"I resent the implication, Lady Marilla, but I am going to ignore it. You all know that the Federation is planning to pull out in a few weeks' time, but you do not understand the reason. The legislature, which Lew and Herm served in, has been disbanded-and that changes everything!"

"What does that have to do with Darkover?" Dom Damon seemed genuinely puzzled.

"As the Comyn Council acts as an advisory body to the ruler of Darkover, so the legislature held the leader of the Federation in check," Lew said, as if speaking to a child, and a dull one at that. "Without that restraint, the Premier can do just about anything-and from what we have been able to learn, she is running the Federation by decree at present. That is tyranny, pure and plain!"

"I repeat-what does that have to do with Darkover," Dom Damon growled, glaring fiercely at Lew.

"I protest!" Dom Francisco banged his fist on the table, his pale cheeks flushed with anger. "We have not settled the matter of who is head of the Comyn Council, and until we do, everything else is . . ."

At that moment there was the sound of footsteps, and Gareth Elhalyn entered. He looked around as those with their backs to the door turned to look toward him, and smiled. "What are you doing here?" his father asked.

"He is here at my invitation," Javanne answered before Gareth could speak. Her eyes were glittering with pleasure, and there was a smug expression on her face. Mikhail thought that if she had been a cat, there would have been feathers poking out of her taut mouth.

"Of all the . . ." Danilo began.

"He has no business here, since he has not even been named Dani's heir as yet," snapped Dom Gabriel, favoring his wife with a furious look. "What are you doing, woman?"

"Sit down, Gareth," Javanne went on, as if no one had spoken. She waved at the vacant chairs. The lad looked somewhat uneasy now, his handsome face doubtful, but he sat down beside his mother, in between her and Lew Alton. "I have arrived at an obvious conclusion, which I cannot understand why no one else has seen." She looked around the table with a slight sneer, as if everyone except herself was stupid.

"And what might that be, cousin," Lew Alton asked with a kind of silky insolence that never failed to annoy Javanne.

"Since Mikhail is clearly too powerful to be allowed to rule Darkover, and since his oldest son is nedestro, and Dani refuses to do his duty, then we must agree that the rightful ruler will be Gareth Elhalyn-and all we need to do is appoint someone to be regent for him until he reaches adulthood." She paused, and looked less confident. "I think that Dom Francisco . . ."

"This is outrageous!" Gabriel Lanart-Alton's booming voice echoed off the great trap matrixes in the ceiling. "Gareth's life would not be worth a sekal with Francisco as regent!"

This pronouncement was followed by a stunned silence, since Dom Gabriel had voiced the unspeakable. Aware that he was now the center of attention, the old man continued. "I apologize for my wife's unseemly behavior-I was unaware of her plan until now, or I would have put a stop to her nonsense! Believe me, son, none of this is my doing." He looked tired and ashamed.

"I never imagined that it was," Mikhail answered calmly, reminding himself not to allow his temper to flare. "I think it would be best, and least embarrassing, if Gareth left now, since he has no right to be present."

"You stole my place, and I want it back," Gareth announced, glaring at Mikhail.

"You are much too young to understand, Gareth," Dani began quietly. "Mikhail is correct-you should not be present."

"No wonder he got you to give up the Hastur legacy! You are spineless, Father, and everyone knows it!" Gareth sneered at Dani as he spoke, leaning forward a little to see around his mother.

Miralys grabbed his golden locks in a firm grip and pulled his head back against the chair. There was an audible thump. "How dare you speak to your father like that." She slapped his face with her free hand. "Now get on your feet and get out of here, before I have the Guards drag you away! I have never been so ashamed in my life!"

Fighting back tears, the boy stood up. "I will have my rightful place, and no one is going to stop me. I will be king!" He turned on his heel and almost ran toward the door, cursing under his breath. "Damn you, Javanne Hastur-you promised me!"

Miralys and Mikhail exchanged a brief glance, and the woman bit her lower lip to keep from exclaiming. They had both heard those words before, from Vincent Elhalyn, her brother. And Mikhail knew, from her expression, that she feared that her firstborn might prove to be just as unstable as Vincent had been. Sometimes the Elhalyn defect took a long time to manifest itself, and he hoped that Gareth's behavior was only an indication of the boy's ambitions, fed by Javanne's treachery, and not something more dangerous.

