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that occurred after the Clan had agreed to remove its influence from the Camos Cluster, the cost of transport, the promotion received by an Enforcer Morgan and I knew well.
    “So Bowman’s Sector Chief. Good for her,” Morgan replied to this last bit of news. “She’ll surprise a few who thought they were untouchable.”
    The next logical topic was the Clan and my remaining family, a conversation I preferred to avoid. They both rose politely as I stood. Morgan sat back down, looking immovable.
    “I’ll stay and talk to Barac. We’ve a lot to catch up on.” If there was a message in his eyes, I couldn’t read it. Nor would mental contact be wise—Barac would at least sense it happening if not decipher it, and quite rightly feel offended. I nodded my farewells and left.
    Let Barac be the one to tell Morgan that the papers I was working on were the transfer of ownership of the Haven and the closing of all my business dealings on this planet.

INTERLUDE
    As a meeting place, it was perfect. Far from hidden, which would have aroused suspicion just by that fact, the four gathered in bright daylight—to all appearances enjoying a casual lunch just like the hundreds of others around them. Gaily colored umbrellas dotted the huge square like flowers in a garden. The babble of voices and movements was deafening close at hand. Rael di Sarc was pleased.
    “All this, and you even arranged a decent meal. I am truly impressed, Ru.”
    The smaller Clanswoman, Ru di Mendolar, waved a self-disparaging hand, but her round cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Be more impressed when we have a better reason to share a table, Rael.”
    “True enough,” Rael said. She spent a moment walking her long fingers—presently stenciled with the silhouettes of tiny flowers—over the moving lines of the menu in the table surface, tossing back the heavy black hair threatening to fall in front of her somber eyes. “But that time will come soon enough if we are successful.”
    “And how likely is that?” The speaker, a heavyset Clansman whose faint accent marked him as hailing from one of the Ruaran worlds, frowned at Rael. Larimar di Sawnda’at had never been known for his patience. “My sources indicate the Council is ready to move against the firstborn daughter of di Sarc.”
    “An old rumor turned into a new one,” she retorted quickly, green eyes flashing. “It would make your sources more credible, Larimar, if they could tell us what the Council is planning. Why they have waited until now? What is this new threat? How are we to protect Sira, or warn her—”
    “Hush, girl.” The fourth member of the group was the only one present who dared use that quelling tone with the powerful Clanswoman. Rael flushed but settled back in her chair. “Better. Now Larimar’s sources are good, and they have given us a place to start, but do not ask for miracles from them. If too many questions are asked, or too specific information is drawn from certain minds, the reprisals will be instantaneous. They could even reach back to us. We must never underestimate the strength or determination of the Council—or the threat they pose.”
    Rael nodded meekly. “Yes, Grandmother.”
    Ica di Teerac eyed her kinswoman suspiciously. “Don’t use that tone with me, offspring of Sarc. Without my presence, you would not have had an acceptable excuse to gather this kin group in safety. And without my wisdom, you will fail.”
    Ru stirred restlessly, her dark red hair squirming as if equally resentful of the constraint of jeweled pin and net. “And what does that wisdom suggest, First Chosen? That we wait on the Council—cowering under your protection (for as long as that is respected)—and so let them act as they choose?”
    “And what about Sira—” Rael began.
    “I know impatience will not help anyone,” Ica interrupted sternly, her blue eyes, washed pale with the years, focusing on each in turn. “But I agree the time has come to move as swiftly as