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reassuring her. In this world where women did the same work as men and where female bodies were to be seen uncovered in the exercise yard so often that even turning your head to look must become a bore, this oaf nonetheless liked reassuring her.
    She said, “What does the ‘M’ mean?”
    He smiled. “Michael. Why?”
    As the door closed, the captive royal child began to wail.
    Anne smiled, too. “An idle fancy. I wondered if it stood for Mark.”
     

     
    “What argument has the Church filed with the All-World Forum?” a senior researcher asked.
    Brill said irritably, as if it were an answer, “Where is Mahjoub?”
    Lambert spoke up promptly. “He is with Helen of Troy, Director, and the doctor. The queen had another seizure last night.” Enzio Mahjoub had been the unfortunate project head for their last time rescue.
    Brill ran his hand over the back of his neck. His skull needed shaving, and his cheek dye was sloppily applied. He said, “Then we will begin without Mahjoub. The argument of Her Holiness is that the primary function of this institute is no longer pure time research but practical application, and that the primary practical application is time rescue. As such, we exist to take hostages, and thus should come under the direct control of the Church of the Holy Hostage. Her secondary argument is that the time hostages are not receiving treatment up to intersystem standards as specified by the All-World Accord of 2154.”
    Lambert’s eyes darted around the room. Cassia Kohambu, project head for the institute’s greatest success, sat up straight, looking outraged. “Our hostages are—on what are these charges allegedly based?”
    Brill said, “No formal charges as yet. Instead, Her Holiness has requested an investigation. She claims we have hundreds of potential hostages pinpointed by the Rahvoli equations, and the ones we have chosen do not meet standards for either internal psychic stability or benefit accrued to the hostages themselves, as specified in the All-World Accord. We have chosen to please ourselves, with flagrant disregard for the welfare of the hostages.”
    “Flagrant disregard!” It was Culhane, already on his feet. Beneath the face dye, his cheeks flamed. Lambert eyed him carefully. “How can Her Holiness charge flagrant disregard when without us the Tsarevitch Alexis would have been in constant pain from hemophiliac episodes, Queen Helen would have been abducted and raped, Herr Hitler blown up in an underground bunker, and Queen Anne Boleyn beheaded!”
    Brill said bluntly, “Because the Tsarevitch cries constantly for his mother, the Lady Helen is mad, and Mistress Boleyn tells the church she has been made war upon!”
    Well, Lambert thought, that still left Herr Hitler. She was just as appalled as anyone at Her Holiness’s charges, but Culhane had clearly violated both good manners and good sense. Brill never appreciated being upstaged.
    Brill continued, “An investigative committee from the All-World Forum will arrive here next month. It will be small: Delegates Soshiru, Vlakhav, and Tullio. In three days the institute staff will meet again at oh-seven hundred, and by that time I want each project group to have prepared an argument in favor of the hostage you hold. Use the prepermit justifications, including all the mathematical models, but go far beyond that in documenting benefits to the hostages themselves since they arrived here. Are there any questions?”
    Only one, Lambert thought. She stood. “Director—were the three delegates who will investigate us chosen by the All-World Forum or requested by Her Holiness? To whom do they already owe their allegiance?”
    Brill looked annoyed. He said austerely, “I think we can rely upon the All-World delegates to file a fair report, Intern Lambert,” and Lambert lowered her eyes. Evidently she still had much to learn. The question should not have been asked aloud.
    Would Mistress Boleyn have known that?
     

     
    Anne took