“How say the swords?”

It was like high-stakes bidders at a Las Vegas blackjack tournament. A single finger would be lifted, an eyebrow raised, but no words spoken. Jay didn’t know if they were just an uncommonly surly lot, or if they didn’t want to be formally on record.

The old lady gave a wintry smile. “Twenty ayes and three??* amp;##*.” It was a word Jay didn’t understand, but since it didn’t sound like the various forms of negatives he knew, he assumed it meant abstentions. “An unprecedented display of unanimity for the Ilkazam,” she said. “We must be in very grave trouble.”

Nobody responded to her gallows humor. In fact the swords all stood staring down at their toes like unruly little boys faced with an indignant mother. The seven old ladies leaned in toward one another. With their gray-and-white heads and the silver-and-gray dresses, the effect was like watching Stonehenge monoliths gathering for a conference. The confab didn’t last long. The spokeswoman swept the crowd with imperious eyes, then bent that quelling gaze back on Tisianne.

“Tisianne brant Ts’ara, the regency being at an end, and the council having previously established your identity, we place in your hands -”

Meadows slewed around to face Jay. A huge smile split his face, and he gave the detective a thumbs-up signal. Jay forgot how pissed he was. He felt the smile coming and raised his hand -

“Excuse me.” Zabb was sauntering up the central aisle.

“Oh, fuck,” moaned Mark.

“This is no longer Tisianne the son of Ts’ara. This is Tisianne the daughter of Ts’ara.” There was a sharp murmur throughout the watchers. “The position of Raiyis is barred to women. Theirs is a higher purpose. One that my cousin is manifestly fulfilling.” And Zabb laid a hand tenderly on Tisianne’s swollen belly.

The slap rang loud in the silent room.

Tisianne, her hand still upraised, stood quivering with unleashed fury. Zabb kept smiling. Kept his hand on her stomach.

Taj jerked forward, anger and shock making him clumsy. “You miserable abortion. Tisianne is a man.”

“Have you ever seen a pregnant man?” To the council he said, “I agree, the mind is male, but the body… You’ve all borne children. You know where her focus is.” He slapped her belly. “Do you want her leading this House when we are on a war footing?”

“She’ll recover her rightful body,” Taj objected.

“And when she does, I’ll be happy to allow her… er, him, to resume his station.”

“You monster.” Tis’s voice was husky, shaking with emotion. “Without the power of this House I can never recover myself. Congratulations, Zabb, you have what you’ve always wanted, and you didn’t even have to kill me for it.”

Softly Zabb said, “Which is precisely why I arranged it this way.” The nobleman faced the council. There was a manic light in the pale gray eyes. “Rule, Kib’r, is it a man or a woman?”

Jay could see the answer even before the old woman spoke. “Woman.”

“And who is now direct heir?”

“Wait!” yelled Taj. “I am the regent -”

“You abdicated that position,” snapped back Zabb.

“Rule, Intayes! Who now has the right to rule House Ilkazam?”

“You.” No emotion crossed that lined face. It could have been a death mask.

Zabb swung Tisianne up into his arms. Jay expected the alien to start spitting and fighting. Instead she seemed stunned. Zabb started walking for the door. Mark, dragging his briefcase, went blundering in pursuit, barking his shins on chairs, tripping with agitation. Jay followed. They caught Zabb at the door. Pissed as he was at the little shit, the blank look in Tisianne’s eyes frightened Jay. He wondered if this latest blow had snapped her mind.

Zabb held up a restraining hand, palm out. “No, gentlemen. I am taking my sweet cousin to quarters more appropriate for her sex and condition. And unneutered males are not permitted.”

There must have been a telepathic summons, for suddenly the two humans were caged by a ring of guards.

Trips remembered late-night and drunken conversations with Tachyon when the alien had talked of the murder of his mother. Of the plots and counterplots that swirled about the harem, and he called out desperately to Zabb’s retreating back, “She’ll be killed there.”

Zabb paused, glanced back. “Oh, I think not. After all, she has family there too.”

“Then she really hasn’t got a prayer, you miserable fuck!” Jay said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Takisians, or at least the Vayawand, don’t throw flowers. Instead they throw birds, clutching flowers in their little beaks. Out of windows, and off the bridges that spanned the hundreds of canals crisscrossing the capital city Vaya, the birds dived on the Vayawand nobility and dropped their flowers like floriated bombs.

They were a flotilla – seven sleek pleasure craft complete with banquets, awnings where one could seek refuge from either the sun or the rain, dance floors, and orchestras. Each boat was playing a different tune, so the cacophony of sound intermingled and rolled across the water. But this was a Takisian celebration, so guards were very much in evidence. Guard ships floated overhead, and more guards walked the footpaths at the sides of the canals.

Kelly hung over the gunnel and stared down at the little flowers rocking in the chop from the passing ships. He couldn’t bear to look at the covered dais where Blaise was enthroned with his bride-to-be. The little Tarhiji girl had the stunned and joyful expression of a person witnessing a miracle, and all Kelly could think was you poor little thing.

“Come away, child.” Bat’tam’s voice pulled him from his contemplation of drowning flowers. “You’re driving me to fidgets hanging about like that. What if you pitch overboard?”

Kelly turned to face Bat’tam, shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I can swim.”

The elderly nobleman shuddered. He had shuddering down to a real art. There was the shudder to indicate the wine wasn’t up to par. The shudder for dismay at a person’s style sense – that one Kelly still hadn’t figured out. All the clothes looked ugly and garish to him. The shudder at a note misplayed. But Bat’tam never shuddered when faced with Blaise. He never shuddered with fear. Kelly admired that. Thought the old man was crazy, but admired it.

“Come, sit. Drink some wine. Eat some food. Be happy.” Kelly obeyed. “How are the ribs? The arm?”

Kelly gave an experimental twist. “Fine. You guys got bitchin’ medicine.”

“Bitchin’” Bat’tam seemed to be tasting the word. “Another strange groundling word.”

Kelly poured himself a glass of wine. “Nobody on this boat seems very happy.”

Kelly scanned the glum faces of the Zal’hma at’ Irg. Only Blaise was upbeat, and he was positively giddy – stealing kisses from his shy little bride, waving to the crowds that lined the streets and bridges and hung from windows. After his elevation to the Raiyis’tet, he’d had the skin around his eyes and under his brows inlaid with diamonds and jet. With his black leather jumpsuit and high black boots, he was a striking figure.

“Indeed, they are not. For if our manic young Raiyis succeeds in galvanizing the Tarhiji, there will be a new social order.”

The remark fell into the center of the conversations occurring around them with all the elegance of a dropped turd. The voices of the nobles stuttered to a halt. Kelly noticed Durg listening.

“Shhhh!” he hissed urgently.

Bat’tam looked around, quite unperturbed. Nodded to the Morakh. Durg moved to them, and the Vayawand nobles thought of other activities in which they could involve themselves. Soon they were isolated in the bow of the boat.

“I thought you weren’t political?” Durg asked.

“I’m not.”

“Confine your interest to the hostage Tisianne body. It would be much safer for you, boykisser.”