She spoke of the hives, ramblings of which they were even yet patient.

And suddenly she began to laugh, so that more than one hand in the hall felt after a weapon and her life hung on a thread; but her own two hands were in sight, and one had to wonder who her agents were and where they might be positioned.

“The hives, my friends, my cousins—the hives have come asking and offering now, have they? And the hive-masters divided on the question, and now they’re gone. I’m tired. I am tired, cousins. I see what you don’t see, what no one else is old enough to see, and no one cares to see.” She looked about, blinking in the glare of lights, and Ros Hald tensed, wondering about weapons. “Vote,” she said. “You’ve come here ready, have you not, already prepared, not waiting on me? Not waiting for long debate? You’ve been ready for years. So vote. I’m going to my chambers. Tell me which of you will share responsibility for the Family. I’ll accept your choice.”

There was a murmur, and silence; she looked about at them, perhaps surprised by that silence, that was a touch of awe. And in that silence, Moth turned off the microphone, and walked up the steps among them, slowly, on Tand’s arm, in profound stillness.

Ros Hald rose. So did Ren-barant, and Ilit, and Serat and Dessen and all the many, many others. For a moment, at the top of the stairs, Moth stopped, seeming to realise the gesture, and yet did not turn to see. She walked out, and the door closed. The standing heads of House and sept sank down again into seats. The silence continued a moment.

Next-eldest rose and declared the matter at hand, the nomination of one to stand by Moth, successor to Moth’s knowledge and position. The dictatorship which had become fact without acknowledgement under Lian’s last years, became acknowledged fact now, with Moth’s request for a legal heir.

Ren-barant rose to put forward the name of Ros Hald.

There was no name put in opposition. A few frowned, huddled together. Ros Hald marked there with his eyes, the next group that would try for power in the Family, the next that needed watching. Four Colours were not represented today; four Houses were in mourning. The opposition had no leaders.

“The vote,” next-eldest asked.

The signs flashed to the board. No opposition, seven abstentions, four absent.

It was fact.

A cheer went up from Council, raucous and harsh after the long silence.

viii

The shuttle docked, jolted into lock next to one of the Outsider vessels. The azi caught at support, and one fell-shame-faced, recovered his footing. “All right, all right,” Raen comforted him, touching his shoulder, never taking her eyes from the crew. “Squad two, stay with this ship and keep your guns aimed at the crew. They may try to trick you; you’re quite innocent of some manoeuvres, fresh as you are from Registry. Don’t reason. Just shoot if they touch anything on that control panel.”

“Yes, sera,” said the squad leader, who had seen service before. The crew stayed frozen. She gathered up Merry and squad one and rode the overcrowded lift down to the lock, where the other squads and the Warriors stood guard over the Outsiders.

They were free of restraint, Tallen and his folk, huddled in a corner with the guns of eighty-odd azi to advise them against rashness. Raen beckoned them to her and they came, cautiously, across the dark cavern of the hold. One of their own men had Mundy in hand, had him calmed, had restored him to a fragile human dignity, and Mundy glared at her with hate: no matter to her. He was neither help nor harm.

“We’re going out,” she said to Tallen. “Ser, there’s one of your ships beside us and its hatch is open. We’ve warned them. When you’re aboard, take my advice and pull all Outsider ships from station as quickly as you can undock. Run for it.”

Tallen’s seamed face betrayed disturbance, as it betrayed little. “That far, is it?”

“I’ve risked considerable to get you here. I’ve given you free what you spent men to learn. Believe me, ser, because from the agents the Reach has swallowed you’ll neverhear. If it’s clear they’re not azi, they’ll perish as assassins, one by one. It’s our natural assumption. I’ll give you as much time as I can to get clear of station. But don’t expect too much, ser.”

Merry was by the switch. She signalled. He opened up to the ramp.

It was as she remembered the dock, vast and shadowy and cold, an ugly place. Security agents and armoured ISPAK police ringed the area. She walked out, her own azi about her, rifles slung hip-level from the shoulder. She wore no Colour, but plain beige, no sleeve-armour. It was likely that they knew with whom they had to deal, all the same, for all the terseness of the messages she had returned their anxious inquiries.

Next to them, the Outsider ship waited. “Go,” she told Tallen, whose group followed. “Get over there, before something breaks loose here.”

He delayed. She saw in surprise that he offered his hand, publicly. “Kont’ Raen,” he said, “can wehelp you?”

“No,” she said, shaken by the realisation of finality. Her eyes went to the Outsider’s ramp, the lighted interior.

To go with them, to see, to know—

Their duty forbade. And so did something she vaguely conceived as her own. She found tears starting from her eyes, that were utterly unaccustomed.

“Just get out of here,” she said, breaking the grip. “And believe me.”

He apparently did, for he walked away quickly then, and his people with him, as quickly as could not be called a run. They leached the ramp, rode it up. The hatch sealed after.

Raen folded her arms within her cloak, the one hand still holding her gun, and stared at the ISPAK security force, which her own azi faced with lowered weapons. Breath frosted in the icy air.

“Sera,” one called to her. “ISPAK board has asked to see you. Please. We will escort you.”

“I will see them here,” she said, “on the dock.”

There was consternation among them. Several in civilian dress consulted with each other and one made a call on his belt unit. Raen stood still, shivering with the chill and the lack of sleep, while they proposed debate.

She was too tired. She could not bear the standing any longer. Her legs were shaking under her. “Stand your ground,” she bade the azi. “Fire only if fired upon. Tell them I’ll come down when the board arrives. Watch them carefully.”

And quietly she withdrew, leaving Merry in charge on the dock, trusting his sense and experience. In the new azi she had little confidence; they would not break, perhaps, if it came to a fire fight, but they would die in their tracks quite as uselessly.

She touched the Warriors who hovered in the hatchway, calming them. “We wait,” she said, and went on to the lift, to the bridge, to the security of the unit which guarded the crew and the comfort of a place to sit.

Likely, she thought, they’ll arrive at the dock now, now that I’ve come call this way up.

They did not. She reached past the frozen crew and punched in station operations, listened to the chatter, that at the moment was frantic. Outsider ships were disengaging from dock one after the other, necessitating adjustments, three, four of them, five, six. She grinned, and listened further, watched them on the screens as they came within view, every Outsider in the Reach kiting outward in a developing formation.

Going home.

A new note intruded, another accent in station chatter. She detected agitation in beta voices.

She pirated their long-scan, and froze, heart pounding as she saw the speed of the incoming dot, and its bearing.

She keyed outside broadcast. “Merry! Withdraw. Withdraw everyone into the ship at once.”

The dot advanced steadily, ominous by its speed near a station, cutting across approach lanes.