“I’ve explained to you often enough,” he said. ” Lot rather’ve gone to Mboto’s or Bhatnagar’s myself. But my ship leaves in three days. Last chance to conduct a bit of absolutely essential business.”

“So you say.”

He reached a decision. Tonight had not seemed to him to represent any large sacrifice on her part. During the months of his absence, she’d find ample consolation with her lovers. (How else can a high-born lady who has no special talents pass her time on Terra?) But if she did grow embittered she could destroy him. It is vital to keep closed that faceplate which is pretense. Never mind what lies behind. But in front of the faceplate waits open ridicule, as dangerous to a man in power as emptiness and radiation to a spacefarer.

Odd, reflected the detached part of him, for all our millennia of recorded history, for all our sociodynamic theory and data, how the basis of power remains essentially magical. If I am laughed at, I may as well retire to my estates. And Terra needs me.

“Darlin’,” he said, “I couldn’t tell you anything before. Too many ears, live and electronic, don’t y’ know. If the opposition got wind of what I’m about, they’d head me off. Not because they necessarily disagree, but because they don’t want me to bring home a jumpin’ success. That’d put me in line for the Policy Board, and everybody hopes to sit there. By arrangin’ a fait accompli, though—d’ you see?”

She rested a hard gaze on him. He was a tall, slender, blond man. His features were a little too sharp; but in green tunic and decorations, gauze cloak, gold breeches and beefleather halfboots, he was more handsome than was right. “Your career,” she gibed.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “But also peace. Would you like to see Terra under attack? Could happen.”