Dorian showered luxuriously, then went to pick over his newly arrived trunks for something that would catch Majek's fancy. Something for an ex-army man with simple tastes. He decided on English Country Classic, a British version of Majek's own wardrobe. A simple white shirt and pleated pants of thin soft tweed, topped by a cable-knit jumper from the Orkneys with periwinkle blue highlights that brought out the blue of his own eyes. He surveyed himself in the mirror. Yes, he was ravishing. Not the flaming youth he'd been, but with something more settled in his bearing. Four hundred years of British aristocracy were embodied in his wide shoulders and long legs, and another eight hundred of settled gentry behind that. He'd always known he was the heir to a tradition, but it had never seemed as personal as it did today.

Humming a little, he went down to the lobby, located the elevator to the penthouse and returned to the fourteenth floor. The hinges of the outer door were now invisible, as they should be. Majek's men evidently got things done. He punched the code, walked through, and rang the bell of the front door. It was an unknown blond soldier who let him in after giving him a quick look-over. Dorian spoke to him in Russian, but the man smiled and shook his head. The lack of a mutual language proved no impediment to hospitality, however. In the living room the guard took bottles from the liquor cabinet until Dorian found something he wanted, filled the glass until Dorian stopped him, held up the ice bucket and raised fingers until Dorian nodded, then handed Dorian his scotch on the rocks with a bow.

"Sergei?" Dorian asked.

The man looked blank. Dorian didn't think he could make a reasonable attempt at Sergei's Circassian name, so he tried "Majek?" instead.

The man pointed down the corridor, held up a hand, palm out, then indicated the sofa. Dorian assumed he was to wait until Majek was at liberty, and hoped it wouldn't be too long. In fact he'd been sitting only a moment when the man returned and gestured him to follow. He was more than a little surprised when he was conducted to the kitchen, and flabbergasted to find Majek there in a white apron, expertly trussing a leg of lamb with the help of the short black-haired guard. Majek gave him a smile and a soldier's nod.

"You'll stay for dinner, of course?"

"I- yes, of course. Thank you."

He watched while Majek lowered the joint into a roasting pan, and the guard took it over to the stove.

"Do you cook?" Majek asked.

"I can manage basic things," Dorian said carefully.

"You can chop vegetables at least? Good. Take that knife there- and that chopping board- and do the carrots. Araszyam, get him an apron."

Dorian allowed himself to be draped with aplomb, and turned his attention to the carrots.

"Coins or Julien?"

"Mh?"

"Round or square?" He demonstrated with the knife.

"Ahh- 'coins'. I see. We call them wheels and matches. Make them coins. You might as well go," he said to the guard. "Samh' Dorian will help me." He himself began peeling potatoes expertly with a knife. Dorian found it hard to keep his eyes away from those capable blunt-fingered hands.

"Is this your hobby?" he asked.

"Hobby? Hardly. A man has to eat."

"But you could have someone else do it for you-

"What's the fun of that? I had cooks when I was on campaign and too busy to cook for myself, but then I was too busy to taste what they made either. A man's best off doing for himself." Long ribbons of peel fell onto the counter one after another.

"Depends on his area of expertise, surely. If I let my accountant cook, I'd be eating nothing but fish heads and left-overs. Do I use all these carrots? There's a lot."

"Mh. There are ten of us, counting the men."

"Your bodyguards?"

"They're from my son's personal staff. He insisted I bring them with me. You know my son?"

"I've seen him on the news. His reforms are famous." Dorian turned his attention to the carrots, lest he fall behind.

"He's got a good head on his shoulders, and he takes care of his old Papa." Majek's face glowed with pride and Dorian, who'd paid scant attention to the young General of Circassia up until now, suddenly concluded that he detested the man. "How old is your father?"

"Actually, he died when I was eighteen."

"I'm sorry to hear it. Do you miss him?"

"Very much. He was my best friend."

"That's as it should be. You were fortunate. A pity he died so young. A battle?"

"No, a heart attack. He was fifty-two."

"Then he was-- thirty-four when you were born? That's almost old enough to be a grandfather. What happened to your brothers?"

"I don't have any. There were all girls ahead of me. I'm the youngest."

"Ah- girls. I forgot. We don't have them in our family."

