Deathstalker Honor

"You wear them to the office, Flynn, and you're fired," said Toby. "Thank you. Miss Lovett. That will be all for now."

The young lady giggled for no apparent reason, heaved her cleavage in the direction of the door, and tottered out again. Flynn looked at Toby.

"She's my secretary," said Toby defensively. "She takes dictation."

"Yeah," said Flynn. "I'll just bet she does. I would also bet good money that she has a room-temperature IQ and the personality of a piece of string."

"All right, she's a bimbo, I admit it. I have someone else to do the actual secretarial work. Miss Lovett is more in the nature of… an office ornament. Something I can use to distract the union bosses when they come in with their latest wage claim. Upper management gave her to me. They thought it might keep me in the office more. Truth be told, she gets on my nerves something fierce. She has a voice that could frighten sheep, no talents you can discuss in polite company, and a laugh that could strip wallpaper off walls. Took me two weeks to train her to make a cup of tea. I'd fire her, but it would break her heart."

"Life is tough at the top," said Flynn.

"It is!" said Toby. "All I want is to get some work done. Some real work. I can't just sit around all day, Flynn, ticking the right boxes and signing where indicated. It's not in my nature. I need to be doing something. Something that matters. I always thought that with this job's authority I'd finally be able to cover the kind of important stories I'd always wanted to go after. But it never works out that way. I may be the boss here, but I still have to answer to my bosses, the people who own Imperial News. And they'd be just as happy running a gossip show, as long as it didn't affect profits. Every time I suggest a good target to go after, the word comes down from above: don't make waves.

"They were happy enough to take risks when they were only a minor company, desperate to do anything to grab viewing figures away from the big boys, but now they are one of the big boys, they've gone all nervous on me. They have something to lose these days. You know, Flynn… I should be happy. I've made it! I've got the job I always wanted! I run Imperial News! They don't even challenge my expenses anymore. But I am bored, Flynn. Terribly, mind-numbingly bored."

"You know the answer, chief. Do what you did the last time we had this conversation. Pick a story and cover it yourself. Get out in the field and see how close to the wind you can sail this time. I'm always available to be your cameraman. For the standard rates. Plus danger money."

"I'd like to, Flynn, but… Oh, the hell with it. Stuff them all. If I stay in this room much longer, I'll start putting down roots. I can always leave my deputy in charge for a while. Not too bright, and scared stiff of anyone who raises their voice to him, but I swear he actually likes shuffling papers. Come on, Flynn. Let's get a move on. We have a story to cover."

"What, right now? I was think of somewhen tomorrow. I can't go with you now. Clarence will have a hot-pot dinner waiting for me."

"Tell him to stick it back in the oven," said Toby ruthlessly. "What I have in mind can't wait. There's a couple of targets I've been trying to get to for weeks, but my reporters keep being turned down and intimidated. Let's see what I can do. After everything I went through in the rebellion, they couldn't intimidate me with a point-blank disrupter cannon."

"I have a terrible feeling I've started something that can only end in tears," said Flynn. "Lead on, boss. Where are we going first?"

"To see the Speaker of Parliament his own slippery self: Elias bloody Gutman."

Getting in to see Gutman turned out to be easier than expected. They didn't bother with an introductory call requesting an appointment, because Toby knew very well Gutman wouldn't agree to one. So instead he and Flynn went straight around to Gutman's luxurious townhouse, in one of the very best neighborhoods, and got in by bribing the footmen. Once inside, Toby worked his way through the inner security levels and ranks of flak catchers in a grandstanding performance of sheer perseverance and bloody-mindedness that Flynn found a joy to watch. This was the Toby Shreck he remembered—an unstoppable force of nature that talked its way around most obstacles and walked right over the rest. Leaving Gutman's people wondering what the hell had hit them, Toby and Flynn followed the head butler to Gutman's inner sanctum.

The butler, a tall and haughty personage in an old-fashioned frock coat, with frosty manners and just a little understated makeup, who winked at Flynn when he thought Toby wasn't looking, finally came to a halt before a massive pair of intricately carved wooden doors. He knocked politely and then threw them open with a practiced flair, announcing Toby's and Flynn's names in a carrying voice. Toby strode straight in, with Flynn right behind him, camera hovering over his shoulder. The butler took up a position just inside the doors, in case he was needed.

Gutman's quarters were surprisingly tasteful, but all that meant was that he could afford a decent interior designer. There were shelves of books along one wall, expensive leather-bound editions, but Toby would have bet good money Gutman hadn't read any of them. Probably bought them by the yard. Gutman himself was reclining at his ease in a technological marvel of a chair that did everything but wipe his nose for him. He didn't bother to get up when his visitors entered, so Toby didn't bother with the bow and polite greetings that formality would otherwise have demanded.

"Get rid of the flunky, Gutman," Toby said brusquely, starting as he meant to go on. "You aren't going to want a witness for some of the things we're going to discuss."

"Ah, the famous Shreck charm," said Gutman heavily. "That must be how you got past my guards. Most of whom will be drawing unemployment tomorrow. It's all right, Jobe, you can go. I'll ring if I need anything."

The butler bowed, gave Flynn a last lingering look, and left. Toby fixed Gutman with his best piercing gaze. "So, Elias, how are the hemorrhoids?"

"Compared to your presence, nothing at all. You're the only real pain in my ass these days. What do you want at this late hour?"

"What I always want, answers. Starting with how a slimy wheeler and dealer like you ended up as a revered elder statesman."

Gutman shrugged easily. "Through my many and varied business enterprises. Over the years I have amassed many influential contacts, in all walks of life. I've never believed in keeping all my eggs in one basket."

"You've never believed in declaring them for taxes either," said Toby. "Come on, Elias. Everyone knows that you had a hand in every dirty deal going. Your reputation was marginally worse than the Hadenmen's. How did you end up as Speaker?"

"Much to my surprise," said Gutman. "I came to rebuild my Family, which had been so weakened during the war they were even glad to see me back. And as a man of means and prospects, I found position and responsibility pressed upon me."

"Just like that."

"Pretty much. I hate to disappoint you, Toby, but I was elected Speaker because the majority wanted it. No backroom deals, no bribes, no blackmail, no secret promises of favor or influence. I got the job because everyone knew me and distrusted me equally. And if they were dumb enough to offer me the post, I was certainly dumb enough to take it."

"You're living very well," said Toby, retreating for the moment to safer ground. "A big house, in the best part of town. An army of servants and all the luxuries. And if that obscene portrait on the wall is what I think it is, it alone cost more than your yearly salary as Speaker. Where's the money come from these days, Elias?"

"I never knew you had an eye for art, Toby," said Gutman easily. "And yes, it is an original. Erotica is very collectable these days. I acquired it as payment for an outstanding debt. My money comes from investments, all of them open and aboveboard. My finances these days are a matter of public record. I'm squeaky clean. I can afford to be. It was a good war for me in many ways."

"If you're so clean, why did you settle for Speaker? You could have been a Member of Parliament. Hell, you could have been Prime Minister."

"I prefer to be the man who chooses the Prime Minister. The power behind the throne, so to speak."

"But just what are your politics these days, Elias? Where do you stand? What are you after? You seem terribly chummy with just about everyone, including all the extreme fringe groups that no one else would touch with a barge pole. There isn't a political gathering of whatever persuasion that doesn't have you on its guest list. Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to be a secret? I've studied the footage from the stuff that doesn't make it to the screen, and it's amazing how often you crop up. No matter how extreme the cause, or how distasteful, or even how opposed, there you are, right in the middle of things, smiling and pressing the flesh and making friends. Everybody's buddy. Care to comment on that?"

Gutman had stopped smiling. "You're on dangerous ground, Shreck. Back off."

"If it's all so innocent, why don't you want to talk about it? You just said you're squeaky clean these days. Why is everyone always so glad to see you, Elias? What are you offering them in those private little backroom meetings that no one else gets to see?"

"I think it's time you were leaving," said Gutman flatly. "I have nothing more to say. And don't think you can use any footage of this conversation. I have hidden security devices that jam all recording equipment."

"That's what you think," said Flynn. "I've made modifications."

Gutman glared at Flynn and then at Toby. "I could have my people destroy that camera."

"No, you couldn't. It would cause too many awkward questions." Toby smiled at Gutman. "Unlike you, people believe what I tell them."

"I'll speak to your bosses," said Gutman. "And then they'll tell you what to say."

"I am the boss," said Toby.

Gutman smiled coldly. "One of my investments is in communications. I own forty percent of Imperial News."

Toby smiled coldly right back at him. "Do you think that'll stop me? There are always other companies. I'm red-hot these days. Everyone wants me. Time we were going, Flynn. Don't bother with the flunky, Elias. We'll find our own way out."

They left in somewhat of a hurry, just in case Gutman decided he didn't care about his public image just this once. Out in the street again, in the cool air of the evening, Toby and Flynn looked at each other thoughtfully.

"Well," said Flynn, "that was interesting."

"Yeah," said Toby, rubbing his hands together. "I told you there was a story here. Just wish I knew what the hell it was. We're going to have to do some more digging in records and archives. See if we can find more footage on exactly who he's been cozying up to just recently that Elias doesn't want us to know about. Might be interesting to see if there's anyone he isn't talking to. That might tell us something as well… Strange, though, I was expecting him to put up more of a fight. And the threats were so… obvious. He used to be more subtle than that." Toby gave Flynn a sharp look. "Were you bluffing about your camera? Do we have any of that conversation recorded?"

"Depends," said Flynn. "I upgrade my camera regularly, but the main players make a point of always having state-of-the-art security. I won't know for sure what I've got till I get back to the lab."

"Well, that will have to wait," said Toby. "We have another visit to make yet. A Family affair this time: my dear aunt Grace, currently the head of my Clan in the detested Gregor's absence. She's been running the Family and doing a very good job of it, by all accounts. Which is interesting, because the Grace I've known for most of my life wouldn't say boo to a goose if it was crapping on her boot. A shy, retiring creature, Aunt Grace, immersed in a remembered past when things were simpler. Gregor had to bully and intimidate her just to get her to turn up at Court. But of late dear Grace has emerged into the limelight with a vengeance, becoming a major social figure. Something's finally kicked her awake, and I want to know what."

