Boudicca's eyes lit up when she saw me. She was ripely, gloriously pregnant, and her condition pleased her and made her even more beautiful than before. I walked her to her rooms and embraced her, promising to return as soon as possible to talk about names and plan the claiming ceremony. Ygraine and Morgan were to come in the next courier boat, with Dylan's wives and more of the bodyguards; Ygraine had not caught but Morgan was pregnant as well, and I wanted to see her and make sure she was well. Both of them were nearing their time; were it not for Trance's skills I would have been concerned. I knew I would also have to spend significant time with Ygraine, not only because it would be expected of me as a precursor to battle but because I would not want her to think I valued her less because she was not with child.

Messallina, who came over with the second group, accepted my greetings with a graceful nod and complimented me on my prospective status as a father. When she saw Dylan, she complimented him as well, and looked well pleased with the situation -- far more pleased than I would have expected from a matriarch of her standards.

"You appear to be doing well by my granddaughters, Dylan Hunt. I must admit that I was not, at first," she looked down her nose at Trance, who had just entered the room, "prepared to countenance such an extraordinary diversion from Jaguar custom, but I find that I am pleased with what has occurred ... so far."

"I'm gratified by your approval." Dylan bowed. "Madame, may I present Trance Gemini, our life sciences officer and chief medical officer? Trance is the one who synthesized the Magog antibody."

Trance bowed to her and said, "I'm honored to meet you, ma'am." Messallina's nose came down several centimeters as she peered at Trance.

"What an extraordinary appearance. Are all your people so elegantly colored?" she asked.

I was beginning to see why Charlemagne had said that it was a good thing she was on his side.

Trance appeared equal to the challenge. "Actually, I have no way of knowing, ma'am, since my parents died when I was a child. I know very little about the rest of my family."

"Fascinating. And how unfortunate for you," Messallina said. "I would be quite interested to see your medical facilities, as several of my granddaughters and grandnieces are nearing their time."

"Oh, I'd be delighted," Trance said, as if she meant it, and accompanied the matriarch in the general direction of the med deck.

One problem dealt with. I scanned the reception room to search out any other difficulties.

Beka, who wore a tailored outfit that appeared to be as close to the old High Guard uniform as possible without actually being official, was doing her best to avoid any diplomatic incidents in a discussion with Charlemagne's guard, near the buffet table. I wandered in that direction, long enough to hear her say, "Are you referring to the battle in which the Than admiral, Beneficence of Mind, first used the hurricane-pincers maneuver? I'd be interested to know your thoughts on its effectiveness."

Paris Ramses elbowed the guard next to him, and said, "Tyr Anasazi. I believe we've met?"

"Yes, we were introduced during Grand Duke Bolivar's last visit to the Andromeda," I said, reserving my humor for later. "I don't think I've met all your companions, though."

Paris introduced them one by one: Zoroaster Plantagenet, Mikael Selassie, and Euclid Manchu. "We've been discussing battle tactics with your ship's first officer. She has an interesting understanding of them for a --"

I interrupted him smoothly. "I have always found Beka, out of Lisa by Charles, extremely knowledgeable. Were you aware that she is also captain of the Eureka Maru?"

"I d-didn't realize that," Zoroaster mumbled. "V-very commendable."

"Why, thank you, Tyr," Beka said with a smile. "Have you gotten your family settled comfortably?"

"I believe so. I'm planning to check on them again before the meeting begins," I told her.

I have always appreciated Beka's ability to put callow youths in their place without expending undue effort.

I excused myself and walked over to Dylan, who stood talking with Charlemagne while Rommie stood nearby. "When do you wish to begin?"

Charlemagne nodded politely to me. "Soon. If you plan to pay your respects to your family at the moment, I'd suggest you make the visit brief." He smiled, all teeth. "You'll have plenty of opportunity for catching up later on."

"I'll remember you said that," I told him, my own smile broad, and glanced at Dylan, who nodded.

It occurred to me, as I left to patrol once around the ship on my way to see my wives, that I had not yet seen Harper that day.

"Andromeda. Where is Harper?"

"I'm sorry, Tyr. I can't tell you that. He requested privacy."

"But he is aboard, correct? And well?"

"Yes to both questions."

"Thank you."

I took a quick turn around my usual running path on the way to the guest quarters, passing by Workshop Five and the cargo bay. Everything appeared secure. I checked with Andromeda; Boudicca was taking a brief nap, along with Morgan, and had asked to be undisturbed for an hour. With an effort, I shook off my concerns and went to visit Ygraine, in the quarters across the hall from her sisters.

"Tyr?"

"What?"

"Has anyone ever told you that your mouth looks like a wonderful flower?"

"No, I don't believe so, Ygraine." Absurd, sweet girl. "Should I ask what kind of flower?"

Ygraine plucked a blossom from a floral arrangement on the sideboard that included several varieties of what Trance had once told me were azaleas and hibiscus. "This one. Not quite the same color, but almost the same shape."