"I hope you are pleased with yourself, Mother," Mikhail told the woman. He could see that she was trembling with rage and frustration, but also that she was unable to grasp why her plan had failed so dramatically.

Mikhail looked slowly around the table, measuring the expressions on the stunned faces of the Comyn Council. Even Dom Francisco seemed unnerved, running one hand through his pale hair and drumming on the tabletop with the other. From his look of unease, Mikhail guessed that he had not known of Javanne's plan to name him as regent for Gareth. Francisco was canny enough to know that such an appointment would never be accepted by the rest of the Domains, and would not have suggested it himself. After several seconds, Dom Francisco turned to stare at Javanne, and there was nothing kindly in his gaze.

Mikhail swallowed a sudden desire to laugh, to fall into cheerful hysterics, gather up his wife and children, and fly to one of the moons. Liriel, perhaps. He had always thought that his mother was her own worst enemy, and now she had managed to move Francisco Ridenow into that position! The irony was almost too much to be contained.

But he managed to control himself long enough to continue his examination of the rest of the Council. There was shock and outrage evident, but also an air of speculation that puzzled him for a second. Then he decided that both Dom Damon and Francisco Ridenow were trying to think how to turn this development to their own advantage. He knew these men to be his adversaries, even though they were not in any way allies. Mikhail felt he could handle them because he had come to know them over the years. A look at Robert Aldaran's face told him these thoughts were going through his mind as well, and that he would try to keep his father in check.

"When did you learn that the Federation had dissolved the legislature, Mikhail?" Lady Marilla asked, clearly attempting to get matters back in hand.

"I have known for several days," Mikhail said, "ever since Herm Aldaran arrived. Shortly after that, all Darkovan personnel were ordered to leave Headquarters. This is one of the things I intended to discuss at this meeting, before we became distracted by other matters." The sound of his voice surprised him, for it might have been Regis speaking in his particular way, chiding his adversaries like a stern but not unjust father. And from the way Javanne stiffened, she had caught the similarity as well, and was not at all pleased by it.

"Where is Hermes?" Dom Damon asked in a querulous voice. "I have asked several people, including that Terranan woman he married, but no one will tell me anything. Even Gisela does not seem to know where her brother has disappeared to." He gave Rafael a penetrating glance.

"Yes, Mikhail," Javanne cut in silkily. "Where is he?"

Mikhail looked at Lew, who gave a shrug. "He is doing a job for me at present," he answered, glad that the construction of the Crystal Chamber prevented anyone from reading his mind. "He volunteered for the task, and it seemed the best thing at the time."

"He volunteered? For what? When? Why?" Javanne-was determined to get to the bottom of things. "He was at dinner three nights ago, and then he vanished."

"I don't understand any of this," Dom Damon grumbled.

Mikhail weighed things in his mind, and decided that he had better give them a bone to chew on, something to distract them. "Herm has the Aldaran Gift, and had a flash of warning-he left the Federation before Premier Nagy actually announced the dissolution of the legislature. He brought his wife and children with him, for he suspected that he would not be returning there in the near future. When the Station Chief realized Herm was on Darkover, he issued an arrest warrant, declaring him an enemy of the state-a unique distinction in Darkovan history, but one that I am sure Herm would have preferred not to have received." There were murmurs around the table, and a few mild chuckles. "Lyle Belfontaine had the audacity to send me a message demanding that I turn Hermes over to him for arrest and deportation. Or, to be precise, he sent Regis the message, not knowing at that time that Regis had died. I ignored it, since I have no intention of turning over any citizen of our world to anyone. But Hermes felt that it might be better if he were not here, so as not to cause trouble."

Lew gave Mikhail a heartwarming look of approval at this mixture of truth and half-truth. Everyone else was too busy digesting these revelations to comment for a merciful few moments, and Mikhail allowed himself to be quietly pleased.

"I don't believe this," bellowed Dom Damon, clearly surprised and outraged. "Belfontaine would never arrest my son!"

Mikhail drew a sheet of shiny paper from his pouch and handed it around the table. "This is the arrest order."

Dom Damon stared at it nearsightedly. "That treacherous bastard!"

"I did not realize you were so well acquainted with Belfontaine," Danilo Syrtis-Ardais remarked quietly, giving Dom Damon a piercing look.

