“Jeban would be closest,” Hastet answered.

“They’re not, like, close buddies with Blaise, are they?”

“The House is rather small, and they tend to remain neutral.”

“I don’t think neutral is a luxury anyone can afford right now. A fucking world war’s breaking out here.”

“You take care of the baby. I’ll exchange our tickets.”

An old fear intruded once again. “You’re sure we won’t be met at the border with guards and dogs?”

“No.”

“No passports, no visas?”

She was staring at him in perplexity. “If I want to move to Ban or Maz or Ss’anga, I move to Ban or Maz or Ss’anga.”

“But you’re Ilkazam.”

“Yes. Why should they care? As long as I have a skill and some money.”

“I don’t understand you people at all. The whole damn planet’s balkanized, but you’ve got no borders.”

“Not for people like us. I have a letter of introduction from my banker to a banker at CreditNet in Alaak. That’s all the identification I need. I’ll pay my taxes wherever I live, and basically life won’t change very much.”

“So aren’t they going to wonder at our sudden change of plans?”

Hastet looked frustrated. “Maybe, but why don’t we worry about that when we’re faced with the problem?”

“I love it when you’re sensible,” Jay said. Hastet placed Illyana in his arms, stood on tiptoe, and gave him a quick kiss. Suddenly wars and rumors of wars became a lot less worrisome.

The scene on the platform was controlled and very noisy chaos. Babies were bawling, toddlers were screaming, children were sobbing, parents were crying. Husbands and wives took tender leave of each other as one or the other went off to the country to care for Ilkazam’s most precious commodity.

Tis could see Mark moving through the crowd like a wading stork in a stand of reeds. He had a little girl riding on his bony shoulders, and he was bawling out her mother’s name.

Bat’tam lightly touched her elbow and indicated the manager of Ilkala’s largest grocery warehouse standing in evident confusion at the top of the station’s stairs. With the hem of her dress and long coat sweeping the platform, she hurried to the manager’s side.

He seemed dazed by the hubbub, and by finding himself in the presence of the heir to Ilkazam. To cover his discomfort, he made notes on his book computer. Tisianne extended her hand, rings flashing against the dark green leather of her glove. The entire outfit, from the heavily embroidered dress to the fur hat, coat, and muff, was so overblown, but Bat’tam had insisted, and Tisianne had discovered he was right. Her subjects didn’t want their princess to show the common touch. They wanted her to dress and act like a princess. Elegant condescension and noblesse oblige definitely greased the wheels of the civil-defense juggernaut she was riding.

The manager cupped his hands protectively about hers, kissed her wrist, and bowed. “Blood and line to serve and protect.”

“Your service here today will protect more than just my family, but the thousands of families of Ilkala,” Tis murmured in response, and handed him a credit gem embossed with the crest of House Ilkazam. “Have your people start loading immediately.” The manager bowed and motioned to his employees.

Soon pallets filled with canned vegetables, cured meats, and beverages were floating past. Tisianne eyed a pallet loaded with dark amber wine and contemplated snatching a bottle. She’d paid for it. Why not? She could wander the streets of Ilkala guzzling from the bottle. That would be elegant behavior for a princess. Even better if she could wrap it in a brown paper bag. Bring back memories of Hamburg, and her favorite alley.

Bat’tam, who had been mincing behind her, suddenly stepped to her side and gestured with his carved crystal flask. Tis nodded. The base snapped off to form a shallow, flower-shaped cup. Tis felt her mouth quirk and firmly banished the desire to smile. Bat’tam raised one plucked eyebrow and handed her the cup.

“No, it would show very bad breeding for you to drink from the bottle like a sailor on leave with his cronies,” he said softly.

“My breeding is of the very worst.”

“Physically, yes. But your spirit is still Tisianne brant T’sara.”

“I don’t think that counts, since you can’t mind- or soul-fuck.”

Tis instantly felt contrite for her sharpness. It wasn’t the Vayawand lord’s fault she was in her current predicament. He had been charming, supportive, and upon occasion useful as she tried to organize the defense of her home. If she ever did return to her body, Tis supposed she would have to sleep with him by way of thank you. She suppressed a shudder. It had nothing to do with a sexual taboo against homosexuality – Takis didn’t have one – the issue was whether she would ever be able to endure a sexual encounter again. She might find the terror of sexual assault too strong for even desire to conquer.

Zabb, surrounded by guards, came striding into the station, and there was the rising sound of excitement culminating in enthusiastic cheers. He handled it well, sweeping off his tall silver-and-white hat and waving it over his head. He then crossed to Tisianne and, picking her up in his arms, offered her to the crowd. The cheers intensified.

“They like us,” he said setting her back on her feet. Tis started to drop into a deep curtsy only to have him wave off the obeisance. “Forget all that.”

Eyes averted to hide the confusion into which he had thrown her, Tis said, “You should enjoy it, relish every bow, savor every curtsy. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

Zabb’s eyes fell on Bat’tam. “If you please, vindi, I wish to speak with my cousin in private.” Bat’tam bowed and withdrew. “Why is it,” Zabb said, as he tucked her hand beneath his arm, and they began to stroll down the platform, “that nothing is ever as good as you imagined it would be?”

“Possibly because you are perverse.”

Zabb studied her critically. “You’re looking better.” Tis shrugged. “That style suits you.” He wrapped one hanging tendril of hair around a forefinger. “Tell your maid to keep dressing it in this manner.”

Tis glanced up at that lean face. “You look tired.”

“I’m trying to redesign Ilkazam culture. Unfortunately I don’t seem to be as adept at it as your grandson.”

“Can I help?”

“You’ve already done so much… more than you can ever know.” Zabb was staring at her with uncomfortable intensity. He slowly drew a hand across his face, smoothed his sideburns, brushed at his mustache.

Tis didn’t know what possessed her, but she found herself saying, “Incidentally, I’ve always hated you in a mustache. It doesn’t suit you.”

Zabb gave a single sharp bark of laughter. “You haven’t changed all that much, Tis. Only a Takisian would worry about facial hair when the barbarians are at the gate. So how’s your boykisser working out?”

“Helpful and annoying. The man’s half in love with me… well, with a vastly different vision of me, from very long ago. And his every look and gesture makes it clear how very much he regrets my current sex. I just hope he doesn’t decide sugar water’s almost as good as jam.”

“I wouldn’t worry. You’ve got bumps in all the wrong places.” Zabb grinned down at her, and she found herself laughing.

“My, we’re in unaccustomed charity with one another. I think I’ll risk spoiling the moment and ask a favor.”

“You can ask.”

“It’s been three days since Jay and Illyana left. I should have heard something by now. Will you please have Baz check on the station? Make certain they arrived safely?”

“Why don’t you ask Taj? You obviously hold his first loyalty.”

“I tried already. He won’t do it. I think he’s decided he’s thwarted you as far as he prudently can.”

“And you are obviously not impeded by any such considerations?”

“I have nothing to lose.”

“The story of how you outwitted me has already grown in the telling, giving an immeasurable boost to your reputation. Why should I add to it?”