When he woke again he felt as if his soul had taken a bath. His headache had vanished like a dream. He was light and free and the world was full of promise. He showered luxuriously, dressed with care and went up to Majek's suite to see what he could find in the way of breakfast. True, it was almost eleven, but round-the-clock hospitality seemed to be the order of the Circassian day.

What he found, in fact, was Sergei sitting alone in the dining room looking pale and dark-eyed and sipping what was clearly not his first cup of coffee.

"Good morning. Is there any more of that?"

Sergei turned a baleful black-smudged eye on him. "How would I know? Go ask in the kitchen."

Surprised, Dorian did so. The blond soldier who'd let him in was tidying up, and wordlessly provided coffee and hot milk with a chunk of bread and apricot jam to go with it, all of which he insisted on carrying into the dining room for him. Sergei didn't look up as they came in.

"Did you have a bad night?" Dorian asked solicitously.

"Whatever gives you that idea?"

"Sergei, what--"

"Dorian." He put his coffee cup down and faced him. "Discretion isn't your strong point, I appreciate that, but was it necessary to reveal all my secrets yesterday?"

"Did I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. What secrets?"

"That photograph, for one. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, and I'd rather Majek hadn't found out about it."

"Oh. It never even occurred to me-"

"Really? Have you ever known a soldier who wasn't a swamp of sentimentality under the granite? Now Majek thinks I carried his picture next to my heart all these years and he's become unbearable." Sergei pushed his cup away in irritation. "I tell you, if he gives me any more fond brotherly glances I'm going home. I could barely eat my breakfast with him sitting there all smiling and moist-eyed like a St. Bernard."

"I didn't realize--"

"And it seems you had a nice long talk with Jean about our liaison, brief as it was. He found it most inspiring. He was up all night, and I do mean that literally, proving his devotion to me. Thank you so very much. I expect the swelling will go down in a day or two. Mine, that is. I don't know about his."

Dorian quailed a little, feeling under attack.

"And what did you do with Takamatsu? He didn't come home last night and Gunmar and Kinta are in a taking. Did you assassinate him and drop his body in the canal?"

"Actually, he spent the night with me--" He stopped at the sight of Sergei's face. "It wasn't like that. You saw what he was like yesterday. He grilled me about Gunmar and he made me promise not to lay a finger on him, and I'd bet he got me drunk to make sure I didn't sneak back and do the evil deed last night. Anyway, I was in no shape to get home by myself and he had to bring me here in a cab."

"And he was too drunk himself to find the elevator to this floor."

"No--"

"He wanted to make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit."

"Well no, I don't--"

"He wanted to screw you senseless, and he did. When will I ever learn?"

"What, for god's sake? What have I done that's so terrible, Sergei?"

"Behaved like a cat among the pigeons. He was absolutely right. He always is." Sergei pushed back his chair and strode from the room.

In high dudgeon, Dorian finished his bread and coffee. It was so unusual of Sergei to mind who other people slept with. It must have been that short night. He personally wouldn't have objected if someone had wanted to prove their devotion to him repeatedly-- especially if that someone was as gifted as Jean. It was a pity, in its way, that he wasn't more for general use. A waste of a national resource- he ought to be allowed to copulate for Circassia...

Damn, he shouldn't be thinking along these lines. The results were uncomfortable. He drained his coffee and looked about him. The suite appeared empty. Majek was meeting cabinet ministers, Jean and Kinta would be at the conference, Takamatsu was out until lunch, whenever lunch was... and presumably whenever lunch was he ought to be around for it. The blond soldier had vanished from the kitchen when Dorian went to return his plate. He strolled back along the corridor and cast a glance out the double doors of the sitting room to where the giant was still on guard duty. Perhaps sensing Dorian's presence, Koczi gave a glance over his shoulder, then a wide smile and a wave of his hand. Dorian waved back and passed on, hesitating at the little corridor that led to Sergei's room. He wasn't sure he wanted another taste of Sergei's tongue just yet...

Up ahead the front door opened and Dorian turned to welcome the new arrival. Not his day, obviously. It was Kinta, and he was alone.

Scowling, he made to push past Dorian but Dorian held out a hand to stop him.

"Samh' Sascha-"

"Don't call me that. You're not Circassian."

"I'm sorry. Professor Aouille-"

Kinta blinked. "What?"

"Sergei said you and Gunmar had been worrying about Takamatsu--"

"Where was he last night?"

"Actually, we were out drinking until fairly late, and he had to help me home. I'm sorry, I can't quite remember what happened, but it seems he put me to bed and spent the night at my place. When he left this morning he said he'd be back here for lunch."

"Oh." Kinta stared suspiciously with his large frowning eyes.

"He's really very kind." Dorian smiled at him. "I hadn't realized. My ex showed up unexpectedly early in the morning, and there might have been a nasty scene if the Doctor hadn't been there."

"Takamatsu was with you?" That was Gunmar, coming down the passage from his room at the sound of their voices.

"They spent the night together," Kinta said.

"We were both quite drunk," Dorian added, to avoid evil interpretations.

"That never stops him," Gunmar said, simply and unanswerably.

"Well, from the evidence, I'd say it didn't," Dorian admitted, "but I honestly don't remember much."