"Thank you." I nuzzled her breast, and she whimpered. "Do you really want to spend our time discussing flowers, sweet?"

Her head fell back and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "N-no. Oh. Ohhhhhhh..."

"Our information indicates that the Magog worldship will enter known space at this point, if they continue on their current trajectory." Charlemagne pointed to a map location much closer than I'd expected. "Now, we can either wait for them to come and chew us into little tiny bits or we can go out and take them apart first. Personally, I prefer to chew the wolf's tail, not the other way around."

"How sure are you of that trajectory?" Dylan asked. "What we've found points to an entry point over here." He sketched out a section of the map near Ne'Holland, where the boy-king Eric ruled and strengthened an army for us. "If their direction has changed, why has it?"

"And will it change again?" I made the effort to appear neutral.

"Paris. Report," said Charlemagne.

Paris handed us all pads. "I've tracked the path of the worldship based on the information we've secured from the Shaperans, which was more recent than any other. In any case, if the Magog enter known space anywhere between these points, there are few if any exploitable worlds for them to feed on. That will give us time to choose our territory for battle."

"It will also lose us the support of the worlds who become the next Magog meal, if we're not there in time. Gentlemen, with all due respect, that's not good enough." Dylan tapped his fingers on the conference table.

"And your suggestion is?" Charlemagne tilted his head, observing Dylan. "How many trained military units have joined the alliance? How many can be fielded at a moment's notice?"

"Enough to cover both locations fully armed. I'm not suggesting that you divide your fleet, sir, but that we position ourselves strategically in this fashion. Here, here, and here. You choose the position for your forces and the Sirrush; I'll oversee command of the rest."

Paris frowned. "You're expecting planets full of inexperienced landsmen to fight Magog?" His fingertip brushed the position of Ne'Holland.

"The situation there has changed in the past few months, I believe," I put in. "King Eric is receiving assistance from the Perseids in upgrading his military."

"Would you stand with this King Eric against them?" Charlemagne asked. "He's a child."

"Just as a matter of curiosity, sir, how old were you when you ascended to the Adamant Throne?" I said softly. It was on record that Charlemagne Bolivar, at the age of 14, had devised the deaths of a dozen or so uncles in order to wrest the Jaguar grand duchy from their power. It had taken him longer to achieve this feat than it had Eric, but Charlemagne had not had Eric's advantages.

"Gentlemen." Dylan said. "Let's take a short break and continue this discussion afterward." He glanced at Charlemagne, who nodded slowly. Rommie had a light meal brought in, including something that looked amazingly like the pesto I had made ... months ago. I nodded to her, impressed that she had been able to analyze it so effectively, and she awarded me a small smile.

"You realize," Charlemagne said, "I don't object to you two being kingmakers; it's a fine hobby. I do have some concerns about the quality of your work as it affects my people."

"Eric is young, I grant you, but I trained him." I sipped fruit juice; too much caffeine at the moment would be unwise. "And he listened to me."

"Then I must hope that he has continued his lessons."

"He has," I replied, thinking of our last visit there, a week before. As a result of Eric's determination, the Perseids' technology and the already-experienced fighters that had acquired more to defend from Eric than from the barons -- land and a voice in their government through a parliamentary system -- his planet would be almost as well defended as I could hope. Magog had been there before; no one in Ne'Holland required proof of their depredations to inspire them to battle.

"Excellent." Charlemagne turned to Dylan. "Let us say, for the sake of discussion, that I agree to your theory in principle. Exactly what kind of support do we have, from which planetary systems, and where were you thinking of deploying them?" His eyes narrowed speculatively. "And with what weapons? This thing is big, captain. Throwing rocks at it won't do a bit of good."

Dylan cut his eye sideways at me, a movement that made my stomach clench. "My engineer has developed a few innovations lately." I inclined my head toward him politely; he had to know how I felt, under the mask. "As I said before, the worldship appears to be able to absorb energy and apply it to its defenses; we sent a nova bomb at it without result. We do have nova bombs, I assure you, that I am willing to use once the worldship's integrity is compromised, but I plan to field something else as well."

So that was what he'd had Harper doing, constructing more nova bombs. It made sense.

"Nova bombs. My, my, you have been busy. My congratulations." Charlemagne had not missed Dylan's glance toward me, slight though it had been. "And what else do you have in your pockets?"

"A multiple-macro-implosion device. It creates not just one but several black holes, gives us the ability to move them where we wish, and when we wish -- and combine them. We can and will use that ability to tear apart the worldship."

I grew very still, thinking of Harper's long hours in Workshop Five, and of how he would shower in his old quarters after he had finished work before coming to me. I had thought it mere practicality, as his quarters had been located nearer the shop. What had he thought I might detect?

"You haven't tested it, of course."

"We've made minor tests. In principle and in small scale, it works perfectly." Dylan took another sip of coffee. "I'd advise you to update your navigational information concerning the area near the Treskigari Drift."

