Worlds of Honor

"We don't have much evidence," Chou cautioned. "What we have is closer to the negative space in a sculpture—something that helps define what is there but is nothing in itself. A good defense council would laugh us right out of courts."

"What do we do next?"

"Di

Justin nodded. "Let's go then. I'll let you to pick a place where we won't attract attention."

"I know just the place," Chou promised.

"Some super spy hangout?" Justin tried to joke, but his voice sounded flat even to him.

"Something like that," Chou said. "I was thinking of my apartment. I'm not a bad cook."

"Let's go, then."

They put away both the pieces of the shattered grav ski and the undamaged ski before they left.

"We haven't found much," Chou said, looking into the room as he dimmed the light and closed the door. "But it's a begi

In a suite in a private hotel so committed to discretion that few people even knew it existed, Marvin Seltman and Jean Marrou watched the news service coverage of the first night of King Roger's wake.

"Look at them!" Seltman almost snarled. "Most of them actively opposed the King, many of them probably raised a private toast when the word of his death came, but to see them weeping you would assume they'd lost their dearest friend."

Jean Marrou turned her blind face toward the news screen. A small implant beneath one ear let her tune into special detailed commentary. The narration told her which august personages were paying their last respects to King Roger III of Manticore.

Tonight was reserved for the cream of the peerage. The new Queen and her family were present to greet them and accept their condolences. Tomorrow the lesser nobles and important commoners would be admitted—including the elected members of the House of Commons.

"I wonder if the Queen will be present when we attend tomorrow's viewing?" she said.

"Don't tell me you can't wait to meet her!" Seltman snapped.

"I have already met her," Marrou said. "She seemed like a nice child. No, I was not anticipating meeting a celebrity. I was wondering about her treecat."

"Her treecat?" Seltman spoke the word as if he could not believe that he had heard aright.

"Yes, studies show that they have a marked telempathic sense. No doubt it's strongest with those humans they bond with, but I understand that they can `read' others as well."

"And?"

"And I was wondering if Queen Elizabeth's 'cat might be able to read us—what we've done."

"They're telempaths, not telepaths," Seltman corrected. "They read vague emotions, not thoughts. Any treecat attending the viewing is going to be so overwhelmed by strong emotions that any inadvertent hostility we let leak out will be part of the flood."

"I hope so."

"In any case," Seltman continued. "I feel no hostility at all towards our little Queen. I feel nothing but a great deal of affection. If our plan works, she is going to be our ticket to advancement."

"And to protecting the Kingdom from adverse out-system influence," Marrou said woodenly.

"Exactly, Jean, exactly," Seltman soothed. "The others should be here soon. I wonder what rumors they will have picked up? The Queen's nominee for Regent is going to be a

Marrou touched the implant. "We should know fairly soon. Earl Howell just departed. Paula should be on her way."

"She wasn't high enough ranking for tonight's little gathering," Seltman said, "but she was going to visit with some of the ambitious young turks. They'll have an entirely different line than Howell's."

They fell into silence then. To be completely honest, neither particularly liked the other. Jean Marrou found Marvin Seltman ambitious and coarse. Seltman distrusted Marrou as a fanatic whose dreams would ultimately come to ruin. Still, for now each believed that the other was useful.

Earl Howell arrived first, Lady Gwi

As he took his seat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, Howell looked haggard. Seltman, deferential as always (although privately he found the older man's lack of backbone disturbing), poured him a snifter of Gryphon cognac. By contrast, Gwi

"Earl Howell," Seltman said after all were settled with drinks and a plate of delicacies had been in everyone's reach, "perhaps you could tell us about the viewing."

He wanted to scream "Did you learn anything!" but knew the Crown Loyalist needed to be handled with extreme delicacy.

"The King's body was laid out very tastefully," Howell began, as if by dealing with inconsequential matters he could work his way toward the difficult material. "And his widow and children were in attendance. They seemed quite distraught, but the Queen Mother spoke kindly to me and the young Queen offered her hand, saying that my loyalty to the Crown had come to her attention and she would remember it."

Howell's voice broke.

"How sweet of the little Duchess of Basilisk," Gwi

At another time, her approach might have been heavy-handed, but this time it was perfect. Howell stiffened, sipped his cognac, and much of the exhaustion dropped from his features to be replaced by something rather like hope.

"Perhaps we will not need to concern ourselves for much longer with the question of what titles go with that improperly a

He paused until everyone had nodded.

" . . . that the Queen is seriously considering a member of our Party for her Regent's council and that, if he were asked . . ."

"Which he will be," Gwi

Howell raised a chiding eyebrow, " . . . that I will be his first choice."

"Congratulations," Seltman said. "This also means that you would be considered as a candidate for Regent as well. Do you have any idea who the Queen will be nominating tomorrow?"

Blind Jean Marrou raised a hand for attention. "May I hazard a guess?"

Seltman was taken aback. Marrou had been with him all evening and had admitted when they met that she had no idea who the candidate would be. Had she been holding out on him? However, her almost unca

He glanced at the others, saw some reflection of his thoughts in their expressions, and gri

"Certainly, Jean. Who do you believe will be nominated as Regent?"

"Normally, I would not hazard a guess based only on listening to news commentary," she began, clearly enjoying the moment, "but tonight I had the distinct impression that the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Jacob Wundt, is her choice."

Both Howell and Seltman gasped. Gwi

"Incredible, Jean! That's exactly what I heard from my sources. How did you know?"

"Listening to the description of the Queen's party tonight," Marrou said smugly, "I noticed that she frequently called the Lord Chamberlain to her side."

"But this was a social/political function," Howell protested, "that is his usual role. How could you tell that anything had changed?"