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  The spymaster nodded. "I understand." Quintus fell silent for a moment, then glanced at the Prince. "I know you did not ask for my opinion, but I'm going to give it to you anyway."

  When the Prince did not reply, Quintus took it as permission to continue.

  "I hope you realize, Highness, that you've placed Morgan in a position of great responsibility. Other MechWarriors his age— including those who graduated with grades almost as high as his—are just reaching their Captaincies. They've only just been given companies to command, whereas Morgan is a Major in the Davion Heavy Guards, with a full battalion at his command. You'll not find many individuals in the AFFS able to shoulder all the work that requires."

  The Prince frowned. "What are you telling me? Do you think Morgan is going to crack under the strain?"

  Quintus smiled and shook his head, "No, my Prince, I do not. What I wish to tell you is that Morgan works hard to make himself worthy of the honors you have bestowed upon him."

  Quintus stepped around a small pile of debris blocking a section of roadway. "Remember Kym's report that she often finds him studying military history. He's been gobbling up the texts we use at the War College, and he's managed to bootleg a copy of the battle analysis software they use for testing officers."

  Hanse slowed his pace. "How has he done?" The Prince fixed Quintus with an appraising glance. "I assume your people have been able to evaluate his performance on those tests."

  Quintus tried to look innocent. "We have managed to get a copy of his work, and we have even managed to get him an updated copy of the software—upgraded in light of the troop performances during Galahad '26 and '27."

  Quintus drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "How has he done? I showed a copy of his test results to Field Marshal Yvonne Davion ..."

  A wry smile tugged at the corners of Hanse's mouth. With Yvonne's track record for innovative tactics, she’d be just the one to evaluate Morgan's planning skills. "What did she say, Quintus?"

  "Knowing how much she hates the Hasek family, I didn't tell her whose tests they were. She looked the over and was visibly impressed. She especially praised the orders he wrote for his company and lance commanders. She found them clear, concise, and encouraging. She called them 'orders even an idiot could get right.' "

  Hanse crossed his arms. "What did she say when you told her that it was Morgan Hasek-Davion who had created those plans and orders?"

  Quintus chuckled. "She looked me straight in the eye and said, 'Of course, he did this well, Quintus. He's a Davion, isn't he?' "

  "That's Yvonne." Hanse smiled. "Thank you, Quintus. I appreciate knowing her opinion." The Prince raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think of his abilities?"

  Quintus sighed. "His scores beat those of any I've ever seen."

  The Prince stopped. "Even those Dan turned out when he graduated from NAMA?"

  Quintus nodded. "Dwarfed them. Give him a regiment, Highness, and there's not a unit in the Capellan Confederation that will stand up to him."

  "Good." The Prince's face hardened. "What news of Duke Michael?"

  Quintus grimaced as if he'd just swallowed a mouthful of sour chrestra. "We've bugged the Liao ambassador's dog's collar, but the hound has not been present at any more of the meetings. I think the Maskirovka figured out the dog's problem during the meeting in October."

  "That's not good, Quintus. We have to have definitive proof of Michael's complicity if we're going to bring him down." Hanse frowned angrily as they turned the corner, coming in sight of the scoring complex. If Michael's stupid enough to be working with Max Liao, he must have made a mistake somewhere. I know we can catch him in it, but will it be in time? "Anything new on Michael's supposed visit to Sian?"

  As they cut through the burned-out ruins of a building, the Minister of Information, Intelligence, and Operations shook his head. "Nothing that we can act on, my Prince." Frustration knotted Quintus's brows. "Our agents in place say Michael was there, but using any of that information to accuse him publicly or privately would be death for those agents. We know he was there and is collaborating with the enemy, but we can't prove it well enough to bring him down."

  Hanse nodded. "Are Liao troops still shifting around in accordance with the erroneous troop figures we're giving Duke Michael?"

  Quintus nodded enthusiastically. "Like puppets on strings."

  "Good. Perhaps Michael's treachery will pay for itself in this summer's Galahad exercises." The Prince opened the door to the lounge of the range scoring complex. He allowed Quintus to precede him through the door and immediately felt the room's chill through his sweat-soaked fatigues.

  Across the brightly lit chamber, Ardan Sortek and Morgan Hasek-Davion sat slumped against the wall. Ardan, with his forearms resting on drawn up knees, looked up. "You bastards."

  The Prince laughed aloud and glanced over at the scoring board. 265 out of a possible 300! Not bad! He looked down the list of scores and saw that both Ardan and Morgan, though scoring well enough to qualify, had not even come close to his team's score. The Prince frowned. "What happened?"

  Ardan grumbled. "Bad day."

  Morgan laughed and tucked sodden strands of long red hair behind his ears. "We decided that the way to beat you old codgers was to run through the complex and pick up points for time."

  Ardan jerked a thumb toward his exhausted partner. "He decided neatness didn't count."