Beka and I had made a supply run into Treskigari, not a month ago. The tests must have happened while we were gone.

"Tyr, what's your opinion of this weapon?" Charlemagne asked.

"I believe it's quite effective," I said, nowhere near the formal mode.

"Hmm. I'll take that under advisement. If you would excuse me for a few moments, I'd like to consult my wife and check on our son."

"Is he unwell? I would be happy to put our ship's medical facilities at your disposal," Dylan said, his face concerned.

"Nothing more than a few teeth coming in, but I do appreciate your concern, cousin." And he went off toward his quarters. Dylan raised an eyebrow at Rommie, who gave him a tight nod that meant that she would be monitoring his transmissions as well as his physical safety.

As soon as he was out the door I drew Dylan aside, out of view of my people, and said in an undertone, "Where's Harper?"

"You haven't seen him?" He turned his attention on me, the lines of concern in his face deepening. "When did you last see him?"

"In my quarters before we arrived." I toned down my glare in an attempt to make it less obvious, should Paris look around the corner. "What did you do, have him recreate the Witchhead device and add a few more tricks to it? A fleet of ships," my voice dropped further, "even Nietzschian ships, is not the same thing as that worldship."

"I know. Are you objecting?"

"No, sir. With respect, I'd just like to know whether Harper's health has been compromised by the materials you've had him work with."

He shook his head and sighed. "As far as I know, it has not. He came to me with the idea, Tyr. It wasn't something I asked him to do. I told him that I'd require him to see Trance on a daily basis after he finished work, just to make sure." His voice softened. "I can't afford to lose him, either."

"Practical." It was as close to an apology as I was willing to grant him, but he accepted it with a nod. "The question remains: where is Harper now?"

Rommie walked over to us. "Actually, I believe he's in very good hands. At the moment, he's having tea with your wives, Tyr."

The philosopher who said that we live in interesting times should be introduced to vacuum, promptly, for being an enthusiastic optimist.

I muttered curses at every deity I didn't believe in, all the way down the long hall to Boudicca's rooms. I had put in my time as a historian, and as a practical psychologist. I knew the way my people behaved toward those they consider lesser. The encounters on Denali with the Kazov provided an extremely mild example. The Drago-Kazov had conquered more than six thousand slave planets, well over half of them human, and the Orcas, in their time, had done the same, deeming the unenhanced residents of those planets not worth their notice for anything more than target practice.

Of course Harper was interested in meeting my wives. Harper was interested in meeting anyone who would talk with him. Harper talked with people from every system and culture he encountered; he conversed with computers in their own languages, fluently and, I suspected, in slang the computers invented. I wouldn't have put it past Harper to have found a way to discuss light-speed theory with one of Trance's trees in order to get a chlorophyll perspective, if it were possible.

But he admittedly had no experience of Nietzschian women other than the spoiled Elssbett Mossadim, whom we'd transported to the Jaguars to become Charlemagne's treaty wife.

And that made all the difference. As far as our women were concerned, he was a virgin child and defenseless at that.

At some point, aboard ship, one must come to trust in the basics or else give way to insanity. I had to trust that Andromeda would have notified me if something was wrong with him. I had to trust that she was monitoring the guest suites, and that Boudicca, Ygraine and Morgan had to be aware of it. And I had to trust that, at least for the moment, none of them would see any great advantage in taking his life.

Just because necessity required me to trust did not make it easy. I slowed to a walk at the end of the hall and forced my heart to calm itself to its normal pace. It would benefit no one if I were to arrive hurriedly, as if seeking trouble.

I went through the door casually, without knocking, as was my right.

The women and Harper were grouped around a low table on which were arranged an elaborate tea set and a three-dimensional go game, similar to the one Dylan used in his quarters. The game was in its mid-stages; black appeared to be ahead of white but there were openings where a skilled player could alter that situation if he chose.

Boudicca looked up from a long couch with a smile. Ygraine, who was adjusting a pillow behind Boudicca's back, said, "Is that better?" And Morgan, clumsily large, pushed herself up from an armchair chair and started to teeter.

Before I could reach her, Harper took her arm to keep her from falling. She accepted this, smiled quiet thanks at him, and reached for me. I put my arms around her and kissed her, gently.

"Are you well? I'm sorry I didn't see you earlier," I murmured in her ear.

"Better now. I sleep a lot," she admitted. "Sit with me?" She led me to a smaller couch, where I helped her sit and let her lean against me as I rubbed her lower back. I remembered that slump from when my oldest sister had been pregnant with her first, how she had loved to have her back rubbed to loosen the muscles that tightened unpredictably as the child within her moved.

"I should leave," Harper said, looking at my wives and not at me. "I really should get back to work."

"We're on break," I said mildly. "I wanted to see if there was anything that any of you needed."

Boudicca inclined her head. "Husband, that's so kind of you. Your friend came by an hour ago and saw to our refreshment, and we have been talking."