"But… isn't this change a good thing?" said Flynn. "Aren't you pleased she's come out of her shell?"

"She's still a Shreck," said Toby. "And we never do anything without at least one ulterior motive."

"Oh, yeah," said Flynn. "Then what's yours for this visit?"

Toby smiled. "My cousin Clarissa. She's been staying with Grace ever since the Deathstalker freed her from her servitude as one of Lionstone's maids. A pretty young thing, very sweet. I thought I might see how she was getting along."

"You old softy," said Flynn. "Wait a minute. I thought she was your sister?"

"Half sister and cousin," said Toby, shrugging easily. "It's that kind of Family."

It wasn't far to Grace Shreck's town house; she lived in the same salubrious area as Gutman. Private security systems monitored the streets, keeping an electronic eye on anyone who looked as though they didn't belong there. Flynn on his own would have been immediately stopped, but everybody knew Toby Shreck. The Shreck town house had been in the Family for generations, and looked it. The old stone walls were discolored by age and pollution, and the once impeccable gardens had been left to run wild. Long-established mats of ivy crawled across the frontispiece of the house, left alone out of a sense of tradition, and a sneaking suspicion that the ivy was the only thing holding some of the stonework together. The windows were one-way only, showing blank, uncaring eyes to the outside world. And Toby knew for a fact that there were hidden guns all over to discourage unwanted visitors. This was a Shreck establishment, after all.

Once the house had been home and sanctuary to the majority of the Shreck, but with the building of the pastel towers, it had declined into just a town house, somewhere to stay for short periods for those of the Family who were currently out of favor. Now the great four-winged mansion was home to Grace alone, plus a small army of servants. Grace was a great believer in keeping up appearances.

"Most of the rooms are empty now," said Toby as he and Flynn waited more or less patiently outside the main drawing room. The butler had just gone in to announce them, and was apparently taking his time. Toby wouldn't have thought there was that much to announce. But he couldn't just barge in as he had with Gutman. This was Family. "Bit of a waste, really. Given its location, we could sell this place for a tidy sum, but Grace won't give it up for as long as she lives. It's her home."

"And very impressive it is," said Flynn. "If I'd known we were coming somewhere this posh, I'd have nipped home to change into my best frock and real diamonds. A girl likes to look her best."

"Don't even mention that in front of Grace," Toby said firmly. "She's a bit old-fashioned, and easily shocked. If we're going to get anything out of her, I need her to be relaxed and at her ease."

"That's a bit cold-blooded, isn't it? I mean, she's your aunt."

Toby grinned. "But we're both Shrecks. Don't let your guard down in there, Flynn. She could tear you apart if the mood took her."

The butler, in formal frock coat and powdered wig, returned at last to usher them into the main drawing room. It was big enough to land a ship's pinnace in, and crowded with antique furniture and priceless works of art of the kind normally only seen in museums. Huge Family portraits covered the walls, generations of Shrecks in a variety of styles, with the same frowning faces and identical cold eyes.

It made Gutman's place look positively rustic.

"Wow," said Finlay quietly. "How the other one percent lives. I never knew you and your Family were this rich, boss."

"We're not," said Toby just as quietly. "We just used to be. There are individual pieces here that could pay off the Family's debts for a decade, but Grace won't part with any of them. As long as she can still surround herself with all this stuff, she can still convince herself that Clan Shreck is still what it used to be, and nothing has really changed."

"Still," said Flynn, "I'll bet this room is hell to dust. They must work in shifts."

And then, finally, they were brought into the presence of Grace Shreck. Toby and Flynn both bowed formally. Grace inclined her head regally from the depths of a huge, very comfortable-looking chair set just the right distance away from the roaring fire in the great fireplace. The butler gestured to two hovering servants, also in frock coat and powdered wig, who hurried forward bearing two antique chairs and set them down just the right distance away from Grace so that Toby and Flynn could sit facing her. They settled themselves carefully onto the delicate-looking chairs, which proved to be even more uncomfortable than they looked. Grace smiled at them both and then, without looking around, gestured to the butler. He and the two servants left the room, backing out all the way. Grace waited till the door had closed behind them, and then sniffed disparagingly.

"Servants… it's so hard to get good help these days. You have to be ever so careful what you say in front of them. In my young days a Family servant would never have dreamed of repeating a confidence, or anything they might have heard of their master's business, but no one has any sense of loyalty anymore. They're always looking for some gossip they can peddle to the scandal shows. Never mind whether it's true or not, as long as it makes a good story, that's their attitude. I do hope that camera of yours is not operating, young man. I take my privacy very seriously."

"We won't record anything without your permission, Auntie," Toby said quickly.

Grace sniffed again. "You only call me Auntie when you want something, Tobias. What is it this time? Another loan?"

"Not this time, Auntie, thank you very much. I just happened to be visiting another house in this area, and I thought I might as well drop in and see how you were doing. You and Clarissa."

"Oh, so that's where the wind lies, is it? Thought I saw a sparkle in your eye for her the last time you deigned to pay me a visit. She's doing very well, Tobias. What the poor thing endured would have broken a lesser type, but of course Clarissa has good old Shreck iron in her bones. She'll pull through. I'll send for her in a while. Now, nephew, you may kiss me on the cheek and come to the real purpose of your visit. You can't fool me, Tobias. You didn't come calling at this late hour of the evening just to inquire over my health and make eyes at Clarissa."

Toby grinned, got out of his chair to kiss Grace chastely on her powdered cheek, and then sat down again. "You always see through me, Auntie. I need your help for a piece I'm working on, about how the Families are rebuilding themselves under the new order. And it must be said, you've made a great deal of difference to the Clan's standing since you took control."

Grace scowled. "It's not like I had any choice in the matter. Gregor has been going mad for years, but as long as he maintained the Family prestige, no one would hear a word said against him. But when he finally fell apart and barricaded himself inside his Tower, it was clear someone had to replace him as head before the whole Clan fell apart. You weren't interested, and all the other senior members of the Family were too busy plotting against each other, so the burden fell on me. The only senior Shreck that everyone else could accept. It hasn't been easy, but I like to think I've made a difference."

"You certainly have, Auntie," said Toby carefully. "Under you the Shrecks have moved back into the political mainstream in a big way. I wasn't aware you knew so much about current politics."

"I do have a viewscreen, young man, and I have been known to watch something other than those dreadful, never ending soaps. And I have advisers. Lots of them. Would either of you care for a cup of tea?"

"That would be very pleasant, lady Shreck," said Flynn.

Grace looked at him approvingly. "I'm glad to see some young people still have good manners. Unlike some I could mention but won't. Do you want tea, Toby?"

"Actually, I could do with something a little stronger…"

"You'll have tea."

"I'll have tea."

Grace pulled a handy bell rope. "It'll take them a while, I'm afraid. You can't rush a good cup of tea, though heaven knows they'd try if I let them. They will keep telling me about this instant nonsense, as though I cared. Some things just have to be done the right way, and that's all there is to it."

"Have you been here very long, lady Shreck?" said Flynn. "You seem very comfortable here."

"Oh, I've been here since I was a young girl, for more years than I care to remember, young man. My brother Christian and his family joined me here for a while, and we had such a jolly time together. Till he disappeared." Grace frowned. "I was always sure Gregor had something to do with it, but I could never prove anything. And there was the Family name to consider. A scandal could have ruined us."

"You never allowed anyone to even raise the subject before," said Toby sharply.

"I was concerned that anyone showing too much interest in Christian's fate might disappear too," said Grace just as sharply. "Christian and Gregor never got along. That's no secret. They had a furious argument one day, right here in this room. Christian stormed out and was never seen again. Don't press me for any further details, Tobias, because I don't have any. I wasn't even in the house at the time. Your mother, Helga, went out looking for Christian, and also never came back. No trace was ever found of either of them. Sometimes I like to think they found each other and decided to stay hidden and safe. I like to think of them living happily together somewhere, safe in secret."

"Then why did they never send for me?" said Toby.

"Gregor had you watched all the time," Grace said gently. "You were bait. I kept you close to me, protected you as best I could, till I could find you a safe place at a boarding school."

"Maybe I should ask Gregor what happened," said Toby. "Get him alone and ask him very forcefully."

"I wouldn't advise it, dear. He'd very likely just have you shot, in his present state of mind. Anyway, it's a bit late to be showing such emotion over your lost parents, isn't it? You're an investigative journalist; you could have started a search years ago if you'd really been interested."

"They went off and left me," said Toby, looking at the floor. "They never came back for me. And like you, I never wanted proof they were dead. As long as they were still officially listed as missing, there was still the chance they might turn up again someday." For a moment he looked rather lost and vulnerable. But the moment passed, and he was quickly his old self again. He looked up and fixed Grace with a steady gaze. "Why was I never sent to Blue Block, like so many of my contemporaries?"

"Your father never approved of them, and Gregor still had a use for you. Not that he ever trusted them either. Gregor always suspected the worst of everyone, and in Blue Block's case it would appear he was right. The servant has become the master. Just another reason why I was forced into the political arena. The Family must be protected from all outside influences and pressures, whatever the source. Ah, tea!"

The door had opened silently, and Toby and Flynn looked up to see a servant bearing down on them, carrying a silver teapot and Fine china milk jug and cups on a silver tray. Right behind the servant came a young woman in a pretty dress, with a widely smiling face under shoulder-length golden curls. Toby rose quickly to his feet and went to meet her, also smiling widely, while the servant set out the tea things on a handy little table at Grace's side. Grace gave Toby and the young woman a knowing look, and busied herself with the tea things, nodding to the servant to withdraw. He did so, backing out all the way. Flynn watched Toby interestedly as he took the young woman's hand in his.

"Clarissa! You're looking very well. Very well!"

"And feeling much better, thanks to you, dear Toby. The surgeons are removing the implants Lionstone had put in me as fast as they can, but it's a long job. At least I have human eyes to see you with now."

