“I’ve transcribed my impressions of the meeting,” he told the android. “Have you finished your historical survey?”

Dan’s translucent head bobbed in assent. “I have, Hamilton. And I think the history will make an ideal introduction to our book. I will try to write up a lucid description of what a monarchy was. A lot of people who never took up the right avocations won’t have heard of it.”

“Good idea.” That would save Hamilton a lot of time. Already the members of his basketball team were complaining because he was neglecting his athletic hobby. Success was commendable, they reminded him quite rightly, but obsession was illegal.

“Did you uncover anything interesting?”

“Yes, Hamilton. I found that the records shown us by Dr. Gustaf were genuine. When I showed them to the AAA-class androids at the records division they became quite interested. Apparently George Gustaf’s ‘bloodline’ is correct.”

Hamilton grinned. “Amazing.” Of course this would keep the robo-psychiatrist out of delusional therapy. That pleased Hamilton. He actually liked the man.

“So how did you like working with triple-A androids?”

The AnMan returned his version of a smile. “About the way you feel about becoming a professional sociologist, Hamilton.”

“That good?” Hamilton grinned back.

The city of Orleans was interested, to say the least. For the first time in memory, people were actually juggling their schedules to get time off to watch a… parade.

It was a modest affair, as ritual parades went. There were no floats, no teams of amateur acrobats or struggling amateur aerocyclists. The procession was mostly afoot or on horseback, led by a small band of tall men who raised the neck-hairs of onlookers with the eerie, tugging noise of bagpipes.