  Quintus nodded knowingly. "Your hits per shot ratio dragged your score down." The spymaster turned toward the Prince. "I suppose us 'old codgers' could give them a lesson in marksmanship."

  The Prince wrinkled his nose. "You know this younger generation. They never listen to anyone."

  Ardan looked over at Morgan. "How long do we have to put up with this?"

  Morgan's head sank back. "Six months."

  "Ugh."

  The four of them broke into laughter. Hanse and Quintus turned in their pistols and spent power packs to the range weapons officer, then headed toward the range cafeteria. They joined Morgan and Ardan at a back corner table and gratefully accepted the foaming mugs of beer that the losers poured out for them from a chilled pitcher.

  Wiping foam from his upper lip, Morgan turned to Quintus. "I heard a rumor that someone tried to kill Andy Redburn on Kittery. Is it true?"

  Quintus flicked a glance at Hanse, then nodded slowly. "It happened last November. Do you know Redburn?"

  Morgan nodded. "We were classmates in my first two years at Warriors Hall on New Syrtis. I was transferred here to the New Avalon Military Academy for my last two years. We got together when he came to New Avalon for the trial."

  Morgan saw Quintus stiffen at the mention of Justin's treason trial. "I heard that the 'hit' was quite a little showdown."

  Quintus nodded. "The Maskirovka tried to have Captain Redburn assassinated, but he got away without a scratch."

  "Is he still in danger?"

  Quintus shook his head. "It appears to have been a rogue operation. The orders came directly from Sian, with high Maskirovka clearance."

  Ardan traced a figure in the frost on his beer mug. "Justin's the connection there. Did he send the killers after Redburn?"

  Quintus nodded sadly. "It looks that way, though we found another interesting bit of information as we broke down the Kittery network." Quintus managed a weak smile. "One of the killers wore a medallion we've tied in to an ancient death cult. The participants worship a Hindu goddess named Kali, and believe that it is their sacred duty to kill other Humans."

  Morgan lowered his mug. "I seem to recall the British had trouble with such a sect a thousand years ago on Terra. They called them Thugees, right?"

  Quintus nodded. "The cult has been wiped out a dozen times over—or so it is believed—but it always crops up again. Anyway, it seems that there are pockets of these individuals on various worlds, including Terra. One of the biggest enclaves, however, is on the Liao world of Highspire."

  Hanse stiffened. "That's Romano Liao's main holding."
>
  Quintus nodded silently, and Ardan Sortek vocalized the spy-master's thoughts. "Romano's a wild card. If she's hooked up with an assassin cult, there's no telling what sort of trouble she could cause."

  Quintus poured more beer from the pitcher into his mug. "It is possible that the plot to kill Redburn originated with Romano, but the connection is weak. She's got no motive to want him dead."

  Ardan shook his head. "If she's half as mad as her father, she doesn't need a motive."

  Morgan glanced at his chronometer. "As much as I would like to linger here with you aces of the robot range, I've got to run." Color flushed his cheeks. "It's St. Valentine's Day, gentlemen, in case you've forgotten. I've got a lady waiting for me, and she's not going to appreciate me in smelly fatigues."

  Hanse smiled at his nephew. You're serious about her, aren't you? Good. I want you to trust her. "Enjoy yourself, Morgan."

  Morgan nodded, then looked at Quintus. "I don't know how to ask this, Minister." He hesitated, then seemed to find the right words. "I feel close to Kym Sorenson, but I'd not want her used against me to embarrass the Federated Suns. Could you run a check on her?" He held up his hands. "I don't want to read the file. After all, if she wants to keep something in her past hidden from me, that's her business. I just want you to tell me if she has a clean bill of health, so to speak." Quintus nodded. "Consider it done."

  Morgan laughed. "Knowing you, I suspect it's already been done." He looked over at Hanse. "I'd like to have her as my guest at your wedding, Uncle, and I don't want any surprises."

  Hanse nodded solemnly. "Your concern means more to me, Morgan, than you will ever know."

  19

  Sian

  Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation

  29 February 3028

  Justin closed the folder and looked across his desk into Alexi Malenkov's gray eyes. "Excellent work, Alexi." Justin dropped the report onto his desk and tapped the cream-colored folder. "I did not realize Romano had her own little corps of assassins." The analyst from Tikonov nodded solemnly. "The rumors, as you can see, are incredibly vague, yet a consistent thread runs through all of them."

  Malenkov stared down at his long-fingered hands and cupped them one over the other as though trying to capture an invisible bird. "Some elders in this cult apparently see her as a Kali avatar. Most reports have not treated the story seriously, but it may be at the core of the first connections made with her. Now, however, her power has made Highspire a safe haven where she has support."

  Assassins at Romano's beck and call make her as dangerous as a child playing with a laser carbine. Justin frowned. "I don't like the indications that this cult may be connected with other enclaves in the Successor States. Can you get me anything more about the ties with the groups on Terra, Tikonov, or in the Capellan March?"