"Why not?"

"Because we're the hereditary guardians of the sacred blue stone and our blood is too strong to produce females."

"Oh," said Dorian. "I see." He sliced diligently.

Majek laughed in his throat, unamused. "Because we're the hereditary guardians of the sacred blue stone and dangerously inbred. You don't need to babble about chromosomes like Kinta to know what happens then. Any man who raises sheep could tell you."

"So with a little outbreeding--"

"If it happens. I wish Szincza would get married but I won't force his choice. My brother and I were betrothed in our cradles, and look at the results."

"The results?"

"Gunmar. Sergei's told you he's my son?" Majek had made short work of peeling the potatoes and was now quartering them with two quick strokes apiece.

"Yes. But look who brought him up. No wonder he turned out that way. And he is- well- nice."

"Nice. My son was born to lead armies."

"Well, but Szincz- I'm sorry, Szintarow- the General- he turned out alright-"

Majek's smiled at some private knowledge. "Szincza isn't an Aouille. Not to flaunt our shame before outsiders, but he's not Ruza's." Well, that explained that. "And I say thank God for it when I look at the one who is."

"There's no doubt about his parentage?"

"None. You only have to look at him. His father's face, feature for feature. His father's temperament, too. These scientists," Majek said angrily, and slammed his knife into the potato he was cutting so violently that Dorian jumped. "They never think one step ahead of where they are. A blind man could see where this discovery will lead, but Kinta just goes blundering along, following his nose. And when he finds he's caused more damage than he can undo, he'll go to pieces, the way his father did. 'But I didn't mean it to happen...' And a lot of good that will do us." Majek closed his mouth and chopped potatoes savagely. Dorian found himself watching, mesmerized, the play of tendons in the back of his hands.

After a moment Majek said, more calmly, "I don't know how much Sergei's told you about us-"

"Well, this and that. We didn't know each other for very long, you know." He saw an opportunity to set the record straight. "Two weeks, actually."

"When you were working for NATO? How did you meet?"

Dorian told him about Klaus' investigation into the President's assassination plot. "But it was obvious from the first that Sergei had nothing to do with it, and we got to know each other, and then I found out he was your brother-"

"He told you that? He'd cut all his ties with us at the time."

"I found out by accident. He has this picture of you he carries in the inside pocket of his coat, and I saw it."

"Does he now?" Majek said, with raised eyebrows. "Then what?"

"I told him what I knew about the plot, and he was able to identify Marquère, and he went to confront Halim and make him stop. So you see, I really had nothing to do with it. It was just luck that I found out who he was. You don't owe me anything." It was worse, looking into Majek's inhuman blue eyes. It seemed impossible ever to look away.

Majek shook his head, breaking the spell. "We see it differently. Your luck is as much a part of you as your will, and since you used it in my service, I'm in your debt. You're a man of strong luck, samh' Dorian; I could tell by looking at you. I'd like to have that luck on my side."

"It's yours," Dorian said, "and anything else I can give you. But you're a man of strong luck too."

"Yes. I've been lucky all my life, and needed to be. And I need to be still, to win against Kinta." He swept the potatoes into a large pot and took it to the sink. "I thought I'd made my peace with Ruza, but apparently not. His spirit is still troubled, and works his son against me."

Dorian thought there was probably a simpler explanation. Kinta doubtless resented his father's murder: but it didn't seem politic to mention that to Majek.

"Troubled by what?" he asked, approaching the matter sideways.

"An old grudge. He blames me for not being God. He was never one to think ahead- he always assumed I'd take care of things if he got himself into trouble, and I always did. But finally he did something that couldn't be undone, not by me or by anyone. He harmed the one person he cared about and he couldn't live with himself afterwards. In the end he ran off to war, trying to get himself killed, and he succeeded." Majek snorted in bitter amusement. "Even dead he won't take the consequences of what he did. He chose to act and he chose to die. But still he blames me, like a child, for not having made it all come out right." Majek put the potatoes on the stove and lit the gas.

"You didn't encourage him to go and fight?"

"Of course not. He was useless with weapons. I told him he was a fool but he wouldn't listen to me."

"But couldn't you have stopped him?"

