"Director Breasal," Limana bit out, "if you wish to make formal charges, you're free to do so. But I will not tolerate vindictive slander from any director on the Portal Authority's governing board. Lay your proof on the table, Director, if you intend to make charges that serious. Prove it, or I swear by all the gods of heaven and hell, you will never serve as a director of this Portal Authority again. Do I make myself clear?"

Breasal's expression changed abruptly, and his eyes flared wide in shock. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out?not even a squeak?and Limana leaned forward, his own hands braced on the table.

"Do I make myself clear, sir?"

Breasal nodded, suddenly pale.

"Good. I expect a memo on my desk, before the close of business today, Breasal, either laying out enough proof to warrant an investigation, or formally apologizing to this Board and to the Chalgyn Consortium for slander. The choice of which memo you write is entirely up to you, but you will write it. And you will also sign it, before witnesses, and it will remain on permanent file in my office as a legally binding document. Is that clear, as well?"

Breasal managed another jerky nod, and Limana switched his attention back to Anzeti.

"I expect to see a written summary of all complaints from the Septentrion's field crews on my desk no later than eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Or an apology to this Board and Isseth-Liada Corporation, whichever you prefer. Is that understood?"

"Oh, yes. Thoroughly understood, sir."

Anzeti's eyes blazed, and Limana had little doubt that the Arpathian's memo would be extremely enlightening. He'd heard enough grapevine rumbles to have him itching to open a formal investigation of Isseth-Liada's practices, but no one to date had found the courage to make a formal complaint. He also knew why the Septentrion had remained silent. Of all Sharona's cultures, the Septs were?by choice?the least technologically sophisticated, which made them the brunt of unpleasant jokes, on one hand, and victims of outright prejudice, on the other.

Unfortunately, all too many septmen had learned that justice sometimes went to the party with the most money and political clout. Limana found that situation intolerable, which was why he'd insisted?forcefully?that a new directorship be established to represent the Septentrion. He wished a bit bitterly that Anzeti had trusted him enough to come forward before this, but at least the man had spoken up at last, which meant Limana could finally act.

Isseth-Liada's corporate officials weren't going to thank Breasal for the outburst of spleen which had provoked Anzeti, and that was another source of considerable pleasure for Orem Limana. Of course, he knew very well that those same corporate officials did nothing without the express permission of Isseth's rulers. That made the whole ball of nails political, as well, and he expected the looming conflict to be a nasty one. But he had, by all the gods, had enough. He was more than ready to tackle Isseth-Liada and its political masters.

"Very well," he said in a more normal tone. "If we're quite finished with that subject, I'll be happy to explain precisely how the Chalgyn Consortium has located so many portals in such a short span of time."

Across the room, Halidar Kinshe sat back with a smile. He, too, had been itching to take Breasal down a peg, if not three or four, and now he watched with great satisfaction as Limana produced charts and maps showing transit routes to the portals Chalgyn had stumbled across. The First Director also produced projected schedules to move the enormous amounts of materials and manpower necessary to build portal forts to properly cover that many portals. Fortunately, the Trans-Temporal Express's rail lines and shipping lanes had already been fully established as far as Salym. In fact, the railhead was most of the way to Fort Salby, in Traisum, by now. That was going to be a huge help with the logistics, but the sheer scale of the project was still daunting. It was going to be the biggest single surge of expansion in the Authority's entire history, and the scramble to pay for it was going to be … challenging.

Chalgyn's stockholders didn't know it yet, he thought cheerfully, but they were poised to become fabulously wealthy over the next few years from portal transit fees alone. Everybody was going to want a piece of that cluster. After so many years of picking up other teams' scattered crumbs, Chalgyn had hit the most spectacular paydirt anyone had struck since the very first portal.

Kinshe wasn't financially involved in the consortium, but Chalgyn was a Shurkhali company, which left a warm glow in his heart as he contemplated its achievements. It was like watching the child of his heart and spirit finally prove his worth. Chalgyn had just shot to the very pinnacle of a business dominated by Ternathians and Uromathians from the outset, and the consortium had outmaneuvered companies with far more capital and experience to do it. After centuries in Ternathia's shadow, Shurkhal was finally shining in her own light again, and it was a glorious feeling.

Limana was just getting to the estimated support costs to finance this unexpected surge in construction and staffing needs?expenses that would be repaid through portal use fees until the loans were retired in full?when the boardroom's door opened and Limana's junior assistant beckoned urgently to Chathee Haimas. The junior assistant's face was ashen as she whispered a message, and Haimas turned white. She asked a single question, and the younger woman shook her head, clearly hanging on the ragged edge of bursting into tears.

Haimas closed her eyes for just an instant. Then she turned and crossed directly to Orem Limana.

"First Director, I beg your pardon," she said calmly. "There's an urgent message for you. It's come in from the Voice network." She glanced directly at Kinshe and added, "I believe Director Kinshe should be present when you take the message, sir."

Kinshe's worry turned to ice; Limana merely nodded.

"I'll ask the Board to be patient for a few minutes," he said smoothly. "Perhaps the directors could begin drawing up preliminary plans to meet our projected staffing needs for the new forts. Director Kinshe, if you'll join me in my office?"

"Certainly."

They had no sooner reached the corridor and seen the boardroom door closed behind them than Limana's junior assistant did burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, sir," she choked out. "I wouldn't let the Head Voice interrupt the Board meeting until he told me why, and it's?it's just dreadful. Hurry, please. He's waiting."

Limana's office wasn't very far from the boardroom, so Kinshe didn't have to worry in ignorance for long. The Head Voice was waiting for them, and Kinshe went cold to the bone after one glance at Yaf Umani's face. Umani had been the Portal Authority's senior Voice for just short of forty years, and he was a tough, no-nonsense executive, with one of the strongest telepathic Talents on Sharona. His range had been phenomenal when he was still in the field, and his personnel decisions were legendary, displaying a second Talent, for he invariably chose exactly the right person to fill each job, from the Portal Authority public relations office to field Voices. He tolerated no excuses, he backed down from no one, and he'd been known to terrify sovereign heads of state whose opinions differed from his regarding the proper operation of the inter-universal Voice network.

Which made the fact that Yaf Umani was trembling one of the most frightening things Halidar Kinshe had ever seen.

"What in Kefkin's unholy name has happened?" Limana asked, dashing a liberal amount of whiskey into a tumbler and thrusting it into Umani's unsteady hands.

The Head Voice gulped the liquor in two swallows. His eyes were shocked, haunted by something so dreadful Kinshe knew he didn't want to hear it.