"I would not say we were acquainted," Lord Aldaran blustered. "But unlike the rest of you, we have tried to maintain reasonable ties with the Terranan, particularly since there are so many of them living in the Aldaran Domain at present."

"Just how many of them are there?" Mikhail asked. Regis had never been able to get Dom Damon to name a figure, and it had annoyed him a great deal.

"Oh, I don't know. I never think about such things." The guarded expression on his face deepened.

Robert Aldaran gave his father a glance of surprise. "There are, at this time, approximately five hundred Federation citizens in the Aldaran Domain, most of them technicians of various sorts. That number includes about fifty spouses. There is a modest contingent of ethnologists and anthropologists, doing nothing very much, as near as I can gather, except annoying people by asking peculiar questions about all sorts of things that are none of their business. And there are about seventy-five Federation troopers, although I have suspected for quite some time that many of the technicians were actually fighting men pretending otherwise."

Dom Damon cast a look of unconcealed loathing at his older son. Then he rattled the paper in his hand. "I just don't understand this! Why in the world would Belfontaine issue an arrest warrant, particularly for a son of mine?"

"What better way to provoke an incident, and justify some action that would otherwise not be permitted," Lew replied almost smugly, as if he felt he had caught the Aldaran somehow. "Belfontaine has a history of overstepping himself, for being ambitious, and I am sure that being forced to leave Darkover this way, at this time, was not his choice."

"What in Zandru's coldest hell do you mean by that," growled Dom Damon, looking more confused and anxious by the moment.

"Well, if we did not turn over Herm, then he might think he could justify storming Comyn Castle itself. The law is rather ambiguous about the rights of individual citizens of Protected Planets, which means that Belfontaine might have decided to read it to his advantage." Lew looked grim for a moment. "We can only conjecture, I'm afraid, but I do know that Belfontaine has been sending frantic messages to his superiors, and that they have not, so far as I know, responded. I think he is trying to get permission to use force against us."

"Then you must be insane! Why would he want to do something so foolish?" The color of Dom Damon's face was alarming now, so red that Mikhail feared he would have an apoplectic fit. But he did not look like a man who was planning deliberate treachery. Whatever plan he had, it had nothing to do with the ambush that might await them on the road. He let himself enjoy a moment of relief.

"We must hope you are correct, with your greater knowledge of the Terranan, Dom Damon," Francisco said slowly, frowning over the words. "But if he is desperate, then who knows what he might decide. Are we just going to sit around and wait for him to make a move?"

"Hardly that," Danilo answered. "Both the City Guard and the Castle Guard are on full alert, as I am sure you already know, Dom Francisco. In the recent past the Federation has attempted to cause trouble in various ways on Darkover, but thus far they have had very little success. The Thendaran rumor mill is almost silent concerning the Federation, but very curious about . . . well, no matter." He fell silent and looked as if he had said too much already, but when no one questioned him, he went on. "If there is any assault, it will come from another direction."

"And just what is being done to prevent this," Javanne asked sharply, speaking directly to Danilo.

Mikhail looked at Lew, for they had spent hours together with Danilo, trying to decide just how to present the plot to the Council. Lew gave one of his speaking shrugs and answered, "First, we have started rounding up the Travelers' troupes, quietly and firmly, because there is some evidence that the Federation has been using them as spies and agents."

"The Travelers? I can hardly believe what I am hearing! Do you actually expect us to believe that a bunch of entertainers pose some sort of threat to the Comyn?" She looked triumphant, as if she felt she had scored a point.

Dom Damon looked alarmed at this revelation, since everyone knew that several of the Traveler bands wintered in the Aldaran Domain. Still, there was nothing guilty in his expression. The ruddy color in his cheeks faded, and now he was pale. "Spies? Agents? Have you lost your mind?"

"No, I have not. We have already uncovered one spy within the Travelers, and who knows how many others there are. Do you remember the riot in the Horse Market during Midsummer? Well, it was provoked by the Travelers-we know that now, although we did not then. But the danger has been nipped in the bud," Mikhail told them. Any troupe near a Tower had been dealt with, since he had received Nico's communication two nights before, but that still left those in more remote locations free to make as much mischief as they wished. But if his son were correct, then it was likely that the Travelers themselves were largely innocent dupes, and that no troupe had more than one or two Terranan spies with them, if that.

