come from beyond the Rim.'
'Typical of the Church these days,' said Beatrice. 'Rather fight than think; rather lose than try diplomacy. Fanatics unite; you have nothing to lose but your mind.'
'Well said,' said Valentine Wolfe. 'I couldn't have put it better myself.'
They all looked around to find Valentine had emerged from the crowd and was standing right behind them. Beatrice ostentatiously moved a step away, to put more distance between herself and the Wolfe. Valentine smiled at her dazzlingly. Kassar glared at him.
'What do you want, degenerate?'
'Well, I have a list if you're interested, Kassar, but you're really not my type. I just wanted to agree with everything Beatrice said.'
'Thanks a whole bunch,' said Beatrice. 'If you're on my side, they'll never believe me. You do this to me deliberately, don't you? Just because I wouldn't marry you, you're determined to ruin my life.'
'You wound me deeply,' said Valentine. 'Can't a man speak out for common sense and sanity anymore?'
'And what the hell would you know about sanity?' demanded Beatrice. 'There are depressed lemmings on the edges of cliffs who've got a better grasp on reality than you have. And more common sense.'
'If you two would like a little privacy,' Beckett began, and then decided not to say anymore as Beatrice glared at him.
'I would rather be left in the company of a piranha with an overbite! Don't you move one step, General. That goes for you, too, Kassar. Loathsome though your presence undoubtedly is, it is still preferable to that of the genetic disaster area currently heading the Wolfe Family. I understand there are plans for the Dangerous Chemicals Investigation Board to have him declared a toxic-waste dump. Maybe then we could have him banned from inhabited areas on health grounds.'
'Ah,' said the Empress from her Throne. 'Young love…'
Not all that far away, Gregor Shreck glared at the company before the Iron Throne. By rights he should have been there, too, adding his words and wisdom to whatever they were discussing. He was head of one of the oldest Families in the Empire, and a man to be noticed. But he had been robbed of his true position in society by back- stabbing traitors who refused to admit his true qualities. They smiled at his face, laughed at his back, and whispered against him. They'd pay. They would all pay, one day. But that could wait. For the moment he had little room in himself for anything but rage. Evangeline had left him. The ungrateful little bitch had actually dared to walk out on him. Together with that cow Adrienne, she'd found the courage to outface him, but they'd find out soon enough that no one downed Gregor Shreck and lived to boast of it. Evangeline might think herself safe among the underground and the non-people, but there was bound to be a weak link somewhere, and he had all the time, money, and venom he needed to find it. Someone would respond to money or pressure or the right kind of deal. Someone always did. And then he'd get her.
It wouldn't be long before people started noticing that Evangeline wasn't around. People in Tower Shreck would talk. You couldn't stop them. Then people in the Court would spot a potential weakness and start asking questions. Where was she? What had happened to her? What had he done to her? There were always people ready to stick their noses in where they didn't belong. He could always clone another Evangeline; he still had the tissue samples from the original. But it would take months to rear and train her. It had with the last one. And what if the first clone reappeared? There'd be no way to hide what he'd done with two Evangelines walking around. And there was always the possibility the first clone might tell all anyway, from a safe distance, as a kind of revenge. She'd find it hard to prove anything without revealing herself, but just the accusation would be damaging. Mud sticks, particularly when people want it to. Gregor scowled. These days, more than ever, it was vital that he seem above reproach.
In recent months he'd taken steps to publicly become very religious. He attended all the right services at all the right places, moved in all the right circles, backed the currently fashionable charities and pressure groups, and did everything he could to win the established Church's approval. He needed their support if he was to win himself a place up in the rarefied heights where he deserved to be. However, in order to win the Church's backing, he'd had to set up a public reputation as being purer than pure. This had taken some doing. In the past he'd gone his own way, did what he wanted when he wanted, and let his people clean up the mess afterward with money or threats. Typical enough behavior for an aristocrat with money to burn and more hormones than sense. Luckily, the Church didn't care much about your past as long as you repented publicly, made a large donation, and put it all behind you. Gregor didn't care twopence for the first two, but balked at the third. There were limits. Still, there was public, and then there was private. As long as he looked good in the public eye, rumored sins could be forgiven. Even ignored. Gregor had never been any good at public relations, but fortunately there were members of his Family who were. They were currently standing just behind him, waiting for his instructions. If they knew what was good for them. Gregor turned to face them, giving them both his best forbidding stare.
