It was a good thing, Admiral Lady Dame Honor Harrington, Duchess and Steadholder Harrington, reflected, that the modern universe had abandoned the practice of blaming the messenger. Or else the captain of the courier vessel which had brought the news to Landing would have expired. Queen Elizabeth's glare alone would have been enough to immolate him on the spot. As it was, the poor man was doing his best to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

That was difficult, given that there were only eight other people in Queen Elizabeth's private chamber. None of whom were standing on the carpet in front of her. And none of whom were people whom the very junior officer would have much reason to hope would intercede on his behalf when the Queen summoned the headsman.

Two of them were the Errant Royal Daughter's parents—Michael and Judith Winton. They were glaring at the officer not much less ferociously than the Queen. The next was Ariel, the Queen's treecat, who crouched on the back of his adopted person's chair with his ears flattened and fangs half-bared as her fury flooded through their empathic link. Then there was William Alexander, whom everyone knew was the person the Queen wanted for her Prime Minister. His glare... about the same as the Queen's. Standing next to him was his older brother Hamish, the Earl of White Haven, and his treecat Samantha—and his glare was notorious throughout the Star Kingdom's Navy.

That left Honor herself, and, Nimitz, Samantha's mate. Neither of whom was glaring at the poor fellow, granted, but whom he also did not know personally. All he knew about Honor was the fearsome and (in her opinion) grossly over-inflated reputation the Star Kingdom's newsies had given her along with the nickname of "the Salamander." And all he knew about Nimitz was that he looked less enraged than Ariel... for whatever that was worth. Unless he were an expert on 'cat body language, he would never have guessed that what Nimitz actually felt was more amusement than anything else. But, then, Nimitz always had had an odd sense of humor.

All in all, however, and whatever Nimitz—or Honor—might be feeling at the moment, it was a very poor place for a mere lieutenant in command of an insignificant little courier boat to find himself. And from the taste of his emotions through the empathic sense Honor shared with Nimitz, she knew the lieutenant in question felt very much like a Sphinxian chipmunk face to face with a hexapuma.

Despite the seriousness of the occasion, Honor found herself forced to stifle a laugh. She did so by turning it into a small cough.

"Perhaps—"

That was enough to draw Elizabeth's eye. A moment later, the Queen waved her hand.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Ajax. You may leave us. Please place the record chips on the table next to you. If we have further questions, we'll summon you."

The officer did as he was told, very hastily, giving Honor a quick glance of thanks on his way out.

The moment the door closed behind him, Elizabeth's temper boiled to the surface. Not in a volcanic burst, but in a hissing, bubbling snarl.

"Which room in this entire palace has the thickest walls, no windows—or steel-barred ones—the heaviest door, and the best locks? Real locks, I'm talking about, not electronic ones which that—that—that—"

The glare was now fixed on her younger brother. "—that precocious daughter of yourscould hack her way out of!"

She didn't wait for an answer. "And Zilwicki! I'll kill him! What did he think he was doing, flying off to Maya and leaving the two of them—those hoydens! I wouldn't leave them alone in a sandbox! Who in their right mind—"

Michael Winton didn't have his older sister's explosive temper, and he might no longer technically be a prince, since his nephew had officially succeeded to the position of Heir. But the present Duke of Winton-Serisburg had been a prince... and was still a Winton. So Honor wasn't surprised at all to see the Queen's rebuke serve the purpose of raising his hackles and shifting his anger from his daughter to his sister.

Not surprised, no, but very relieved. So, from what Honor could tell by a quick glance at Willie and Hamish Alexander, were they. Elizabeth's temper was often a political liability—and, if she couldn't control it, it might all too well become so again in this newest crisis. The Alexander brothers had been glaring also, true. But that was because there were far greater things at stake here than the suitable punishment for perhaps-reckless young women.

Perhaps reckless. Honor wasn't at all sure about that. She'd been accused herself of recklessness any number of times. Enough, certainly, to know it was an easy term for people to throw around... when they weren't the ones in the cauldron.

Winton-Serisburg's words were spoken in a tone very few of the Queen's vassals would ever have dared to use to her, and his eyes were unflinching as he glared at her. "I will remind my esteemed sister that while she is the monarch of the Star Kingdom, she is not Ruth Winton's parent. That happens to be—that honor and privilege happen to be—mine and my wife Judith's. And ours alone. "

Younger brother and older sister matched glare for glare. "So if there is going to be any room chosen with heavy doors and manual locks—if —that will be up to me and Judith. Not you ."