"And very pretty eyes they are too. The hair's new, isn't it?"

"It's just a wig while my own hair grows back. You've done so much for me, Toby. I don't know how to thank you."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll think of something," said Grace tartly. "Now, that's enough mawkishness for the moment, dears. Any more and you'll oversweeten the tea. Come and sit down while I pour."

Clarissa pulled up a chair right next to Toby's, and they sat down, still smiling at each other. Flynn coughed politely, and then smiled and nodded to Clarissa.

"Hello, Flynn," she said, bathing him in her smile too. "How are you?"

"Working overtime when I should be safe at home relaxing, thanks to my brute of a boss. Are you settling in happily here?"

"Hard to tell," said Grace, looking firmly at the tea things. "She spends most of her time in her room, and jumps every time she hears a loud noise. Only person she talks to is Tobias, and that only over the viewscreen."

"She's been through a lot," Toby said defensively. "It's bound to take her some time to… readjust. You haven't been bullying her, have you?"

"Oh, no," Clarissa said quickly. "She's been very supportive. I just… don't feel like meeting anyone yet. Not till I'm all the way back to who I was, before Lionstone had me changed into one of her damned bodyguards. Then I'll think about mixing with people again."

"Of course," said Toby. "Don't rush yourself. Take all the time you need."

"I sometimes hear from other maids who were rescued," said Clarissa, looking down at her hands, folded in her lap. "Several of us have gone mad, and three have killed themselves rather than remember what they were, and what they did. I could never do that. It would be like giving Lionstone the final victory. But… I understand why they did it. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life now. Even after the surgeons have finished with me, I don't think I could go back to what I was before. I need to do something with my new life, something that matters."

"Why not come and work with me, at Imperial News?" said Toby. "The rebellion showed how much influence a truly free press can have. The news matters these days, and you could be a part of that."

"Yes," said Clarissa, smiling even more widely at him. "I think I'd like that."

And then Toby's comm implant chimed imperiously in his ear, and he listened for a long moment, frowning fiercely, before rising abruptly to his feet. "Sorry, Clarissa, Auntie, but Flynn and I have to go, right now. Word is coming in that Robert Campbell has given up his Captaincy, resigned from the Fleet, and come home to Golgotha to reestablish his Clan. He's due to arrive at the starport here anytime now, and every news station in the city will be there to cover it. I've got a couple of stringers in place to represent us just in case he gets in early, but this is something I really should be covering myself. If anyone can make the Campbells big again, it's a war hero like Robert. Come on, Flynn. Clarissa, I'll call you later."

"But I've just poured tea!" said Grace.

"Oh, dear," said Toby. "What a pity."

Robert Campbell stood very still in front of the full-length mirror and sighed deeply. He'd forgotten what a pain civilian clothes could be. The tailor fussed around him with a mouthful of pins, tugging here and adjusting there with just a little more familiarity than Robert felt was strictly called for. Of course, a computer could have measured him and run up as many sets of clothes as he wanted, but in Society it was considered essential that such things were done by hand, so as to allow for artistic insight on matters of taste. Fashion was far too important to be left to machines.

So Robert kept his opinions to himself, sighed a lot, and let them get on with it. Things had been very different in the Fleet. One uniform, another for spare, and a dress uniform for special occasions would see you through your entire career. But now he was a civilian and a Campbell again, he'd already been fitted for twelve different outfits, and they hadn't even got to evening wear yet.

"Is all this really necessary?" he appealed plaintively to the servant he'd taken on to advise him in such things.

"It is a matter of fashion, sir," said the butler, Baxter, entirely unmoved. "And therefore a matter of utmost necessity. If you wish to be taken seriously as head of your Clan, it is imperative that you look the part."

"My Clan currently consists of a few dozen cousins and a handful of blood relatives. Barely enough for a decent soccer match, never mind a Clan."

"All the more important, then, that you look the part, sir. Society will take its cue from you. The more impressive you are, the more they will respect your Clan. Rebuilding your Family will be possible only with the support of the other Clans, and that will happen only if they see you as an equal. Try not to stand quite so stiffly, sir. The clothes need to hang naturally for the best effect."

Robert did his best to fall out of parade rest. It wasn't easy. None of it was easy. He'd taken pride in being a military man, and had given up his Navy career with only the greatest reluctance, after General Beckett had personally contacted him to make it clear Robert couldn't be loyal to both his Family and the Fleet. He would have to make a choice, a commitment to one or the other. And in the end Robert knew his duty had to be to his Clan and his blood, and centuries of Family tradition. To think otherwise would mean the rest of his Family had died for nothing. So he had resigned from the Fleet and come home to Golgotha to be the Campbell.

And silently cursed his duty and his Clan, all the way down to the planet's surface, where he found a crowd of baying reporters waiting for him. Cameras shot back and forth around him at dizzying speeds, jostling each other for the best angles, and the reporters yelled out questions faster than he could answer them. Clan Campbell had been one of the main movers and shakers in the old Empire, till it was decimated and scattered by Clan Wolfe, and its potential reemergence was apparently big news. Robert had done his best to answer all questions, comments, and insinuations with monosyllabic grunts, all the time pushing steadily forward through the crowd. Partly because he knew how reporters could twist even the most innocent remarks, and partly because he really didn't have anything to say. He was out of touch with current politics and Family intrigues, and didn't want to say anything that might commit him to anything just yet.

He especially didn't want to have to admit that he didn't have a clue as to just how he was going to rebuild Clan Campbell.

At the time he'd thought wistfully of Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d'Ark. Say what you might about them, and there was a lot that could be said, they at least knew how to deal with the press. Some reporters apparently demanded combat pay just to interview them. But those two could get away with things like that. Mere mortals like Robert Campbell, who might yet need the support of the press in the future, had a harder road to follow.

So the first thing he'd done, after he'd shaken off the news pack, had been to contact a service agency and hire the most experienced butler they had on their books. A quiet, unassuming, but surprisingly firm man in his late fifties, Baxter was more than just a butler. He was a personal servant, a gentleman's gentleman, and privy to all the arcane secrets and rituals of aristocratic behavior. Even though he'd been in the Navy boy and man, Robert had still visited enough with his Family to know the basics, but the everyday minutia, by which proper behavior and social standing were judged, mutated faster than any outsider could hope to follow. Which was of course the point. High Society was meant to be elitist, complex, and mysterious. How else could you tell who was in and who was out? Half the fun of being in was turning up your nose at those who weren't. Robert the military man saw the whole business as desperately childish, but he was still enough of an aristocrat to understand how seriously everyone else took it. He was the Campbell now, and he had to play the game. It was expected of him.

The role of the Families might have been altered by the rebellion, but some things never changed.

So he listened patiently while Baxter lectured him on etiquette and style and the correct way of shooting one's cuffs, on the latest dances and the latest gossip, and who might be expected to support or oppose him. If Clan Campbell really was on the way up again, there were a great many people who saw advantages to be gained by striking deals while the Campbell was still weak. There were just as many more who might do anything up to and including assassination attempts to prevent his rise and preserve the status quo. Just by becoming the Campbell, Robert was inheriting centuries of intrigues and feuds, old allies and enemies. In the Families no one forgot or forgave. Unless it was expedient.

Robert closed his eyes for a moment. He was deathly tired. Yesterday he'd been a Captain in the Imperial Fleet, with a glorious career in front of him. Now he'd given it all up, to become something he despised, because of his duty to a Family that had never really wanted him. Someone was going to pay for what he was going through, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. He'd play their bloody game, but he'd play it his way, by his rules, and the good God help anyone who got in his way. He realized Baxter had stopped talking, and looked around sharply.

"Sorry, I was just resting my eyes. What is it? Did I miss something?

"I was inquiring about the small portrait to your right, sir," said Baxter. "It is the only portrait you brought with you. A most lovely young lady. Is she who I think she is?"

"Yes," said Robert. "That's her. That's Letitia." He stared expressionlessly at the portrait in its silver frame, one of the few personal possessions he'd brought with him. All that was left from the last time the Family had intruded into his life. "She was very lovely. I suppose everyone knows the story. It was a big enough scandal in its day. I almost married her. An arranged marriage, but I was fond of her. Given time, I might even have loved her. But at our wedding it emerged she was already pregnant, by one of her guards. And Gregor Shreck murdered her rather than let the wedding go ahead and dishonor his Family. I would have saved her, but my Family held me back. I think that was when I learned to hate the Families. All of them."

"Family honor is… a tricky business, sir. It is often difficult to know what to do for the best."

"Gregor killed her right in front of me. I would have killed him then if I could. I may still."

"Then I fear you'll have to stand in line, sir. Gregor Shreck is not the most popular member of Society just now. In fact, I would venture to suggest that genital warts are probably more popular than he is."

Robert had to laugh. "Good to see some things never change. And I suppose a Society that hates Gregor Shreck can't be all bad. He can wait. Rebuilding the Clan has to come first. That is why I came home."

"Indeed, sir. And if I may be so bold, I am sure there are many young ladies of good standing who would be only too happy to make a contract with a rising young gentleman and war hero such as yourself, sir."

"No," said Robert sharply. "No more arranged marriages."

"Pardon me, sir, I quite understand your feelings in this matter, but if you are to lead your Clan, it will be necessary for you to marry at some point, to produce heirs to carry on your line."

"Yes, I know. But not yet."

"Don't try to pressure him, Baxter. Robert can be as stubborn as a deaf mule when he puts his mind to it. It's a Campbell trait."

Robert looked around smiling as the owner of the carrying strident voice strode over to join him. As soon as Adrienne had heard he was back, she had arranged for him to stay with her while she arranged the details of his introduction back into Society. Robert hadn't argued. One didn't with Adrienne. And he'd been glad of somewhere secure and friendly to lay his head. His old Family home, Tower Campbell, had been taken over by the Wolfes. He had no rights to it anymore. So he and Baxter were currently camped out at Adrienne's somewhat crowded house, and trying to get a word in edgewise now and again. Adrienne had all but taken over the running of Robert's life. He didn't mind, really. It reminded him happily of his time in the military. She waved the hovering tailor away with an imperious gesture, and he practically broke his back bowing his way backward across the room. Adrienne looked sharply at Baxter.