Toby the Troubador was his nephew, loath though he sometimes was to admit it. A short, fat, perspiring fellow with flat blond hair, a ready smile, a mind like a steel trap, and the morals of a starving sewer rat. His main duties and responsibilities were to write up the Family's doings in the best possible light, and then see to it that those reports appeared in all the right places. Journals, holo shows, gossip columns. He was a public-relations man, spin doctor, damage-limitations expert, and a first-class liar. He had to be. It wasn't easy making Gregor Shreck look good. The rest of the Clan had their moments, bless their black little hearts, but Toby knew how to handle them. If they didn't toe the line when he needed them to, with a prepared speech here and an appearance there, smiling and waving for the cameras, he just left them out of his reports entirely until they did. After all, the only thing worse then being talked about by everyone is not being talked about by everyone. If your face wasn't in all the glossies and the holo shows, you weren't anyone. Toby could make you a celebrity, famous for being famous, if you followed the rules. His rules. Namely, do what you like as long as it's entertaining, but only as long as I get to hear about it first, so I can make sure it's got the right spin on it before it hits the streets. Unfortunately, he couldn't order Gregor about like that. If he'd ever been dumb enough to try, Gregor would have ripped out his vocal cords as a warning.
'Talk to me, boy,' said Gregor sharply. 'What are you saying about Evangeline at present?'
'The official line is she's resting, after overdoing it,' Toby said smoothly. 'We haven't specified exactly what she's been overdoing, but the gossips will come up with something. They do so love to speculate. Presumably, you'll let me know when she's rested enough, so I can reintroduce her to society?'
'I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it,' said Gregor. 'How's my current standing with the Church?'
'Reasonable. Though I do wish you'd learn to watch your language, Uncle. Sometimes I think the Church would happily pardon adultery, but not the specific four-letter word used to describe exactly what you were doing. Most people will turn a specifically deaf ear if I pay them enough, whether it concerns obscenities or political malaprops; but sooner or later you're going to say the wrong thing in front of the wrong people, and there won't be a thing I can do to help you.'
Gregor sniffed. 'It was your idea for us to get into bed with the Church in the first place. Can't say I've seen much in the way of results.'
'With the Church behind us, we are safe from a great many other enemies,' Toby said patiently. 'But if the Church ever finds out about the real you, we could be in real trouble.'
'Then, you'd better make damn sure they don't, hadn't you?' said Gregor.
'I do wish you two wouldn't fight,' said Grace Shreck, knowing they wouldn't listen to her. They never did. She was Gregor's older sister and did her best to look as little like him as possible. She was long, tall, and thin, with a pale, swan-like neck, and a mass of white hair piled up on top of her head in a rather precarious-looking style that hadn't been fashionable in years. She wore the same style of clothes she had when she was young, and noticed newer styles only in order to criticize them. Every now and again, fashion rediscovered her look, and for a month or so she would be the height of fashion, which embarrassed her greatly. Grace preferred not to be noticed, whenever possible.
She'd never married, because after their parents had died suddenly, Gregor had needed her services as assistant, secretary, and general dogsbody while he was holding the Family together and making it great again. There'd been no time for romance, no chance for a life of her own. The Family needed her, Gregor needed her, and she'd had to settle for that. And if she was ever angry, she kept it to herself. Eventually, there came a time when Gregor didn't need her anymore, but she stayed with him anyway, because she didn't know any other kind of life.
