Jay picked up one of the bulbous gray-and-red-mottled vegetables. “What are these?” he asked.

“Pful.”

“Don’t ever cook ’em. They smell like shit.”

Illyana finished suckling, and Hastet tucked the empty bottle down in her carrying case. They had chucked all the luggage save the bottles and diapers, and Jay’s tote filled with Haupi. Jay was starting to feel like a real hobo.

“That’s the last bottle,” Hastet said in that carefully neutral tone she assumed when she was very upset.

Jay shifted, trying for a more comfortable position on the spined and unforgiving pful. “Look, this is nuts, I’ll -”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. There was that high-pitched humming, and a living ship came streaking across the colorful cloud-banded sky. Necks strained back, they all stared up at the ship. It slowed, hovered.

“Vayawand,” said one of their companions.

“He’s looking us over for some reason,” Jay said, forcing down a burgeoning panic.

The reason became very evident when one of the big ghost lances on the ship opened up and began to bisect the skimmer. Screams, shouts, and people began tumbling off the skimmer like spilled marbles. Jay grabbed Hastet and tossed her and Illyana off the skimmer bed. The heat of the cannon singed his hair as he rolled off the skimmer.

People were milling in panic in the center of the road. “Run!” Jay screamed. “Get off the road!” There wasn’t a hell of a lot of cover, but the road was lined with big flowering bushes. He gripped Hastet’s arm and pulled her after him. She bucked like recalcitrant foal and stopped dead.

“Haupi!” she cried.

“Shit! Get under cover!” he yelled, and plunged back toward the burning skimmer.

The pful smelled really nasty now, and there was a new scent added to the mix – sickeningly sweet, it caught in the throat. Jay clambered back up onto the roadway. As his head cleared the passenger window of the cab, he saw the driver slumped over the controls. His hair and clothes were still smoldering. Jay swallowed bile and scanned the back of the skimmer.

Miraculously his hand tote hadn’t been fried. Jay sprinted for it just as Haupi managed to thrust open the flaps and light out for the hills. Her wings had been clipped, so her escape was made in a series of flying hops all accompanied by her shrill chittering.

“Haupi!” Jay yelled. The creature didn’t even slow. The warning hum sounded again, and Jay booked for the bushes. The Vayawand ship fired a couple more shots, then became bored with baiting its unseen prey and flew on.

Showers of flower petals announced the return of the survivors. They stood in the road, staring at a man and woman who never reached that blossoming haven. He had thrown himself over her, shielding her body with his. It hadn’t done any good. The ghost lance had burned a hole through both of them.

Jay walked back to where Hastet was staring off into the hills. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but not a sound escaped those tightly folded lips.

“Hey,” Jay said gently as he squeezed Hastet’s shoulders. “She was scared. She’ll catch up with us.”

Hastet just shook her head and, shifting Illyana higher on her shoulder, started walking.

It was an odd reversal of roles. As the days had become weeks, had become months, Taj had begun to treat his former nephew much more as a niece. So when Zabb had requested that Tisianne be present for the discussions, he wasn’t particularly surprised by the look of shocked disapproval which washed across the old man’s face.

“She’s heir to Ilkazam after me,” Zabb reminded the older man.

“What about your sons?” Taj asked.

Zabb made a nervous circuit of defense central. It was buried in a hardened bunker eighty feet below the surface. It had very much the feel of a ship bridge because much of the same nanotechnology had been used in its construction. Computers and telepaths maintained a constant link between House Ilkazam, the various M.I.S. agents in the cities, the ships, the platforms. It was a telepathic spiderweb. Unfortunately it was fraying in the typhoon blowing from Vayawand. And that reminder of the crises in which they stood brought Zabb back to the topic under discussion.

“I wouldn’t trust a one of them with the House. They were bred for military prowess. That they possess; rulers they are not.”

“I think the same criticism applies to you,” the old man said.

For an instant the old man’s audacity held him speechless; then Zabb laughed. “Don’t hold back for fear of wounding me, or out of fear for yourself.”

“I won’t,” Taj said, and then Tis entered, with her ludicrous paladin in tow.

The slowly revolving hologram of Takis told the whole sorry tale. In the southern hemisphere, and half a world away, Vayawand formed a pulsing purple mass. The other territories were delineated by their House colors. The purple washed like a stain across Rodaleh, Alaa, and Jeban. It formed a lighter wash across Zaghloul and other smaller Houses that had joined Vayawand by treaty rather than conquest. It surrounded Tandeh and Ss’ang. Far to the north Ilkazam shone like a white gold beacon, but the dark was coming, closing over them like giant wings.

The various unit commanders had joined Zabb, Taj, Baz, and Tis. The men all sprawled in chairs. Tis sat primly upright with Mark hovering over her shoulder. Baz ran a hand across his face.

“Tandeh and Ss’ang are still holding out. We’ve got to relieve them.”

“Terrible idea,” grunted Taj.

“We haven’t the manpower or the firepower, and we would leave Ilkazam horribly under-defended,” Zabb said. He scrubbed at his cheeks with the palms of his hands and wondered if numbness was a function of exhaustion. When was the last time he’d slept?

“It’s a very Durg kind of thing to do,” Meadows said. “Get us to unzip, pull it out, then chop it off.”

A young aide leaned over Zabb’s shoulder. “Sir, the Master Trader -”

“Put the damn slug off! I haven’t the time to deal with Network cheesemongers right now!”

“My lord.” The soldier made obeisance and skated backward.

“Why has he held off so long?” one of the commanders asked. “He’s tried a few missile attacks against Ilkala, the other larger cities, then nothing. What’s he waiting for?”

“He still doesn’t understand that no place on a planet is safe from attack from space,” Taj said.

“Thank the Ideal Durg hasn’t managed to educate him,” Zabb grunted.

“He likes to move armies, smell blood,” Meadows said.

“We’ve got to deal Blaise a blow that will cripple his ability to bring the armies to us,” Tis said suddenly in her soft little-girl voice.

“Without risking a head-on clash with Blaise’s troops. We don’t have enough troops, and -” Taj began.

“We can’t trust our Tarhiji,” Baz interrupted, giving voice to all their fears.

While they talked, Zabb had been considering Tisianne’s words, arranging them like a man searching for the secret to a particularly knotty puzzle. Suddenly he reached out and manipulated the holograph’s controls. Silver trajectory lines began to cut across the spinning opal that was Takis. Orbital platforms sprang to life, orbiting the main globe.

Tisianne’s brows twitched together in a sharp frown. She leaned forward and studied the holo, touched the silver lines with a hesitant fingertip. Looked over at him in shock. “You’re going against Vayawand Ship Home.”

His fingers stuttered across the keys in excitement. More silver lines arched across the holograph. “And Zaghloul’s and Rodaleh’s and Alaa’s -”

Tis bit her lip. “Oh, Zabb, must you? This makes us almost as bad as Blaise -”

The criticism stung. “By the Ideal, Tis, with or without balls try to be a man. This is a war. The purpose of war is to inflict harm.” Zabb turned to Mark. “Groundling, I need the friend who dealt with that asteroid so competently.”