Suddenly, Elizabeth broke off the mutual glaring match. She even seemed a bit embarrassed. "Still," she said lamely.

Michael wasn't going to relent. "I will also point out to my esteemed older sister that whatever criticism she—or I myself, or Judith, or anyone—might have of my daughter's judgment, no one can question her courage. Nor that of her companion, Berry Zilwicki. Which is no small thing in this universe, Elizabeth Winton. "

Judith spoke up. Her eyes were moist. "Whatever else, Elizabeth, they seem to have saved the lives of several thousand people."

"Aboard a ship full of exiles," Honor took the opportunity to murmur, and smiled faintly as aunt and parents both looked at her quickly. "Seems like something of a family tradition to me," she pointed out. No one spoke for a moment, and then Winton-Serisburg chuckled and gave her an appreciative nod.

The air of tension eased still further, and Honor felt a distinct sense of relief as the emotional tempest receded. She reached up and stroked Nimitz's ears gently, and he pressed back against her palm, sharing her relief.

Then Willie Alexander cleared his throat.

"While we're looking at the bright side—such as it is, and what there is of it—I suppose I should point out that, from what little I can tell at this distance, they've also managed to salvage something from what's obviously a disastrous situation. And by 'disastrous,' I'm not referring to the episode on the slave ship. I'm talking about the very real damage our relationship with Erewhon has obviously suffered."

He gave Michael and Judith an apologetic glance. "Fortunately, Ruth survived. But, to be blunt, the damage we could suffer if Erewhon opts to withdraw from the Alliance is far worse than even the killing of a Manticoran royal daughter would have been. Especially if that idiot High Ridge keeps right on screwing around until we're back at war and need every ally we can find!"

Elizabeth looked at him, then nodded curtly and drew a deep breath. Ariel flowed down from her chair back, and she folded her arms about him, her dark eyes darker than ever as she hugged him. Her anger was fading, replaced by concern and calculation, as she finally began to consider the reports brought back by the courier ship as a monarch instead of a furious aunt whose rage had stemmed far more from fear for her niece than actual analysis of the situation. Famous as her temper might be, her political acumen was equally well known, especially in foreign affairs, and as she brought that acumen to bear now the political implications and possible ramifications of those reports she'd managed to evade, however briefly, leapt out at her. They were...

Not good. Not good at all.

"How likely do you think that is, Willie?" asked Hamish. Of the two Alexander brothers, Willie was the recognized expert on foreign relations. Hamish was very knowledgeable himself, of course. But, like Honor, his career had been entirely in the Navy.

Willie shrugged.

"That's hard to say, Ham. The imponderable factor is that touchy Erewhonese sense of honor. That was something Allen was always very careful to treat with kid gloves," he said, referring to Allen Summervale, the assassinated Duke of Cromarty who'd been Manticore's prime minister for so long. Then he went on gloomily. "Whereas if High Ridge and his people were deliberately trying to provoke it, they couldn't have done a better job—or a worse one—than what they have done."

He shook his head. "That statement from Countess Fraser! Was the woman insane ?"

Now that the Queen's anger had a different target—and a far more legitimate one—it came back in focus. Fortunately, an actual focusrather than a shriek of quasi-parental fury.

"No, 'insane' is being too charitable. She's a coward, Willie, like they all are. Passing the buck and shifting the blame comes as naturally to that High Ridge crowd as gorging does to a hog."

She laughed, harshly, upper lip curled in a snarl which would have done Ariel proud. One which mingled contempt for "her" ambassador with something else. Something suspiciously like naked pride. "I take it all back, Michael. And I apologize, to you and Judith, both. Say what you will about the good sense of our girls"—proudly, that last, and no suspicion about it now—"they were no cowards, that's for sure."

The Queen shook her head. "And now what do we do? Not that I suppose it matters. Any suggestion I send over to the Government will just be shrugged off. Nor do I have anyone on the spot in Erewhon I can use as a private channel. Except those—ah, how to put it delicately?—not-too-cautious girls."

Willie cleared his throat. "Actually, Elizabeth, I disagree." With a little wave of the hand: "Not about the likely response from High Ridge, of course. I have no doubt at all he'll take the same tack Fraser took on the spot. Pass the buck, shift the blame, and do everything conceivable to aggravate the Erewhonese still further. But I do disagree—have reservations, let's say—about your assessment of the rest of it."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. It was an invitation to continue, not a reproof. The Queen's hot temper was never inflicted on someone for simply questioning her judgment, unless it was done in a disrespectful manner.