"He's very interesting," Ygraine told me. "Even for a human."

Harper blushed.

"He's not the usual human," I said. "Harper was the one on whom the antibody was first tested."

"As I thought," Boudicca said. "A warrior in the realm of science and technology as well as battle. Are you certain you can't stay longer, Seamus?"

Of course. He knew enough to introduce himself to them in the formal mode, with his parentage. They would hardly have used his personal name in any other circumstance. As it was, the situation was so unlike what I might have expected that I, too, felt slightly off-balance. In a rational Nietzschian universe, no woman would have allowed someone she considered lesser to touch her arm, nor would she have thanked him afterward. If this were a result of the treaty peace, I would have to revise my opinion of such matters. My opinion of Boudicca, also, had risen.

"I do have to get back to work," he said, with a sidelong glance at me, "but I'd be glad to stop back later on, if you wish. I mean, I know it's difficult, being here on a strange ship and not having your usual books and things around you."

"Perhaps my wives might enjoy seeing one or more of the classical movies you've collected. Some of the Russian ones, perhaps?"

Harper nodded quickly, relaxing into a smile. "I'll make up a selection you can choose from; anything you like, let me know."

"I'd be very grateful," Morgan said. She leaned her head on my shoulder. Was she watching him to notice his reaction to her possessiveness?

He showed no particular reaction that even I could see. "I'll be back later, then, or you can ask the ship to find me. Ladies." He bowed toward each of them, formally, and left.

"I'm pleased to see that you've been so well taken care of," I said.

"He is your friend," Boudicca said.

"He is my shieldbrother," I replied. His ability to keep his footing in a den of lionesses did not negate their teeth or claws, or unpredictable natures.

Morgan stiffened under my arm, until I rubbed her back a little lower, when she sighed and relaxed again.

"He does you credit. What is his parentage?" Boudicca poured me a cup of tea from an antique silver pot I'd last seen in the historical storage on deck three. "Human, but from where?"

I accepted the tea. "I'm not entirely certain. He's certainly traveled widely and educated himself."

It would have done no good to tell the truth, since the Dragans had made Old Earth one of their enslaved worlds for generations. I was unwilling to stretch my wives' good will to the point of accepting as an equal someone whom, if they knew the truth, they would have discarded as an escaped slave.

"Was he just being kind to us because of you?" Morgan asked, not quite plaintively.

"Seamus is kind because that is his nature." I looked at her steadily, and gave the same look to Ygraine. "I'd advise you not to presume upon that. I would not have taken a coward or a fool as a shieldbrother."

Ygraine looked abashed, but covered it with neutrality. Morgan gave me a semi-apologetic smile and a small groan; it was clear that she felt uncomfortable.

"Sister," Boudicca said, "would you like to lie down again?"

"No, I want to be here with Tyr." Her lower lip began to push out in the kind of pout my mother would have had no patience for. From the expression on Boudicca's face, she had as little taste for emotional theatrics as Victoria Anasazi had had.

"Let me check to see how negotiations are proceeding, and if I have time now I'll stay here with you until after dinner." As their faces brightened, I used the subvocal signal to quiz Rommie on the schedule. Her voice in my ear informed me that Charlemagne had decided to review his information before continuing the discussion, so everyone involved was free to do as they wished for several hours.

Undoubtedly, Harper was needed to verify our own information and to make sure the ship's systems were not being compromised by any devices that might have been brought aboard by our guests, whether intentional or not.

"Well?" Ygraine asked.

I put down my tea, untouched. "Barring an emergency, I have no duties until after the next meal."

Boudicca held out her hand to me. "I think there's room on the bed in the next room for all of us."

As I went with them through the door, I wondered what other surprises Harper might have in store for me. I felt unexpectedly pleased with his reception by my wives, and with his willingness to play the host, but it did not ease my concern for the future.

And it occurred to me again, as it had earlier, that I still did not know where Harper had been for more than a day before the guests had arrived.

One does not lay down the law to a Nietzschian woman. It tells her too much about where one may be vulnerable.

Instead, one makes certain that she has everything she could desire for her comfort, pleasure, entertainment and intelligence. And then one watches, very closely, without appearing to do so.

My efforts as a husband were beginning to pay off. I spent a pleasant, though somewhat tiring, afternoon with my family, conferring on names and ritual matters for the claiming, and then, after play and pleasure, enjoying the sensation of watching them as they slept. Morgan dropped off first, followed by Ygraine. When I glanced back at Boudicca, I found her observing me with a quizzical expression.

"Shieldbrother."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I described for her the battle aboard the Andromeda, and the horrible odyssey we had endured aboard the Magog worldship. I told her how, although he was smaller and not as strong, Harper fought off the Magog when I fell until I could rise again. I told her something of the courage with which he withstood the thought of a Magog future.

Boudicca's eyes half closed as she listened. When I finished, her expression was thoughtful. "I had assumed as much, from when we were together before, but I had envisioned someone different."

