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past the window, setting terran birds against the native bat-types. The Expatrians were well ahead when he stopped counting. He tried to listen for the sea, but the day was calm and the sea quiet. He even tried to recall his list of cliff-top burrowers but it was no good. Always his mind came back to his lost father. He wished things had been easier between them; the feelings had always been there but it took death to make Mathias see that.
    They brought him food—a plate of corn hash—towards the middle of the day. He didn't eat it. He just sat there, working his depression more deeply into his soul, wondering what his half-brother was doing in his place.
    Later he sat watching the sun, too low and red to hurt his eyes. The day had been a long one and now it was ebbing away into the nothing of another brief night. At first the sky changed slowly, the sun burning a deeper hue, its colours seeping into the scattering of clouds. Then the change accelerated, the colours spreading, deepening, flowing through cloud and the darkening sky, ever-changing, drawing Mathias up and away.
    A knock at the door brought him back down to the reality he had been trying to forget. He had been expecting them all day, another interview, maybe some more planted evidence that would prove his 'guilt' beyond all reasonable doubt.
    The door opened and Greta was standing there.
    He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms as he had at the Dumandee Ball, but instead he held back, feeling suddenly unsure of himself.
    The door opened wider and Greta stepped aside to allow the chaperone to follow her into the room. Of course, she would not come to see him alone. Even in this situation— especially in this situation—they had to be watched.
    Chaperone leaning on the closed door, Greta moved into the room and sat upright on the edge of the wide bed. Mathias wanted to go to her, but he couldn't move, he couldn't even speak.
    'I'm glad they still treat you well, Matti.' She gestured around at the guest-room. 'Your cell is rather splendid.'
    Greta's lightness of spirit was one of her most endearing qualities, but it was also one of her most infuriating. If ever an argument had gone against her and Mathias had felt close to winning a point, she would joke and the matter would be closed and Mathias would feel angry and elated at the same time. He felt both those feelings now and he didn't know which was proper.
    'You made me very proud, last night,' he said. 'To be dancing with you at the Dumandee Ball. I wanted to show you off to the whole world.' He shrugged and turned away. He was no good at compliments, no matter how truthful they were. 'It wasn't me. You have to believe me: I could never have done anything like that.'
    Greta was staring at her hands. 'Everybody saw the two of you arguing,' she said. 'And they say you climbed into your room to avoid detection.'
    'You believe them, then?'
    'At the Gatherings we are told that belief is total commitment. I do not believe that you... killed the Prime. I simply...'
    Mathias stood by the window and watched a gull dipping over the roof-tops. 'How can I earn your total commitment?' he asked. 'What must I do?'
    'I don't know, Matti. I'm sorry but I... Things have changed rapidly, since Dumandee. It appears that Edward will be named at least Prime-Designate, until things become more settled. He is working very hard to keep the clan functioning. He has made many friends by his efforts. Faces are changing too rapidly for me to follow. Captain Anderson has risen with Edward; they complement one another. Sala Pedralis is helping smooth the transitional period, too. I don't think she likes Edward, but she is winning back the dissidents and gaining the clan time. Lucilla Ngota has been disgraced. She won't tell me what happened but she has been suspended from all duties and her staff have been redeployed to cope with the crisis. I have tried to comfort her—the Prime's death has hurt her deeply. Matti, what will