"Not without locking him up, and why should I have? He was a grown man and overdue to take on a man's responsibilities. Are you finished with those carrots? Put them on to boil."

Dorian pulled himself together. He added water to the pan that held the carrots, and put them on the burner beside the potatoes. Majek's silver smoke hair was only a few inches away from his mouth. He swallowed hard.

"Don't they need salt?"

"Ruins the taste. These are better." Dorian watched him crumble herbs into the water. "Start cutting those beans."

Dorian sighed at his dismissal but picked up his knife and began frenching the beans adroitly. "Sergei told me quite a different story about all this. Did he ever find out what really happened to Ruza?"

"Yes- not that it ever made him apologize for what he did to get even."

"He didn't sound exactly proud of it when he told me. I'd bet it was Takamatsu's idea, myself. He boasted to me once about the revenge he'd had on you, and how no-one would ever find out what it was."

Majek grunted in agreement. "That's Takamatsu. Ruza brought a snake into the house when he had that young man to live with us. I'd never have suspected it. He seemed so insignificant at the time."

"Was it Takamatsu that Ruza hurt?"

"Takamatsu can't be hurt. It was Sergei."

"Sergei? How?"

"Sergei had a friend when he was young. He was killed in their first battle together."

"Yes, I know. Sergei shot him by accident."

"No he didn't. Ruza had been following their squad that day. He came up after the ambush and found the two of them lying among the enemy dead, hurt but alive. Sergei was unconscious, so before he came to Ruza finished the boy off."

"What!? But why?"

Majek stirred the pot. "He was a spy on the other side. Ruza found out about it and set out to stop him- without telling me first, of course. I was coming up with reinforcements but I arrived too late. I could have hit him when I saw what he'd done."

"Oh." Dorian was stunned. "A spy? Are you- are you sure?"

Majek gave him an odd look. "Of course I'm sure." Well, it was a stupid question. But this put an appalling new perspective on Sergei's past. "Does Sergei know?"

"He found out. During the war, like everything else."

"Oh my God." What must Sergei feel about Jahn now? He grasped at a straw of comfort. "I suppose Ruza did it to protect him?"

"Sergei was in no danger. The boy was using their friendship as cover. Ruza should have told me. A spy who doesn't know he's been unmasked can be very useful. But Ruza hated him and was happy to have an excuse to be rid of him. And of course he never stopped to think how it would affect Sergei afterwards."

"But why didn't you tell Sergei at the time?" Dorian asked, becoming more appalled the more he thought about it. "All those years- he thought he was a murderer who'd killed his best friend. How could you let him suffer like that?"

"I had no choice. He'd have suffered more if he'd learned the truth then, and he still might not have believed it. He might even have called feud on his brother. I couldn't take that chance. And after Ruza's death he was in no state to hear it. I knew he'd blame himself if we called it an accident, but I thought it would be easier on him that way. He took it very very hard when he did find out."

"So I would think- finding out that all his life had been a lie. We have a saying, you know, about the road to hell."

"I've heard it. Still, it would have been alright if Ruza'd behaved like a man. Of course Sergei was upset at first, but if Ruza had put his mind to consoling him he'd have got over it. But no- he went all to pieces himself, with his damned guilt and remorse, and then took the coward's way out. That's what did the damage."

"You can't really believe that."

Majek looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Sergei loved Jahn. He believed Jahn loved him. However much Ruza tried to help him he wouldn't have got over his death just like that."

"It was a young man's attachment. We all have them. We grow up and go on to other things. That's what Sergei should have done. I've never understood him, I'll admit it, but Ruza did. He should have shown him how to be a man. He didn't, and Sergei never grew past the age of eighteen. He's spent the rest of his life trying to find his friend again."

Dorian shook his head in amazement. "It doesn't work that way. It's men he loves, the way he loves Jean-"

"That's exactly what I mean-"

"-the way he loved me."

"What?"

"I'm the same kind of man as he and Jean are. I love men. And I love you."

Majek sighed in exasperation. "You Europeans never grow up either. I know that. A man your age should be married with children, not playing games like this."

"It's not a game." Dorian put his knife down and came closer to Majek. "I love you. We belong together. You know it."

"I'm different from you, Lord Gloria. You have a woman's nature in you. One can see that at a glance. I don't. I'm a man."