"Oh?" I wondered, momentarily, whether she knew of my liaison with her brother and his nephew.

"No, not someone like my brother." Her eyes slanted toward me, and away. "Did you think my experience of men was so limited?" She shook her head on the pillow. "He's more of a strategist than I anticipated, far more like one of us. That's interesting." She put her hand over mine. "I accept him as your shieldbrother, husband, though I cannot speak for anyone else."

"And with your acceptance and six thrones, I can buy a tall mug of ale on Denali Station," I said, half mockingly.

"This is true." She was not offended. "However, he would do well to tread carefully among my brother's guardsmen. They are less than respectful of those without personal weaponry." She stretched her arms over her head, flexing her forearm spines thoughtfully.

"I'm not terribly impressed by their perceptiveness, either." I pillowed my head on her shoulder, my hand on her belly feeling the little pushes and twinges from within that delighted me beyond words. "The last I saw of them, they had failed to acquit themselves well when discussing Than battle strategy with the ship's first officer."

"Well, that's what you get when the previous clan matriarch favored inbreeding rather than seeking new genetic sources." She caressed my face and neck. "Tall, pretty boys who fill out a uniform but can't remember their history lessons. I hope their ignorance will not require the rest of us to repeat it."

"How is our sister-in-law, Elssbett?" I inquired casually. "Charlemagne said something of his son being unwell?"

Boudicca scowled. "My brother could have done much better for himself."

"Oh? I had thought he was ... satisfied with their union."

"She leaves their son's care to our cousins, and spends her time making trouble. Your Dylan's wives probably know that child better than she does." She moved uncomfortably, and I helped her onto her side, facing me. "I'm not disparaging her intelligence; she can be a brilliant tactician, as long as people aren't involved. But she's short-sighted and not subtle."

From one of us, that was a devastating condemnation. "Making trouble" was a byword among Nietzschians for scheming that was too obviously clever, tripping itself up and negating any success it might have. We never expected our women to forego their intelligence while raising children; the example of an intelligent mother could be the most important training a child could receive. However, lack of subtlety would make Elssbett ineffective and cheapen her among us faster than simply playing with the guardsmen or even seducing Charlemagne's opponents. Charlemagne was nobody's fool; theirs had not been a love match, and he undoubtedly expected his treaty wife to intrigue against him. If she was fool enough not to realize it, she did not deserve her position.

"He needs the treaty with the Sabras," I said softly.

"If she survives that long," she said.

"Where is she now?"

"She's supposed to be on the home ship, but she left yesterday, saying she was going to inspect the part of our fleet in the Solaris Cluster." Boudicca closed her eyes. "It's anyone's guess, though I wouldn't put it past my brother to have put a tracer on her ship. Not on her, though. They haven't shared quarters in months, let alone a bed."

I stopped in my quarters on the way back to negotiations. Harper had not returned. The few personal items he had left were missing, but his clothes remained in my closet. I thought of our hurried exit from Denali and felt a chill run through me.

At first I thought to locate him through the ship's information, but realized as soon as I considered it that doing so would only notify Rommie of my concern -- and Rommie was Dylan's, first and always. Instead, I used a chip program I'd found that could track individuals through their mean blood temperature and the individual electrical signals their bodies emitted; it employed the ship's information but since the program was not stored within Andromeda there was less chance that the ship would know what I sought.

Odd. He was still on the ship, but his signal flickered -- here, then gone, then there. It made me wonder if he'd recovered the device that Satrina Leander had used to walk between dimensions. For the sake of curiosity, I adjusted my scan to survey all the cargo holds and workshops; although it did not always indicate what was present, it would indicate the location of objects and people in those areas.

Workshop Five was completely empty, a room consisting of four walls, a ceiling and a floor.

No.

Three walls, a ceiling, a floor, and an airlock that led directly to the outside. How had I missed that on my security surveillance? Of course. That wall of the ship lay across from where the Jaguar ship rested, and hidden from normal view. Andromeda, of course, knew it was there; it could hardly be otherwise.

I went back again to the cargo bay where I had left my progenitor sleeping eternally. It, too, was empty, though still locked and secured with the devices I had added to all our private storage while we were on our whirlwind campaign tour of planetary systems, to deter the curious and unauthorized.

Drago Museveni's body in its casket was gone. The drapery that had covered it after Harper had secured it from the Magog was gone as well.

And now Harper's signal was gone from the ship.

"Andromeda. Where is Seamus Harper?"

"He is not aboard."

I had to believe that Andromeda would have said if he were ill or in danger.

Beka's voice cut in. "Tyr, we're starting again."

"Where is Harper?"

"I haven't seen him." She sounded sincere. "Dylan might know. Do you want me to ask him?"

If Dylan knew, he might not tell me. If he did tell me, he might well lie; I knew he did not always trust me. Wise man. Any lie or evasion, told within hearing of the Jaguars, would cause problems for negotiations. And if Dylan didn't know what was happening, he would be at a disadvantage that Charlemagne would certainly exploit.

