Pause. Was his request so strange? Nights are for sleeping. "OK. LATR."

As consciousness drifted finally away, Vinh shrugged deeper into his hammock and smiled to himself. He was not alone. And all along, the secret had been as close as his hand. Amazing!

The next morning, Vinh woke up rested and strangely happy. Huh. What had he done to deserve this?

He floated into the shower bag and sudsed up. Yesterday had been so dark, so shameful. Bitter reality seeped back into him, but strangely slow... Yeah, there had been a dream. That was not unusual, but most of his dreams hurt so much to remember. Vinh turned the shower to dry and hung for a moment in the swirling jets of air. What had it been about this one?

Yes! It was another of those miracle escape dreams, but this time things hadn't turned bad at the end. Nau and Brughel had not leaped out of hiding at the last moment.

So what had been the secret weapon this time? Oh, the usual illogic of dreams, some kind of magic that turned his own hands into a comm link with the chief conspirator. Pham Trinli? Ezr chuckled at the thought. Some dreams are more absurd than others; strange how he still felt comforted by this one.

He shrugged into his clothes and set off down the temp's corridors, his progress the typical zero-gee push, pull, bounce at the turns, swing to avoid those moving more slowly or going in the other direction. Pham Nuwen. Pham Trinli. There must be a billion people with that given name, and a hundred flagships named Pham Nuwen. Recollection of his library search of the night before gradually percolated back to mind, the crazy ideas he'd been thinking just before he went to bed.

But the truth about Captain Park had been no dream. By the time he arrived at the dayroom, he was moving more slowly.

Ezr drifted headfirst into the dayroom, said hello to Hunte Wen by the door. The atmosphere was relatively relaxed. He quickly discovered that Reynolt had brought her surviving Focused back online; there had been no more flareups. On the far ceiling, Pham Trinli was pontificating about what had caused the runaway and why the danger was past. This was the Pham Trinli he had dealt with several Ksecs of each wake period on every overlapping Watch since the ambush. Suddenly the dream and the library session before it were reduced to the proper and completely absurd perspective.

Trinli must have heard him talking to Hunte. The old fraud turned, and for a moment looked back down the room at Vinh. He didn't say anything, didn't nod, and even if an Emergent spy were looking right down Vinh's line of sight, it would have not likely mattered. But to Ezr Vinh, the moment seemed to last forever. In that moment, the buffoon that had been Pham Trinli was gone. There was no bluster in that face, but there was lonely, quiet authority and an acknowledgment of their strange conversation of the night before. Somehow it had not been a dream. The communication had not been magical. And this old man truly was the Lost Prince of Canberra.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

"But it's firstsnow. Don't you want to see it?" Victory's voice took on a whine, a tone that worked with virtually no one except this one older brother.

"You've played in snow before."

Sure, when Daddy took them on trips to the far north. "But Brent! This is firstsnow at Princeton. The radio says it's all over the Craggies."

Brent was absorbed in his dowel and hub frameworks, endless shiny surfaces that got more and more complicated. By himself, he never would have considered sneaking out of the house. He continued working at his designs for several seconds, ignoring her. In fact, that was how Brent treated the unexpected. He was quite good with his hands, but ideas came slowly to him. Beyond that he was very shy-surly, grown-ups often said. His head didn't move, but Viki could tell he was looking at her. His hands never slowed as they weaved back and forth across the surface of the model, sometimes building, sometimes wrecking. Finally, he said, "We aren't supposed to go out 'less we tell Dad."

"Pfui. You know he sleeps in. This morning is the coldest yet, but we'll miss it if we don't go now. Hey, I'll leave a note for him."

Her sister Gokna would have argued the point back and forth, finally exceeding Viki herself in clever rationalizations. Her brother Jirlib would have gotten angry at her manipulation. But Brent didn't argue, returning instead to his finicky modeling for a few minutes, part of him watching her, part of him studying the dowel and connector pattern that emerged from beneath his hands, and part of him looking out across Princeton at the tinge of frost on the near ridges. Of all her brothers and sisters, he was the one who wouldn't really want to go. On the other hand, he was the only one she could find this morning, and he was even more grown-up-looking than Jirlib.