"Travelers! This is utterly ridiculous! You are making this up!" snapped Javanne. "I don't know what you think you are doing, telling us these stories, and . . ."

"Silence!" roared Dom Gabriel. "If you say another word against Mikhail, woman, I will drag you out of here by your hair."

Javanne's mouth gaped, pushing the little ruff under her chin askew. Then she clamped it closed, glared at her husband, and subsided, shocked. She gathered herself again, slowly and with difficulty, looking old and haggard, yet determined at the same time. "Son or not, I will not allow you to take my brother's place!"

Mikhail took a deep breath and looked around the table. "Let us be clear on one matter. I am Regis Hastur's heir, and I will do what he wished me to do. The matter is not open to further discussion. I will not waste my time debating my own fitness with those of you who imagine yourselves to have wiser heads, or the well-being of Darkover more to heart. This is hardly the time to start fighting among ourselves."

Lady Marilla cleared her throat. "I must disagree, Dom Mikhail, and very strongly. You are too much influenced by Lew Alton and your wife, and everyone here knows that. I am afraid that the matter must be debated, and that, in the end, you will have to step aside." Her voice was soft, as always, and it sounded as if she had prepared the words carefully.

This was too much for Dyan Ardais, who rarely said very much at Council meetings. "In whose favor, Mother? Have you completely lost your wits?"

Lady Marilla looked slightly surprised, for it was not often that her son opposed her openly in Council meetings. "Well, a regency, of course . . . until Roderick is . . . or perhaps Gareth . . ."

"Ah, so that is what you have decided, have you?" Dyan sneered. "Forgive my mother, Mikhail. That is the most foolish idea I have heard in months, and I can guess where she got it. I must point out that Mikhail named Domenic his heir when he reached his majority at Midsummer, so there is no question of . . ."

"Domenic must never be permitted to succeed, and neither must Mikhail." Javanne spoke firmly, and it was clear that she was sincere. No matter how many leroni assured her that the events that had taken place during Mikhail and Marguerida's strange adventure in the past had actually occurred, she refused to believe that her grandson was the legitimate issue of a real marriage. She had fixed her mind on the idea that Nico was nedestro, and nothing could budge her from it.

Mikhail felt his heart sink, and he felt slightly ill. He wanted her approval and support, and he wondered how she could hate him so much. Well, perhaps she did not hate him, but only hated that she could not influence him, could not force him to follow her own plans. But she did hate his oldest child, and his wife, and that was almost more than he could bear.

"None of you really understand, and think me a foolish old woman," Javanne exclaimed, anguish in her voice. "Regis cannot have been in his right mind when he named Mikhail his heir-it is impossible! Mikhail must have used his powers to . . ." Her voice trailed away and she began to sob.

Everyone at the table was looking at him, averting their eyes from the spectacle of Javanne Hastur's grief. Mikhail felt his cheeks flame with a combination of embarrassment and rage that made his hands tremble. No one had ever openly accused him of using his matrix to his own advantage before, although he knew that the thought had crossed their minds. The ancient di catenas bracelet encircling his wrist rattled against the tabletop as he tried to master himself, to refrain from saying anything he would regret later. It made his heart ache, that his own mother would think such things of him, could regard him as so dishonorable.

Marguerida put her left hand over his right one again, and, despite the dampers, he felt her healing power sweep over him. He felt his blood cease to roar in his veins, and his breathing returned to normal. He looked around the table, at his mother, Francisco Ridenow and Lady Marilla arrayed against him. Then he studied Dom Damon. It was almost enough to make him throw up his hands and storm out of the chamber in a rage.

"Is there anyone else who imagines I influenced Regis Hastur in his decision?" he asked, surprised to find his voice steady and even.

"It was very convenient for you, wasn't it?" Francisco commented, "when young Dani resigned and took the Elhalyn Domain, right after you showed up with that fantastic tale and what you claim is the matrix stone of my ancestor." Francisco glanced around the table, the center of all eyes. "And Dani was quite young, and so very malleable." His voice was soft with suggestion, and Mikhail wanted to hit him.

Dani Hastur glared at Francisco and nearly spat with rage. "How dare you! Is there no ill thought you will not entertain? Next you will be suggesting that Mikhail had something to do with my father's death," he snarled. His hand left the table and went to the hilt of his dagger, but Miralys touched his arm and he released his grip.