"No, it's not important. I"ll be right there."

I returned to the negotiations and stood, watching the discussion between Dylan and Charlemagne from the side with Beka, just as Charlemagne's guardsmen observed from the opposite side. At one point, when Charlemagne leaned forward to point out the advantages of a proposed plan of attack, I saw the angle of his cheekbone against the table's polished finish, and felt again the rush that had come when I spent myself inside him the first time. As I recalled the rest of that encounter, and Dylan's later thoughts on witnesses, I realized that the people in the room then were probably the ones who would have attended if we had been required, for the sake of diplomacy, to conduct the mating in public.

I snorted, as quietly as possible to avoid it being taken as a comment on the matter under discussion, and schooled my face to stillness.

Beka, behind me, murmured, "What's so funny?"

"Later," I subvocalized.

Every crew of pirates or smugglers knew the silent hand codes, the private signals that allowed communication in public when surveillance monitors made speaking unwise. She let one arm fall to the side; I assumed what Dylan would have recognized as parade rest, with my hands resting behind my back. Beka signed: Find Harper?

I returned: Not aboard.

Her eyes cut across at me. I nodded, infinitesimally. She looked worried.

Dylan and Charlemagne continued the discussion a little longer, but it was largely completed. They had compromised on the attack strategy, after reviewing the latest information each group had acquired, and appeared to be getting along well. I noticed that Dylan's face bore few of the stress lines it acquired when he felt uncomfortable with an outcome; either he knew what Harper was up to, and approved of the matter, or else he was completely unaware of it.

Neither possibility eased my thoughts.

Beka signed: Talk Trance.

I returned: Not yet.

Trance might well know nothing of this, simply from being so busy with the various needs of the guests aboard the ship. Nietzschian women, though resilient to stress, were not immune to problem pregnancies. I did not expect that either Boudicca or Morgan would require Trance's aid until the actual birth -- and with Messallina aboard, Trance would probably be relegated to assisting, which I doubted she'd mind, since at least two of Dylan's wives appeared to have medical training as well. Of Dylan's seven wives, though, four appeared to be near their time. I had observed the two who were medically trained assisting the others. I did not know those women well I had met them all briefly while aboard the Jaguar ship -- but I did not think any of them would be likely to kill one another's children, or one another, during birth, as might have occurred had they been from different prides instead of being cousins who had grown up together. I might have been concerned for Trance if Messallina had not approved of her so publicly, which meant that no woman of the pride could go against her without unpleasant repercussions.

Beka was right; Trance should be the next one to speak with, and quickly, especially since Harper had said he wanted to be able to take her with him if he needed to escape.

Why would he need or want to leave? I could think of several reasons, none of them likely or pleasant, at the moment. What mattered was whether the choice had been his.

Andromeda had not seemed concerned that Harper was not aboard. This, in itself, told me that the ship knew and approved of his actions. If he had been aboard the Maru, she would have said so, since the Maru, while docked within Andromeda, was still a separate entity.

Beka signed: I talk Trance.

I nodded as I changed my stance, resting my hand on the hilt of my knife and ending the conversation.

As we left the conference room, I asked Charlemagne politely, "And how is your son doing?"

"Chiang is fine, thank you. Would you like to meet him?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought he was with his mother."

His glance told me he was well aware of several reasons he'd might wish to keep Elssbett away from Captain Dylan Hunt. "My wife was called away unexpectedly, and the boy was left with an aunt. I've asked her to bring him here so that I can introduce him properly."

I nodded. "A wise gesture. I hope your guardsmen are up to the challenge of a toddler."

"Believe it or not, Paris and Mikael dote on the boy. Excellent, all things considered. Good guardsmen are so difficult to train." He smiled. "I trust you've had time to enjoy the company of your family? I'm delighted to have been able to bring you together."

"I appreciate your consideration," I told him. "I have been thinking of gifts for them, and, since I've not known them as long as their brother has, I'd be willing to hear any suggestions you might make."

Charlemagne's eyes softened a little. "Boudicca enjoys philosophy; you might wish to check with the matriarch on what she's currently reading. I believe they were discussing the governmental theories of the first Chin emperor, Huang Ti, over dinner last week. As for the twins, Ygraine is a skilled designer."

"Designer of?"

"Anything she wants. Clothing, weapons, toys for the kids. She came up with a brilliant modification to the hull design on a cutter. Increased the in-system speed threefold."

"And Morgan?"

Charlemagne frowned slightly. "Morgan dabbles. A bit here, a bit there. She hasn't settled on any interests yet. Shows promise as a researcher, though she hasn't had the staying power yet beyond small projects. She's interested in mathematics, and navigation. Decent in a fight, too. They all trained with my teacher, Leonardo, and with Maeve of Thrace, but Morgan advanced the quickest."