After a few moments more, he said, "Well, okay, if that's what you want." Victory grinned to herself; as if the outcome were ever in doubt. Getting past Captain Downing would be harder-but not by much.

It was early morning. The sunlight hadn't reached the streets below Hill House. Victory savored each breath, the faint stinging she felt at the sides of her chest as she tasted the frosty air. The hot blossoms and woodsfairies were still wound tight in the tree branches; they might not even come out today. But there were other things about, things she had only read about before now. In the frost of the coldest hollows, crystal worms edged slowly out. These brave little pioneers wouldn't last long-Viki remembered the radio show she had done about them last year. These little ones would keep dying except where the cold was good enough to last all day long. And even then, things would have to get much colder before the rooted variety showed up.

Viki skipped briskly through the morning chill, easily keeping up with the slower, longer strides of her big brother. This early there was hardly anyone about. Except for the sound of distant contraction work, she could almost imagine that they were all alone, that the city was deserted. Imagine what it would be like in coming years, when the cold stayed, and they could only go out as Daddy had done in the war with the Tiefers. All the way to the bottom of the hill, Viki built on the idea, turning every aspect of the chilly morning into the fantastical. Brent listened, occasionally offering a suggestion that would have surprised most of Daddy's grown-up friends. Brent was not so dumb, and he did have an imagination.

The Craggies were thirty miles away, beyond the King's high castle, beyond the far side of Princeton. No way could they walk there. But today lots of people wanted to travel to the near mountains. Firstsnow meant a fair-sized festival in every land, though of course it happened at various and unpredictable times. Viki knew that if the early snow had been predicted, Dad would have been up early, and Mom might have flown in from Lands Command. The outing would have been a major family affair-but not the least bit adventurous.

A sort of adventure began at the bottom of the hill. Brent was sixteen years old now and he was big for his age. He could pass for in-phase. He had been out on his own often enough before. He said he knew where the express buses made their stops. Today, there were no buses, and scarcely any traffic. Had everyone already gone to the mountains?

Brent marched from one bus stop to another, gradually becoming more agitated. Viki tagged along silently, for once not making any suggestions; Brent got put down often enough that he rarely asserted any sort of knowledge. It hurt when he finally spoke up-even to a little sister-and then turned out to be wrong. After the third false start, Brent hunkered down close to the ground. For a moment, Viki thought maybe he was just going to wait for a bus to come along-a thoroughly unpleasant possibility to Viki. They'd been out for more than an hour and they hadn't even seen a local jitney. Maybe she would have to stick her pointy little hands into the problem... But after a minute, Brent stood up and started across the street. "I bet the Big Dig people didn't get the day off. That's only a mile south of here. There are always buses from there."

Ha. That was just what Viki had been about to suggest. Blessed be patience.

The street was still in morning shadow. This was the deepest part of the winter season at Princeton. Here and there the frost in the darker nooks was so deep that it might have been snow itself. But the section they were walking through now was not gardened. The only plants were unruly weeds and free crawlers. On sweaty, hot days between storms, the place would have been alive with midges and drinkers.

On either side of the street were multistory warehouses. Things weren't so quiet and deserted here. The ground buzzed and thrummed with the sound of unseen diggers. Freight trucks moved in and out of the area. Every few hundred yards, a plot of land was barricaded off from all but the construction crews. Viki tugged at Brent's arms, urging him to crawl under the barricades. "Hey, it's our dad who's the reason for all this. We deserve to see!" Brent would never accept such a rationalization, but his little sister was already past the no-trespassing signs. He had to come along just to protect her.

They crept past tall bundles of reinforcement steel, and piles of masonry. There was something powerful and alien about this place. In the house on the hill, everything was so safe, so orderly. Here...well, she could see endless opportunities for the careless to lacerate a foot, cut an eye. Heck, if you tipped over one of those standing slabs, it would squash you flat. All the possibilities were crystal clear in her mind...and exciting. They carefully made their way to the lip of a caisson, avoiding the eyes of the workman and the various interesting opportunities for fatal accidents.

