"Majesty. Ganton, my friend. I know it must be hard."

"Hard," Ganton said. "Hard indeed. Even the Protector fears the Lord Rick and the star weapons. As he should. You were not there, but I was there, when the other starman, Parsons, the renegade, made common cause with Sarakos, and turned those weapons on my armies. Men, horses, all destroyed, and the sounds of thunder everywhere. No one safe. My Captain-General died at my side, and we five furlongs from the battle!

"But it will change," Ganton said. "I will not be in leading strings forever. Listen."

There were more shouts below. Then a rumble. "The gates," Morrone said. "They open the gates, even at this late hour! Who?"

"We must go see," Ganton said. "Race you." He leaped from the window seat and was down half a flight of steps before Morrone could follow.

They raced down the stairs, shouting and laughing.

The Lord Protector was waiting for them at the second landing. His scarred, weatherbeaten face and the plain broadsword hung on his belt contrasted sharply with -the rich blue and scarlet court attire and jeweled chain of office. He was obviously far more at home in the saddle than the throne room.

Ganton caught himself in mid-stride and drew himself to full height, trying to walk carefully and correctly, hoping that Camithon hadn't seen him running. "Sire," Camithon began. By Yatar, I'm for it now, Ganton thought. "Sire, you should not have absented yourself for so long," the Protector said. "You do little honor to the lord and lady of Chelm, after they have so honored your house by bringing forth their first child here."

Once more, Ganton thought. Tell me once more how honored I am, and I will scream curses on your ancestors."My house is honored indeed. But perhaps there were practical reasons as well? If the Lady Tylara bore her child in Chelm, her clansmen in Tamaerthon would be slighted-and if in Tamaerthon, would not the knights and bheromen of Chelm know insult? My house was a convenience to them. And to the realm, of course. To the realm."