"Well, how's he doing?"

"As well as can be expected, ma'am. He has a regrettable impulse toward truthfulness and sincerity, but nothing that can't be overcome. A few carefully arranged appearances, just to test the waters, and then he should be ready to make a more public splash in Society."

"At least now you look the part, Robert."

"I feel like an idiot."

"That's how you know it's fashionable, dear. You should have seen some of the things my Finlay wore in his days as a fop and a dandy. People would complain of eye strain for days after he unveiled a new outfit."

"We need to talk about Finlay," said Robert. "Have you seen him recently? Is he going to make problems over my being the Campbell instead of him? He does have a better claim to the title."

"Trust me, dear, Finlay doesn't want to be the Campbell. He never did. Finlay wouldn't know what to do with responsibility if you nailed it to his forehead. He's always been the most important thing in his life. I had hoped Evangeline might have changed that, but… He came to see me recently. Said he wanted to see the children, which was a first. I'm surprised he could remember their names without prompting."

"How did it go?"

"Badly. I should have known better. He's never been any good with children. Or anyone else, really. But I have to say he seemed even more out of it than usual. I'd be worried about him if I could bring myself to give a damn. I really must contact Evie, see how she's doing. Finlay never did appreciate her. But that can wait. How do you feel now, Robert?"

"Very grateful that you're letting me impose on you. Baxter and I will move out as soon as I can find somewhere—"

"Oh, there's no rush. Besides, you'd probably just move into some squalid little bachelor apartment, and we can't have that. If you're to be a part of Society, you must have a respectable address. The right address always says a great deal about a man. To begin with, I think we'll get you settled in a suite at one of the better hotels."

"Addie, I don't have that kind of money! The Clan has no assets, and while the Navy gave me a nice little bonus on leaving, it hardly amounted to a golden handshake. What I've got won't last long, and it certainly won't stretch to a suite."

"If you're going to be the Campbell, you have to live like the head of a Clan," Adrienne said firmly. "Or no one is going to take you seriously. Don't you worry about money. Once word gets around that you're back, people will be falling over themselves to pay your bills, in return for future favors. Even the banks will extend you open lines of credit in the hope of your future business. Everyone knows that a hell of a lot of money went missing when the Campbells crashed, money that the Wolfes never got their hands on."

"But I haven't got it."

"They don't know that! If anyone asks you about it, just smile and look enigmatic. Let me worry about such things, dear. You just concentrate on looking the part. How are we doing for clothes, Baxter? Is he ready to go out in public yet?"

"There will have to be further fittings for the more formal evening wear, ma'am, but I think we're ready to risk a few carefully controlled appearances. Did you have anyone in mind, ma'am?"

"Well, to start with," said Adrienne, "I thought Constance Wolfe."

"Are you crazy?" said Robert. "The Wolfes destroyed my Family!"

"That was then, this is now," said Adrienne firmly. "A lot's happened since then. Jacob Wolfe was head of the Clan at the time. He's dead now. Valentine is on the run, Daniel is missing, and Stephanie is so far out of favor that she can't even see it from where she is. So Constance, Jacob's young widow, is currently the Wolfe, and head of the Family. And she has very revolutionary ideas about how the Families should behave in the new order. She distrusts Blue Block, supports Parliament, and is very keen to mend fences with old enemies. Go and see her, Robert. Turn on the Campbell charm, make it clear you don't hold her responsible for the excesses of her predecessors, and you might just find her a kindred spirit. She'd make a very strong friend and supporter. And it would demonstrate to all the other Families that you don't feel bound by old feuds and vendettas. You're going to have enough enemies as it is, Robert. Make friends where you can."

"Not back twenty-four hours, and here I am dressed up like a clotheshorse, and contemplating making deals with a Wolfe," said Robert disgustedly. "Some welcome home. But if I have to…"

"You have to," said Adrienne.

Robert looked to Baxter, who nodded solemnly. "It will make an excellent beginning, sir. Not to worry. I shall of course be accompanying you."

"Wonderful," said Robert. "Now I've got a nanny as well as a butler." He glared at Adrienne. "Anything else you think I ought to know?"

"There is one other thing," Adrienne said reluctantly. "Concerning Finlay. You may have to do something about him."

"You just said he didn't want to be the Campbell."

"He doesn't. But… he's been acting even more erratically than usual just recently. Threatening people. He's made a lot of enemies in his time, many of them major players in Society. They might just ask you to deal with Finlay as a price for their support."

"Deal with Finlay? What the hell could I do? He's not going to listen to anything I might say, and even if he did accept me as head of the Clan, I doubt very much he'd accept my authority over him. And I am certainly not stupid enough to try to deal with him myself. Owen Deathstalker might be able to handle him, or Kid Death, but I wouldn't last five minutes against him."

"There are ways," said Adrienne, not looking at him. "In the end, all that matters is the good of the Clan. One man can't be allowed to undermine everything we're hoping to achieve."

"For God's sake, Adrienne, he's your husband. The father of your children. Don't you have any feelings for him?"

"I don't know him anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did."

Robert Campbell sat extremely upright on an antique chair, holding a full cup of tea in one hand and a large chocolate pastry on a plate in the other, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to get either one of them anywhere near his mouth without losing the other. Also, his new coat was uncomfortably tight across the shoulders, his cravat was half strangling him, and his trousers were pinching him in places he didn't even know he had. All in all, this was shaping up to be one hell of a first social call.

His hostess, Constance Wolfe, had the top floor in Tower Wolfe all to herself, and had outfitted it to her personal taste. Which meant thick rugs on the floor, the very latest fashions in furniture, and stuffed, fluffy animals lying everywhere there was a space. Robert felt he could have coped with all that. It was the frankly pornographic murals on the walls that kept throwing him. He'd never seen anything like some of them, and he'd been in the Navy for years. He also had a terrible suspicion that Constance had posed for at least three of them. In which case, she was not only very beautiful but incredibly limber as well. She looked very smart in black, still in mourning for her husband, and every inch the head of her Clan. Robert stared determinedly down at his tea and pastry, and tried to beam telepathic appeals for help to Baxter, before remembering that Constance had banished him from the room, along with all her servants, so he and Constance could speak privately.

He hoped she wasn't going to jump on him. He'd always been rather shy about such things.

There'd been a lot of guards too, but Constance had dismissed them too as a sign of good faith. The two of them were alone together. Robert supposed he ought to get a few guards himself, if only for show. Constance leaned forward in her chair facing him, and he jumped slightly in spite of himself. Tea jumped out of his cup and into the saucer.

"You don't have to eat the pastry if you don't want it," said Constance, smiling. "Or drink the tea. One of the first things you have to learn in social gatherings is the art of saying no gracefully. Otherwise they'll load you down with food till your arms ache. People do so love to show off their chefs."

Robert smiled gratefully, looked around for a nearby table or empty surface, realized there wasn't one, and finally settled for putting cup and plate down on the floor beside his chair. He straightened up, tried surreptitiously to ease his coat and trousers without much success, and smiled slightly desperately at Constance.

"I like your room. It's very… comfortable."

"One of the few joys of living alone is that you don't have to compromise on your personal ideas of comfort," said Constance. "Jacob would have had a fit if I'd done this to his living room while he was still alive. But after he died, I got rid of most of his things as quickly as was decent. Otherwise, everything I saw would have reminded me of him. So I replaced it all with new things, to remind me that I had to make a new life without him. All I kept were a few portraits of him. I keep them in my bedroom, next to my bed, so his face can be the last thing I see at night. That way sometimes I get to dream of him. He was the only man I ever loved, you see, and we only had such a short time together. You understand. You lost someone too, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Robert. "I understand."

"His ghost came back to me once," said Constance, her voice calm and even. "At Court. But it was just a Ghost Warrior. Just his body. Not my Jacob. Poor Daniel went off looking for the Ghost Warrior, convinced his father was still in there somewhere. Daniel always was desperate for his father's approval. Jacob did love his children, in his own way, even Valentine, but they were all disappointments to him. I was going to give him new children, but we never got around to it before he was taken from me, so now I never will. Just another loss to grieve."

"He must have loved you very deeply," said Robert, struggling for the right thing to say.

"I hope so, but I was never really sure. I was a trophy wife, you see, young and beautiful, something to show off at Court and at parties. It was an arranged marriage, although I grew to love him. He was always kind to me, but… he never found it easy to talk about his feelings, even to me. So I was never sure."

"You must find it very difficult being a woman alone, and heading such a large Clan," said Robert, just to be saying something.

"You have no idea," said Constance dryly. "I only got the position by default. I keep it by playing my many enemies off against each other and intriguing morning, noon, and night. As a result, every word I say, and even the smallest of actions, are analyzed endlessly by all concerned to see if they contain crumbs of valuable information. Sometimes I say things entirely at random just to get them worrying. There are always people around me now. Moments of privacy like this are rare. Everyone wants to see me, everyone wants something. You'll find that out for yourself now you're the Campbell."

"Then why not just walk away from it all?" said Robert. "You're not trapped, like me. You're only a Wolfe by marriage, not blood. You could give it all up, and no one could stop you."

"But the Clan is all I have left of Jacob. The one remaining connection to the happy time I shared with him. I owe him a duty not to step down till I can place the Clan in safe hands. That's why I'm marrying Owen Deathstalker."

"I had heard. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"What's he like, really? I've only ever seen him on the holo. Some say he's a hero, some…"

"Say he's a monster. I know. But he seemed very ordinary to me. Quite likable. Even charming in a clumsy sort of way. But he's strong. Thoughtful. He'll make a good constitutional monarch, and as his Queen, our two Families will merge, and I will be able to give up control to him. Can you think of any hands more secure than those of the legendary Owen Deathstalker?"

"Not really, no. But how do you feel about him?"

"He seemed kind. I'll settle for that. I've had one great love in my life. I don't think I could stand to lose another."