A philosopher-scholar, a designer and a mathematician- warrior. Somehow I'd managed to marry women with exactly the skills needed to create and nurture a new pride, and Charlemagne had arranged the whole thing. I could tell that he knew the direction of my thoughts, for he clapped me on the shoulder.

"Come, brother, and meet my son," he said.

Beka passed us in the broad passageway, nodding to Charlemagne and shooting me a warning glance; either she had been unable to reach Trance or her worries paralleled my own. I could not escape my family obligations. When Dylan said something to Charlemagne, I returned Beka's glance with a small nod toward the med deck. She narrowed her eyes and made her way in that direction, carefully, through the guardsmen. Zoroaster attempted, surreptitiously, to run his hand over her backside as she passed; she tripped, not obviously, and her elbow struck him where it would concentrate his attention for a while. With a minimal, civil apology she continued on her way while the other guardsmen snickered.

"Boys will be boys," Charlemagne commented. I snorted.

As I had half expected, Charlemagne used the gathering as an opportunity for his son's Naming and Claiming ceremony. He raised the child in his hands above the crowd and turned so all could see him. The boy had creamy skin and pale hair the image of Charlemagne's, though his face resembled his mother.

"Behold Chiang, out of Elssbett by Charlemagne. I claim this child as my own, for Pride Sabra- Jaguar."

So far, the ceremony seemed ordinary, though it was being conducted in the presence of outsiders. Why did I sense that something else was in the wind?

Charlemagne lowered the boy and lifted him again. "This is my son, the child of the Sabra- Jaguar treaty." His eyes met mine across the crowd. "He is mine and mine alone."

My jaw dropped, and I drew a quick, deep breath. By raising Chiang a second time, he had not only validated and agreed to continue the Sabra-Jaguar treaty, but had managed to remove the boy from Elssbett's custody, in effect all but divorcing her -- and with us as witnesses.

I saw my wives across the room. Boudicca nodded as if she approved the measure. Ygraine looked unmoved by it but smiled at the boy when he looked her way. Morgan seemed confused, briefly, but covered her expression with attentiveness. Next to them, Messallina gazed on her nephew with the approval of an empress acknowledging the royal succession.

And -- I blinked and looked again. Harper stood, just behind Boudicca's shoulder, watching the scene between us politely.

He hadn't been there a moment earlier. The closest door on that side of the room was five meters away, and I should have seen him moving between people to get from there or anywhere else to where he now stood.

Charlemagne said a few more things, and then Dylan said a few things, and it was over and we all moved toward the banquet that Rommie had arranged on the observation deck.

I cut through the group toward Harper, careful not to seem overly eager. To his credit he went aside with me willingly enough and made it appear to be normal ship's business. I glanced back but Dylan was doing the official work well enough; he could spare me for a moment. I pushed Harper into a room and closed the door behind us.

"Where have you been?"

"What do you mean, Tyr? I'm right here." He was bouncing as if nothing were different than usual.

I advanced on him, and he moved backward, step by step. "You were nowhere to be found for nearly a day. Then you were here. Then you were everywhere and nowhere. My cargo is gone. Your workshop is empty." He was cornered, one of my hands against the wall on either side of him. "What have you been doing?"

"My job."

That was unanswerable. "Which job?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tyr. Dylan's had me all over hell's half-acre today, putting out fires. The ship's internal sensors went wonky in one place and then another. And when I had a chance to take a break I decided to be hospitable and check on your family."

This all sounded plausible, but it wasn't truth. I knew him better than that. "What did you think of them?"

"Besides the fact that they're all babes, you mean?" He was cocky as ever, as if I would be unable to find six ways to stop his next words if I wished. "I like them. They're smart. They're not boring."

Strong-arm tactics clearly weren't working. I decided on another approach. "They were impressed with you, too. May I ask what you discussed, or is it private?"

He grinned at me. "When I got there, I kibitzed on a go game that Morgan and Ygraine were playing, and talked about philosophy with Boudicca. Man, is she good. And I thought I was the only one who could deal with the negative elenchos in the writings of Phaedo." He grinned at me. "Morgan won, and Boudicca played against her, and Ygraine and I got refreshments for them and talked about inventions. Did you know Ygraine designs all their clothes? Beka's got to be wildly envious."

"It sounds amazingly domestic," I said, surprised and a little envious in spite of myself.

"You know, you could give me some credit for looking after your interests as well as mine." He poked a finger into my breastbone. "I mean, this shieldbrother stuff goes both ways, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. And Boudicca liked you."

"So get off my case. And, in case you haven't noticed, we've got an official dinner to attend and we're probably holding up the meal."

I was not to be deterred. "And where is my cargo?"

"It's safe. Would I lie to you?"

"Of course you would."

"Here." He put my hand on his throat, so that I could feel the pulse of blood in his jugular vein. "You tell me. Am I lying? Your cargo is safe."

His pulse stayed steady. I dropped my hand.