The railing was two strands of twine. If you don't want to die, don't fall off! Viki and her brother hunkered close to the ground and stuck their heads over the abyss. For a moment, it was too dark to see. The heated air that drifted up carried the smell of burning oil and hot metal. It was a caress and a slap in the head all at once. And the sounds: workers shouting, metal grinding against metal, engines, and a strange hissing. Viki dipped her head, letting all her eyes adjust to the gloom. There was light, but nothing like day or night. She had seen small electric-arc lamps in Daddy's labs. These ones were huge: pencils of light glowing mostly in the ultra and far ultra-colors you never see bright except in the disk of the sun. The color splashed off the hooded workers, spread speckling glints up and down the shaft... There were other less spectacular lights, steadier ones, electric lamps that shone local splotches of tamed color here and there. Still twelve years before the Dark, and they were building a whole city down there. She could see avenues of stone, huge tunnels leading off from the walls of the shaft. And in the tunnels she glimpsed darker holes...ramps to smaller diggings? Buildings and homes and gardens would come later, but already the caves were mostly dug. Looking down, Viki felt an attraction that was new to her, the natural, protective attraction of a deepness. But what these workers were doing was a thousand times grander than any ordinary deepness. If all you wanted to do was sleep frozen through the Dark, you needed just enough space for your sleeping pool and a startup cache. Such already existed in the city deepness beneath the old town center-and had existed there for almost twenty generations. This new construction was to live in, awake. In some places, where air seal and insulation could be assured, it was built right at ground level. In other areas, it was dug down hundreds of feet, an eerie reverse of the buildings that made Princeton's skyline.

Viki stared and stared, lost in the dream. Until now, it had all been a story at a distance. Little Victory read about it, heard her parents talk about it, heard it on the radio. She knew that as much as anything, it was the reason why so many people hated her family. That, and being oophase, were the reasons they weren't supposed to go out alone. Dad might talk and talk about evolution in action and how important it was for small children to be allowed to take chances, how if that didn't happen then genius could not develop in the survivors. The trouble was, he didn't mean it. Every time Viki tried to take on something a little risky, Dad got all paternal and the project became a padded security blanket.

Viki realized she was chuckling low in her chest.

"What?" said Brent.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that today we are getting to see what things are really like-Daddy or no."

Brent's aspect shifted into embarrassment. Of all her brothers and sisters, he was the one who took rules the most literally and felt the worst about bending them. "I think we should leave now. There are workers on the surface, getting closer. Besides, how long does the snow last?"

Grumble. Viki backed out and followed her brother through the maze of wonderfully massive things that filled the construction yard. At the moment, even the prospect of snowdrifts was not an irresistible attraction.

The first real surprise of the day came when they finally reached an in-use express stop: Standing a little apart from the crowd were Jirlib and Gokna. No wonder she hadn't been able to find them this morning. They had snuck off without her! Viki sidled across the plaza toward them, trying to look not the least perturbed. Gokna was grinning her usual one-upness. Jirlib had the grace to look embarrassed. Along with Brent he was the oldest, and should have had the sense to prevent this outing. The four of them drifted a few yards away from the stares and stuck their heads together.

Buzz, mumble. Miss One-Upness: "What took you so long? Had trouble sneaking past Downing's Detainers?" Viki: "I didn't think you would even dare try. We've done lots already this morning." Miss One-Upness: "Like what?" Viki: "Like we checked out the New Underground." Miss One-Upness: "Well-"

Jirlib: "Shut up the both of you. Neither of you should be out here."

"But we're radio celebrities, Jirlib." Gokna preened. "People love us."

Jirlib moved a little closer and lowered his voice. "Quit it. For every three who like 'The Children's Hour,' there are three that it worries-and four more are trads who still hate your guts."

The children's radio hour had been more fun than anything Viki had ever done, but it hadn't been the same since Honored Pedure. Now that their age was public, it was like they had to prove something. They had even found some other oophases-but so far none were right for the show. Viki and Gokna hadn't gotten friendly with other cobblies, even the pair that had been their age. They were strange, unfriendly children-almost the stereotype of oophase. Daddy said it was their upbringing, the years in hiding. That was the scariest thing of all, something she only talked about with Gokna, and then only in whispers in the middle of the night. What if the Church was right? Maybe she and Gokna just imagined they had souls.

For a moment, the four of them stood silently, taking Jirlib's point. Then Brent asked, "So why are you out here, Jirlib?" From anyone else it would have been a challenge, but verbal fighting was outside Brent's scope. The question was simple curiosity, an honest request for enlightenment.