"Why did you agree to see me?" said Robert. "You said yourself that you're greatly in demand these days, and I'm not anyone important. Yet. And our Families are mortal enemies. So why me?"

"Because we have a lot in common. We both became head of our Clan much sooner than we ever expected, through the death of a loved one, taking on the responsibility through duty and need. We've both known terrible pain and loss, but it didn't break us. I need someone like you, someone I can talk to, who'll understand. Someone in the Families who isn't afraid of Blue Block."

"Good reasons," said Robert. "As for Blue Block, I don't really know much about them. I was only with them for a short time before my Family took me away and placed me in the Fleet, where they thought I'd be of more use to them. I was never introduced into any of their mysteries or secrets. I never realized they were so widespread, so… powerful."

"Very few did," said Constance, "until it was far too late. I've seen too much evil in the Families, Robert. Too many of us became inbred and corrupt, misusing our power and abusing our privileges. I was one of the few in the Families who actually approved of the rebellion. I saw in the new order a chance to remake the Families as they should be—the best of the best, leading and guarding, not ruling by fear and oppression. But now Blue Block is putting all that at risk. The Clans are so desperate to regain power, they'll do anything Blue Block says to get it. We have no idea of what Blue Block really is now, what they really want. Someone has to stop them, and I can't do it alone. I need allies, people of good heart and true, to whom duty is more than just a word. What do you say, Robert Campbell? Have I found an ally in you?"

"I think perhaps you have, Constance Wolfe. But what can we do to change anything?"

"We can set an example. Show Blue Block we're not afraid of them. If we stand up to be counted, others will join us."

"I don't know about that," said Robert. "In the military, the first man to stand up is usually the first to get his head shot off. But I think you're right in that others might join us if they knew there were others who thought as they did. What about your Family, from before you married Jacob Wolfe? Where do they stand? Would they support us?"

"My Family and I… don't talk anymore," said Constance evenly. "I was the eldest daughter of Clan Devereaux, supposed to attract a suitable young man of lesser stature into the Family to improve the bloodline. Instead I married a Wolfe, joined his Clan, and my bloodline was lost to the Family forever. My father declared that I was dead in his eyes. I haven't spoken with any of my Family since."

"Now, that's a shame," said Robert. "You should try, Constance. They might feel differently about you now, in your current circumstances."

"I have my pride."

"Sometimes pride just gets in the way. The ones we love or admire are always taken from us far too soon, before we get to say all the things we meant to say to them. I lost my parents early, so as I grew older I venerated the head of my clan, Crawford Campbell. He was a god to me. I would have walked through fire for him, if he would only notice me. I always felt guilty that I wasn't there with him in Tower Campbell on the day the Wolfes came. I can't help feeling I might have made a difference. That if I'd been there, fighting at his side, the end result might have been otherwise. I'm probably wrong. Odds are, we would have all died anyway. But sometimes…"

"I know," said Constance. "I understand."

She leaned forward and put a comforting hand on top of his. And as her flesh met his, a moment of electricity sparked between them. Their eyes met, wide and startled, and their hearts were suddenly beating faster in their breasts. They looked deep into each other's eyes, and saw heaven there, waiting for them. And then Constance jerked her hand away, and everything crashed back to normal again. For a moment they just sat in silence, looking at anything but each other. Robert risked a glance at Constance and saw the remains of a hot red flush in her face. His cheeks felt uncomfortably hot too.

"So, how are preparations going for your wedding to the Deathstalker?" he said finally.

"Very well, thank you for asking," said Constance, her voice quite composed. "It's due to take place six months from now. Barring any… complications."

"Of course," said Robert. "You never know when complications are going to arise. You don't love him, do you?"

"No," said Constance. "I don't love him."

"Good," said Robert. Their eyes met again, and this time they smiled at each other as well.

Finlay was still in his quarters under the Arenas when he heard an urgent knocking at his door. He frowned. For someone who was supposed to be in hiding, he was getting a hell of a lot of visitors. He strapped on his sword belt and holster, and went carefully over to the door. He really should have invested in a spy hole or a hidden camera. He listened for a moment, couldn't hear anything, and finally opened the door just a crack. A familiar voice said his name, and then he was pushed back as the weight of the body leaning against the door pushed it open. He grabbed hold of Evangeline as she fell toward him, only just in time to stop her from hitting the floor. She was wrapped in a long crimson sheet, one part of it bulked into a large, unwieldy parcel under one arm. Her face was slack with shock and exhaustion, and spattered with recently dried blood.

Finlay tried to question her, but all she could do was murmur his name over and over again. She was breathing hard, and her eyes weren't tracking properly, and she clung to him with desperate strength. Finlay gave up trying to get any sense out of her, and got her over to the bed, but she would only sit on the edge, not lie down. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and all she wanted to do was hold him. He hugged her in return, trying to reassure her with his presence and calm tone.

"What is it, love? What's happened? You're safe here. You're all right now. What have you got under your arm?"

She still wouldn't or couldn't answer him. He slowly eased out of her grasp, murmuring soothingly all the while, and began unwrapping the bedsheet that enveloped her. And it was only then that he discovered she was naked underneath and splashed with a great deal of still drying blood. He checked her quickly for cuts and wounds, and was only partly reassured to find none of the blood was hers. He eased the package out from under her arm and unwrapped that. Something small and hard fell out onto the floor. It was the hilt of the monofilament knife she'd asked him to get for her. He unwrapped the rest of the bundle and discovered two glass cases containing two severed but still living heads. He was so startled he almost dropped them, but managed to fumble them safely to the floor. Their mouths were moving, but he couldn't hear anything. He turned back to Evangeline, and she giggled almost hysterically at the look on his face. She finally controlled herself with an effort, and spoke to him almost in a whisper.

"The man is Professor Wax. I don't know him. The woman is Penny DeCarlo, my oldest friend. My father was holding them prisoner. I rescued them."

"Your father? You've been to see Gregor Shreck? On your own? What happened? Where did all this blood come from?"

"We talked. And afterward… things got rough."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going?"

"I couldn't! Gregor had been… threatening me. Saying he'd kill Penny if I didn't go back to him. He insisted that I go alone. So I went there, to Tower Shreck, into the belly of the beast. And I found he'd… done that to Penny. So I made Gregor give them both up, and I took them away."

"How the hell did you get him to give them up?"

"I had my monofilament knife. The one you gave me. Such a practical present." She almost laughed again at the expression on Finlay's face. "You're not the only one who knows how to fight. A few guards tried to stop me leaving, so I killed them. It was easy. Gregor's people stopped chasing me after a while, so I came here. I didn't know where else to go."

"Of course you were right to come here, Evie. You'll be safe here. But what happened to your clothes?"

Evangeline gripped his arm fiercely. "Don't ask me that, Finlay. Don't ever ask me that."

"All right, I won't. Calm down. Damn, you did a very brave thing, Evie, but you really should have told me. I would have understood. Did he hurt you? Are you injured anywhere? Should I get you a doctor? If Gregor's hurt you, I'll kill the bastard!"

"No," said Evangeline quickly. "I'm not hurt. I don't need a doctor. I'm all right. Don't fuss, Finlay. Just… let me get my breath back. Now I've freed Penny, Gregor doesn't have any hold over me anymore. Everything's going to be all right now."

"Brave girl," said Finlay, taking her in his arms again and kissing her gently on the top of the head. "My brave girl."

The holoscreen on the wall chimed once, announcing an incoming call. Finlay started to get up to answer it, and Evangeline grabbed his arm with both hands.

"Don't answer it!"

"It's all right, Evie. Only a few trusted people know I'm here. I have to answer it in case it's an emergency."

He freed himself from her grip, smiled reassuringly at her, got up from the bed, and accepted the call. The screen cleared to show the huge, flushed face of Gregor Shreck, half covered by a blood-soaked bandage. For a moment he just stared out of the screen, taking in Finlay and Evangeline together. His mouth was trembling and twitching, and his single eye was very bright.

"What do you want, Shreck?" said Finlay. "And how did you find me here?"

"My people followed Evie all the way home. She thought she lost them." Gregor's voice was strained and high-pitched, but full of venom. "Told you all about her little adventure at Tower Shreck, has she? But what hasn't she been telling you, eh, Campbell? What about the things she never told you, the secrets she kept from you all this time? Shall I tell you all about your darling little cloned copy, hmm?"

"I know she's a clone," said Finlay coldly. "And I know you murdered the original. We have no secrets, Evangeline and I."

"Oh, but you do, you do, dear boy. I guarantee it. I'll bet she never told you how much I loved her, or exactly how I loved her. Oh, I loved her dearly and well and very often. In fact, I took her to my bed and loved her morning, noon, and night, as hard as I could. And she loved it."

"No!" said Evangeline. "No!"

"You bastard!" screamed Finlay, his face bright red with rage. "You bastard!"

"I bedded her, Campbell, long before you ever did. She was Daddy's girl, and did whatever Daddy told her to do. And we did all kinds of things. Things she probably never did for you. She'll always be mine, Campbell, because she was mine first. That's what I had her made for. I'm going to take her back from you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I'll kill you!" said Finlay, fighting for breath against the pain in his chest. "I'll kill you! Kill you!"

Gregor laughed at him, and Finlay drew his gun and shot out the viewscreen. Gregor's face shattered, and the screen fell in pieces to the floor. Smoke rose from the machine's guts. After that it was very quiet, apart from Evangeline sobbing on the bed. Finlay stood there, the gun still in his hand, trying to think what to do next, but Gregor's hateful words filled his head to the exclusion of everything else. He never doubted the truth of them. It was the kind of thing Gregor Shreck would do. He finally put away the gun and turned slowly to look at Evangeline. She stopped her tears by an effort of will, and looked back at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" said Finlay.

"Because I knew you'd react like this. Because I knew you'd be angry and hurt. Because I thought if you knew… you might leave me. That you wouldn't feel the same about me anymore."

"You never… cared for Gregor?"

"Of course not! I was his property! I had no choice. I either did what he said, or he'd kill me and make another clone who would. I did what I had to, to survive."

