with children traded between kingdoms for a joining of lineages.
'Perhaps,' Subone said in a tone of preoccupation, still gazing on the young guard, 'the partnerships could be rearranged.'
Blaisse stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh, a loud, low, barking sound. He stopped when Subtwo half-rose from his chair, though he did not look afraid.
'There can be no 'rearrangements' of the Families,' Blaisse said. 'My blood is their blood. The ties are unbreakable. The Families would prefer suicide to capitulation.'
'Then our problem would no longer exist.'
Subone leaned forward, letting the motion bring his hand very close to his lance. Yale tensed at his actions.
'Neither would you, nor the city,' Blaisse said. 'Center is powered by a fission reactor. I understand that it is not difficult to make it—'go critical'—is that the term?'
Subtwo was disgusted by the very idea of a filthy fission reactor; that any human being, civilized or not, would even consider allowing one to explode was inconceivable.
The slave, Saita, lowered her head and touched a lock of her long silver-blue hair to Blaisse's instep.
Blaisse chuckled. 'After all, I'm much more suited to the position than you. You'd be unhappy, confined to Center the rest of your lives. But I'm reasonable, and I'd be glad to be allied to anyone who can overcome our seasonal isolation.'
'We will not be subordinates.'
'The relationship could be arranged in a businesslike manner.' He reached out and patted his slave's head absently, as he might an animal's.
In his mind, Subtwo rearranged images of the manner in which he had expected this meeting to proceed. As he was accepting the changes and making himself pleased with them, Subone stood up and strolled around the small room. By his carriage Subtwo knew he was neither pleased nor resigned. Subone paused next to the small grid of the intercom, and touched its controls. To anyone else, it would appear that he was fingering them absently, but Subtwo knew he was inferring the capabilities.
'Why should we believe you, about these 'Families'?'
Blaisse looked up at Subone abruptly, eyebrows arched, and his mood shifted instantly to fury as he rose from his chair and stood shaking. 'Do you think I care if you or any other of your castoffs believe me?'
Subone spoke into the intercom. 'Draco?'
'Here,' Draco answered in his laconic manner. 'All's well.'
Subone observed Blaisse's anger calmly. 'We are in control now.'
'In control? My patience is ended. If you refuse the protection of my alliances, then try to make your own. I'll laugh at you from hell—and I'll welcome you there soon.'
Subone smiled.
Subtwo understood abruptly what was about to happen. He stepped forward as Subone made one jerky, indefinite, deliberate motion of his hand toward his lance. Subone hesitated a fraction of a second while the young guard, left-handed, clumsy, pulled her own weapon. Yale had no chance against him. He shot her in the chest. Her spine arched backward at the shock, and she fell against the wall, collapsing to the floor. Her body convulsed once. The reek of burned flesh permeated the room.
'Stop—' Subtwo took the lance from his pseudosib's hand. A few months before, he would have known from the beginning exactly what Subone was planning. Not having known this time, an indication of their growing independence, did not comfort him.
Blaisse sat heavily in his chair, but his voice was steady. 'That was unnecessary.'
'She would have killed me,' Subone said. He pointed to Yale's weapon, flung into a corner.
This was the second murder Subtwo had been involved in so directly, the second by burning, and he did not like to be forced back to his earlier memory. He did not know how to expiate his guilt, yet he did not say that Subone had provoked the incident. They had not yet grown that far apart.
'This is unfortunate,' Subtwo said. 'To. disrupt us, just as we agree.'
'Agree—!'
Clamping his fingers around Subone's bicep, Subtwo brought him to a sullen silence. Though their characters had diverged, Subtwo still led, and Subone had insufficient emotional leverage to affect his pseudosib in this matter. 'We will be your equals,' Subtwo said, 'but you will retain your position.'
Blaisse did not even glance toward the small crumpled body shrouded in his colors. Uncertainly, Blaisse said, 'If she did something foolish.'
Subtwo spoke quickly, to deter the Lord from any thoughts of revenge. 'Then we are agreed?'
'For the moment,' Blaisse said, and sighed.
'Subone?'
Subtwo responded to Draco. 'We've made an agreement with Blaisse. Did you follow orders?'
'Didn't hurt anybody,' Draco said.
'They are not prisoners. We are not in conflict.'
'They're kind of mad at us.'
'Hold their weapons until they are calmer.'
'Right.'
Subtwo turned off the intercom. Subone glowered at him. 'We don't need Blaisse. You're underestimating our abilities.'
'No,' Subtwo said. 'Those are amply demonstrated. I took into account energy expenditures and our own preferences.'
'And if Blaisse is lying?'
'What does he gain but a few hours?'
Blaisse, in his chair, seemed far from relaxed. 'We can benefit each other,' Subtwo said, putting on his artificial, practiced smile.
'I'm sure,' Blaisse said. 'Let us discuss terms.'
They negotiated in another room. When they were finished, Blaisse reached up and pulled a silken rope. He was smiling again. Subtwo did not understand his good humor, and did not trust it.
'When you're settled,' Blaisse said, 'we'll have to get together. I'm. very anxious. for you to meet Clarissa.'
A tall woman in black and silver entered and bowed. Subtwo had had to train himself to look for details of expression and to interpret them in a conscious way: the people around him, normal people, did it unconsciously. This woman showed no surprise; her gaze, quick and hooded, flicked over him and his pseudosib, though she seemed to keep her attention completely on Blaisse. She must have passed through the sitting room to reach this chamber, and the cloying scent of death hung close around them even here, but she did not react to that either.
'These gentlemen will be staying on the second level from now on, Madame,' Blaisse said. The title was not one of respect, Subtwo realized, simply a habit, perhaps derisive.
The woman bowed slightly. 'It is ready, Lord.'
'They have their people with them.'
'I will see to the arrangements.' She spoke to the pseudosibs. 'If you will come with me.'
Blaisse stood up, rather lazily. 'I think I'll come along.'
Madame bowed again, without expression. Subtwo looked for signals of hatred or dislike or even distaste in her demeanor, but there were none. Neither were there signs of admiration or respect. The bow and the words were empty of feeling. Subtwo did not understand what the relationship between Madame and Blaisse could be.
She led the way out of Blaisse's suite, down a corridor, and into an alice tube. Subtwo experienced distress at the waste of the energy used by such a worthless toy, especially if Center's power came only from fission, rather than fusion or matter-antimatter.
Blaisse shrugged when Subtwo suggested that an elevator would be much more efficient. 'I like it this way.'
They descended.