As such, it poked deeper than any gibe. "Um, yeah. I'm on my way downtown. The Royal Museum has an exhibit about the Distorts of Khelm... I'm not a problem. I look quite old enough to be in-phase." That last was true. Jirlib wasn't as big as Brent, but he already had the beginning of paternal fur showing through the slits of his jacket. But Viki wasn't going to let him off that easily. She jabbed a hand in Gokna's direction: "So what is this? Your pet tarant?"

Little Miss One-Upness smiled sweetly. Jirlib's whole aspect was a glare. "You two are walking disaster areas, you know that?" Exactly how had Gokna fooled Jirlib into taking her along? The question sparked real professional interest in Viki. She and Gokna were by far the best manipulators in the whole family. That was why they got along so badly with each other.

"We at least have a valid academic reason for our trip," said Gokna. "What's your excuse?"

Viki waved her eating hands in her sister's face. "We're going to see the snow. That's a learning experience."

"Hah! You just want to roll in it."

"Shut up." Jirlib raised his head, took in the various bystanders back at the express stop. "We should all go home."

Gokna shifted into persuasion mode: "But Jirlib, that would be worse. It's a long walk back. Let's take the bus to the museum-see, it's coming right now." The timing was perfect. An express had just turned onto the uphill thoroughfare. Its near-red lights marked it as part of the downtown loop. "By the time we get done there, the snow fanatics should be back in town and there'll be an express running all the way back home."

"Hey, I didn't come down here to see some fake alien magic! I want to see the snow."

Gokna shrugged. "Too bad, Viki. You can always stick your head in an icebox when we get home."

"I-" Viki saw that Jirlib had reached the end of his patience, and she didn't have any real counterargument. A word from him to Brent, and Viki would find herself carried willy-nilly back to the house. "-uh, what a fine day to go to the museum."

Jirlib gave a sour smile. "Yeah, and when we arrive we'll probably find Rhapsa and Little Hrunk already there, having sweet-talked security into driving them down direct." That started Viki and Gokna laughing. The two littlest ones were more than babies now, but they still hung around Dad nearly all the day. The image of them outsmarting Mother's security team was a bit much.

The four of them maneuvered back to the edge of the crowd, and were the last to board the express... Oh well. Four really was safer than two, and the Royal Museum was in a safe part of town. Even if Dad caught on, the children's evident planning and caution would excuse them. And for all the rest of her life there would be the snow.

Public expresses were nothing like the cars and airplanes that Viki was used to. Here everyone was packed close. Rope netting-almost like babies' gymnets-hung in sheets spaced every five feet down the length of the bus. Passengers spread arms and legs ignominiously through the webwork and hung vertically from the ropes. It made it possible to pack more people on board, but it felt pretty silly. Only the driver had a proper perch.

This bus wouldn't have been crowded-except that the other passengers gave the children a wide berth. Well, they can all shrivel. I don't care. She stopped watching the other passengers, and studied the cross streets streaming past.

With all the work going on underground, there were places where street repairs had been neglected. Every bump and pothole set the rope netting asway-kind of fun. Then things smoothed out. They were entering the poshest section of the new downtown. She recognized some of the insignias on the towers above them, corporations like Under Power and Regency Radionics. Some of the largest companies in the Accord wouldn't even exist if it weren't for her father. It made her proud to see all the people going in and out of those buildings. Dad was important in a good way to many people.

Brent swayed out from the rope netting, his head coming close to hers. "You know, I think we're being followed."

Jirlib heard the quiet words too, and stiffened on the ropes. "Huh? Where?"

"Those two Roadmasters. They were parked near the bus stop."

For a second, Viki felt a little thrill of fear-and then relief. She laughed. "I bet we didn't fool anyone this morning. Dad let us go, and Captain Downing's people are following along the way they always like to do."

Brent said, "These cars don't look like any of the usual ones."

TWENTY-EIGHT.

The Royal Museum was at the City Center express stop. Viki and her siblings were deposited on the very steps of the place.