"I'm going to kill him," said Finlay. "There aren't enough guards in this world to keep me from him. You stay here, and lock the door after me. Don't open it till I come back. And maybe I'll bring you back Gregor's head wrapped in a bedsheet."

"No, Finlay! That's why he contacted you, told you what he did. It has to be a trap!"

"Of course it's a trap. But that won't stop me."

"You can't just kill him, Finlay. It isn't like the old days, during the rebellion, when you had the protection of the underground. The war is over; they'd call it murder, and no one would speak for you. They'd hang you as a common killer."

"Let them try," said Finlay. "Evie, how could you keep something like this from me? We swore we'd have no secrets between us. How could you not tell me something as important as this? Didn't you trust me?"

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk about keeping secrets, Finlay Campbell! Are you ever going to tell Julian Skye the truth? That the man he admires so much is the same Masked Gladiator who killed his brother, Auric?"

"That's different!" said Finlay. And then he stopped, hearing a strained noise behind him. He looked around, and there, standing in the open doorway, was Julian Skye. The young esper's face was bone white, but his dark eyes were fixed steadily on Finlay's.

"Julian…"

"You should have told me, Finlay. When we first met, you should have told me. How could you do such a thing?"

"I killed a lot of people in the Arena," said Finlay. "While I was the second Masked Gladiator. Auric was just one of them. I never knew he was your brother till after we'd become friends. And I never told you then because I knew how much it would hurt you."

"And the Masked Gladiator I killed during the rebellion?"

"That was Georg McCrackin, the first man to wear the mask. He was my teacher. I inherited the role from him."

"So I killed an innocent man."

"He stood with the Empress! He would never have surrendered. He would have killed you."

"An innocent man. You bloody bastard. Did you think it was funny? Did you have a good laugh at the brother of the man you murdered trotting at your heels like a puppy?"

"No, Julian! It was never like that!"

"I'm going away for a while. I don't want you to call me. I'll contact you when I've decided what I'm going to do. When I've decided whether or not I'm going to kill you."

He turned and left, and Finlay wanted to run after him but didn't. There was nothing he could say now that wouldn't just make things worse. He stood silently in the middle of his room, in the ruins of his world. In the space of a few minutes he'd lost his friend and perhaps his love, the only things that really mattered to him. He wanted to go out and kill Gregor, and seek solace in slaughter, but he couldn't. Not now, with so many matters left unresolved. So he went back to the bed, sat down beside the sobbing Evangeline, and took her in his arms and comforted her as best he could.

And let the bloody red rage simmer in his heart.

In the best suite that the best hotel in the Parade of the Endless had to offer, BB Chojiro reclined peacefully on the huge bed while Cardinal Brendan brought her up to date on the latest news. BB enjoyed a little luxury now and again, and saw no point in denying herself just to save her Clan a few pennies. Besides, the people she had to deal with expected to see and meet her in the same kind of surroundings they enjoyed. It was necessary they perceive her as at least their equal, or they wouldn't strike deals with her. She realized Brendan had stopped talking, and turned her head lazily on the pillow to look at him.

"Yes? Is there a problem?"

"No. I was just wondering… how did you get to be the official spokesperson for Blue Block? I'd never even heard of you before the rebellion."

BB Chojiro smiled. "I am spokesperson because Blue Block wants it that way. Which is really all you need to know. But, vanity, vanity, thy name is woman, so it pleases me to inform you that I am the end result of extensive planning and programming, designed for just this task. I am the voice of Blue Block. My thoughts are those that Blue Block gave me."

"But then… how much of you is left?" said Brendan. "I mean, the real you. The original BB Chojiro?"

"Ah," said BB. "You'd be surprised. Let's just say, more than you'd think. But it doesn't matter. Their interests are mine and vice versa."

"But why…"

"Did they choose me, out of all the subjects at their command? They've never told me. Genetics, presumably. They had my parents killed when I was very young, and took me away from my Clan so that I would have no ties or loyalties to anyone but them. I never knew a Family, or what it could be, so I can't honestly say I lost anything. Blue Block is my father and mother, and all my brothers and sisters too. They made me what I am today."

"And who are They?" said Brendan. "I've only ever been on the edges. The mysteries are closed to me. Who is this They that runs everything?"

"Ah," said BB, smiling up at the ceiling. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Cardinal Brendan sighed quietly. He should have known better than to expect a straight answer from BB Chojiro. "So, where are we going next?" he asked, moving on to the safer ground of the day's business. "We've been through everyone on my list, but you had me leave the rest of the evening free."

"So I did," said BB. "I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen now. Several trains of events have been set in motion. The only certainty is that somewhen this evening, several important members of Blue Block will be journeying here to discuss forming an alliance with Jack Random."

"What? You have got to be kidding! What could he possibly have in common with us?"

"Simple. He's a Chojiro."

Brendan just stared at her for a moment. "Jack Random is a Chojiro!"

"You didn't really think his name was Random, did you? His mother was a part of my Clan. His father was no one important. What matters is that Jack has blood connections to a major Family, at a time when he feels more isolated than at any other time in his life. And however far we stray, Family is still Family. If we could persuade him to join with us, the legendary professional rebel and hero, the man who made the deal with Blue Block…"

"It's risky," said Brendan. "Too risky. He may be politically isolated at the moment, but he's still a man of power and influence. And on top of all that, he's one of the Maze people. Whatever they are."

"They are the future," said BB. "Whoever controls them, or can remove them from the playing field, will control the fate of Humanity. However, the Maze people may be powerful, but they all have their weaknesses. Jack Random will succumb to the comforts of Family, of belonging. Ruby Journey needs action, and a direction if not a cause; she's incapable of running her own life, and needs to feel needed. Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d'Ark… are a problem. Together they are greater than the sum of their parts, so it is in our best interests to separate them. Turn them against each other, setting his idealism against her practicality, and they might well destroy each other."

"Whatever happens, we have to prevent the forthcoming marriage between Owen and Constance Wolfe," said Brendan. "Owen as Emperor, even just a constitutional Emperor, is unthinkable."

"Not necessarily," said BB, stretching lazily. "If we can't destroy him, we can always manipulate him. More important, we have to remove Finlay Campbell from the board. It's vital that Robert be installed unopposed as the Campbell."

"I've set things in motion," said Brendan. "All we have to do is wait. But I don't see that Robert's going to be any improvement as the Campbell. The word is he has no love for aristocrats in general, and Blue Block in particular."

"But he was Blue Block for a time, and once you are ours, you are ours forever. When the time comes, he'll do the right thing. He won't be able to help himself."

The viewscreen on the wall chimed politely, and Brendan went to answer it. Julian Skye's gaunt face appeared on the screen, and BB quickly lay down again, to ensure Julian couldn't see her. He looked tired, and his eyes were suspiciously puffy as he glared out of the screen at Brendan.

"I want to speak to BB. Now."

"I'm sorry, Julian. She doesn't want to talk to you. Not until you've proved your love and your loyalty to her."

"I can deliver Finlay Campbell. If that's what she wants."

"That's… good news, Julian. I'm sure BB will be very glad to hear that. How soon…"

"Very soon. But I'll only deliver him to BB. In person."

"I'm sure that can be arranged. Contact me again when you're ready to make delivery, and I'll give you a time and place. BB will be there, waiting for you."

"Tell her… tell her I love her."

"Of course I will. You're doing the right thing, Julian. Take care with Finlay, he's…"

But Julian had already broken contact. Brendan stared at the blank screen, and then turned to BB as she got up off the bed and came over to join him.

"Well," said Brendan, "that was unexpected. I hadn't foreseen complete and utter capitulation for days yet."

"He loves me," said BB. "My dear, sweet, vulnerable Julian. He always said he'd do anything for me."

"Even betray his friends?"

"Of course. What are friends for?"

"But can we trust him to keep his word? You betrayed him to the torturers. You stand for everything he hates."

"None of that matters. He belongs to me. It should have been his more malleable older brother, Auric. He would have been far more useful to us. But he insisted on fighting that stupid duel in the Arena and was lost to us. Julian was second choice, but to be fair, he's come much further on his own than I ever thought he would. Another official hero of the rebellion could be very useful to us…"

"Do you really think he'd kill his closest friend? His savior? Even for you?"

"Probably not. More likely he'll bring me Finlay alive but helpless, and make all kinds of conditions before his conscience will allow him to hand Finlay over. It doesn't matter. One way or another, we'll get what we want."

"Poor Julian," said Brendan, smiling. "Already out of his depth and sinking fast. Almost makes you feel sorry for him, doesn't it?"

BB looked at him coolly. "Are you asking if I have any feelings for him? Of course I do. I'm only human, after all."

"Really?" said Brendan. "I thought you were Blue Block."

Evangeline sat stiffly on the edge of the bed in Finlay's quarters, still wrapped in her bedsheet. Finlay was sitting in a chair opposite her, scowling darkly. They'd been trying to talk, but not getting anywhere. Talking had never been what Finlay did best. The backup viewscreen chimed suddenly, and Finlay had to think hard for a moment to remember where it was. He'd never had to use it before. He finally found the small screen in the headboard of the bed and accepted the call. Julian Skye's face appeared on the small screen, and Finlay gave a small sound of relief.

"Julian! I was worried. How are you? Are you all right? Listen…"

"We need to talk, Finlay."

"Of course we do! Look, I can't leave Evie just now. Why don't you—"

"We have to talk now, Finlay. Come over to my town house. I can't leave. I can't risk being seen. You have to come here. It's important. My old esper contacts have turned up a connection between Gregor Shreck and the Chojiros. They're working with Blue Block on some kind of scheme. I tried to contact Jack Random, but no one knows where he is. You're the only other person I can trust with this."

"Yeah, right. Shit. Some days everything happens at once. All right, stay where you are. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Sure, Finlay. See you."

The screen went dead. Finlay turned away to see Evangeline looking at him in disbelief. "You're not seriously thinking of going, are you?"

"I have to," said Finlay. "I need to talk to him, to explain… you saw the state of him when he left. I'm worried he might do something… stupid. I won't be long."

