"I see." She looked away. Unfair. Unfair.

"Unfair." He nodded. "Yes, it is quite unfair, and yet I believe that these inequities of political fortune may yet balance themselves, before the race is run."

"Are you always so telepathic?"

"I am not telepathic. Only sometimes, I can make a fairly good guess."

"Better than fairly good. How do you do that?"

"As you have asked me if I am always so telepathic, I think I may ask you if you are always so inquisitive."

"Afraid so."

"I am glad to hear it. You satisfy my hopes, along with my expectations."

Tell me your hopes, your expectations. She stifled the natural response. He was a Grewzian, after all. She stifled the natural response. He was a Grewzian, after all.

"I cannot account for all of this," she compromised.

"All of-?"

"This. Such a meeting, in the middle of a great city, by mere chance. It's improbable."

"You are displeased?"

"Only surprised."

"The surprise does not appear to disagree with you. The color has come back into your face. Your eyes are clear and bright, very bright indeed, like night signals. You are looking quite wonderfully alive."

"I am?" she asked, absurdly pleased, then recollected herself. "But why are you here at all, Overcommander-Karsler? Shall I regard this meeting as coincidence alone?"

"No," he replied, to her surprise. "Not quite coincidence. I was attracted to this place, at this time, for reasons I can hardly define. Sometimes it happens that way-that is, there is the pull, the sense of nameless demand that draws me where it will, when it will. The purpose of such a summons is rarely apparent, but when it comes, it is not to be denied."

"But how extraordinary," she replied noncommittally, and sat silent for a moment, trying to decide whether or not she believed him. His remark bordered on the fantastic, yet he had no reason to lie, unless he simply sought to impress a credulous female.

"Yes, I agree-it sounds a very idle claim indeed," Karsler conceded.

Luzelle managed to repress her guilty start, but felt the telltale color heat her cheeks. He'd needed no telepathy to divine her reaction-she knew from dismal lifelong experience that she had a face all too easy to read. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and saw that he was smiling-a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt that had nothing at all of mockery or superiority about it, unlike the sneers wont to bend the formerly-Exalted lips of Master Girays v'Alisante.

"But I wouldn't presume to dismiss it," she told him, and found that she meant what she said. "However it may have happened, I'm lucky to meet you here. But now I need impose on your patience and generosity no longer, for I'm quite recovered."

"I believe that you are, or nearly so. I hope I do not presume too greatly in asking what you will do next?"

"Do?" She frowned, taken aback. "Why, I hadn't really thought about it. Go back to the waterfront, I suppose. I need to buy a steamer ticket to Aeshno, and then-"

"It is not yet safe to return to the wharf. Quite likely, all civilians have been barred from the area. In any case all commercial enterprises there, including the ticketing agencies, are certain to be shut down for the next several hours, at the very least."

"Well, then there must be someplace in town where I can book pa.s.sage. Perhaps through one of the better hotels-"

"I do not think so. I have already inquired at the Prendivet Hotel, without success. May I offer a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"I left the grandlandsman in the restaurant at the Prendivet. Come back there with me now for lunch. The nourishment will do you good, I suspect. By the time you have finished eating, the wharf establishments may have reopened for business. If they have not, you may contemplate your next move at leisure, and in comfort. You lose nothing by the delay, for all the Grand Ellipse contestants present in Lanthi Ume are equally inconvenienced."

Quite right. Everyone was in the same boat, or rather, not in the boat. There was some comfort in that. And lunch in Lanthi Ume with Karsler Stornzof-not an unattractive prospect, even if he was Grewzian. But he wasn't like the rest of them, she told herself firmly. Karsler was different.

"Is the Prendivet Hotel far from here?" Luzelle inquired.

"Not at all. A hired boat could carry us there in ten minutes. Or perhaps you would prefer to walk?"

"Yes, let's walk. That's always the best way to experience a new city. You just sort of absorb it through the soles of your feet."

"I will take your word for it. I must confess, I've little experience in traveling for pleasure."

"Oh, then you find such things frivolous?"