For a moment Viki and Gokna were speechless, staring upward at the curving stone arch. They had done a show about this place, but they had never been here. The Royal Museum was only three stories tall, dwarfed by the buildings of modern times. But the smaller building was something more than all the skyscrapers. Except for fortifications, the museum was the oldest intact surface structure in Princeton. In fact, it had been the Royals' principal museum for the last five cycles of the sun. There had been some rebuilding, and some extensions, but one of the traditions of the place was that it should remain true to King Longarms's vision. The outside sloped in a curving arch, almost like an inverted section of aircraft wing. The wind-run arch was the invention of architects two generations before the scientific era. The ancient buildings at Lands Command were nothing compared with this; they had the protection of deep valley walls. For a moment, Viki tried to imagine what it must be like here in the days right after the sun came to life: the building hunkered low beneath winds blasting at near sound-speed, the sun blazing hell-bright in all the colors from ultra to farthest red. So why did King Longarms build right on the surface? To dare the Dark and the Sun, of course. To rise above the deep little hidey-holes and rule.

"Hey you two! Are you asleep, or what?" Jirlib's voice jabbed at them. He and Brent were looking back from the entrance. The girls scrambled up the steps, and for once didn't have any smart reply.

Jirlib continued on, mumbling to himself about daydreaming twits. Brent dropped behind the other three, but followed close.

They passed into the shade of the entryway, and the sounds of the city faded behind. A ceremonial guard of two King's troopers perched silently in ambush niches on either side of the entrance. Up ahead was the real guardian-the ticket clerk. The ancient walls behind his stand were hung with announcements of the current exhibits. Jirlib was grumbling no more. He jittered around a twelve-color "artist's conception" of a Distort of Khelm. And now Viki could see how such foolishness had made it into the Royal Museum. It wasn't just the Distorts. This season's museum theme was "Crank Science in All Its Aspects." The posters advertised exhibits on deepness-witching, autocombustion, videomancy, and-ta-da!-the Distorts of Khelm. But Jirlib seemed oblivious of the company his hobby was keeping. It was enough for him that a museum finally honored it.

The current-theme exhibits were in the new wing. Here the ceilings were high, and mirrored pipes showered sunlight in misty cones upon the marble floors. The four of them were almost alone, and the place had an eerie quality of sound about it, not quite echoing, but magnifying. When they weren't talking, even the tick of their feet seemed loud. It worked better than any "Quiet Please" signs. Viki was awed by all the incredible quackery. Daddy thought such things were amusing-"like religion but not so deadly." Unfortunately, Jirlib had eyes only for his own quackery. Never mind that Gokna was engrossed by the autocombustion exhibit to the point of active scheming. Never mind that Viki wanted to see the glowing picture tubes in the videomancy hall. Jirlib was going straight to the Distorts exhibit, and he and Brent made sure their sisters stayed right with them.

Ah, well. In truth, Viki had always been intrigued by the Distorts. Jirlib had been stuck on them for as long as she could remember; here, finally, they would get to see the real thing.

The entrance to the hall was a floor-to-ceiling exhibit of diamond foraminifera. How many tons of fuel sludge had been sifted to find such perfect specimens? The different types were carefully labeled according to the best scientific theories, but the tiny crystal skeletons had been artfully positioned in their trays behind magnifying lenses: in the piped sunlight, the forams glittered in crystal constellations like jeweled tiaras and bracelets and backdrapes. It reduced Jirlib's collection to insignificance. On a central table, a bank of microscopes gave the interested visitor a closer look. Viki stared through the lenses. She had seen this sort of thing often enough before, but these forams were undamaged and the variety was boggling. Most were six-way symmetric, yet there were many that had the little hooks and wands that the living creatures must have used to move around in their microscopic environment. Not a single diamond skeleton creature lived in the world anymore, and none had for more than fifty million years. But in some sedimentary rock, the diamond foram layer was hundreds of feet thick; out east, it was a cheaper fuel than coal. The largest of the critters was barely flea-sized, but there had been a time when they were the most common animal in the world. Then, about fifty million years ago-poof. All that was left was their skeletons. Uncle Hrunkner said that was something to think about when Daddy's ideas went over the top.

"C'mon, c'mon." Jirlib could spend hours at a time with his own foram collection. But today, he gave the ranked glitter of the King's Own Exhibit barely thirty seconds; the signs on the far doors proclaimed the Distorts of Khelm. The four of them ticktoed to the darkened entrance, scarcely whispering to one another now. In the hall beyond, a single cone of piped sunlight shone down on the central tables. The walls were drowned in shadow, lit here and there by lamps of the extreme colors.

