followed after, murmuring polite apologies as he went. It was a practice he was growing increasingly used to. The familiar face turned out to be Tobias Shreck, accompanied as always by his cameraman Flynn. Owen joined Hazel in greeting them, smiling genuinely for the first time since he'd entered the Chamber. Toby Shreck had been a news reporter during the rebellion, and had demonstrated an uncanny ability to turn up in just the right place at the right time, with Flynn always there at his shoulder to broadcast it all live. They'd covered a lot of the fighting Owen and Hazel had been involved in, and had even been there when the rebels finally threw down the Empress Lionstone and destroyed the Iron Throne forever.
Toby looked much the same as ever, a fat, perspiring butter-ball of a man with slicked-down blond hair and a ready smile. He was wearing fashionable clothes of the very finest cut, tailored to disguise as much of his great girth as possible, but they didn't suit him. He was more used to the easy casualness of combat fatigues, and it showed. Flynn was the same tall, gangling sort, with a deceptively honest face. A quiet, retiring sort in the field, he tended to fade into the background when working, a useful trait when people were firing guns all around you.
His private life was another matter entirely.
'Looking good, Toby,' said Hazel cheerfully, poking a playful finger into his more than ample stomach. 'Lost a few pounds, have we?'
'I wish,' said Toby. 'Ever since I allowed myself to be promoted to management, I spend most of my time sitting behind a desk instead of getting out in the field where I belong.'
'Leave it out,' said Flynn calmly. 'You used to spend all your time in the field whingeing and grousing about all the comforts you were missing.'
Toby glared at him. 'Straight speaking like that is why you're still a cameraman, while I am now management. And don't contradict me again in public or I'll have someone in accounting take a really close look at your expense claims for last year.'
'Bully,' said Flynn.
'You're looking very smart, Toby,' Owen said quickly before they could fall into their usual bickering. 'Right on the cutting edge of fashion.'
'Don't you start,' said Toby. 'I know what I look like. Why do you think I always wore fatigues in the past? Every time I wear something good, I look like I stole it.'
'So what's management doing here?' said Hazel. 'Parliament planning something special, is it? Something perhaps we ought to know about?'
'Right,' said Owen. 'What do you know that we don't?'
'Volumes,' said Toby airily. 'But for once I'm as much in the dark as you. I'm really only here because I felt a desperate need to get out in the real world for a while. I've been feeling really bored just lately, to tell you the truth. It's all so different these days. My work with Flynn during the rebellion has already been hailed as classic material, and at any given time it's a safe bet that somewhere some station is still running it. The public can't get enough of it. The royalties are coming in faster than even I can spend them. So much money that even the company accountants can't hide it all. Flynn and I need never work again if we don't want to. But…'
'Yeah?' said Hazel.
'But we're too young to retire,' said Flynn. 'I wouldn't know what to do with myself.'
'Right,' said Toby. 'And I can't help being haunted by the horrible suspicion that perhaps I've already done my life's best work. That everything I do from now on is bound to be second best. That's a hell of a thing to feel at my age. I need a real story, something I can get my teeth into. Something that
'We are rebuilding a whole Empire pretty much from the ground up,' said Owen. 'Our whole political and social structure is changing day by day. I can't believe you can't find a story worth covering.'
'Oh, there's no shortage of
'No,' said Owen. 'I wouldn't say that. Valentine Wolfe is still out there somewhere.'
'Ah, yes,' said Toby. 'I'd heard you'd had another run-in with him. I'm looking forward to hearing your report on that. At least you two are still around, making waves. Everyone else has pretty much disappeared. Jack Random is too busy playing politics to get into any real trouble, and Ruby Journey rarely leaves her house these days. Though word has it they may be making an appearance here today. Maybe they've heard something. God, I've got some great footage of the four of you in action during the rebellion, stuff that never saw the light of day. Maybe when we're all safely dead…'
'Yeah,' said Hazel. 'Maybe. But until then I think some secrets should stay hidden. People don't need to know everything that went on.'
There was a certain amount of shared nodding. Nobody mentioned the fake Young Jack Random, who'd turned out to be a cyborg working for the rogue AIs of Shub, but they all knew they were thinking of the moment when Flynn's camera had caught the machine's unmasking. And there were other, darker, secrets too. The rebellion hadn't been nearly as straightforward as most people thought.
'So,' said Toby briskly, breaking the awkward moment, 'have either of you thought any more about my offer to make official documentaries of your lives? You don't have to worry about the writing; we have people for that. Just talk into a recorder, and we'll arrange the material and dig up footage to go with it. We can fake some linking material to cover the areas you don't want to talk about. All you'll have to do is narrate over the final footage. Easy money. Get it while it's going; who knows how much longer people are going to stay interested in you?'
'The sooner everyone loses interest in us, the better,' said Hazel. 'No biographies, Toby. We have little enough privacy as it is. Besides, most of my life story isn't suitable for a mass audience anyway.'
'I can quite believe that,' said Owen. 'Let us change the subject rapidly. How's your life, Toby? Doing anything interesting?'
'Him?' Flynn sniffed loudly. 'He doesn't have a life outside of his work. First in, last out, and takes work home with him. Typical management. I work the union-approved hours only, and once I clock out, I don't even think about work again till I clock on in the morning. You should have stayed a working grunt like me, boss. Far less pressure.'
'You never did have any ambition,' said Toby.
'Damn right, and proud of it. Ambition just gets you into trouble, and takes over your life. Which is why you have bags under your eyes and incipient ulcers, and I have a wonderful new lover in my life.' Flynn beamed at Owen and Hazel. 'You really must come around and meet him sometime. His name's Clarence, Clarence DuBois. Works as a researcher for the MP John Avon, one of the few marginally honest Members in Parliament. My Clarence does all the real work, of course, so Avon can look good on the floor of the House, but that's the way of the world for you. He's very handsome and a marvelous cook. The things he can do with a fresh joint and a few vegetables. Trouble is, he has size-twelve feet, and you wouldn't believe the problems we've been having trying to find stiletto heels that will fit him.'
'Love seems to agree with you,' said Hazel. 'It's made you positively chatty.'
'Don't I know it,' said Toby. 'I've been hearing about bloody Clarence for weeks.' He grinned maliciously at Owen and Hazel. 'And how are you two lovebirds getting on, hmm?'
'If you find out, let me know,' said Owen.
'We're taking things day by day,' said Hazel firmly. 'How about you, Toby? Anyone special on the horizon?'
'I have been considering a Clan marriage just lately,' Toby admitted reluctantly. 'On the grounds that I'm not getting any younger, and my Family's been putting the pressure on about where the next generation of the Family's going to come from. With Uncle Gregor forced into hiding, Grace an avowed old maid, and Evangeline disowning the Family, the line pretty much ends with me. But who'd marry a Shreck? Thanks to dear Uncle Gregor and his appalling ways, the Family name has become mud in all the circles that matter.'
'Now, now, none of that, boss,' Flynn said firmly. 'You're Toby the troubador, rich and famous journalist of note, not just a Shreck. Work is all very well, but in the end there's no substitute for getting out and meeting a nice girl. Or boy. Or whatever.'
Owen was so busy watching Toby glow bright red with embarrassment that he didn't notice the approaching young aristo till the man was practically on top of him. Hazel noticed. It took a lot to distract Hazel. She tapped Owen surreptitiously on the arm with one hand, while the other fell to the gun on her hip. Owen turned unhurriedly
