mind to saddle up alone and scour the countryside for her!"

"Be still damn it! You're my Companion. Act like it!"