The four eased quietly into the room. Gokna gave a little squeak of surprise. There were figures in the dark...and they were taller than the average adult was long. They wavered on three spindly legs and their forelegs and arms rose almost like the branches of a Reaching Frondeur. It was everything Chundra Khelm had ever claimed for his Distorts-and in the dark, it promised more detail to anyone who would come closer.

Viki read the words that glowed beneath the figures, and smiled to herself. "Hot-stuff, huh?" she said to her sister.

"Yeah-I never imagined-" Then she read the description, too. "Oh, more crapping fakes."

"Not a fake," said Jirlib, "an admitted reconstruction." But she could hear the disappointment in his voice. They walked slowly down the darkened hall, peering at ambiguous glimmers. And for a few minutes, the shapes were a tantalizing mystery that floated just beyond their grasp. There were all fifty of the racial types that Khelm described. But these were crude models, probably from some masquerade supplier. Jirlib seemed to wilt as he walked from display to display, and read the writeup under each. The descriptions were expansive: "The elder races that preceded ours...the creatures who haunted the Arachnans of ancient times...Darkest deepnesses may still contain their spawn, waiting to take back their world." This last sign was beside a reconstruction that looked a lot like a monster tarant, poised to bite off the viewer's head. It was all tripe, and even Viki's little brother and sister would have known it. Chundra Khelm admitted that his "lost site" was beneath foram strata. If the Distorts were anything, they had been extinct at least fifty million years-extinct millions of years before even the earliest proto-Arachnan ever lived.

"I think they're just making fun of it, Jirl," said Viki. For once she didn't tease about it. She didn't like it when outsiders mocked her family, even unknowingly.

Jirlib shrugged agreement. "Yeah, you're right. The farther we walk, the funnier they get. Ha. Ha." He stopped by the last display. "They even admit it! Here's the last description: 'If you have reached here, you understand how foolish are the claims of Chundra Khelm. But what are the Distorts then? Fakery from a conveniently misplaced digging site? Or some rare natural feature of metamorphic rock? You be the judge...'" His voice trailed off as his attention shifted to the brightly lit pile of rocks in the center of the room, hidden from earlier view by a partition.

Jirlib did a rolling hop, bounding to the bright-lit exhibit. He was practically jittering with excitement as he peered down into the pile. Each rock was separately displayed. Each rock was clearly visible in all the colors of the sunlight. They looked like nothing more than unpolished marble. Jirlib sighed, but in awe. "These are real Distorts, the best that anyone besides Chundra Khelm has ever found."

If they had been polished, some of the rocks would have been kind of pretty. There were swirls that were more the color of elemental carbon than marble. If you used your imagination, they looked a little bit like regular shapes that had been stretched and twisted. They still didn't look like anything that had ever been alive. On the far side of the pile was one rock that had been carefully sliced into tenth-inch sheets, so thin that the sunlight glowed right through. The stack of one hundred slices was mounted on a steel frame, with a gap between each slice. If you got really close and moved your head up and down, you had sort of a three-dimensional view of how the pattern was spread through the rock. There was a glittering swirl of diamond dust, almost like forams, but all smudged out. And around the diamond, a sort of webbery of dark-filled cracks. It was beautiful. Jirlib just stood there, his head pressed closed to the steel frame, tilting back and forth to see the light through all the slices. "This was alive once. I know it, I know it," he said. "A million times bigger than any foram, but based on the same principles. If we could just see what it was like before it got all smeared apart." It was the old, Khelmic refrain-but this thing was real. Even Gokna seemed to be entranced by it; it was going to be a little while before Viki got a closer look. She walked slowly around the central pile, looked at some of the microscopic views, read the rest of the explanations. Leave aside the laughs, the junk statues-this was supposed to be the best example of Distorts around. In a way, that should discourage poor Jirlib as much as anything. Even if these had once been living things, there was certainly no evidence of intelligence. If the Distorts were what Jirlib really wanted, their creations should have been awesome. So where were their machines, their cities?