"I find such things-astonishing."

"You sound like a visitor from some other world."

"That is not such a bad description."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, that is a solemn subject, best left for another day. For now, let us enjoy the city and its sights, let us-absorb through the soles of our feet."

For a moment she half expected him to offer his arm, then reminded herself that the occasion was quasi-social at best. They moved off together, and the city around them was splendid in the sunlight, despite the conspicuous presence of foreign troops. Their conversation was innocuous-for by mutual unspoken consent they avoided potentially dangerous issues-but enjoyable, easy, and, to Luzelle, distinctly novel. She had encountered a variety of celebrated men in the course of her travels, but never one so genuinely unaware of the power of his own fame and appearance as Karsler Stornzof. He didn't seem to regard himself as a hero, as a celebrity, or indeed as anything more than an ordinary officer of the Grewzian Imperium. Hard to believe, yet she could detect nothing of false modesty in his att.i.tude. Similarly he appeared unconscious of the countless feminine eyes following him as he walked along the path.

And his effect on Luzelle Devaire?

This head is not easily turned, she a.s.sured herself. And I have a race to win. And I have a race to win.

They came to an intersection and he guided her to the left, along a narrow way lined with odd, old-fashioned little shops and booths. Her feet stopped of their own accord before one of them, and it took her consciousness a moment to understand why.

It was an ordinary p.a.w.nshop, small and dingy, indistinguishable from countless others of similar ilk infesting every major city. Certainly there was nothing distinctive to be glimpsed in the window display. Just the usual sad and dusty collection of other people's lost treasures; plenty of jewelry, watches, silver, china, crystal, musical instruments, expensive monogrammed shaving implements, ornaments, fancy spurs and whips, ornate ceremonial swords and daggers, a couple of big service revolvers...

It was the revolvers, she realized, that had halted her. Suddenly she was back again at Glozh Station, and the two Grewzian soldiers were dragging her from the platform. She could hear their voices and feel their hands on her, she could taste her own outraged fear, and she remembered her promise to herself that she would never again travel without a loaded pistol. Now was the time to fulfill that vow.

"You wish to enter?" Karsler asked.

"Yes." She turned to look up at him, and forced herself to add, "I mean to purchase a gun, for my own protection."

Now she would have to endure his disapproval, or worse, his patronage. Beyond doubt he'd inform her that possession of a lethal weapon could only maximize her own danger. She wouldn't know how to handle a gun properly, or if by any chance she managed to learn, then the knowledge would hysterically flee her mind at some critical moment. She would end up shooting herself or some innocent bystander. Or else some male aggressor far stronger, quicker, and more resolute than she would simply take the weapon away from her, s.n.a.t.c.h it right out of her hand before she could remember to squeeze the trigger, and then where would she be? She had heard the entire condescending lecture more than once, and she was not inclined to listen to it again.

Karsler surprised her.

"That is a sound thought," he observed, almost sadly. "In such a world as this you must stand prepared to defend yourself. I cannot deny the necessity. Do you know much of handguns?"

"Not a great deal," she admitted. "But I'm thinking that those two there in the window look pretty useful."

"The revolvers-yes, very useful indeed. But a little large and heavy to suit your needs, perhaps. Would you not prefer a weapon that you can carry easily and inconspicuously-in a pocket, or possibly in your reticule?"

"That's just what I need."

"Then let us see what this shop has to offer."

They entered, and found the musty dimness within inhabited by the wizened proprietress, a woman with a face seamed and shriveled as a desiccated apple. There were no other customers in evidence, and it was easy to fancy that no other customers had set foot on the premises within the past decade or so.

Luzelle stated her requirements. Following a brief, astonished glance, the p.a.w.nbroker produced a tray of a.s.sorted handguns and set it down before her.

She studied the collection with an air of businesslike competence designed to camouflage total ignorance. What was there to choose among them? They all fired bullets, didn't they?

"This one looks...convenient," she decided, attracted to the smallest and most decorative of the weapons. It was tiny enough to fit in the palm of her hand, very light in weight, with a mother-of-pearl grip laced with golden traceries. A woman's gun, unmistakably.

