Val Con resisted the temptation to look at Nova again. with effort, he maintained the proper expression, though one eyebrow did slip upward, just a little.

“Has Shan slighted you, Aunt? It does not seem like him. He is very conscientious in his duty as First-Speaker-in-Trust. It is true that his manner is not quite—polished—but his heart is good and—”

“He is an outrageous rantipole and a disgrace to the Clan!” snapped his aunt. She took a bosom-lifting breath and dabbed at her Temples with an orange silk kerchief.

“Forgive me. It was not my intention to speak thus of a kinsman you hold so dear, though I am certain my feelings on Lord yos’Galan’s past—adventures—have not escaped notice.”

“I am,” said Val Con dryly, “aware of your antipathy for my brother. You are obviously agitated. I make allowance.” He removed his eyes to the Clan sign above the fireplace: Korval’s Dragon hovering protectively over the Tree.

He looked back at the Right Noble, both brows up.

“You have not yet informed me what my brother has done to offend you—this—time, Aunt.”

She drew herself up. “He is—racing!”

Her nephew achieved a new peak of self-discipline and contrived not to laugh.

“Is he? Racing what, I wonder?”

“Skimmers,” said Nova unexpectedly, frowning slightly when he turned to face her. “A new thing off the Terran tracks…” She sighed. “They are dangerous, Val Con. Stick and throttle—no electronics, no safeties.”

“Ah.” He considered it; smiled at her. “But he’s not likely to hurt himself, is he? He’s quite an excellent pilot.”

“Whether or not he does himself some trifling injury is not the essence,” announced Lady Kareen. “Consider the scandal, my Lord! The First Speaker of Clan Korval—racing, like a common—“words failed her.