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terrible force threatened to take away their good works, but they
resisted it, and they won, and came out of the conflict stronger then before,
and if they had not been so unconcerned with power for its own sake, they would
have been terribly feared, but as it was they were only slightly feared, just
as a matter of course given the scale of their power. And one of the ways it
amused them to wield that power was to interfere in societies they thought
might benefit from the experience, and one of the most efficient ways of doing
that in a lot of societies is to get to the people at the top.
    'Many
of their people become physicians to great leaders, and with medicines and
treatments that seem like magic to the comparatively primitive people they're
dealing with, ensure that a great and good leader has a better chance of
surviving. That's the way they prefer to work; offering life, you see, rather
than dealing death. You might call them soft, because they're very reluctant to
kill, and they might agree with you, but they're soft the way the ocean is
soft, and, well; ask any sea captain how harmless and puny the ocean can be.'
    'Yes,
I see,' the Ethnarch said, sitting back a little further shifting a pillow into
place behind his back, and checking just where he was in relation to the
section of headboard that concealed the gun. His heart was thrashing in his
chest.
    'Another
thing they do, these people, another way they deal in life rather than death,
is they offer leaders of certain societies below a certain technological level
the one thing all the wealth and power those leaders command cannot buy them; a
cure for death. A return to youth.'
    The
Ethnarch stared at the young man, suddenly more intrigued than terrified. Did
he mean the retro-ageing?
    'Ah;
it's starting to click into place now, isn't it?' the young man smiled. 'Well,
you're right. Just that process that you've been going through, Ethnarch
Kerian. Which you've been paying for, this last year. Which you did - if you
remember - promise to pay for with more than just platinum. Do you remember, hmmm?'
    'I...
I'm not sure.' The Ethnarch Kerian stalled. He could see the panel in the
headboard where the gun was from the corner of his eye.
    'You
promised to stop the killings in Youricam, remember?'
    'I
may have said I'd review our segregation and resettlement policy in the -'
    'No,'
the young man waved his hand, 'I mean the killings, Ethnarch; the death trains,
remember? The trains where the exhaust comes out of the rear carriage,
eventually.' The young man made a sort of sneer with his mouth, shook his head.
'Trigger any memories, that? No?'
    'I
have no idea what you're talking about,' the Ethnarch said. His palms were
sweating, cold and slick. He rubbed them on the bedclothes; the gun mustn't
slip, if he got to it. The intruder's gun was still lying on the bed's
footboard.
    'Oh,
I think you do. In fact, I know you do.'
    'If
there have been any excesses by any members of the security forces, they will be
thoroughly -'
    'This
isn't a press conference, Ethnarch.' The man tipped slightly back in his seat,
away from the gun on the footboard. The Ethnarch tensed, quivering.
    'The
point is, you made a deal and then didn't stick to it. And I'm here to collect
on the penalty clause. You were warned, Ethnarch. That which is given can also
be taken away.' The intruder tipped further back in his seat, glanced round the
dark suite, and nodded at the Ethnarch, while putting his hands clasped behind
his head. 'Say goodbye to all this, Ethnarch Kerian. You're -'
    The
Ethnarch turned, banged the hidden panel with his elbow, and the section of
headboard flicked round; he tore the gun from its clips and swung it at the
man, finding the trigger and pulling.
    Nothing
happened. The young man was watching him, hands still behind his neck, body
rocking slowly back and forward in the chair.
    The
Ethnarch clicked the trigger a few more times.
    'Works
better with these,' the man said, reaching into