They had a ship waiting. Left a small rearguard and got away-heading south. It?s Chaos and Old Night out there now, Rudi.

Rudi stood at the top of the stairs, and Father Ignatius at the base; between them they limited the men allowed up to a few of the most important, the ones who came with armed retinues at their backs, and a doctor with her black leather case. The doctor set to work, but the potentates milled around, taking in the dead Bossman with exclamations of horror or in more than one case with blank, calculating expressions while turning to look at each other. A few seemed nauseous; well, the stink was bad, particularly if you hadn?t seen many battlefields.

Kate looked up from her fugue when the nursemaid held out her child. She snatched the boy; he whimpered, but then she controlled herself and turning her clutch into a firm comforting grip.

Seize the moment, Mathilda thought, and bent to put her good hand on Kate?s shoulder, willing strength down it. ?Kate!? she said.?Your husband?s dead but your son lives. You must act for him, and act now.? ?What… what should I do??

The edge of hysteria drained out of her voice in the course of the sentence, and she straightened. ?You must summon your affinity…? Mathilda said, and saw blank incomprehension.?Your vassals and liegemen… oh, Mother of God, your supporters, Kate. The ones who?ll rally to your son and have fighting men behind them. The ones who owe land and office to your family!? ?But I?m not… I?m just…? ?You?re the mother of the heir, unless you let him be dispossessed,? she said.?Think of him and you can do it.? ?I don?t know what I?d say!? ?I?ll help. I remember what Mother did, after my father was killed in the Protector?s War. Just for starters-?

?Christ on a crutch,? Abel Heuisink said, his voice pawky-dry as the gathering before the cathedral doors massed and waited in a murmuring churn.?Thanks so very much. Because of you, Kate?s going to pull it off. So we get more Heasleroads.?

Rudi grinned at the look of grudging respect the elder Heuisink shot towards Mathilda, where she stood three steps down from the hastily erected dais, bright in the court dress of an Association princess. He took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, enjoying even the pull and itch of his wounds as they continued their healing. None were serious… and the feeling meant he was alive, alive on a bright fall day with years yet before him. The best part about a fight was surviving it… until you didn?t, of course.

Doesn?t miss a trick, my Matti! he thought. And Kate?s a more apt pupil than I?d have thought. ?Don?t blame me,? Rudi said.?Sure, and it?s Mathilda who managed the politics, for the most part, with Odard next. They both learned it in the Lady Regent?s school.? ?Lady Regent?? ?Mathilda?s mother, Lady Sandra, Regent of the Portland Protective Association.? ?Yeah, you mentioned her. She?s good at politics, this Lady Sandra?? ?Oh, you have no idea, my friend. At the game of thrones, there?s none like her in all the world.?

You couldn?t quite call the chair that had been set out on the dais a throne; but with its massive size and glowing inlays of jewels and rare woods and semiprecious stones, you couldn?t quite say it wasn?t, either. The morning sun made it blaze and sparkle; careful hands had buffed and polished away the patina of age that it had kept all the way to the museum in Boston, and from there westward in Ingolf Vogeler?s caravan. ?Tell me, sir,? he said to the Iowan.?Do you and your friends.. . your faction… this Progressive Party… have enough troops to put down all the other factions here without civil war, and the black shame and grief of it?? ?No, dammit,? Abel said; this time the frustration in his voice was bleak and bitter.?And if it starts it would be a civil war with about five sides, some of whom would make Tony look like the second coming of Thomas Jef ferson.?

Who… ah, Rudi thought.

He?d learned some of the history of the old Americans, though he?d preferred George Washington, himself-more of a man of deeds and less a creature of words.

The Iowan went on:?And it would go on until every county in the State was a country, and fighting all the others. Tony?s father knew about divide and rule, you betcha. That?s why Tony lasted as long as he did-even with old Tom gone, and even when most people knew how useless Tony was, nobody could agree on who?d take over, and how.?

A slight smell of incense from the funeral mass lingered, under the autumnal smells of burning leaves and cut grass and the wild silty smell of the river not far distant. The Cardinal-Archbishop of Des Moines was here, and he wasn?t quite adding his blessing to the proceedings… but then again, you couldn?t say he wasn?t either, and he was in full fig of vestments and miter and crozier. Father Ignatius stood just behind his right shoulder, in plain Benedictine robes, but leaning forward occasionally to murmur a word in his ear, to the evident frustration of his own entourage. ?Then isn?t a compromise that spares this rich land from death and burning a good thing?? Rudi asked.?You?ve been long at peace, and I?ve seen war; an ugly thing, and a war of brothers is uglier yet. Not the ugliest of all things, true, but to be avoided if you can do so with honor.?

Troops stood in double columns, down on either side of the strip of red carpet that led to the cathedral?s doors. Half were State Police, looking professional and tough in their polished mail but rather subdued beneath the stiff discipline; the ruler they?d upheld and the commander they?d hated and feared and adored both gone at once.

The other half were Farmers? and Sheriffs? retainers, more motley in their gear but solemn with the occasion, and with Jack Heuisink and Ingolf Vogeler at either end to bully-damn them into order; the fact that the younger man was on crutches seemed to make it easier for him if anything.

Behind the dais stood Jake sunna Jake and his followers. Rudi suppressed a chuckle at the sight; Edain had managed to get them into kilts of something quite similar to the Mackenzie tartan, at which they?d been wildly enthusiastic, and reasonable body armor, which they liked even better, and civilized barbers had shave faces and trim hair, which they?d liked very little. He?d even found flat Scots-style bonnets. They leaned on their hickory longbows, grinning like so many timber wolves contemplating a flock of sheep. Their pose wasn?t even the rough Clan approximation of standing to attention, but they were quiet enough-they were hunters, after all.

Abel sighed.?I?ve been compromising since the Change for just that reason. Because I had to do it. It would be nice to get my own way for once-and I?m right, goddammit. We should be a democracy again, before people forget that there was such a thing.?

A roll of drums and a blare of trumpets sounded. Kate Heasleroad came through the doors of the cathedral, from where she had stood vigil before her husband?s coffin. With her was the nursemaid, and in her arms young Tommie, quiet but with his face wet with uncomprehending tears.

And he?ll never know his father, Rudi thought with a pang.

He?d met his own blood-sire quite a few times, but not enough to know him; there had always been the matter of Signe Havel, Mike?s wife, and he hadn?t been officially acknowledged as the Bear Lord?s son until after the man?s death.

Still, all things considered, little Tommie?s orphaning may be for the best; even love can ruin you, if it?s done wrongly, a difficult feat but one his father would certainly have pulled off. I was lucky. A boy could do far worse than have the story of Mike Havel to pattern himself on, and the living Nigel Loring to show him daily what it is to be a man. Not to mention the likes of Chuck Barstow and Sam Aylward. ?Legends change, Colonel Heuisink,? Rudi said to his companion. ?One will do as well as another, as long as people-the lords and the folk both-hold to them truly, love the story they tell and try to live rightly by them. It?s when people betray the dreams they have together that they bring real sorrow upon a land.?