Francisco smiled narrowly. "So that thought crossed your mind, too, did it?" He tried to suggest a feeling of comradeship across the table with Regis' son. "It must have been so hard to wait for Regis to die, since the Hasturs are usually such a long-lived family."

Danilo Syrtis-Ardais shifted in his chair, leaned forward slightly so that he could see Francisco clearly, and spoke. "That is the most disgraceful thing I have ever heard. I was with Regis when he had his stroke, and there was nothing about it that was the least unnatural. To suggest such shows more than I wish to know about the nature of your thoughts, Francisco. I had no idea you were so filthy-minded."

If the words had any impact, Dom Francisco did not show it. Instead, he went on, speaking in a low voice, as if trying to persuade his listeners of the validity of his suspicions. "We do not really know what Mikhail can do with his matrix, do we, Dom Danilo? And even you can be fooled."

Dyan Ardais pounded his fist on the table again. "You keep that damned tongue of yours behind your teeth, Francisco, or I will personally pull it from your mouth! Mikhail has never done anything to anyone except to heal them."

"So why did Regis die? If Mikhail is so powerful, why was he unable to restore Regis? Your loyalty to Mikhail does you credit, Dom Dyan, but I think it blinds you as well."

"And I suppose you think that I would not have known if something was wrong, Francisco," Danilo Syrtis-Ardais almost snarled. "I assume you think I am blind as well? Considering how you managed to achieve the rulership of your own Domain, I suppose such thoughts are natural."

There was a stricken silence and everyone stared at Francisco Ridenow, even his usual ally, Lady Marilla. There was no one present who had not nourished suspicions about the deaths of those who stood in the way of Francisco, but no one had ever openly suggested that he had arranged them. The man flinched slightly, and his face paled as he realized he had gone too far.

Dom Damon's eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to find some advantage in this conflict. Then his face cleared quickly. "While I am sure that Mikhail did nothing to his uncle, we cannot pretend that we are entirely free of suspicion. And we should remember that Mikhail is not the only Hastur-that he has two brothers, both older than himself, who could easily . . ."

"Enough!" Rafael spoke for the first time. "I have no ambition to rule Darkover, and my brother Gabe has so little interest in politics that he did not even bother to attend the Council meeting. If you say another word, Dom Damon, against my brother, I will happily ram your teeth down your throat. I have been wanting to do that for years."

"What-and deny me that pleasure?" Robert snapped from the other side of the table, baring his teeth at Rafael, like a wolf challenging a rival. "The succession was decided, long ago, and not in some moment of weak-mindedness the way Regis's loving sister would have it. This is hardly the time to think about changing it."

Mikhail felt cold, as if a wind from the Hellers had just blown through his body. He had known for a long time that he was resented and feared, but the continuous barrage of violent feelings against him were eroding his strength. Despair flickered and burst into flame in his mind. How could he hope to lead the Domains, when he could not even control a Council meeting?

Suddenly there was a remarkable sound, and the great trap matrices in the ceiling of the Crystal Chamber rang like chimes. Everyone looked up, and then there was an explosion of noise and blinding light. The shining stones burst into shards and cascaded not downward, but outward, toward the walls of the room, shattering into bits as they struck. Reflexively, everyone at the table flinched, and Lady Marilla half ducked under the protective rim of the table before she stopped herself.

Mikhail heard a shout from one of the Guards near the doorway, and he sensed Donal rushing toward him. The young paxman flung himself against Mikhail's shoulder, throwing his body over Mikhail's, trying to protect him. He could feel the warm breath of his nephew against his cheek.

A wind seemed to rise from nowhere, tugging at garments and hair, plucking away the butterfly clasps of the women and the knives of the men as if they were no more than twigs. Mikhail felt a sharp tug at his wrist, and watched, round-eyed, as his glove was pulled from his hand and rose in the swirling air. A minor tornado funneled to the ceiling, then angled off, bearing away the debris it had collected. Finally, the strange whirlwind flung itself against the farthest wall, the collected implements clattering to the floor with a loud noise.

The silence that followed was broken only by gasps and a few screams. Everyone seemed too stunned to do more than stare at the destruction. Then Mikhail's ring quivered on his finger, and beams of light burst from it.

"What manner of mischief is this," shouted Dom Francisco, pointing at Mikhail's hand.