"Let's get to dinner," he said, and ducked under my arm. I followed him, not entirely pleased with the past few minutes.

When we appeared, the aperitifs had ended and people were taking their seats. I moved to a place between Boudicca and Zoroaster, as Harper went to sit next to Ygraine and across from several of Dylan's younger wives. Dylan, next to Messallina at the head of the table, raised a glass in a toast to the alliance, and we sat down to eat.

"That was interesting," I said to Beka quietly, after dinner.

"Oh, hadn't you heard? Of course not, you were with your wives." She checked to see that we were alone but continued in an undertone, "Elssbett left Charlemagne for Finbar, the younger brother of Cuchulain the Dragan. She's on his flagship, willingly."

"Ambitious of him. I suppose she called home to let Charlemagne know not to wait up? The woman does have style, if no sense." This would push the time of battle closer to us than I had anticipated. Elssbett was not one to wait for events to occur; if they did not happen on her schedule she would force them.

"And someone else interesting was standing behind Cuchulain. Three guesses."

"The new Kazov leader, I suppose. They seem to go through one a week." So, now they were all allied with the Magog, against us. "Charlemagne seems to be taking it well."

"Does he have a choice?" Beka shook her head, musing. Her hair, ungathered but elegant, fell pale gold against her dark jacket. "Trance is being strange."

"When is she not?"

"I asked her about Harper and she wouldn't say a word. Very tight-lipped." Her fingers tapped against her leg. "I don't like it."

"Nor do I. I found him with my wives, but he disappeared again afterward until the ceremony."

"Did they all get along?" She looked apprehensive.

"Well enough, I suppose. They seem to be quite taken with him."

"That must be a relief. Or not. Your people's relationships appear a little more chaotic than mine." She pushed her hair back off her face. "Who am I to talk, considering the snake I've got for a brother."

"Now, now. I've known some very competent serpents." I looked her over and she scowled at me. "If you're not armed, make sure you are. Dylan's playing a game with Harper."

"And who else?"

"Who knows? Did you know about Workshop Five?"

A cloud passed over her face.

"Not until today, damn him. How many nova bombs did he have Harper build?"

"I don't know," I replied, with absolute honesty. "The workshop's empty, and someone's created an airlock in the outer wall. Do you think Harper's been toying with the interdimensional matrix that bitch used on us the first time Charlemagne was here?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. Or the estimable Dylan." She scowled fiercely. "Thanks. Fellow thieves sticking together?"

"Would Napoleon Rastafarian make a move without consulting his fair lady?" I lifted her hand to my lips in a mocking kiss, and she pulled it away, smiling, just in time for Dylan to see us. Beka, aware of Dylan, sweetened her smile and walked away past him.

"It's good to see my crew getting along so well," Dylan said mildly, a small smile playing in the corners of his mouth. "Have you met my wives yet? They've been asking for an introduction to their new cousin."

"It should wait until I've checked the security again," I said.

"Oh, come now, Tyr, if you have time to compliment Beka on her taste in clothing you certainly have time to meet a few more relatives."

I moved my weight onto my back leg and rested my hands on my belt.

"You are aware, of course, that we're probably going into battle tomorrow? All the better that you should meet them before this." He started to put a hand on my arm, but I blocked the move.

"What is wrong with you?" I could not help my intensity. "The entire Dragan army has gone over to the enemy, along with Charlemagne's ex-wife and probably half his strategy, and you want me to ignore the ship's security? Have the Dragans seduced you as well?" I pulled away from him. "I will be delighted to meet your many wives after I have checked security and not before."

"Have it your way, Tyr. We are sending the women away for safety during the battle."

This turned me in my tracks. "We? What 'we'? You do not have the right to make that choice for me."

"Actually, as commander of this ship, I do have that right, and I'm exercising it." He appeared obnoxiously calm, as if he had made the decision hours earlier and nobody would be able to change his mind.

"And what does Charlemagne say to this? Andromeda is safer than his flagship, more mobile than a planet." I moved in closer to emphasize my point. "Where would they be safer?"

"Nevertheless." Dylan stood his ground, crossing his arms and gazing at me with an obstinate expression I'd seen on him all too often in the past.

"Dylan. Tyr." It was Trance's voice. "Please come to the med deck. Your wives are in labor."

"So much for moving them elsewhere," I told him. "Or haven't your wives told you our birthing customs?"

His face paled, and he blinked twice.

"Dylan," Trance called again, "Sofia is asking for you."

He went, at a run. I followed, pausing only long enough to tell Andromeda to patch all security concerns through to me no matter where I was, and to run a quick scan on the status of the ship. Nothing had changed.

I still had the sense of eyes on my back, the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong, but since I could do nothing to counteract it I let it go. Better to allow it to make me more observant than to let the nervous feelings engendered push me into either paralysis or paranoia.

"Trance, is it Boudicca or Morgan?" I asked, on my way toward med deck.

"Morgan."
 

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