Sigh. Viki quietly moved away from Gokna and Jirlib. She was in plain sight behind them, but they were so caught by the translucent distort that neither seemed to notice her. Maybe she could sneak into the next hall, the videomancy thing. Then she saw Brent. He was not distracted by the exhibit. Her brother had hunkered down behind a table in one of the darkest corners of the room-and right next to the exit she was heading for. She might not have noticed him except that his eye surfaces gleamed in the extreme-color lamps. From where he sat, Brent could lurk on both entrances and still see everything they were doing at the central tables.

Viki gave him a wave that was also a grin and drifted toward the exit. Brent didn't move or call her back. Maybe he was in an ambush mood, or just daydreaming about his buildertoys. As long as she stayed in sight, maybe he wouldn't squawk. She moved through the high-arched exit, into the videomancy hall.

The exhibit began with paintings and mosaics, generations old. The idea behind videomancy went back long before modern times, to the superstition that if you could only picture your enemies perfectly, you would have power over them. The notion had inspired a lot of art, the invention of new dyes and mixing formulas. Even now, the best pictures were only a shadow of what the Spider eye could see. Modern videomancy claimed that science could produce the perfect picture, and the ancient dreams would be realized. Daddy thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Viki walked between tall racks of glowing video tubes. A hundred still landscapes, fuzzy and blurred...but the most advanced tubes showed colors you never saw except in extreme lamps and sunlight. Every year, the video tubes got better. People were talking about picture radio even. That idea fascinated Little Victory-forget the mind-control quackery.

From somewhere beyond the far end of the hall there were voices, frolicsome jabber that sounded like Rhapsa and Little Hrunk. Viki froze in startlement. A few seconds passed...and two babies came bounding through the far entrance. Viki remembered Jirlib's sarcastic prediction that Rhapsa and Hrunk would show up, too. For an instant she thought he'd been right. But no, two strangers followed them into the hall, and the children were younger than her little sister and brother.

Viki squeaked something excited and raced down the hall toward the children. The adults-the parents?-froze for an instant, then swept up their children and turned in retreat.

"Wait! Wait, please! I just want to talk." Viki forced her legs down to a casual walking gait and lifted her hands in a friendly smile. Behind her, Viki could see that Gokna and Jirlib had left the Distort display, and were staring after her with expressions of stark surprise.

The parents stopped, came slowly back. Both Gokna and Viki were clearly out-of-phase. That seemed to encourage the strangers more than anything.

They talked for a few minutes, politely formal. Trenchet Suabisme was a planner at New World Construction; her husband was a surveyor there. "Today seemed like a good day to come to the museum, what with most of the day-off people up in the mountains playing in the snow. Was that your plan, too?"

"Oh, yes," said Gokna-and for her and Jirlib maybe that was so. "But we are so glad to meet you, a-and your children. What are their names?" It was so weird to meet strangers who seemed more familiar than anyone but family. Trenchet and Alendon seemed to feel it too. Their children squirmed around loudly in their arms, refusing to retreat to Alendon's back. After a few minutes, their parents set them back on the floor. The babies took two big hops each and ended up in the arms of Gokna and Viki. They scrambled around, chattering nonsense, their nearsighted baby eyes turning this way and that with excited curiosity. The one climbing all over Viki-Alequere, she was-couldn't be much over two years old. Somehow, neither Rhapsa nor Little Hrunk had ever seemed so cute. Of course, when they had been two, Viki had been only seven and still out to get all the attention she could for herself. These children were nothing like the surly oophases they had met before now.

The most embarrassing thing was the adults' reaction when they learned exactly who Viki and her siblings were. Trenchet Suabisme was silent for a shocked second, "I-I guess we should have known. Who else could you be?...You know, when I was in my teens, I used to listen to your radio program. You seemed so awfully young, the only Outies I had ever heard. I really liked your show."

"Yeah," said Alendon. He smiled as Alequere wormed her way into the pocket on the side of Viki's jacket. "Knowing about you made it possible for me and Trenchet to think about having our own children. It's been hard; we lost our first baby welts. But once they get eyes, they're cute as can be."

The baby made happy squeaking noises as it scrambled around in Viki's jacket. Her head finally emerged, waving eating hands. Viki stretched back to tickle the little hands. It made Viki proud to know that some had listened and gotten Daddy's message, but-"It's sad you still have to avoid the crowds. I wish there were more like you and your children."