"Always a convenient fiction," Sergei said, coming up behind them from the small corridor. "Care to let me pass? I want to get to the front door."

"What's the matter with you?" Kinta demanded.

"Nothing. Everything's wonderful. The age of heroes is with us again. The noble Doctor yields his body to save my nephew's virtue and the beauty of his sacrifice moves me to tears. There ought to be a ballad about it. It's exactly what I'd expect of him. You can tell him I said so, because I won't be here for lunch." He pushed past them and out.

Kinta stared dumbstruck after him.

"Uncle Savijc's in one of his snits," Gunmar said calmly. "Don't worry about it. He'll get over it."

"Oh yes? Remember that one he had at Jean? It went on for days and days, industrial strength. Don't tell me we have to put up with that again."

"That was a little different," Gunmar reminded him. "There was a war on. We were all a bit short, including you." He nuzzled Kinta's shoulder fondly.

"So who's he mad at now- him or Takamatsu?" He jerked a thumb at Dorian.

"Me," Dorian said. "It seems I was indiscreet yesterday."

"You're joking. And what did that crack mean, about saving Gunmar's virtue?"

"Everybody seems to think I have my eye on him, for some reason. Takamatsu took me out to ask me my intentions and had me swear on a stack of bibles that I wasn't going to rape him in the near future and got me blind drunk and brought me home and screwed me himself. That's what happened. Happy?" he said belligerently, having talked himself into a temper.

"Just so I know," Kinta said with unwonted mildness, taking Dorian off-balance. "So what are you here for, if not Gunmar?"

"Majek."

"You're not serious? You really want Majek?"

"I'm serious. I really want Majek."

"You're crazy then, but never mind. I believe you. I thought you were just spinning a nice story that took everyone in." He glanced at Gunmar, who shrugged an 'I told you so.' "Well, if Takamatsu's alright, I should be getting back to the seminar. Break's over." He looked at Dorian, bit his lip, and said "See you," before turning on his heel and heading back down the corridor.

"I told you he was nice," Gunmar said.

"Nice?"

"He said 'see you.' He's taking to you."

"I hardly think so."

"Oh he is. You'll see. That's how he was with Szincza. The two of them fought like wildcats when they first met- I mean real fights: bruises and black eyes and a couple of chipped teeth. And then when they'd knocked each other around enough, they were friends. I think Kinta changed his mind about you when you yelled at him."

"Obviously I should have done it before." The old school wisdom: stand up to the bully and the bully will back down. Not that it had ever worked with Klaus, but then he'd never tried chipping Klaus' teeth. Maybe he should have done that as well.

"What are you doing just now?"

"Waiting for Majek."

"He won't be home until dinner-"

"Oh. Well. Maybe I could walk about the city for a bit..."--and decide by daylight if that rood screen was worth having.

"That's a good idea." He hesitated. "You might run into Takamatsu."

"I might."

"I'm sorry about that. I know you're angry at him."

"I'm not, really. Never mind what I said to Kinta. He was quite decent this morning."

"It's kind of you to say that but he shouldn't have done what he did. He took advantage of you."

"Oh hell. I think I wanted him to. It wasn't his fault."

"Well, yes- I know how it can happen with Takamatsu."

"I hope you're not speaking from personal experience." It was a little late in the day to be worrying about having slept with a baby-raper, but he felt he should know the worst.

"Oh yes. He was my first."

Christ. "He took advantage of you, then."

"Oh no. It was quite different with us. I was so unhappy after Szincza ran away, and I wanted someone to comfort me, and I knew that Takamatsu was the only one who would."

"But he was like a father to you..."

"No-o, I don't think so. I never felt that way about him. He was more- I don't know- my person. The one who belonged to me. He looked after me and waited on me and gave me everything I wanted. I guess he was trying to make it up to me, because he thought he'd taken so much away." He smiled remini-scently. "But I shocked him to his soul when I asked him to sleep with me. I didn't realize. And he shocked me when he refused. It was the first time he'd ever said no to me, about anything, and it hurt so much I couldn't believe it. So when he saw how much I minded he said yes."

"But you were so young--"

"Not really. Twenty-four."

"And he was your first?" Given Gunmar's behaviour at twenty, it defied belief.

"The first man who ever- you know- did it to me. Just playing with someone else doesn't count. Everybody does that."

After a minute, Dorian said, "Everybody kisses. Everybody gives hand jobs. Why do I feel I'm missing something? Sergei said homosexuals are stoned in the street in your country."

"That's changing, actually, but yes, they used to be."

"And wanking someone doesn't make you a homosexual?"

"Well, no. Men have to do something before they get married. It's not much different from doing it to yourself."

"So who gets the stones thrown at them?"

"Men who let themselves be used as women. If you're very severe, men who use other men as women."

"Homosexuality means penetration?"

Gunmar blushed. "Well- yes."

"Hm." That was useful to know. "What if you happen to like penetration?"

"It's a problem. You have to be sure you can trust the other man not to give you away. That's why it's safest to keep it inside the same family."

"Mm. We keep it in the same class. It does give you more partners."

"I've often wondered which you are," Gunmar said a little shyly. "Can I ask?"

"Which what?'

"Umm- active or passive?"