"You might carry it easily," Karsler agreed, "but you would find it effective only at the very shortest range, and then only if you hit the target in a vital area. Otherwise-a flea bite."

"I see." Luzelle returned the pretty midget to the tray and chose another, an interesting six-barreled piece with a pierced b.u.t.t. "This one seems quite formidable."

"Perhaps, in some respects. But that design is awkward in its action, it is seriously muzzle-heavy, and you would find it difficult to hold an aim."

"Oh. Muzzle-heavy. Yes." She put it back.

"If you will permit me to offer a recommendation-"

"Please do!"

"The Khrennisov FK6." Noting her look of incomprehension, he pointed. "This one. An excellent short-range weapon designed for self-defense. Compact, small enough to carry in your pocket, shoots accurately, and with great force. The Khrennisov should serve your purposes admirably."

"You think?" She hefted the pocket pistol experimentally. It lay small but a.s.sertive in her hand, and it made her feel brave. She decided that she liked it. "I'll take it, then."

"You will not regret your decision."

She paid the p.a.w.nbroker's price without haggling, in appreciation whereof the old woman threw in a small box half full of ammunition, presumably furnished by the Khrennisov's former owner.

"I'll start target practice as soon as I find a spot where n.o.body minds flying bullets," Luzelle promised.

"It will come to feel quite natural to you much sooner than you imagine," Karsler told her.

Once more she thought to catch a hint of something like sadness or regret in his voice, but no disapproval, and she thought, How unlike Girays he is! Girays would have pestered me to death over this, and pretended he was doing it out of concern for my welfare. It's pleasant to be regarded as a mentally sound adult. How unlike Girays he is! Girays would have pestered me to death over this, and pretended he was doing it out of concern for my welfare. It's pleasant to be regarded as a mentally sound adult.

They exited into the sunlight, where the somber mood of the shop faded swiftly, despite the weight of the new, dense little paper-wrapped parcel that she refused to allow her companion to carry for her. On they went along the narrow street until the vista before them widened and she confronted an astonishment of palaces-high, glittering, and presumptuous, each wonderfully individual.

She had never in her life seen anything to equal the complexity of the iridescent coils coiffing the violet towers of the mansion directly before her. Another, even more imposing, sported four slim blue spires crowned with orbiting silver star-bursts. Another, inconceivably vast, was clothed from ground to summit in luminous marble mosaics. Then there was the grandly peculiar conglomerate of vertical cylinders sheathed in beaten copper weathered to the color of jade. And the ambitious fantasy sprawling full length beneath nested domes, each dome elaborately pierced and sliced to reveal the complex polychrome layers beneath. And the gilded behemoth straddling no fewer than four separate quays. And the white giantess clothed in marble fretwork airy as petrified frost. And the-but no, she couldn't take them in at one glance, they were too numerous, too remarkable, and the dance of sunlight on the silver waters of the greatest of ca.n.a.ls too distracting.

She drew a wondering breath. Karsler Stornzof turned to her and smiled.

"The Lureis Ca.n.a.l," he said.

The center of the city, the heart of Lanthi Ume, famed throughout the world. She had seen many colored prints and paintings of this scene, but none that did it justice. For a time they paused to marvel, then moved off along the walkway known as the Prendivet Saunter that edged the great ca.n.a.l. And now she noticed a displeasing multiplicity of grey-uniformed figures strolling the neighborhood, but refused to let the oppressive Grewzian presence dampen her enjoyment. Resolutely she pushed the recurring images of the morning's horrors from her mind.

Too soon they came to the Prendivet Hotel-big and modern, but constructed in stylistic harmony with the neighboring mansions upon the site once occupied by a palace known as Vallage House. Reputedly one of the wonders of the city, Vallage House had been torn down, or burned down, or otherwise disposed of in the distant past, but for some reason popular legend had it that the glorious old structure crowning the remote extremity of Cape Consolation in the land of Strell, and likewise known as Vallage House, was an exact replica of the Lanthian original.

