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in the lead.”
    Bur-Al crossed his puffy-sleeved arms over his chest. “Commissioner, this issue would be best discussed in private.”
    Zod gave him a withering glance. “Then why come to a place with thousands of people gathered around?”
    The other man seemed taken aback by the question, then blurted, “I’ve discovered your secret. I know what you’ve done with all the technological items you considered dangerous, the things you censored.”
    “Please confine your ravings to a more appropriate venue.” The crowd shrieked and applauded. So far, Vor-On hadn’t even noticed the mousy visitor. Finally the Commissioner sighed. “Very well, meet me downstairs in the private stables after the race is run, where we will not upset the rest of the crowd. Nam-Ek tends his hrakkas there, and you know he can’t speak a word. Now leave me alone.”
    Enraptured by the spectacle, Vor-On raised his hands. “Did you see that, Commissioner? It was amazing!”
    On the track, one of the chariots had wrecked. Nam-Ek pulled on his reins, encouraging the creatures without needing to whip them. The black beasts plunged ahead around the circuit, trampling the gravel, racing faster and faster. Zod sensed that Bur-Al was still behind him, fuming and antsy, but he ignored the man. Finally, the administrator went away.
    Some noble families who had invested in opposing teams began to complain loudly about the black hrakkas. Behind closed doors before the running of the races, two racing officials had also questioned the legality of using the new species. Nam-Ek had looked forlorn and agitated, unable to verbally express his anxiety, but Zod, as always, had been the voice of reason, telling the officials to look at the letter of the rules. In the dusty old records, no one had defined exactly what a “hrakka” was. In the absence of any established rule to the contrary, the hidebound officials consented to let Nam-Ek’s team compete in the races.
    Now, as the charioteers entered the third lap, two of the opposing teams closed the gap, pushing the green-and-gold creatures beyond their limits of endurance. Zod could see that those hrakkas would probably die at the end of the race, which would no doubt cause a scandal in Kandor.
    As one of the golden hrakkas pulled abreast of Nam-Ek’s chariot, the nearest black beast turned its head and lashed out with a whiplike tongue, pulping the rival hrakka’s eye. The wounded creature reared up, maddened, and clawed at the next creature in its harness. Suddenly the chariot toppled over in a tumbling crash. The driver, wearing a protective suit and antigravity belt, ejected himself from the wreckage, unharmed, while the beasts lay injured and dying.
    Wide-eyed, Vor-On looked at Zod as if he knew all the answers. “Is that allowed?”
    “It is not forbidden by the rules.”
    “How could it not be forbidden? This is…horrible.”
    “One might call it innovative.”
    Zod felt a thrill as he watched. Nam-Ek’s hrakkas lashed out with their long tongues to strike at the team on the right, also driving it into ruin. By now, the big mute had an indisputable lead. Zod didn’t even need to watch the rest of the race; the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He let Vor-On pick over the refreshments that servants had placed in the Commissioner’s box.
    While all eyes were focused on the climax of the races, no one noticed Zod slip quietly away. He had to get down to the stables and begin his preparations before Bur-Al arrived.
     
    The black hrakkas exuded an oily scent from musk glands behind their powerful jaws, but the stable smells did not bother Zod. He had built these pens adjacent to the big arena; they were dim and cool, and also very private. To his fellow noblemen, the stables showed that the Commissioner spared no extravagance to keep Nam-Ek, his chariot, and his hrakkas in fine form. For Zod, though, the stables served as a perfect place for unobserved meetings.
    After the hard-fought race, Zod