"It depends who I'm with and how we feel and- well, it depends."

"Oh." Gunmar looked dubious. "When you were with Uncle Savijc?"

"The same. Sometimes up and sometimes down; and sometimes we did those things that don't count."

"But changing around like that- isn't it-" He stopped, frowning.

"What?"

"Well- not much fun?"

Dorian had to smile. "It's a great deal of fun. More than sticking to one way or the other. You should try it some time."

Gunmar looked shocked. "Oh, I don't think so. I can't imagine what Kinta would say if I suggested it. I can't- actually- imagine doing it." His eyes wandered off, as if he were trying to do exactly that. Dorian trusted the seed was well planted in Gunmar's head, although he too couldn't actually imagine him doing it.

"I suppose- if I had someone to try it with... to see if I liked it..." Gunmar was thinking out loud.

"That's a good idea," Dorian said encouragingly.

"And you're not busy right now..?"

Dorian opened his mouth to answer and kept it open as Gunmar's meaning sank in.

"I- I- that is..." he stammered. Caught. Neatly, beautifully trapped. He felt like applauding.

"You don't want to," Gunmar said in disappointment.

"Takamatsu made me promise I wouldn't touch you," he explained. "I gave him my word as a gentleman."

Gunmar sighed. "Takamatsu thinks of everything."

"Yes, he does." He stared helplessly at Gunmar, amazed at how tempted he was. It would be one in the eye for the Doctor-- and he'd never won against Takamatsu before-- and it would be good for Gunmar to have his sexual horizons broadened-- and it might make Kinta think as well-- and... He let the sirens sing to him a moment, knowing he wouldn't be able to give in.

"I want to," he said. "I really really do. But I gave my word..."

"It was only to Takamatsu. Does it count?"

"Of course it counts."

"But he's not related to you- you've got no ties to him--"

"That makes no difference. I promised. If I break my promise, my honour is compromised."

"What an odd way of looking at things. That means a promise to a stranger- to an enemy even- is just as binding as a promise to your father or older brother. That can't be right."

"It's the way we do it."

"But why did you promise?"

Why indeed? He tried to remember. "Takamatsu thinks Kinta would mind. He thinks it might end your relationship."

"Hmm." Gunmar considered. "I suppose he might. But maybe not if he knew I was- was the active one. I could ask him."

"Ask him?" Dorian said in shock. "You don't mean, tell him before you do it? Get his permission?"

"Yes of course. I've never done it before so I don't know how he feels. I should ask him. That's logic."

"Gunmar-- Look, I mean- Kinta doesn't own you. It's your body, you can do what you like with it. You don't have to ask permission from anyone."

"But- but if that's true, then it's OK for us to sleep together. So why did you promise Takamatsu not to?"

"Because Kinta might mind."

"Then why shouldn't I find out if he minds or not? I don't understand you."

"It's just that- asking permission- I don't know. It sits badly with us. Why not just ask him if he wants to change roles for once?"

"Oh, I couldn't. He's always active. I mean- except when he was with Uncle Halim--"

"What?"

"Uncle Halim was his first, and of course he was the older so Kinta had to be passive, and I don't think he liked it."

"Oh," said Dorian palely, "I see. Look, Gunmar. I do want to, really, but I honestly can't. Even if Kinta says he doesn't mind, I'd have to get Takamatsu to release me from my promise, and I don't think he would."

"True." Gunmar looked momentarily downcast. "It's too bad but I guess it can't be helped. Well, I should get back to work. I'll see you at lunch."

"When is it, by the way?"

"One o'clock."

"Right. See you."

Dorian wandered out into the streets, trying to put some order into his thoughts. Was it Circassia that was topsy-turvey, or just Gunmar? It all looked like Alice in Wonderland to a westerner. Clearly, whatever Circassians said about themselves, they were far more liberal in practice than they would admit. Which meant, Dorian thought with a lifting heart, that Majek's refusal might not be a refusal at all. It was merely a matter of putting it the right way. Unfortunately he lacked what seemed to be a basic qualification: he wasn't a member of Majek's immediate family.

He contemplated the casual incest of the Aouilles with bemusement. It made sense in an odd way. If you were engaging in a proscribed activity- one that might get you killed- in a society where the only people you could trust were your family: well, who else could you sleep with but your family? It wasn't as if they were copulating inside the forbidden degrees. Cousin and cousin was well enough, even in England, though uncle and nephew gave him pause... Kinta and-- Halim. The name gave him a reflex bad feeling. He didn't want to think about Halim, that seductive shadow from Sergei's past. The man had snared his brother's heart tightly enough, and Maaqa's as well, and now it seemed he'd preyed on his nephew too. He felt a fleeting pity for Kinta, freed from his prison only to fall victim to Halim's perverse fascination. I might not trust people either, Dorian thought, if that had happened to me. At least he got away, and Sergei too. That made him feel better. Sergei was with Jean now and whatever had happened in the past was over. He was safe. Safe and satisfied. Lucky Sergei.