Before anyone else could speak, a shining cloud rose from the matrix and floated to the center of the table. It hovered there, about a foot above the carved wood, and then began to shift, to turn in place, spinning hypnotically. Mikhail found his mouth gaping in astonishment. The rest of the onlookers were just as stunned as he was, but he was sure they were going to turn and accuse him of using some trick on them as soon as they recovered their senses. The cold feeling in his muscles was gone now, but his mind felt numb.

"YOU PACK OF FOOLS! I AM NOT EVEN DECENTLY LAID TO REST YET, AND ALREADY YOU ARE TRYING TO TEAR THE FABRIC OF DARKOVER TO PIECES WITH YOUR AMBITIONS. SHAME ON YOU!"

"Father?" Although the volume was much greater than Regis Hastur had ever used in life, there was no mistaking the voice.

"SON, I AM SORRY I DID NOT REALLY SAY FAREWELL. THE SPIRIT WAS WILLING, BUT THE FLESH WAS MUCH TOO WEARY."

"How did you get into Mikhail's matrix?" Mikhail was glad that Dani was asking this question, because, for the moment, the power of speech seemed to have vanished from his mouth.

"VARZIL RIDENOW SENT ME FORTH FROM THE OVERWORLD, TO MAKE ALL OF YOU STOP BEHAVING LIKE A PACK OF BRAYING ASSES. THE MATRIX WAS MERELY A CONVENIENCE. I BELIEVE HE WAS SO FURIOUS THAT A SPROUT OF HIS LINE WOULD BEHAVE AS FRANCISCO IS NOW, THAT HE ACTED, BUT I AM NOT SURE. CLOSE YOUR MOUTH, MIK. YOU LOOK LIKE A HOOKED TROUT."

The ball of light began to move, rushing first toward Lew Alton. The swirling light settled on Lew's brow, and a remarkable expression came over the old, scarred face as tears slithered down into the seams and wrinkles. Then it moved on to Dom Gabriel, leaving Mikhail's father looking stunned but not distressed. There was near silence as the cloud of light continued its circuit, touching the two Aldaran men, then Dyan Ardais and his mother.

Francisco Ridenow shrank back in his tall chair, trembling in spite of his efforts not to. When the cloud settled over his face, an expression of horror contorted his features, and he gave a bark of utter terror. He lifted a hand and tried to brush the light away, then snatched it back as if it had burned him. It seemed to cling to the Ridenow man for what seemed a long time, and when it finally drifted away, Francisco slumped forward onto the surface of the table.

Javanne Hastur sat stiffly, waiting and showing no fear. There was something in her countenance that spoke of a determination not to pay the least attention to what was going to occur, and when the light settled over her, she did not move. Then her hands, resting on the table, clenched into fists, and the cold expression in her face began to fade. Instead she looked very angry, as if she were arguing with her dead brother, and was getting the worst of it.

"How could you, Regis? How could you?" she murmured at last, as the shining energy departed.

Donal released his grip on Mikhail and stepped back as Mikhail waited his turn, too tired to feel afraid. What he experienced he could never afterward completely describe, but he felt a great, supportive affection that embraced him while simultaneously examining him ruthlessly. It was as if none of the previous years had ever happened. There was nothing of the anxiety and mistrust that had saddened both Regis and Mikhail, no rebukes or fault finding. The pain of the past was gone, as if it had never existed.

Mikhail barely noticed the reactions of the rest of the Council members as the cloud finished its journey, except that Danilo Syrtis-Ardais was smiling, and that Dani Hastur and Miralys were both weeping. At last he roused himself enough to turn and look at Marguerida. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but her face was as serene as he had ever seen it.

The cloud returned to the center of the table, and Mikhail watched as the light began to change once more. It folded into itself, until there was nothing except a spark, hovering above the polished wood. Then it sped back toward the ring, and the cold which had touched him earlier returned, and vanished a second later. He felt a moment's sorrow that Lady Linnea was not there to experience this last farewell, and then the thought was gone.

He found Dani looking at him, and Mikhail realized that with the dampers destroyed, the younger man must have overheard his regret for Lady Linnea. Indeed, now he could catch the uppermost thoughts of everyone; the mental silence that he was accustomed to in the chamber was no more. Then, as if the others realized this as well, he felt their personal shields go up, with a sense of relief.