So, so convenient to have a link to troublesome Jordan in those years, not informational, since there was hardly anything a ten-, a thirteen-year-old azi knew in the House that shedid not.

But one never knew—when it might be of use.

She finished the salad, chatted with Giraud while the serving staff took away the plates and brought in the next course: a fine ham. Terrestrial pigs thrived at Reseune, on the residue of the gardens, in sufficient numbers to provide seed stock for several other farms. Pigs and goats, humankind's oldest and hardiest foodstock, with sense enough not to poison themselves on a stray sprig of native shrubbery.

Horses and cattle had the damnedest self-destructive bent.

"Do you know," she said, over the dessert, a simple ice, tangy and pleasant. "We are going to have to make some far-reaching adjustments in staff."

Amazing how many ears were pricked at table, and how quiet a room could get, when she was only speaking to Denys.

"I really don't anticipate any difficulty with the Hope bill." They were all listening now, not pretending to do otherwise. She smiled at her family, put down the spoon and picked up the little cup of strong coffee. "You know how to read that. No difficulty. Forget the news reports. Everything is proceeding tolerably well on schedule, and we have a very exciting prospect in front of us . . . certainly a very exciting prospect, a military psych facility at Fargone—in addition. Which is going to make a real difference in operations here. You can congratulate Jordan for laying the groundwork—really, just everything that may put the Hope route in our laps; andthe new labs; everything. That'swhat's going on. Jordan should have a lot of the credit for that."

Jordan's face was absolutely devoid of expression. "Let's drop the pretense. We're home,we're not in front of the cameras."

Ari flashed a smile. "Jordan, I don't bear you the least ill will. I'm sorry if that offends you, but you've done Reseune—and me—a great favor. I truly don't begrudge you the rewards of it."

"The hell!"

Ari laughed gently and took another sip of coffee. "Jordie, dear, I know you'd like to have upstaged me with this; but as it happens, Gorodin came to me,and I'm going to give you everything you asked for, on a platter. You'll getthat long-awaited transfer, you and anyone in your wing who wants to go to Fargone, just as soon as the official request for military liaison comes down the tubes."

"What is this?" Yanni Schwartz asked.

"I don't say it'll be a bad thing," Ari said quite honestly, still smiling. "I'm not pulling surprises on you, Yanni—Jordan pulled this one on me. I think everyone should think about it, those who'll prefer to go out to the frontier, those who'd rather stay with the comforts of Reseune—God knows,some of us would miss ham and fresh fruit. But the opportunities out there are worth thinking about." Another sip of coffee, slow and thoughtful, watching Jordan's eyes like a fencer. "The Educational wing here will continue, of course. There are some of you we can't transfer, you understand that. We'll have to restructure here, rather well replicate the whole wing—" A little wider smile. It was a joke. Suli Schwartz woke up, a quick look around to see if people were supposed to laugh. "Jordie, you'll have to lay out some recommendations."

"Of course," Jordan said. "But I'm sure you'll use your own list."

She laughed, to keep it polite. "You know damn well I will. But I really will respect your choices wherever I can—after all, I'll assume anyone on your list wantsto transfer, and I'll assume you want them. Yanni, you can deal with Jordie on that."

There was a growing wariness behind the attentive faces. Young Suli finally seemed to have understood what was going on, perhaps to have figured out for the first time in his life what it was to sit in this room on Family Occasions, and not with the juniors down the hall. No one moved, not the Family, not the azi at the tables round about.

A sonorous clearing of the throat from Denys. "Well," he said, "well, Ari, after all—" Another clearing of the throat. "I don't suppose we could have some of those little cookies we had last night, hmmn?" Wistfully.

"Yes, ser," a server said, close by the door, and slipped out, while Denys ladled sugar into his coffee.

"Hum. The essential thing is Reseune, isn't it? Ari, Jordie, Yanni, really, we all have the same thing at heart, which is the freedom to do our work. We all hate these administrative messes, we all do, it's such a damned waste of our time and there's so much more important on our desks than a lot of little regional authorities bickering away in Novgorod. I'm sure it's important whether station administrators can or can't hold stock in their own stations, but it's just not the kind of thing that weought to have to sit through— I mean, the whole idea of the Bureaus was never meant to take valuable people completely away from work. Council's certainly no great inconvenience to Corain, or Chavez, or, God knows, Bogdanovitch, but it's not really productive to have Gorodin on a short string, and Science, my God, Science is an absolute tragedy—I mean, really, Ari, it's a dreadful waste of your time and energy—"

"I don't know why," Jordan said from his end of the table, with a wry lift of his wine-glass, a rivalry old as their existence in Reseune, dinner witticisms, "since Ari just considers the whole damned universe her province."

Ari laughed, pro forma. Everyone was relieved. Everyone laughed, because to do other than that was an Incident, and no one wanted it, not even Jordan.

"Well, you'll have your chance, won't you?" she said. "The whole Hope route right off Fargone, and you'll be working with old friends, so it's not like you'll be out there alone. If I were younger, Jordie, damned if I wouldn't jump at it; but Denys is right. The politics is done, the whole course is laid, and I'm sure I'm anxious to get on about my work, you're anxious to get yours underway. I hate like hell to drop another administrative job in your lap, but I really want your expertise. You've got to set us up another Educational wing here, really, really an opportunity for you to hand us on a legacy, Jordie, I'm very serious—"

"I left that in cryogenics," Jordan said. Another small round of anxious laughter. "Do you want another sample?"

Ari chuckled and took a sip of her coffee. "What? Jordie, I thought you went the other way. But we do have a second source."

Justin blushed. People turned to see if he had. There was another laugh, much too thin.

"I'm sure Jordie will cooperate," Denys said, intervening before the knives came out: it was the ancient rule in this room—nothing unpleasant. One retaliated with wit here, nothing else, and not too far.

"I'm sure," Ari said. And seriously: "We do have restructuring to do. I'm going to be doing some of my Council work by proxy, figuring it's going to be a little tamer now we have the major projects mapped out. There really shouldn't be any difficulty. I suppose I can fly down if they need me, but Denys is very right: I'm a hundred twenty years old—"

"You've got a few more," Denys said.

"Oh, yes, but I see the wall—true." The room was quiet again. "The Rubin project will take a great deal of my time. I'm not getting morbid. But you know and I know that there's not an infinite amount of time for getting this thing moving. I'll leave most of the Fargone set-up to you, Yanni. I'll be asking data from this department and that. I'll be wanting to oversee the process myself—just a desire to have hands-on again. Maybe a little vanity." She chuckled softly. "I'm going to be writing on my book, doing a little side research—preparation. Retirement, I suppose."