And less than lucky Dorian. A vague sense of frustration dogged him as he wandered by the canal. He hadn't seen Majek since last night; maybe that was the problem. But since when had he grown so impatient? He'd laboured seven years for Klaus- which was a bit excessive, he had to admit now, but still... He'd first seen Majek a mere twenty-four hours ago, and here he was fretting that the man hadn't dropped into his hand- like an apple from a tree, as Jean had said. Half the pleasure of being in love was the pursuit and the anticipation. Any true hedonist could tell you that. Was he growing vulgar in his old age- experiencing a coarsening of the soul to parallel that of the flesh?

The thought froze him in fear. Oh no- not that as well. He'd never even considered the possibility. Would he lose his fine instinct for beauty and his hypersubtle ability to appreciate it? Panic beat within his chest. To become a rutting middle aged roué, grabbing desperately at pleasure like a pig at a trough... He took deep breaths to still the pounding of his heart. He wasn't that far gone, surely, not yet. The process of acquisition was still as important as the fact of possession. Majek- would he take Majek now, this very minute, if he could have him? Well yes, he had to confess he would: if it was a Majek who'd come half way to meet him, a Majek become as intent on Dorian as Dorian on him, a Majek who was waiting to take him amid the shadows of a large canopied bed. He thought of those broad shoulders and wide chest naked above the sheets, of the pale hair glowing in the dim light, of Majek's arm held out in command and invitation to his lover...

Dorian sat down suddenly on a nearby bench because he could no longer stand. The blue eyes that looked at him like a great cat at its prey; the hard mouth that worked at his throat like a loving predator; the naked muscled body, heavy and rigid, that pinned him to the mattress, working above him and within him; blunt-fingered hands that held his cheeks open as the thick blind worm rammed at his inner gate... He sat motionless, paralyzed by lust. The back of his shoulders pressed uncomfortably against the edge of the bench, but he couldn't move... didn't have to, not even his fingers: the rubbing of his tight pants was friction enough. Majek had him on his back, Majek's large hands pinioned his forearms, he was Majek's to use as he pleased-- 'Open up, little brother,' the velvet voice enjoined, and Dorian obediently spread his knees and Majek's mouth settled on his groin...

The trees and water and blue sky swam together in a flashing brightness and Dorian arched, just a little, as electricity jolted through him. He panted as he came back and wiped the sheen of sweat from his face. God. God. He might as well be sixteen again and liable to attack by the panther Lust at any hour of the day or night. Yes, this was what it was like; he'd almost forgotten. Randy teenager or lecherous old man, there wasn't really much to choose. The elemental power was the same. It was his vanity as an aesthete to try and bind it with chains of roses: to gild the panther's claws and comb its hair. A servant's pretensions, no more. The beast was not for taming. He knew that perfectly well, though he wasn't often compelled, as now, to admit the fact. Yet it amused him to assert that his will had some say in the matter: that he was a servant, and not a slave. He refused to be led by lust in the shape of a flea-ridden ape, ungroomed and shambling: and that was not going to change, however old he became.

He rose at last from his musings and continued along the canal. Yes, he could wait for Majek; he could track him as closely and lovingly as he had Klaus, and enjoy the chase. It wouldn't be for long. He knew that instinctively. Where Klaus was sea-cold and stone-grey, Majek held the sun in him. Majek wouldn't be able to resist the answering warmth of Dorian, any more than his brother had, or his brother's lover, or his son... He smiled involuntarily. It would have been interesting to let Gunmar make love to him. Painful too, no doubt, but worth it. Virgins were so rare; it was something after all to be a boy's first. Not that Gunmar was a boy, in terms of years, but every other way... in every other way, he seemed a perpetual youth. The thought stopped him. Perpetual youth, like that... Was that to be envied?

The canal was widening, turning into the river that flowed towards the sea. Dorian walked on, his original mission forgotten. To be forever young, yes, that was a desirable state. Young, not infantile. To be young like Jean, boyish in face and a man in spirit: that was more like it. Yet even with Jean the contrast between the twenty-year-old face and the forty-year-old mind was too shocking. It felt unnatural. So did that mean that the spirit had to stop aging if the body did?

Then what was the ideal age for it to stop at? Twenty-five? Thirty? But at twenty-five he himself had been a fool, and at thirty not much better. In those days he'd believed that if he could only capture his iron Major he'd be the happiest of men. What of Majek, then? Surely if it were possible he'd want him to look- to be- much younger than his present sixty-odd? He tried to imagine him at twenty, or even thirty, but his mind refused to comply. 'Like a tank'- running roughshod over people, ignoring everything in its way-- like Klaus-- He shook himself. No. No, oddly enough, it seemed he wanted Majek just the way he was now. Silver haired, with the age lines patterning his skin, calm, experienced, detached: all the more fascinating and all the more dangerous because of it.

A young Majek would have repulsed his efforts more violently than Klaus had done. This was the man who'd fashioned a country out of a rabble of tribes that had warred for millennia. There'd been no patience with people then: only a burning determination to achieve his ambition at whatever cost. Unbidden, his mind recalled the photograph Klaus had shown him a dozen years ago. That Majek would have killed him if he'd been as importunate as he'd been last night, not kissed him and put him aside like a child. A sudden surge of confidence buoyed Dorian's spirits. Majek, like Klaus, had underestimated him; Majek, like Klaus, would pay for that with his body.