"What about me? Don't I matter? I don't want to be left alone, Finlay!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Finlay!"

"Evie, I have to do this. The Chojiro stuff might be nothing, just an excuse to reach out to me, but I can't afford to assume that. If he's right, I've got to contact a whole bunch of people… Evie, you know I wouldn't leave you unless I had to."

"You're always leaving me, Finlay. Rushing off to kill someone, to be the hero one more time. It's always about what you need. What about what I need?"

"You're safe here. No one can get to you, not past Arena security. I have to go. This is important."

"And I'm not?"

"I didn't say that!"

"If it's so important, I'm coming with you."

"Evie, you can't. You're in no condition to go anywhere. And I think Julian and I need to be alone for this. You get some rest. I'll be back soon, I promise."

"Finlay, if you leave me now, I won't be here when you get back. I mean it, Finlay."

He left anyway, as both of them had known he would. Finlay Campbell never could turn down a call to action.

Back in his old home once again, Julian Skye turned away from the deactivated viewscreen. He felt cold and empty and very tired. Only a few days ago his life had made sense. It had been ordered, secure, even routine. Now everything he'd ever cared for was gone. Everything but BB Chojiro. But there wasn't time to feel sad, or sorry. There were things he had to do, preparations that had to be made, before Finlay arrived.

Julian moved over to the low wooden table by the fire, and picked up the small silver casket waiting there. Its lid held the Family crest. His father had used it as a snuffbox. Julian had used it for other purposes, back in his rebel days. He opened the casket and took out a single black capsule, almost as big as his fingernail. He hefted it in his hand for a moment, and then went looking for a glass of wine. Something that size was going to be hard to swallow, and he'd always had trouble with pills. But he managed it eventually, with the aid of a glass and a half of wine, and a certain amount of straining. It felt decidedly uncomfortable going down, but he was beyond caring about things like that.

A single black capsule. Just a little something to hold him together while he talked with BB Chojiro. He hoped he wouldn't need it, but there was always the chance he would.

He went and sat down in the parlor, and waited for Finlay to arrive. It took just under an hour, and when the doorbell rang, Julian was still sitting there. He hadn't moved. He went to answer the door himself. He'd given the servants the rest of the evening off. He didn't want any witnesses. He opened the front door to Finlay, and the two of them nodded awkwardly to each other. Julian led the way back to his parlor. They sat down on facing chairs before the banked fire and looked at each other.

"I never meant for you to find out," said Finlay. "I knew it would hurt you."

"You killed my brother, Auric."

"Yes, I did. I killed a lot of people in the Arena."

"He fought well. You could have just wounded him. The crowd would have turned up their thumbs for him."

"He fought too well. He'd had armor implanted under his skin, servomechanisms in his muscles. I really thought he was going to kill me. So I stopped him with a sword thrust to the only part of him that wasn't armored: his eye."

"You were the Masked Gladiator. Undefeated Champion of the Arena. You could have found a way to defeat him without killing him if you'd wanted to."

"Maybe. I don't know. There isn't time to think about things like that in the Arena. It's kill or be killed. Your brother knew that."

"Auric. His name was Auric."

"What do you want me to say, Julian? That I'm sorry? All right, I'm sorry I killed your brother, Auric. But you and I killed a lot of people in the rebellion, some of them just guards or soldiers doing their job, their duty as they saw it. They were all someone's brother. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you, Julian. But there's nothing I can do about it."

"I know," said Julian. "I'm sorry too. But sometimes sorry isn't enough."

He reached out with his esp and shut down Finlay's mind. The Campbell toppled forward from his chair and lay still on the carpet. Julian stood up and looked down at his friend's body, and did his best to feel nothing at all. The door opened, and three operatives from Blue Block came in, from where they'd been waiting in the next room. The leader looked down at Finlay's still form.

"Is he dead?"

"No," said Julian. "Just sleeping. Pick him up and carry him out. And treat him courteously. He was a great man once."

The three operatives from Blue Block dropped Finlay's unconscious body onto the floor at BB Chojiro's feet. He lay still, barely breathing, his sword belt and holster gone, one arm falling limply away from his body as though outstretched in supplication to BB. She studied his body for a moment, then looked up to smile at Julian Skye, standing a little to one side. He didn't smile back, but nodded to her.

"Hello, BB. It's been a while, hasn't it? I like your suite. Very airy. I brought you a present. A little something."

"Hello, Julian. It's good to see you again. You always were very generous to me. I hope you had no trouble getting to see me."

"I could have lived without the strip search and the probing fingers, but I can understand your need for security. You have a lot of enemies these days, BB."

"Successful people always do. You're looking very pale, Julian. Have you been looking after yourself properly?"

"I've not been well. The rebellion took a lot out of me. It'll pass."

"Good. I've seen all your holo shows. Very dramatic. I understand you're quite the heartthrob these days."

"Oh, sure. I even have an official fan club. I can get you an autographed photo if you like."

"So," said BB. "Is there anyone… special in your life at present?"

"No," said Julian. "You know there isn't. There's only ever been you, BB. You ruined me for anyone else. That's why I'm here. Why I brought you Finlay. To show the depths of my feelings for you."

"Dear Julian. There's never been anyone but you in my life either. I never wanted anyone else. We belong together."

"Get rid of the shadows," said Julian, indicating the three Blue Block operatives hovering silently in the background. "We don't need an audience."

BB gestured at them, and the three faceless men nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind them. BB and Julian stood looking at each other over Finlay's unconscious body, and there was a yearning look in both of their faces that might or might not have been real.

"You're so beautiful," said Julian. "You're all I ever wanted. I would have laid down my life for you."

"Why are you here, Julian?" said BB, her voice very small and very quiet. "After all the terrible things I did to you."

"I don't know. I'm still not sure whether I ought to kiss you or kill you. You hurt me, BB. I trusted you, and you ripped the heart right out of me."

"I know. I had no choice. I've belonged to Blue Block since I was a small child. They were my life, my everything. I could no more reject their programming than I could choose to stop breathing. I loved you, but they made me give you up. I cried for days."

"Did you, BB? Did you really? I cried in the interrogation cells, but no one came to wipe away my tears. I haven't cried since. I don't think I have it in me anymore."

"Why are you here, Julian? What do you want from me?"

"I had to come. And you know what I want. I want things to be the way they used to be. When we were in love, and so happy, and we thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together."

"I want that too, Julian. Whoever and whatever I've been, there's always been someone in me who loved you. We can be together again now you've proved your love. Blue Block won't stand between us this time. They want us to be together. They've planned a great future for us. We can marry, and you'll become part of Clan Chojiro. We'll forget the past, and the pain, and nothing will ever part us. I'll be yours forever, and you'll be mine. It's not so bad being in Blue Block. We can be happy together. All it will take is one last proof of your feelings. All you have to do for Blue Block, for me, is kill our enemy, Finlay Campbell."

Julian looked at her and then looked down at the unconscious body on the floor between them. "I always thought it might come down to that. Choose between my love for you and my love for my friend. And I wondered what I was going to do when we finally got to this point. I never stopped loving you, BB. You were my first love and my first woman, and nothing can change that. But I've been through a lot. I see things more clearly now. And I know you'd say whatever it took to get me to do what you want. Truth and lies are all the same to you, because the only thing in your life that really matters to you is Blue Block. They own you, body and soul. It's not your fault. Not really. But you don't love me. You never did. I don't think you have it in you."

"You're wrong, Julian. You're so wrong. There's more to me than just my programming." There were tears glistening in her eyes now. "Blue Block shaped my mind, but my heart is still my own. We can be happy together. We can."

"No. If you really loved me, you wouldn't ask me to kill my friend."

"Then don't," said BB. "Let him live. You're more important to me than the death of an enemy."

She held out her arms to him, and he stumbled forward into them. Julian hugged her to him, his head resting on top of hers. He breathed in the subtle scent of her hair, and she was so soft and wonderful in his arms. And then BB drew the long, thin dagger hidden in her sleeve and thrust it expertly between his ribs. He cried out in shock and pain, his arms closing around her like a vice. BB relaxed in his dying embrace and smiled into his face, so close to hers.

"Sorry, my darling. But you were always too dangerous to be allowed to run free. If you had only bound yourself to me, allowed me to rein you to Blue Block, we could have been so happy together. But I always suspected you were too honorable a man for that. Poor Julian, didn't you know there's no honor left in the world you helped to make?"

Julian smiled at her, and his teeth were red with blood. He was breathing harshly, and a mist of fine red droplets sprayed with his every breath, speckling BB's face with horrid freckles. She didn't flinch. Julian still held her tightly, but she knew the strength would go out of his arms soon. Julian lowered his face to hers. He wanted to be sure she heard what she had to say.

"I knew… there was no honor in you, BB. Wake up, Finlay."

He reached out to Finlay with his esp, and the body on the floor was suddenly wide awake again. Finlay surged to his feet, reaching for a sword at his side that wasn't there anymore. He glared about him, saw Julian holding BB, and then saw the knife in his side.

"Julian, what—"

"You're in Tower Chojiro," Julian said painfully. "Get out of here, Finlay. I'm holding the doors shut with my esp to keep the guards out. You'll have to use the window."

He flexed his mind, and the steelglass window exploded outward, leaving a wide opening through which a wind blew, cold as death. Finlay started toward Julian.

"I'm not leaving you here! You're hurt!"

"I'm dying, Finlay! I forgive you everything. You were always my friend. Now get the hell out of here. I've got a bomb in my belly."

BB gasped, and tried to pull free of him, but his arms held her like bars of iron. Finlay saw the truth in the dying man's face and threw himself out the shattered window. BB kicked and struggled, screaming for help. Julian held her to him, laughing and crying as he sent the esp signal to the black capsule he'd swallowed earlier.

When the bomb went off it killed them both instantly, and blew out the whole top floor of Tower Chojiro.

