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that…
    “You’ll have to help with the guest list,” Gesalla said as she swept into the panelled study. “I can’t do any serious planning when I don’t even know how many people we are going to have.”
    A glimmering in the depths of Lain’s mind was abruptly extinguished, leaving him with a sense of loss which quickly faded as he looked up at his black-haired solewife. The illness of early pregnancy had narrowed the oval of her face and given her a dark-eyed pallor which somehow emphasised her intelligence and strength of character. She had never looked more beautiful in Lain’s eyes, but he still wished she had not insisted on starting the baby. That slender, slim-hipped body did not look to him as though it had been designed for motherhood and he had private fears about the outcome.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Lain,” she said, her face showing concern. “Did I interrupt something important?”
    He smiled and shook his head, once again impressed by her talent for divining other people’s thoughts. “Isn’t it early to be planning for Yearsend?”
    “Yes.” She met his gaze coolly—her way of challenging him to find anything wrong with being efficient. “Now, about your guests…”
    “I promise to write out a list before the day is over. I suppose it will be much the same as usual, though I’m not sure if Toller will be home this year.”
    “I hope he isn’t,” Gesalla said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t want him. It would be so pleasant to have a party without any arguments or fighting.”
    “He is my brother,” Lain protested amiably.
    “Half-brother would be more like it.”
    Lain’s good humour was threatened. “I’m glad my mother isn’t alive to hear that comment.”
    Gesalla came to him immediately, sat on his lap and kissed him on the mouth, moulding his cheeks with both her hands to coax him into an ardent response. It was a familiar trick of hers, but nonetheless effective. Still feeling privileged even after two years of marriage, he slid his hand inside her blue camisole and caressed her small breasts. After a moment she sat upright and gave him a solemn stare.
    “I didn’t mean any disrespect to your mother,” she said. “It’s just that Toller looks more like a soldier than a member of this family.”
    “Genetic flukes sometimes happen.”
    “And there’s the way he can’t even read.”
    “We’ve been through all this before,” Lain said patiently. “When you get to know Toller better you’ll see that he is as intelligent as any other member of the family. He can read, but he isn’t fluent because of some problem with the way he perceives printed words. In any case, most of the military are literate—so your observation is lacking in relevance.”
    “Well…” Gesalla looked dissatisfied. “Well, why does he have to cause trouble everywhere he goes?”
    “Lots of people have that habit—including one whose left nipple is tickling my palm at this moment.”
    “Don’t try to turn my mind to other things—especially at this time of day.”
    “All right, but why does Toller bother you so much? I mean, we are pretty well surrounded by individualists and near-eccentrics on Greenmount.”
    “Would you like it better if I were one of those faceless females who have no opinions about anything?” Gesalla was galvanised into springing to her feet, her light body scarcely reacting against his thighs, and an expression of dismay appeared on her face as she looked down into the walled precinct in front of the house. “Were you expecting Lord Glo?”
    “No.”
    “Bad luck—you’ve got him.” Gesalla hurried to the door of the study. “I’m going to vanish before he arrives. I can’t afford to spend half the day listening to all that endless humming and hawing—not to mention the smutty innuendoes.” She gathered her ankle-length skirts and ran silently towards the rear stairs.
    Lain took off his reading glasses and gazed after her, wishing she would not keep