He began to whistle as he paced the esplanade that edged the broad grey river. The tempo had picked up here, a world away from the backwater canals. The green willows glowed in the spring sun, and children ran back and forth playing obscure games. Old men and women sat on the benches, engaged in emphatic conversations. The occasional seagull swooped in for a piece of litter, to be chased off by the barking of any one of the small dogs being taken out for its morning stroll. Dorian watched them with a casual and indulgent eye. His gaze almost passed over the man sitting still and alone on a bench by himself, but instinct drew it back. It was Takamatsu. Feeling friendlier towards him than he ever had, Dorian sauntered over.

"Good morning, Doctor."

Takamatsu turned, drawing his attention back from some internal view.

"Lord Gloria."

"May I sit down?"

"Do." He shifted over. Dorian waited, unconsciously expecting some kind of attack. It didn't come. Takamatsu's eye had gone back to the river, as if Dorian wasn't there. What was going on? He reviewed what he could remember of last night's events and suddenly intuited his answer.

"Is this one of the places you came with him?"

Takamatsu jumped a little in surprise. "How did you guess? No, never mind. I should know by now to expect the unexpected with you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. Should I go?"

"Oh no. Stay if you like. I'm not feeling chatty today, but..."

His voice trailed off, and he looked back at the river again as if compelled. Dorian sat in silence himself, watching the mesmerizing flow. He jumped in his turn when Takamatsu said, after a few minutes, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"You're so quiet. It's not like you."

"I could say the same of you, Doctor."

"Are we going to start scrapping again?"

"Let's not. It's more tranquil like this."

"Mmm."

After a small silence, Dorian said, eyes still on the river, "I should thank you for this morning."

"No need. Complications do occur."

"And for last night."

"My pleasure, quite literally. You're very gifted, even half unconscious."

"Thank you. Can I count on you for a testimonial?"

"You need only ask. Have you been back upstairs today?"

"Oh god yes."

"Meaning-?"

"Sergei's annoyed at me. It seems I talked too much yesterday. I thought the rough side of your tongue was bad but it's nothing to his."

Takamatsu laughed shortly. "He can do it. You'd have found out eventually. Did you see Samh' Gunmar?"

"Yes. He was worried when you didn't come home last night. Kinta came up at the break to see if there'd been word of you. I told them you were alright."

Takamatsu sighed, and his face grew clouded. "I don't want to add to Samh' Kinta's worries, but- somehow..." His voice trailed off again.

"Maybe I'm the one who should be asking. Are you alright?"

"Oh- yes..."

"Really?"

There was a pause, then Takamatsu said, slowly, "I'm being haunted."

"By Ruza?"

He nodded. "He's here, everywhere. I meet his memory at every corner. It's odd. I'd never expected it to be like this. It hurts so much, but I'm terrified lest it stop."

"I've always believed we leave something of ourselves in places where we've been happy: a kind of spiritual trail that can be traced by those sensitive enough to do it. Maybe what you're sensing is the happiness he felt then. In which case it won't go away. It's part of the city now."

After a moment, Takamatsu said, "That's a nice thought. I wish it were so. This is the one place I ever saw him truly content." He sighed again. "Everything seemed so possible then. His papers met with such a warm reception from the European scholars... There was talk of giving him a chair at the university here so he could pursue his research in the best surroundings. I'd never known him so happy. He glowed with it." He looked fixedly at the river. "We had a month here together, alone- away from the family, in the company of scholars and gentlemen. Not a soldier in the bunch. Good food, good talk, and ideas- ideas, all day long. Anything farther from home can't be imagined. At night I lay in our hotel room, in a bed for once, listening to his breathing and thanking the God I don't believe in for what he'd given us."

"Don't you have beds in Circassia?"

"In Circassia I slept, as was proper, on the floor of his room, guarding the entry. I don't mean there was anything to guard him from. It's a custom from the older days, the student protecting his master." He gave a small reminiscent smile. "Except in winter. He always felt the cold then, especially at night. In winter he'd have me in his bed to keep him warm, and sometimes in his sleep he'd hold me in his arms. I'd have walked through fire for the sake of those moments." He registered Dorian's expression. "Oh, it was all quite chaste. He wasn't that kind of man. Only sometimes he'd dream I was his wife and try to have me like a woman. I saw to it that he was satisfied and he never woke to know the difference."

"Really?" Dorian murmured in polite disbelief.

Takamatsu smiled sardonically. "Really. Of course I thought differently then. I flattered myself that he knew what he was about: knew perfectly well in his feigned sleep whose hand it was that made him happy. It took me years to grow out of that vanity and admit the truth. He didn't know, and if he had he'd never have allowed me near him again."

"It must have been hard- to love him and get no return," Dorian said with deep fellow-feeling.

"His existence was return enough for me. To have his company and his conversation, to have his guidance for my studies and his occasional approbation- yes, and whatever other little perks I could come by, naturally- that was all I wanted. I could see myself being his assistant all my life long, helping his work and sharing a little in his glory. I thought he'd take me with him wherever he went. I was so wrong." His eyes went bleak. "At that April convention they invited him back to the autumn symposium. It was an unimaginable honour for someone not yet thirty. And when September came, he was dead."

"I'm sorry." Dorian touched his arm.

