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could be accepted as truth from one who would commit fraud at klin zha? I would suspect that, when the plodders of Security finish with this straav ’s record, it will be found full of lies as well.”
    “I would not doubt that,” Kezhke said, without sarcasm.
    “But the corruption ends here,” said General Maida.
    Kethas was looking out the window, at the figure on the top of the pyramid. The Green Lancer had arms upraised, and was shouting something the glass filtered out. It was barely possible that Mabli had heard Margon’s challenge, before his glass was broken; but it hardly mattered.
    Kethas said, “There is a last thing, sutai-Demma….”
    Margon said, “Epetai-Khemara?”
    “A pleasing game. My compliments to a worthy opponent.”
    Margon nodded. Kethas turned away. “Manager Akten,” he said, “I should like to discuss a matter with you. An adoption from one of the Houses of Lineless Youth.”
    Akten gestured to his tharavul. “I took that to be the context of your message, and Sovin has a set of—” Akten stopped short. “You said an adoption? Not just a transfer of residence?”
    Kethas gave the faintest of smiles. “You are a good player, Akten…but even I did not know in advance how the game would end.”

Two: Strategies
    Vrenn was in his sleeping room of the House Twenty-Four, alone. The six beds were all neat; the other occupants were at a morning instruction. Vrenn had a sudden, deep flash of wishing he were with them. But he was no longer Gensa, but Khemara. Shortly a transport would be here, to take him away to his destiny.
    Vrenn crouched on the edge of the bed that he had slept in all his life, leaned forward, slipped his fingers beneath it, feeling out of sight of the room monitors for the slot between metal frames.
    He found nothing.
    His jaw tensed, and his lips curled back from his teeth. So the one thing he would have kept was gone as well. He thought that it was not right for the Proctors to take it; it did not really belong to the House. If he found Khidri, Vrenn wondered, could he convince him to give Vrenn that one thing? Or if he could not take it away, at least give it to a Housemate….
    That would be a poor strategy, Vrenn knew at once. It had been old Khi’who had cautioned Vrenn not to demand privileges too soon in the name of Khemara, not to call a victory what was not.
    Let the House have the envelope, then. Let them burn it. And he would see it again, in the next life, when he captained a ship of the Black Fleet.
    Vrenn left the room. The halls were very quiet; the walls were of smooth castrock, hung with a few machine-copy tapestries, good traps for sound.
    “Khemara.”
    It was the sound that made Vrenn turn, not the name. Proctor Muros was standing not far away, hands folded. His control wand swung at his side: Vrenn could not think when the wand had seemed both less of a threat, and more.
    “Are you lost, Khemara? Guests of this House are normally provided with guides. I will guide you if you wish, honored and exalted guest.” Epetai-zana: an honorific so high it became absurd, an insult.
    “I am not lost, Proctor,” Vrenn said firmly, then hardened his neck muscles and said, “You may go about your duties.”
    Muros smiled faintly, showing points of teeth. “Of course, epetai-zana. ” He nodded politely, turned and walked silently away. Vrenn felt his liver relax.
    Newcomers to the House often thought Muros was demanding their deference, and gave it. It was the wrong answer. “Are you straave? ” he would snarl, and use the wand.
    When Muros snaps, snap back: it was one of many secret rules of the House. When one arrived, one’s five roommates, and only they, could tell the rules. Or not tell, as they chose. Usually they would tell a part, leave a part to be found out at the end of a wand. Zharn had warned Vrenn of Muros, and it was said he had ordered Gelly’s mates to warn her, which for her strangeness they might not have done.
    Zharn and Gelly had