She snorted. “The ones who aren’t on establishment scholarships, or too deep in their studies to care, or permanently zonked, yes,” she told him.

He stopped in front of an alcove where a glisteningly polished marble statue showed two naked lovers embracing. He refilled her glass.

“Well,” he said. “I have some sympathies with the anti-Tax side, too, but-”

“You’re in the Alliance Navy, cuz,” she reminded him.

“In logistics liaison, on a sporadic commission,” he said. “I’m not likely to be fighting space battles.”

“ So what?” she said scornfully.

“I believe I have a duty to be there,” he said reasonably. “To represent the family’s best interests. But I don’t want to be put in a position of actually…”

“Fighting.”

“Making a mistake that would cost lives,” he said, smiling.

She ground the stub of the cheroot under one heel. “Very convincing,” she said.

She walked on. Geis stopped to swivel his boot over the cheroot stub as well.

They left Zefla at the stables with her mount and the two pack animals and rode into the town. Cenuij met them in a narrow cobbled street between the cathedral and a tall, teetering tenement.

It was still very dark; they didn’t see Cenuij until he appeared out of the shadows beneath an overhanging storey above a shop-front.

Sharrow jumped down and grabbed the throat of his cassock with one hand. She held the HandCannon in the other.

“This had better be good, Mu.”

“It is!” he whispered, as Miz and Dloan joined them. Cenuij pointed at the cathedral with one shaking hand. “The book is in there! In the cathedral! Now! And it’s practically unguarded!”

Miz bent forward, eyes narrowing. “Define ‘practically’.”

“Two guards?” Cenuij said.

Miz straightened and looked round at the dark bulk of the cathedral. “Hmm,” he said.

“Did you bring something the same size as the book?” Cenuij asked as Sharrow let go of his habit.

“Yes,” she said.

“Perfect.” Cenuij rubbed his hands together.

“The small matter of the Huhsz, Cenuij…” Sharrow said.

Cenuij waved one hand. “A detachment of Royal Guards-men went out to surround the inn over an hour ago. The Huhsz will be spending some time in custody; certainly they won’t be seeing daylight until the prince is crowned King next week.”

“So why’s the book in the cathedral now if the coronation’s not till next week?” Miz asked.

Cenuij’s smile showed up in the darkness. “The terms of the late King’s will dictated that when he lay in state in the cathedral it should be with his feet lying on the book. It’s a position of disgrace usually reserved for enemies’ skulls and unfaithful mistresses. His Majesty’s bibliophobia to the rescue.” Cenuij adjusted his habit and drew himself up and said primly, “I thought it too good an opportunity to miss.”

“You’d better be right about the Huhsz,” she told him. “Where exactly is the book?”

“Follow me.”

“I didn’t really have any choice, Sharrow,” Geis said wearily, following her past the softly lit alcoves. “I had to join the Navy, for my own self-respect and because, when you have this sort of power, this responsibility, you can’t choose not to have it when the decisions become tough. You can’t afford to prevaricate or delegate; you have to be engaged. You can’t stay neutral; you can say you’re neutral, and try to act as though you are, but that neutrality will always help one side more than the other; that’s just the way power works… the leverage it exerts.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s mealy-mouthed, dishonourable, even, to shy away from something like this. One side has to be more right than the other, has to be better for… for us, and I have a responsibility to try to work out which, and then to act on that evaluation. One has to declare for one side or the other.” He smiled ruefully. “I know it’s tough at the bottom, too, and maybe in worse ways, but it really isn’t that easy being at the top. There’s less freedom than people think.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged.

They came to an alcove where a giant plastic packing-case a couple of metres square sat on a couple of low trestles.

“Latest arrival,” Geis said, patting the case. “Shall we open it?”

“Why not?”

He unclipped the catches, swung a lever up and stepped back. The front of the case split, opening outwards like the blast doors earlier; a white tidal wave of tiny foam squares flooded from the interior of the case, spilling out over Geis and submerging him up to the waist; she gave a little yelp and stepped back, laughing as the white avalanche swept around her, the level of tickling squares rising to her knees before the flood subsided.

Geis had turned back to look at her, laughing and brushing foam squares out of his hair. Behind him in the packing case, still secured by straps and lapped by white foam squares, was another life-size statue of two lovers. The statue looked like part of a series; it seemed the two lovers were no longer merely embracing, but actually copulating.

Geis spread his hands. “The tide of history,” he laughed. She smiled. He waded through the wash of foam squares to her and stood in front of her, studying her. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

He let his jacket drop behind him.

“Geis,” she said.

“Sharrow…” He put one hand behind her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her. She put one hand against his chest and tried to push him away. His lips covered hers, his tongue trying to force its way between. He came closer, putting his other arm round her, pulling her to him.

She forced her head to one side for a moment, gulping. “Geis,” she said, laughing nervously.

He pulled her back and kissed her neck and ears and face, muttering things she could never remember later, and while she tried to push him away, still half-laughing, he ran his hands down her back, under her wrap and up between that and her thin dress. His lips found hers again as she started to speak his name, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She almost choked, straining to pull her head back as he bent over her; she dropped her glass to push him away with both hands.

“G-” she managed, before they tumbled over backwards into the slope of white foam.

There were two guards in the cathedral sacristy, left there to look after the hated and possibly holy book while the nave of the cathedral was hurriedly prepared to accept the late King’s body, the head of which was currently being packed and stitched into something approaching physiological acceptability in the castle surgery.

One of the guards opened the door when Cenuij knocked.

“My son; I have come to exorcise the book,” he told him.

The guard frowned but opened the door. Cenuij entered. The guard stuck his head out into the cloister to look round. Miz put his gun gently against the guard’s head, just behind his ear, and the man went very still. Cenuij drew his own gun as the other guard was standing up and reaching for his carbine.

Geis straddled her, still kissing her, then suddenly pulled his face away, breathing hard, his hands parting her wrap and running down over her dress, over her breasts and belly.

“It’s all right,” he said breathlessly, smiling down at her. “It’s all right.”

She pushed her pelvis upwards, trying to heave him off; her arms foundered in the soft depths of foamy squares. “It is not all right,” she gasped.

He pulled his shirt open, buttons popping. “Don’t worry,” he said. He grabbed her dress around her stockinged thighs and pushed it up.

“Geis!”

He fell back on top of her, his head moving quickly from side to side as he tried to kiss her again. He grabbed her arms with his hands, then held both her wrists with one hand and started to undo his trousers. “It’s all right, Sharrow,” he said breathlessly.

“Geis!” she screamed. “NO!”

“Don’t worry; I love you.” He fumbled with her underclothes.