"Don't be. We went home and it all seemed like a dream, this time here. I'll tell you a secret. It doesn't matter if you tell anyone else. They won't believe you. I'm glad he died. For his sake, not mine. Not ever mine. But death released him from himself and from his brothers and from all the things that hurt him and made him cruel. I couldn't have wished him a longer life than he had." A slow tear slid down his cheek. "But it was such a waste. Such a waste."

Dorian could only watch in painful silence. After a moment Takamatsu wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"I suppose you think me demented."

"Not at all. I can respect grief."

"Even if you don't understand it."

"Why do you think me so unsympathetic?"

"Not unsympathetic, merely fickle. Have you ever had any deep attachments, Lord Gloria?"

"Yes, of course. A number of them. Life-long affinities."

"To whom?"

"Giorgione's shepherd- he was my first- and Caravaggio's Bacchus, and Pisano's young man, and-"

"I'm talking about real people."

"So am I."

"Dead, and their likeness imprisoned on canvas."

"Ars longa, vita brevis.[1] They were the lucky ones. They were transfigured- immortalized- by their artists. I once thought that the beauty I saw on canvas was only a reflection of the true beauty of the human body, but now I know it's the other way around. Those portraits are forever young and forever beautiful, and the human body-- well."

"You're sounding middle-aged all of a sudden. I hope that's not a result of this morning? It would be a pity if you decided to become celibate."

Remembering what had transpired a quarter hour earlier, Dorian was quite able to reassure him on the point.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready for celibacy. There are too many beautiful men in the world. It's just that I don't expect permanence from them any more. Forever isn't a word that belongs on human lips."

"I can't agree. 'Forever' is the only word that makes sense. I loved samh' Ruza and I will love samh' Ruza- forever. Without that fact my life would be meaningless. It's the one fixed star that tells me where I am."

"Love may be a star for you. For me it's like the sun that sheds its beams in all directions. I have to follow them- in all directions. Just a difference in temperament, that's all."

"Perhaps. But if so, why were you still with Eberbach? How long did that relationship last?"

"Too long. I can't think why we stayed together. I suppose- it took so long to get him- I wanted to think he'd been worth it. And anyway, you've been unfaithful too, in your fashion. What about Gunmar?"

"What about him? He and Samh' Kinta are like my sons. I love them, but not at all in the same way. You know there's more than one kind of love in the world. Or do you?" Takamatsu rounded to look at him. "I don't believe you do. It's all desire for you, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say that--" but to be honest, he couldn't think of anyone he loved without desiring them. "Well, there's friendship, but that's different, I suppose. It's just- wanting takes up so much energy. It doesn't leave much to spare for other emotions. And anyway the others are so flat by comparison- like a watercolour placed next to an oil painting."

"There's a delicacy to aquatints that's missing from oils. Loyalty, and service, and duty- they have their own charms, but you need a fine eye to appreciate them."

Dorian's shoulders rose automatically. "Loyalty and service and duty have no charms at all. Klaus was forever going on about them. He uses those words like a club to hit people over the head with."

"A soldier and a spy isn't likely to have a refined instinct for enjoyment. Epicureans needn't apply for the Service. What surprises me is finding a man of your tastes who can't appreciate the pleasures of devotion."

"I can. I'm devoted to beauty. It's been my life's quest, as science- and Gunmar, I suppose- have been yours. But it needs to be a two-way street. I have to get as well as give. Self-abnegation is a dead end. What can you possibly find to enjoy in it?"

"It's- a consolation, I suppose. Without it, I'd be dead. After Samh' Ruza died, I had nothing to live for, except Gunmar. It seemed only justice that I should stay alive to look after him. I'm not a Circassian- I don't blame the son for his father's sins. It seemed unfair that an innocent should suffer because of our revenge. I took him on as my punishment, and instead he brought me joy past telling... And when I was worried about what would happen to him after I-- I mean, after I was gone- Samh' Kinta appeared, like his father returned to life. Never mind the details, but I'm partly to blame for what happened to him as a child. It's a miracle he didn't become my life's enemy when he found out. It's a miracle they both didn't, and more than I deserve. Serving them is the one way I know of paying that debt. If Samh' Kinta could gain the fame his father missed, I could die happy. But it's so dangerous, what he's discovered."

"In what way?"

"What Majek said. He's right, of course. The rest of the world will look on the highlanders as nonhuman. In my worst nightmares I can see them being hunted like rhinos or elephants, by poachers intent on their genetic material. No- in my worst nightmares, the world powers declare a jihad against the country. Pure genocide, because they're different."

"Surely that's a little farfetched?"

Takamatsu slewed round to look at him. After a moment he said, "Sergei will live past a hundred and twenty and never look a day over sixty. He'll be hale and hearty decades after you've gone to your grave, however advanced an age you do it at. How does that make you feel, Lord Gloria?"

After a minute, Dorian said, "Most peculiar. But if someone could try to reproduce the chromosome, or find a way to do chromosomal surgery with it... You're the one who's right. It should go to the pharmaceutical companies."

"Now if only I could convince Samh' Kinta of that..."

"If only..." He glanced at his watch. "Lunch will be soon. We should go back."

"Make my apologies to the young folk. I'm not feeling hungry."

