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thing you would understand./
    ::That is exactly the kind of thing that interests me most! Please, Herald; I will keep your secret. Tell me what keeps you from Furnace. Is it very hot there?::
    /The sapients of # are hot, but that would not dissuade me, as I would naturally go there in Transfer./
    ::Come on, tell me—or I'll condemn Furnace to be destroyed for our energy supply!::
    /You bargain ruthlessly! Therefore I must confess: my betrothed is there./ He dealt a card: the Devil.
    ::Oh, I am sorry, Herald. I would not really have destroyed Furnace! But—how could you love her if you have never been there? Did she come to Andromeda?::
    /No, we have never met. It was a birth-betrothal, decreed by the Cluster Council. We are the two highest Kirlians living in the Cluster and so by law, we must mate with each other before we take any other mates./
    Smallbore finally took note of the card. ::The Devil? Now I really don't understand, Herald. Why is this law? Where is the Devil? You are not even of her species, are you?::
    /I hardly understand it myself, Smallbore. There is a body of experts who believe that the mating of two high-Kirlian entities is more likely to produce high-Kirlian descendants. Many other experts doubt this. The available evidence lends itself to differing interpretations. But for the past few centuries, that law has been in force; it applies to all auras of one hundred fifty or above. Thus I am betrothed to this devil female./
    ::So you have to marry this hot one! Why is that so bad?::
    /Just how old are you, child?/
    ::Old enough to snoop on my parents, some. I know what the words mean.::
    Herald sighed, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble with the older Metamorphics. Some cultures still had regressive notions about what was fitting for children to know.
    /I have to mate with Flame of Furnace. After she conceives by me, I am free to mate and marry elsewhere. But I refuse to honor this dictate, so I shall never Transfer to Furnace, or permit Flame to Transfer to me./
    ::But she might be a nice girl!::
    /That is irrelevant. It is a matter of principle. The Cluster Council shall not dictate my personal life./
    ::Won't that get you in trouble with the Cluster Council?::
    /Not so long as I don't marry elsewhere. I shall remain celibate./
    Smallbore considered that. ::But you might have a child like me. Would you deny me my short life?::
    Herald was silent, struck by the ramifications of the question. A child like her?
    ::Oh, I have wounded you,:: Smallbore cried contritely. ::I am sorry, Herald. Forgive me!::
    /No fault in you,/ Herald replied quickly. /You have caused me to examine my motives, and they are unworthy. I would not deny you life./
    Smallbore looked through the deck, found a card and laid it down: Death. She considered it for a long moment before speaking. ::Strange, Herald. I know it for what it is, yet I find no terror in it. How can this be?::
    /Many things in life are worse than death. Not long ago I analyzed the Shield of Arms of a noble Ast, and he charged me by the Lot of Asterisk to explain its fault. When I did, he died. For him, abatement of honor was worse than death, though in truth it was the fault of the vengeful King of Arms of Ast./
    ::Oh, the poor entity! I must comfort him, when I enter that realm.::
    /That might be appropriate,/ Herald agreed.
    ::And after that, I shall go haunt the King of Arms of Ast!:: she said with a return of childish malice.
    /Perhaps that, too, would be appropriate,/ Herald said. If there were any reality to life after death....
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    When Bore returned, Herald had gone. Smallbore remained too ill to drill, sinking toward death, but now there was a special brightness to her finish, a kind of metallic radiance all about her, and she was at peace. ::I will die very soon,:: she announced. ::Isn't it wonderful?::
    Bore was suspicious. Had the alien drugged her? ::Tell me what passed between you and the Healer.::
    ::He touched me, and he showed