"And the male is naturally attracted to the female?"

"Of course."

"But if I have a woman's nature, you must be attracted to me. And you are."

"You play with words. I'm not."

"When we saw each other this morning, you felt it too- that energy between us. What do you call that?"

Majek put both hands on the counter and looked at Dorian. His eyes were clear, and the light fell oddly through them. "Fate," he said. "I knew we were meant to meet. I thought it was part of my luck, but now I'm not sure. You're too strange, too different-- too uncontrolled. Like a winter storm. If I were a prudent man I'd throw you out of my home now, in spite of my obligations to you. If I were a very prudent man, I would kill you."

"And will you?" Dorian asked, leaning even closer.

"No. Prudence is too often another name for fear. We'll see what fate you bring me and whether it harms me or I prevail against it. I'll enjoy the struggle, even though I may regret it. I think you could be as dangerous as Takamatsu."

Dorian's head jerked in outrage. "Takamatsu! Is that how low you rate me?"

Majek laughed. "Don't despise him. Remember how much harm he did to me and mine."

"If you think I'd ever hurt you, in any way-"

"Ah, but remember too what a service he did me, however unintentionally. You also might serve me as well and as unwittingly. I'll keep you."

"I'll serve you in whatever way you want and maybe a few you haven't imagined. Better than Takamatsu, for certain."

"You couldn't." Majek turned back to the stove. "Takamatsu gave me Szincza. If he took Gunmar in exchange, I still got the best of the bargain."

"You're a philosopher, General."

"I'm an old man who has seen much and I'm not a general any more. Call me by my name."

"Majek."

"Dorian."

"I'll have you yet."

"Never." He clicked the burner under the carrots to low. "Have you finished those beans?"

Dorian took hold of Majek's broad shoulders and turned him round. He brought his lips to Majek's and kissed him slowly and lavishly. Majek didn't resist. Yes, there was a taste of tobacco to him, and his lips were full and amazingly warm. Majek's hands came up to grip his arms. Dorian's head swam at the touch and he pressed closer, his legs beginning to go weak. The mouth under his moved in response: Majek was kissing him back. Dorian trembled violently with dizziness and desire. Majek pushed him gently away and held him at half arm's length, smiling with satisfaction into his sweating face.

"You see? I'm as steady as a rock and you're near to fainting. You'd fall if I let you go."

"You shouldn't have done that," Dorian said. "I have to have you now."

"Tell me that when you can stand on your own two feet, little brother." He squeezed Dorian's shoulders and put him aside. Dorian leaned heavily on the counter, trying to still his pounding heart.

There was a step in the corridor.

"Papa-" Gunmar came into the kitchen, gave Majek a quick casual hug and a kiss and Dorian a wide smile. "How long till dinner?"

"Half an hour. I'm just finishing here. Take Samh' Dorian and get him some sherry, or whatever."

Gunmar twined his arm in Dorian's, and Dorian had no choice but to leave.

"It's so lovely to see you again, Lord Gloria. I used to think about you a lot when I was in Paris. You were such a help to me."

"I was?" Dorian asked distractedly.

"Oh yes. I was so unhappy about Szincza at the time, and you were so encouraging."

"I honestly don't remember how, though I'm glad if it's true." Dorian felt as though he was babbling, and strove to pull himself together. Gunmar had taken him to the sitting room that opened off the balcony and was rummaging in the liquor cabinet.

"I wish Miyagui would put the bottles back where they belong- oh, here it is. Sherry, Lord Gloria? or would you like oporto? There's Cinzano--"

"Cinzano's fine."

Gunmar handed him the glass and sat on the sofa next to him, beaming over his own glass of Amontillado.

"It's nice to have you alone for a bit. Jean and Kinta are off in the study talking about something in one of the papers this afternoon. It suggested a new line and they're trying to work it out. I didn't understand a word, of course."

"Oh yes. It's not your field, is it? You were into robots, or something."

"I am. I just try to keep up with Kinta's interests."

"Why?" He hoped that didn't sound as ungracious to Gunmar as it did to him.

Gunmar laughed. "Well, why do you think?"

"I don't know. You seem to be able to get on with him. Are you friends?"

Gunmar looked at him, bemused. "How odd. I thought you'd understand, of all people."