Finlay Campbell didn't know he was on the top floor of Tower Chojiro, thirty stories up, until after he'd jumped. He fell the first few stories in a state of shock, and then the top floor exploded, snapping him out of it. All the windows blew out at once, and thick black smoke billowed from where the windows had been. Sharp-edged steelglass shrapnel flew past him, cutting him here and there, as he reached down and struggled to pull back the heel of his right boot. Inside was the coil of climbing wire he'd used in his old assassin days, during the rebellion. He'd always believed in being prepared. Guards might take your sword and gun, but they rarely took your boots till after you were dead. Julian knew about the boot heel. Finlay had told him enough stories about it. Julian. Julian was dead. Finlay squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then pushed the thought aside. He'd mourn later, when he had time. Assuming there was a later.

He threw the grapnel on the end of the wire at the side of the Tower, and it snagged on an ornamental outcropping. He wrapped the other end of the line around both his fists and braced himself. The line snapped taut, straining his arms and biting deep enough into his hands to draw blood. Finlay gritted his teeth and used his remaining momentum to swing him into the side of the Tower. A moment later he was clinging to the wall like an old friend, flexing his aching hands one at a time, trying to get his breath back. He couldn't break his way in, so he'd have to climb the rest of the way down. He looked cautiously down and counted twenty-one stories. He shook his head slowly. He was getting too old for this shit.

It took him over an hour to reach the ground, descending carefully foot by foot, avoiding the notice of the Tower guards. Luckily the explosion had taken out the Tower's exterior sensors, and the guards were all inside, trying to put out the fire on what was left of the top floor. Finlay dropped the last few feet, hitting the ground hard. The solid support felt good under his feet. He looked back up the way he'd come. The top of Tower Chojiro was lost in smoke and flames. Julian's funeral pyre. Finlay still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but he could guess. He'd always known BB Chojiro would be the death of Julian.

Finlay sighed and decided the time had come to kill Gregor Shreck. He might as well. Everything he cared about had been taken from him. He'd lost his closest friend, Julian. He'd lost all hope of contact with Adrienne and the children. And he'd lost Evangeline too, by walking out on her when she needed him the most. No, he was alone now, and free to do what he should have done a long time ago. The law wouldn't understand. Nor would his former friends and comrades in the rebellion. They'd call him a killer, a renegade, and band together to hunt him down. But none of that mattered. All that mattered now was punishing Gregor Shreck for all the pain and horror he was responsible for. Finlay nodded, once, and then strode away from the burning Tower.

Gregor should have known. The most dangerous man of all is the man with nothing left to lose.

He'd never given up his weapons when the rebellion ended. He'd always thought he might need them again someday. Just in case the new order didn't work out. He had stashed them in a secure lockup in a part of the city where no one asked questions, and kept their existence a secret. Even Evangeline didn't know about them. She would never have approved. A taxi took Finlay to them in under a half hour. He stopped the driver well short of the destination, tipped him enough not to remember who his fare had been, and walked the rest of the way.

He stopped before the plain steel door and carefully checked all his hidden telltales were still secure. None of them had been triggered. His secret was still safe. He opened the locking system with his thumb print and voice code, and nodded, satisfied, to see all his old friends just where he'd left them. Blades, axes, energy guns, projectile weapons, grenades, and all the other useful little items he'd acquired during his time as an assassin. There was enough firepower here to take out a small army, and that was just what he intended to do.

He put on full body armor first. Next came a force-shield bracelet around his left wrist and a sword belt around his waist. The weight of the sword on his hip was reassuring, like coming home. On his other hip, a holster carrying a fully charged disrupter. He slipped a projectile pistol into the back of his belt. He had something special in mind for that. Finally two bandoliers of assorted grenades, shrapnel and concussion and incendiary, crossing his chest and back. Finlay stamped back and forth about the lockup for a while, getting used to the new weight. His plan was very simple. He was going to walk in the front door of Tower Shreck and kill everyone he saw until he got to Gregor Shreck.

And that was what he did. As a plan, it worked surprisingly well. The security in Tower Shreck, as in most of the pastel towers, was mainly concerned with warding off attacks from the air, by gravity sleds, or on the ground, by massive armed forces. They weren't prepared for a single, cold-eyed, cold-hearted killer who no longer cared whether he lived or died. Finlay walked up to the guards by the main door, shot the first one in the face, and cut the throat of the other. A shaped charge from his bandolier blew the main door in. He tossed a shrapnel grenade into the lobby, waited till it had gone off and the screams began, and then stalked into the smoke-filled chamber and cut down the few people the grenade hadn't finished off. Finlay dropped an incendiary to start a distracting fire and made his way up the stairs to the next floor. He wasn't dumb enough to use the elevator.

Guards came running down the stairs, and he killed them all, making his way steadily up the stairwell, stopping at each floor to toss around grenades and incendiaries. Those who didn't die in the blasts were soon preoccupied with trying to escape the building fires and smoke. Sprinkler systems did their best, but had never been designed to cope with anything like this. There were always more guards, and Finlay killed them all, except for those with sense enough to turn and run when they saw death coming.

Finlay's sword arm began to ache, and the blood that dripped from his armor was sometimes his own now, but he didn't care. He was doing what he was born to do, and doing it well. His force shield deflected energy weapons, and in the narrow stairwell the guards could come at him only a few at a time, and that wasn't enough to stop him, not nearly enough. He stepped over the bodies and kept going.

He'd set fires in half the floors of the Tower by now. Thick black smoke was drifting up the stairwell after him. He could hear screaming and panicking and the screeching of alarm sirens, and it was all music to his ears. Let Tower Shreck burn. He wasn't planning on going back down again.

And finally Gregor ran out of guards. Their impressive-looking armor wasn't much use in close-quarter fighting, and with the Tower burning up all around them, most decided they weren't being paid enough to deal with this madman and took to their heels. Finlay carried on up the stairwell, sometimes coughing from the smoke, but not slowing down. He came to the top floor of the Tower and made his way down the deserted corridor, kicking open doors till he came to the reinforced door that led into Gregor's private chambers. Finlay blew in the door with a shaped charge, and strode through the smoke into Gregor's bloodred womb of a room.

Gregor was sitting on his huge rose-petal bed, clutching the sheets defensively around him. Half his oversize face was hidden behind a blood-soaked bandage, and Finlay smiled briefly. Evangeline had done well. But standing beside the bed, gun in hand, was a tall, slender figure, dressed all in black to show off his pale skin and delicate features. Valentine Wolfe. Finlay laughed softly, a disturbing, not altogether sane sound. Gregor flinched. Valentine didn't.

"Well, well," said Finlay. "It's all my birthdays come at once. The two men I hate most together in one room. There is a God, and he is good."

"You and I have never had much to do with Him," said Valentine easily. "We've always served a much darker master. But your timing is impeccable, as always. I came here to make an alliance with Gregor, on certain delicate issues that needn't concern you, and you choose this very evening to pursue your somewhat delayed vengeance. Well, I can't allow you to interfere, Finlay, so I'm afraid you're going to have to die."

Finlay laughed, and it was an ugly sound. Gregor whimpered, and Valentine moved forward to stand between him and Finlay. He put away his gun and drew his sword.

"I've heard many tales of your swordsmanship, Campbell. Let's see how good you really are. Man to man, blade to blade—let's finish what we started in Tower Campbell so long ago. What do you say?"

"I don't have time for this," said Finlay, and shot Valentine Wolfe through the chest with his disrupter. The energy beam punched through Valentine's chest and exploded out his back, throwing the Wolfe to the floor. Finlay sniffed once and turned to Gregor, who snarled soundlessly at him. Finlay strode forward, putting away his sword and gun, and grabbed Gregor by the shirt front with both hands. He hauled the huge distended body out of bed and threw Gregor on the floor. Flames from Valentine's burning clothes had set alight some of the surrounding furnishings, and the flames were spreading. The heat and flickering light and shadows added a suitably hellish touch to the proceedings. Finlay looked down at Gregor.

"You hurt Evangeline. You're a murderer, and a traitor, and a symbol of everything that's corrupt in the Families and in the Empire. The world will smell better when you're gone. Don't waste my time with threats or warnings. Your guards aren't coming, and I don't care what happens after I'm through with you. All that matters is that you suffer as you made my Evie suffer. I'm going to make you hurt so bad that when you finally die and get to Hell, the fires of the Pit will seem like a release."

He reached around his back and pulled the projectile weapon out from under his belt. He'd saved it especially for this moment. It was a simple handgun, with eight bullets. He took aim at Gregor's left knee and pulled the trigger. The kneecap shattered immediately under the bullet's impact, and Gregor screamed shrilly, clutching his bloody leg with both fat hands, as though they could force the kneecap back together. Finlay aimed carefully and shot out the other kneecap with his second bullet. Gregor screamed again, flailing his arms as though appealing for help that wasn't there. Finlay raised the gun and shot out Gregor's left elbow. Blood and splintered bone flew on the air, and the forearm swung back and forth at an unnatural angle. Finlay fired again, taking out the right elbow, and the right forearm was almost torn away by the impact.

Gregor was screaming steadily now, barely stopping to suck in new breath between each scream. His eyes bulged, and his mouth stretched impossibly wide. Finlay took his time aiming, and shot Gregor in his grossly distended stomach, just above the navel. This time the impact had a soft, muffled sound. Gregor howled like an animal. Finlay shot him in the groin, and blood spurted high up into the air. Gregor screamed and howled his sanity away, and still couldn't hide from the awful, horrible pain.

Finlay stood and listened for a while, smiling his death's-head grin. Half the chamber was on fire now. He looked around for Valentine, but there was no sign of the body anywhere. The Wolfe must have crawled away to die. He wouldn't get far with half his chest shot away. Finlay turned back to Gergor, still screaming like a soul newly damned to Hell.

"This is for you, Evie," Finlay murmured, and put a bullet through each of Gregor's eyes, blowing the back of his head away.

Finlay Campbell lowered the empty gun and looked down on the dead body of his enemy. It comforted him. The flames were all around him, and no doubt sweeping through all the floors below. There were no windows in Gregor's private quarters, no way out. He could hear explosions everywhere. The Tower wouldn't last much longer. Finlay looked calmly around him. And wondered what he would do next.