“All the insanity we could ever imagine has arrived and is dancing,” grunted Gabru. All the men turned to watch Blaise.

Zabb didn’t offer an opinion or a comment on the topic under discussion. Instead he just watched that tall black-clad figure and calculated. Sooner or later he would face this young man in combat, and he would glean what he could of Blaise’s psychology in the thirteen hours available to him.

The bounce/cast hadn’t fully captured the sheer size of the half-breed. Zabb was accounted a giant among the Takisians. He was dwarfed by Blaise. It made him uncomfortable. He had a sudden vision of Tisianne naked and tiny beneath the brute force of that massive body. Stomach acid climbed up his throat.

“Every Rodaleh Tarhiji soldier who participated in this outrage will have to be killed,” grunted Zujj, the military commander of House Alaa.

“I don’t think terror is our most effective weapon right now,” Zabb said softly. “We’ll only play into the Abomination’s hands.”

“We have to do something?” Quar’ande, military commander of Ss’ang, said.

Taj arrived with Yimkin, the Raiyis of House Tandeh.

“Agreed,” Zabb said. “So what say we repair to a more private venue and discuss what that something should be?”

Zabb dropped back and fell into step with Taj. Softly he asked, “Zaghloul?”

Taj shook his head. “Khuechen brant Chuea is eagerly spreading jam with what he perceives as the winning side.”

“Mongrel,” snapped the Raiyis.

At the door to the gaming room Taj checked and looked up at Zabb. “Is it wise to leave Tisianne alone?”

“She’ll do well enough. She has her groundling Paladin.”

You remember how I told you I was going to give you another one just as soon as this one is born?” Blaise rubbed her belly like a man with a Ho Tai good-luck figure. Tis searched the crowd desperately for Mark, or Taj, or, ancestors help her, even Zabb. They were not in evidence. Tisianne ran through a desperate litany of her sisters’ names. They failed to appear.

Someone rescue me!

Rescue yourself! another part of her snapped back.

But she couldn’t. She’d lost the knack for coherent speech.

Blaise leaned in, hands propped on the arms of the chair, pinning her in place. “Well, I’m going to. They’re all flocking to me. They saw what happened to Rodaleh. They don’t want to be next. I’m coming for you, Granddad, closer every day.”

Fear has a taste, sharp and sour on the tongue. It’s a driving pain deep in the gut. Steel fingers on the throat. The ballroom was lit only by the double moons, and the pattern of tiny lights in the floor. Cold, corpse light that deepened the hollows in Blaise’s face, giving him a gargoyle’s look. The sound of the revelers and the music of the orchestra faded to distant hummings. The only sound seemed to be her own harsh breaths.

“But you haven’t formally met Kelly.” Blaise straightened just before she screamed. He gestured, and out of the crowd he came.

All night Tisianne had avoided this, playing a little game with herself. Not looking for her body. Trying not to go mad from the wanting. Now it was coming, jerking forward with a marionette’s stiff gait. Mind controlled!… Just to show me he can do it.

Her body did not look well. Shadows beneath the lavender eyes. Skin a little too white, a little too pasty. A thin sheen of sweat on the upper lip. And a developing paunch. She wanted to beat the girl for so abusing her dwelling place. Then she correctly interpreted Kelly’s expression as he gazed at her body, now eight months pregnant.

Neither one of us has done such a good job as renters, thought Tis.

“Kelly Jenkins, meet my granddad.” The manic grin deepened. “Meet your baby. No, our baby. Don’t you love these family gatherings?”

she/lovesonly/you, doesn’tknow/me/at/all.

The communication of the slaves, conducted beneath the twitching nose of the overseer. Kelly and Tis stared at each other. Their telepathy blended, coalesced; linked as one mind, they explored the mind of their child. And all the bitterness melted away.

Illyana, meet your mother, sent Tisianne.

Total confusion from the baby.

Indulgent chuckles from the parents.

“Hey, bug out, man!” Mark’s sharp tones jerked Tis from her mind dance.

Tis recognized Zabb’s quick step approaching from behind her. Zabb’s gaze coolly raked Blaise from the top of his head to the soles of his feet and back again.

“While it is forbidden for us to kill you tonight, we’re certainly not required to endure either your company or your conversation.” Zabb turned back to Tisianne. “Cousin, will you walk with me?” He held out a hand and assisted her from the chair.

Blaise smiled, bowed with practiced ease, but his glittering eyes promised payback – real soon. He grabbed Kelly by the elbow and dragged him away.

The trio watched Blaise move away. Tis realized she was shaking. She realized that the warm grip of Zabb’s fingers around hers was comforting. She glanced up at him in confusion. He was frowning after Blaise.

“Some gentlemen and I require your expert advice.” Zabb looked to Mark. “Will you trust her with me for a few minutes?”

“If the Doc says it’s okay.” Mark looked down at her. Tis nodded.

In two hundred and two years of living, how many Crossing Festivals had he attended? Probably one hundred and ninety-seven of them, though his earliest memories didn’t begin until around age four. At that particular festival, he and Nandi had discovered that the punch tasted truly wonderful. They had retreated to a staircase and downed glass after glass of the sweet golden beverage. Later they discovered they couldn’t stand. Giggling, they had clung to one another under the disapproving eye of Nandi’s sister. That was the last Festival they had spent as comrades. By the next year she was old enough to know he was a Morakh, and she had learned to despise him.

Durg moved down the refreshment table like a grazing bull. A tidbit from each tray, not bothering with a plate, to the evident disapproval of the masters manning the buffet. The emotion was a little difficult to classify, but Durg knew that he enjoyed seeing them – the Zal’hma at’ Irg – providing the music, filling the glasses, cooking and serving the food. If they were going to party without their faithful servants, they had to pay the price.

“Why did you do it, man?” The sad tones of Mark Meadows shattered his reverie.

Durg took his time, selected and chewed down another sandwich before he turned to face the tall ace. And his answer when it came wasn’t a direct response. “Do you realize that this room is littered with my former masters?”

“Doesn’t say much for your loyalty.”

“Or theirs. My switch in allegiance always seems to stem from abandonment. The Vayawand left me and a half dozen other children on a roadside when Zabb attacked. I transferred my loyalty to Lord Zabb. My lord deserted me among primitives on an alien world after my defeat by Isis Moonchild. I transferred my loyalty to Lady Moonchild. Then Moonchild abandoned me – once again on a roadside. Synergy having been achieved, perhaps that will be my last abandonment.”

The blue eyes were suspiciously moist behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize. I wanted you to have a chance to be free. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s the difference between them” – a jerk of the head to indicate the celebrating Takisians – “and you. They are never sorry. And their way is better. You expect nothing… you receive nothing… you are never disappointed.”

Jay was not finding this as easy as he’d hoped. He hadn’t fully absorbed just how many people were going to attend, and finding two people out of thousands was a daunting task. Blaise was going to be relatively easy; he’d be taller than all the Takisians present, and if he continued his pattern, he’d be dressed all in black. Jay remembered Hiram telling him how Tachyon would never wear black because that was the color for common laborers. Ergo it was a safe bet no Takisian was going to be wearing black. So now he just had to find the kid. As he surveyed the shifting crowds, Jay reflected that it was going to be like looking for a raisin in a bowl of fruit salad.