Dorian felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. "You're joking."

"No, of course not." He smiled brilliantly. "Do you remember back in Paris, you told me miracles happen? I never forgot that. I thought if you said it, it must be true. And it is."

"Kinta is a miracle?" God, Majek had him rattled. How could anyone put their foot in it as often as he was doing now?

"I don't know what else to call it. I wanted my cousin Szintarow and I got my cousin Szintarow. As simple as that, and so completely different from what I'd thought. Doesn't that amaze you? It does me."

"I suppose it's- unexpected."

"You don't like him," Gunmar said sadly. "You mustn't be put off by what he says, you know. He's under a lot of stress just now. Really he's very nice."

"Look, Gunmar- he may be very nice, but that's not the way he behaves to me or to Sergei or to your father."

"Well, but that's the trouble, don't you see? He wants to give this paper very badly, and Papa and Uncle Savijc are trying to stop him, and you're on their side. It's nothing personal."

Personal was exactly what it looked like to Dorian but he refrained from saying so.

"He could be a little less aggressive."

"But that's the only way he knows how to get things- by going straight after them. He's a lot like Papa that way. It's not surprising they don't get along."

"Majek's not like that!" Dorian protested automatically.

"He's mellowed a little, but he was like that most of his life. When I was young, at a military parade once, a tank rolled by and I said 'That's like Uncle Majek.'" Gunmar laughed heartily, and Dorian winced. "And when he and Szincza argued it was like two rhinoceroses butting horns, if that's what rhinoceroses do. The walls used to shake. It's only in the last few years that he's calmed down."

"It'd be nice if Kinta would calm down too and give Majek a little peace. Can't you get him to be less unpleasant?"

"You don't understand. It's because of the way he grew up. He was locked away like a prisoner until he was twenty-five. He could never do what he wanted, he never had anything of his own..."

"Why would anyone do that to a child? It sounds bizarre."

"Politics. There was this feud with the Acailles and he got caught in it."

"Naturally." The British had cricket, the Italians had soccer, and the Circassians had feuds. He knew that. It was hard to sympathize with Kinta, but the idea of a little child locked away by himself touched a small chord.

"So you must see how it's affected him. He has to do things his way now. He can't stand to be forced. And he's still learning how to deal with people."

"Why don't you teach him then?"

"I don't want to interfere. It's his life, finally. If he makes mistakes, at least they're his own mistakes."

That was surprisingly mature, coming from Gunmar. And of course he'd pick precisely the wrong time to be an adult.

"You don't have to bully him or anything. Just a gentle hint."

"He doesn't take hints, and he doesn't like me telling him things."

"Doesn't that make your relationship difficult?"

"Oh no." Gunmar looked surprised. "Why would it?"

"Because- oh, never mind. What happens when you disagree- or do you?"

"Of course. Well, sometimes. We fight. We yell a lot. But Takamatsu always sorts things out before they get really bad."

"Takamatsu. He's part of the menage?" Damn, he was still doing it. What had happened to his savoir faire? 'A gentleman is never unintentionally rude' his father had said, and here he was being it.

"We live with him, of course."

"Of course. Doesn't Kinta mind"-- 'living with his mother-in-law?' This time he caught the unsayable part of his thought before it escaped his mouth.

"No, of course not." Gunmar was looking perplexed. "Why would he? Takamatsu was the first person who ever cared about him. He was on Kinta's side from the first. He's like a father to him."

Takamatsu had a sixth sense for vulnerability. Maybe Kinta was more a victim than he'd thought.

"In fact, I was jealous, to start with. I didn't like Kinta at all, then. But Takamatsu got hurt in the war, and that brought us together. And now I'm glad. Kinta needs people on his side. Jean's helped him a lot, too. He has someone he can share his interests with who doesn't look down on him for being self-taught."

"He is? Why?"

"They both are, pretty much. It's natural. They couldn't go to university when they were young, of course, so they had to study on their own. We don't think twice about it at home. Very few people even get past high school. But the Europeans and Americans think of them as amateurs."

"I see." That complicated things. "So this is Kinta's one chance at glory?"

"Not his one chance," Gunmar protested. "There will be others. But it's a stunning discovery. It would make his reputation overnight."