"Oh. Alright. I'm sorry I took up your time."

Takamatsu looked surprised. "Not at all." He hesitated, then added, "Sergei won't talk about his brother now, and the children don't want to hear. There's been no-one I could say all this to." He glanced at Dorian and his mouth twisted. "If anyone had told me yesterday I'd be opening my heart to you, I wouldn't have believed him; but there are indeed more things in heaven and earth..."

"Don't mention it. If anyone had told me yesterday that I'd be listening, I wouldn't have believed them either."

Takamatsu smiled, but there was a small anxiety in his eyes. "How much of this are you going to repeat, and to whom?"

"None of it. I'd rather not see which of you can take more skin off me, you or Sergei. Once was quite enough."

"Prudent and beautiful. You'll go far, Lord Gloria."

"Sod off, Doctor," Dorian said cheerfully and walked away, waving once behind his head in Takamatsu's direction. But for all he knew or guessed, the Doctor had gone back to looking at the river.

There was a tangle of officials and police cars in front of the hotel on his return. Dorian was required to show his I.D. and be checked against the hotel register before being allowed inside.

"What happened?" he asked the manager who had vouched for his bona fides. "A bomb?"

"No, no, monsieur," the man assured him, shocked. "Merely a small contretemps. A gentleman was knocked unconscious. Pure drunken high spirits, apparently."

"But all these policemen-"

"Security, sir, is our foremost concern," the man said reprovingly.

"Of course," Dorian murmured. "Most commendable." Well, it might even be true. Or it might be Klaus and his friends playing cops and robbers, as ever-- a run-in between agents on opposite sides, perhaps. Thank god, that wasn't any longer his concern.

Jean and Gunmar and Kinta were already seated at the table. Kinta's head jerked up as he entered.

"Oh- it's you."

"Do you know where Takamatsu is, Lord Gloria?" Gunmar looked wan.

"Yes. I ran into him by the river. He said he wasn't hungry, and asked me to make his apologies."

"Christ-" Kinta looked away. "He said he'd be here."

"Don't take it personally," Jean said. He seemed a little subdued as well. "It's his life."

"It's mine, too. He owes me. Why isn't he here now, when I need him?"

"Ask him that yourself."

"He's never here for me to ask," Kinta said angrily.

Gunmar ate in silence, apparently intent on his dinner. Dorian helped himself to wine, having breakfasted too late to be hungry now. He drank slowly, watching Kinta chasing bits of food about his plate. Very few of them made it into his mouth.

"How's the project coming?" Jean asked Gunmar at length.

"OK."

"Did you ever find a way around that pod problem?"

"No." After a pause he went on, obviously making an effort to be sociable, "Though it did occur to me-- maybe I'm using the wrong material. If I used a polymer instead of fibreglass, any encrustations could be cleaned more easily..." Dorian had no notion what he was talking about, but Jean's questions eventually drew him into a long commentary that grew more animated as he spoke. It seemed to have something to do with a machine to be used underwater, but beyond that he hadn't a clue. He glanced over at Kinta, who had stopped even the pretence of eating and was staring into his wineglass.

"So if I could find an insulating material thick enough, the articulation wouldn't be a problem any more," Gunmar was confiding to Jean, who nodded as though that actually meant something to him.

Kinta threw his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back. "I'm finished," he said. "See you downstairs, Jean."

"Oh- see you," Jean said in surprise. Gunmar half turned his head to look after him but then went back to his exposition. After a carefully considered minute, Dorian rose and left as well.

His thief's instincts had already given him a working idea of how the suite was laid out, and he followed the direction Gunmar had come from that morning. There were two rooms at the end of the cul de sac, but he didn't have to guess which one it was. Kinta hadn't bothered to close the door.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over as if his stomach hurt him. One fist was pressed tightly against his mouth and silent tears ran in streams down his cheeks. Dorian stood frozen, first in shock, then in embarrassment, and then in sudden pain. He himself had wept like that only this morning. The memory of his grief and of Klaus' words that had caused it came back in unbearable clarity, mirrored in the desolation before him. His eyes overflowed and a sob escaped him before he could stop himself. Kinta jerked upright.

"I'm s-sorry," Dorian said. His voice came out shamingly unsteady. "Really I am. I just--" He could say no more. His curiosity had gotten him exactly what he deserved, and all he wanted now was to get away and be alone with his pain.

"Wait." Kinta's voice was harsh and cracked. Dorian turned back unwillingly. Kinta's mouth moved but no sound came out. Impossible just to leave him in this state-- He came in and sat down on the bed. Kinta covered his face with both hands and began rocking back and forth, sobbing aloud.

"Professor Aouille- please- please don't distress yourself like this," Dorian begged, wiping the tears from his own face. The lump in his throat was choking him. This was horrible. Any more and he too would be howling like a three-year-old.

"Oh Christ," Kinta wept. "Oh Christ. Christ. Christ." It seemed all he could say.

"Won't you tell me what the trouble is? I really can't bear to see you so unhappy." He gave the big shoulder an awkward pat, feeling queasy with grief and embarrassment.

"Oh God." Kinta rubbed both palms across his wet cheeks. "I wish I'd never come here. I wish we'd stayed in Circassia. We were ha-happy there."