They went in, crossed the lobby, and pa.s.sed through a tall arched doorway into the restaurant, where a solicitous head-waiter seated them at once. Luzelle glanced about uneasily. The place was handsome enough, well lit and well appointed, but disturbingly grey with Grewzian officers. She had never seen so many high-ranking enemies a.s.sembled in one room, and she hoped she never would again. Yet here she was, lunching with one of them.

She consulted the menu. Sophisticated, delicate Lanthian seafood dishes, interspersed with such red-blooded Grewzian favorites as offal pudding, deep-fried mutton gobbets, and raised venison pie.

"This place is popular among your countrymen," she observed without enthusiasm.

"That is almost inevitable," he told her. "The Prendivet Hotel is next-door neighbor to the mansion called Beffel House, in which my compatriots have established their headquarters. They find this spot most convenient for their meals."

"Most convenient," she echoed dryly, but dropped her eyes before his straight gaze, which somehow made her feel unsure, as if her implied criticism had been misplaced or even unjust.

The waiter reappeared. Luzelle requested mussels in broth, while Karsler ordered an omelet, and it crossed her mind that she had dined in his presence a couple of times aboard the Karavise Karavise, and never yet seen him touch meat. But she gave the matter little thought, for her attention fixed almost at once on a neighboring table where a familiar well-tailored figure sat amid a gathering of very senior Grewzian officers.

"Isn't that a general general sitting across the table from your uncle, over there?" she asked. sitting across the table from your uncle, over there?" she asked.

Karsler's eyes followed her discreetly pointing finger. "General Uhrnuss," he confirmed. "Overgeneral Brugloist beside him. There is also the Overcommander Hahltronz. The others I do not know by sight."

"Brugloist-he commands the whole Grewzian army in this part of the world, doesn't he?"

"The Southeast Expeditionary Force, yes."

"Your uncle and the overgeneral appear cordial."

"They roomed together for a couple of terms at Leistlurl, I believe," he told her, naming the oldest and most inflexibly exclusive of Grewzland's great universities.

"They seem very intent on something or other. I wonder what it could be?"

She did not have to wonder for long.

The food arrived, the conversation altered direction, and soon, to her surprise, she found herself telling him about the Judge, the hideous quarrels, and her final withdrawal from her father's house. She revealed nothing of the shattered betrothal with a fellow Ellipsoid, nothing of her own financial straits, or of her dealings with the ministry, yet her voice ran on, loosing recollections that she could never have imagined herself sharing with a near stranger, much less a Grewzian. She could hardly account for her own loquacity, but supposed that Karsler's air of intelligent interest devoid of intrusiveness invited confidences. He was remarkably easy to talk to, but the reverse did not seem to hold true, for she noticed that he spoke very little of himself or his own past. She gave him plenty of opportunity, left several conversational openings into which many men would happily have leapt, but he remained courteously reticent, and finally she began to contemplate in earnest the various means whereby she might gently and painlessly pry his mind open, at least a crack.

But she never got the chance to try, for just then the Grandlandsman Torvid Stornzof rose from his seat and crossed to their table, where he paused, arms folded and monocle glinting.

Karsler rose dutifully, and observed in Vonahrish, "You honor me, Grandlandsman. Will you join us?"

Decline, Ice Statue, Luzelle urged silently. Go away. Go away.

"News, Nephew," Torvid announced in Grewzian, equally ignoring the invitation and Luzelle's presence. "I have lunched with the Overgeneral Brugloist, whose response to this morning's local impertinence is commendably decisive. The overgeneral informs me that Lanthi Ume's harbor is to be shut down until further notice. For the present, neither admission nor departure is permitted. Such firmness speaks eloquently."

"All sea trade ceases?" Karsler asked in Vonahrish. "The Lanthian economy is fueled by such commerce, is it not?"

"I am not conversant with the internal ordering of our various subject nations."

"The city is largely dependent upon imports for its ordinary foodstuffs and provisions."

"Well?"