"And maybe get him killed as well."

"You think that too, do you?" Gunmar looked unhappy. "Why would anyone want to kill Kinta and Jean?"

"It's not personal. But most people would kill for a chance at a prolonged youth; and other people would kill to prevent people having it."

"But it doesn't work like that. There's no proof it can apply to other people. Even with genetic engineering, it would be decades before you knew if it had worked."

"Decades is what countries have. Think of a population that stayed young into their fifties and sixties and lived well past a hundred. It would be a dream. Everyone strong and beautiful and active into their eighties and nineties- no need for old age pensions or old people's homes-"

"I think it would be a nightmare. A population that ages slowly with an expanded lifetime, and still has children from an early age- You'd have to control reproduction like in China, and you'd have to do it everywhere in the world."

"Oh come," Dorian protested. "Circassia isn't exactly overrun with people."

"Life isn't easy there. People are always being killed in famines and floods or feuds and battles. Or they were. It's been calm for a while now and the population's growing. Szincza wants to introduce birth control, but people don't like the idea."

"Birth control!" Dorian sighed impatiently. "Why are we talking about something so unromantic? I'd much rather imagine a world full of young men. That's much pleasanter."

"I always had a thing for older men, myself. It's just an accident that I wound up with someone my own age."

Dorian didn't want to hear any revelations even remotely connected to Takamatsu. "You're not serious, surely? Old men are so ugly. Their bodies are wrinkled and smelly and their hair falls out and their breath is like a cesspool, especially if they smoke..."

"Oh," said Gunmar dubiously. "Do you think so?"

"Of course. It's an unavoidable conclusion."

"Oh." He drooped a little in his seat.

"Well, you don't have to worry. Kinta will be young for a while yet."

"Yes but-" Gunmar looked at him, blue eyes swimming suspiciously. "I thought- I mean, does that mean-"

"What?" Dorian asked, bewildered.

"Oh, sorry. I thought somehow that you and Papa- you know-"

"Oh. Oh but- but you're father isn't an old man. He's- he's- he's indescribable."

"Yes, isn't he," Gunmar said, reviving. "So you are in love with him?" He looked like he'd won the lottery.

"Yes. Passionately. That makes you happy?"

"Oh yes. Papa's never had anyone in love with him that I can remember. People love him, and they'd die for him, but that's different, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is." He studied him a moment. "Aren't you going to tell me it's dangerous? Everyone else has."

"Well, it is, but you already know that. Would it be any fun if it wasn't?"

"Not at all. But I think you've all got hold of the wrong end of the stick. I thought Majek would be pulling guns on me if I even looked in his direction, and just now he let me kiss him. That doesn't square with what I'd heard about Circassians, or about him."

"Mmmh," Gunmar said dubiously. "We're not typical Circassians, perhaps. Don't you find that whatever country it is, the aristocracy pretty much does what it wants?" He smiled. "Like yourself."

"Well, there's that, true-"

"And nobody minds kissing. Everybody does it. But be careful what else you try. I mean- test the waters first. Remember you can't think like a European with Majek."

"I'm an Englishman, not a European."

"Is there a difference? I always thought the English were just like the Germans. Aren't you related?"

"Not at all. The Germans are- are rigid and dutybound and no fun at all. We English have a sense of play and romance. Germans only love machines."

"But Germans are very romantic. They have Goethe and Beethoven and-"

"German romanticism is just an excuse to go and invade Poland. There's nothing light-hearted about it. Germans are stuffy and constipated and mean-spirited-"

Gunmar was smiling. "What was his name?"

Dorian smiled too, unwillingly. "Klaus."

"And he was no fun?"

"None at all. He had to control everything and he gave nothing back. Take, take, take- emotionally and sexually and every other way. He'd have done better with an inflatable rubber doll than with me." Stupid tears suddenly blurred his sight.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out." Gunmar patted his hand.

"God, don't be silly." Dorian wiped his eyes impatiently. "It was a bad idea from the start. I'm glad it's over."

"How long has it been?"

He consulted his watch. "Nine hours."

"Oh dear, Lord Gloria. Do you really think-"

"Stop it, for heaven's sake. You sound like your uncle."