"There, there." Dorian put an arm around his back, which the other didn't elbow away. It helped if he pretended Kinta was only a desolate little boy in need of comfort. A gigantic little boy, half again Dorian's size: but this whole-hearted grief had nothing of the adult in it. "It can't be so bad."

"It is," Kinta said in a kind of ferocious misery. "He doesn't want us. He wants to leave us. He wo- he won't-" He hiccuped on his sobs.

"Ssh," Dorian smoothed Kinta's thick blond hair, as he would gentle a horse. "Who doesn't want you?"

"Ta-Takamatsu..."

"Of course he does. He loves you- you and Gunmar. He's said so often enough. He won't leave you. You know that."

"No he doesn't. He stays away- he breaks his promises- Takamatsu never broke his promises before we came here."

"He just has to be alone to deal with some old feelings. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you--"

"It does. It does," Kinta insisted. "He only loves my father. He wants- he wants to die so he can be with him." He rocked back and forth in pain.

"Oh, I don't think so. You're being melodramatic, don't you think? It's just that the memories are so strong here-"

"You don't know anything about it!" Kinta cried. "He's refused to have the treatment that would save his life. He's going to die and I can't stop him!" He stared into Dorian's eyes, wretchedly triumphant, but with something still of the small child begging an adult to make it different.

"I had no idea..." Dorian said in shock. "Oh my dear, I'm so sorry." The misery in Kinta's eyes was too much to bear. Dorian hugged him hard. Kinta's arm came around his back and held on to him tight. How it happened he couldn't have said- his head was next to Kinta's and somehow his head turned, or Kinta's did, and their mouths being so close together just sort of met naturally, and the next minute they were kissing. Gravity took him backwards onto the bed, with Kinta's iron arms about him and his heavy body half on top of him, and suddenly he found that his fantasy of the morning had become exhilarating flesh. It wasn't Majek, but so what? He didn't care. His body only knew that it was receiving the sensations it wanted. His fingers twined fiercely in the mane-like thickness of Kinta's hair as his hips writhed beneath Kinta's pelvis in search of the friction he needed. Kinta's wet mouth took his breath and his tongue filled Dorian's own mouth- he was so big, all of him...

A large hand was fumbling between them, trying to open his fly. He slid his fingers in, undoing the top button. Kinta got the zip down and reached into Dorian's crotch, and Dorian found his cock being squeezed in a meaty fist. He gave an unthought 'Ah!' of delight. What an amazing sensation. He too wanted something for his hands to be doing. With more practice than his partner he unzipped Kinta's trousers, releasing the thick organ within that came rigidly into his grasp. God, he was so big, all of him. Kinta's great fist worked at him while he more delicately manipulated Kinta with a thumb and forefinger. He wanted to be the first to get off- it would be a pity to waste on his fingers alone the glory he held in his hands. "Harder," he begged into Kinta's ear, "Harder- Make me come--" The speed and pressure of Kinta's hand became unbearable. Dorian lost control of himself, thrashing and gasping. He remembered only at the final moment to bite on his forearm to stifle the cry that came from his throat.

He let the silver glinting darkness fade around him and turned eagerly to his treasure, but a glance in passing at Kinta's face made him pause. Kinta's eyes were wide and wild with equal parts desire and distrust.

"I don't know your customs," Dorian said, as gently as he could through the clanging of his own desire. "I don't want to offend you--" The staring blue eyes prompted him to continue. "Would you mind- Is it alright- if I use my mouth?"

Kinta gasped and nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes." The 'please' was unspoken, but Dorian heard it anyway. He smiled and leaned over to give Kinta a chaste kiss on the cheek. Then he slipped down in the bed and began a most unchaste adoration of the beautiful piece of flesh before him. His ministrations were almost too good. Three times he had to stop short to give them both a breathing space. By the end Kinta was weeping again with pleasure and sweet frustration. Dorian, merciful and, by this time, impatient himself, at last brought him to fulfilment. As he'd hoped, the postponed delight made the other satisfyingly copious in his spendings. It also sent him into a near catalepsy when he was done. Dorian lay beside him, drifting in a blurry undefined contentment. He could leave him to sleep... but even as he thought that, Kinta stirred and came to. His pale blue eyes looked amazed and disoriented until they settled on Dorian's face. There was a small silence as they regarded each other.

"Why did you do that?" Kinta asked at last, seeming truly puzzled.

"Because I wanted to. You're very beautiful," Dorian hastened to assure him.

Kinta reddened and looked uneasy. "You don't even like me."

"I don't dislike you. You were the one who took against me first."

"I thought you were laughing at me, like Sergei does. I didn't realize--"

"Sergei doesn't laugh at you. Wherever did you get that idea?"

"He looks at me--"

"Don't be silly. He respects you. I think maybe you frighten him a little. You're so serious always." He stroked his hair again. All the Aouilles had lovely hair; it was impossible to keep one's hands off it.

"That's what Gunmar says. But life- life is nothing to joke about." His mouth lengthened in unhappiness.

"So what's the matter with Takamatsu, then?"

Kinta looked away. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"He doesn't want people to know?"

"It's a secret."

"Can you at least tell me what's wrong with him?"

"No."

"But there's a