Gunmar choked on a small laugh. "No-one's ever said that before. But- oh well. Never mind. I guess- I wish you luck. I hope it turns out."

"Samh' Gunmar." That was the Ara fellow, from the door. "Dinner is served."

"Oh good. Come along, Lord Gloria."

The dining room table was laid with linen and gleamed with silver and gold-edged china. The savory smell of lamb and garlic met them as they came in the doors. Jean and Kinta were standing to one side but broke off their conversation when they saw Gunmar and Dorian.

"Where's Lord Gloria going to sit?" Gunmar asked.

"He can have Sergei's place. He's dining with Dubois," Majek said, emerging from the kitchen with a platter of meat and going to the head of the table. "Here on my left, Dorian."

Jean sat on Dorian's other side. "Does that mean he's clinched the deal, or that he's still negotiating?"

"He didn't say, but it sounds like a good sign."

Gunmar and Kinta were ranged across from him, with an empty chair next to Kinta corresponding to the empty chair by Jean.

"Where's Takamatsu?" Kinta asked.

"Where's Takamatsu ever? Doesn't he tell you where he's going?"

"I'm not his keeper," Kinta answered shortly, and speared three potatoes from the dish the blond soldier was holding for him.

Dorian helped himself to a fragrant slice of meat and passed the platter to Jean.

"He goes walking in the city," Gunmar said peaceably. "He said he hasn't been here in thirty years and he wants to see how it's changed."

Ara finished filling Majek's wine glass and served Dorian next. Dorian sniffed the bouquet appreciatively- a deep body, clearly a Burgundy '89. He checked swiftly to see if the others had started before taking a sip. No grace or toasts in Circassia, evidently: a sensible country.

"The hell he does," Kinta said, swallowing a mouthful of food. "He just wants to avoid us."

"Not really," Jean demurred. "He came here when he was a student, with your father. It's probably just a bit of nostalgia."

"Takamatsu, nostalgic?" Majek asked. "I suppose it's possible."

"He won't admit it if you ask, though, so don't bother."

"Who won't admit what?" Takamatsu said, coming into the room. "Is this your latest adopted son, General?" he went on, not waiting for an answer. "Or is he just replacing Sergei for the duration?"

"Forget it, Takamatsu," Majek said, eating calmly. "I know all about the best defence being a spirited offence, and it won't work."

"Anyway, you're the most spiritedly offensive person we know. It's no use any of us trying to compete." Jean smiled at him wickedly and Takamatsu frowned in annoyance. "Have some wine. It'll make you feel better." Ara had already moved swiftly and silently to fill the Doctor's glass.

"So where is Sergei?" Takamatsu asked, tackling his plate.

"Having dinner with Dubois."

"Who's Dubois?" Dorian asked.

"An antiquarian dealer. He's got a book Uncle Savijc wants."

"They've been negotiating for forever and this is the final round," Jean said. "I think it's probably his."

"He's got such a winning way with him," Kinta remarked.

"Laid over an innate sense of double entry bookkeeping," Jean said. "He has the soul of a calculator. Believe me, I supply all the romance in the relationship."

Kinta flushed a little and ate stolidly, but Gunmar said teasingly, "You- the hard-headed scientist?"

"Me," Jean agreed. "This hard-headed scientist has the soul of a lost puppy. Feed me and I'm yours." He barked at Majek and Majek laughed back, snorting a little. The wine was excellent and abundant and seemed to loosen even the morose Kinta. They were finishing the second bottle when they heard Sergei returning.

"Got it?" Jean asked.

"Got it," Sergei said, seating himself at the end of the table across from Majek. "You'll want to see this, Dorian. It's a first edition of Linnaeus."

"Fascinating," Dorian said.

Sergei laughed. "Yes it is. Beautifully preserved, in lovely condition, and the colours hardly faded at all."

"Who's Linnaeus?" Majek asked.

"A Swedish botanist of the eighteenth century."

"This is a book about plants?" Majek looked puzzled.

"An old book of plants, and very valuable."

"I don't suppose the real botanists here will get to look at it," Takamatsu remarked.

"Certainly, but I'll have Koczi and his Uzi beside me while you do. You won't be able to keep your hands off it." He was glowing with satisfaction.

"It's Lord Gloria who's the thief, not me."