  Alexi sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I don't think so." He leaned forward. "Getting what I did was difficult enough, Justin. I had a couple of very awkward moments dodging Tsen Shang's questions about what I was doing. I don't think he suspects you're keeping an eye on his paramour, but he'll not like it if he finds out." The analyst shrugged. "I'll see what I can do, of course, but I promise you nothing. These Thugees have their own secret language and an underground network that makes them virtually impossible to track."

  Justin nodded and handed the report back to Malenkov. "I understand, Alexi, and I appreciate whatever you can get me. I'll not forget your help here." He pointed to the report. "You'd best burn it, though."

  "Consider it done, Citizen Boss." Malenkov stretched and rose from the wing-back chair. "I can let myself out," he said.

  Justin came around from behind the desk. "Not to worry. I have to leave anyway."

  Malenkov glanced at his chronometer. "Oh, right. It's Monday." The analyst grinned. "I hear that some of the staff has been burning incense in your honor in the shrine because of the training you've been giving the Duchess. They say she's much calmer since she started working out with you."

  Justin smiled, wondering if it were only the exercise that had such a calming effect. "T'ai chi is very restful. If you would care to join us ..."

  Malenkov shook his head. "I'm not comfortable being a third wheel, but thanks for the invitation anyway." Malenkov opened the door, took a half-step toward it, then stopped abruptly to avoid a collision.

  Standing in the doorway like a framed portrait was Candace Liao, and the sight of her set Justin's heart to racing. The light catching the silver of her silken robe matched the sparkle of unabashed pleasure in her eyes. The smile for Justin that brightened her beautiful features faded slightly when she noticed Malenkov.

  "Good evening, Citizen Malenkov. How are you?"

  Malenkov bowed respectfully. "Quite well, thank you, Duchess." He turned enough toward Justin so that Candace could not see his wink. "I will see you tomorrow, Citizen." Turning back, he smiled at Candace. "A pleasure as always, Duchess."

  "Good night, Alexi." Justin watched Candace move through the doorway with a fluidity she'd not possessed two months before, then shut the door behind Alexi. When they were alone, he turned to her with a smile. "Welcome, Candace."

  Candace frowned and glanced at her chronometer. "You've not changed yet. I'm not early, am I?"

  Justin shook his head, but before he could reply, a red light set above the door burned into life. Justin pointed to it. "Damn! Your father wants me." He shrugged. "You can wait here, if you wish . . ."

  Candace's black hair bounced as she shook her head. "No, I'm too impatient to wait. I'll accompany you. If my father doesn't want me there, he can try to send me away."

  Justin nodded and offered her his right arm. "I am more than happy to have your company." He chuckled lightly. "I don't envy your father if he believes you should not be present."

  Candace slipped her left hand through the crook of his arm. "You and I have an appointment to keep, and I'll not let some minor problem keep us from it."

  Justin nodded as they headed down the hallway toward Maximilian Liao's throne room. "But what if that minor problem is a full Davion invasion?"

  Candace shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose I could wait five minutes."

  Justin winked. "Make it six. Half that if it's just a raid." As Justin reached out and pushed open the throne room door, he felt Candace stiffen beside him.

  Maximilian Liao sat on his throne, glaring down at them like a spindly gargoyle. Standing below the throne, with her right arm enfolded through Tsen Shang's left arm, Romano Liao smiled like a merchant who has just heard the magic words, "Money is no object." Across from her, at Liao's left hand, stood the well-weathered form of Chandra Ling. Fatigue hung heavily on her.

  Justin's eyes narrowed to dark slits. Madame Ling looks defeated, which means Romano has convinced her father of some witless scheme. Shang looks uncomfortable enough to mean he's probably been trapped in it, too. When he glanced at Candace, he saw her eyes had taken on that tigerish look they got when she was livid. This isn't going to be pleasant, he thought.

  "Ah, excellent, Justin," Liao said, with his wily smile. "You've found her and brought her here." A look of affection softened his features somewhat. "Candace, this affects you as well."

  The Chancellor nodded at Romano. "Your sister has come up with a brilliant plan for garnering a great deal of intelligence at the Davion wedding." Liao beamed at his younger daughter. "It is pure genius." He winked at her. "Tell them, Romano, what you propose to do."

  Romano's green eyes flashed a look of pure venom at her sister, and Justin felt the tremor that ran through Candace. "Well, beloved sister, I'm sure you will agree that this wedding will be an opportunity to learn much during the receptions and parties. Only the most important people will be there, and any of them might be liable to let tidbits slip to impress their rivals from the other Houses." Like a snake waiting in tall grass, Romano's patronizing tone had its hidden bite.

  Candace's reply was frosty. "That conclusion, dearest sibling, is so obvious that even yo
u were able to come to it."

  Romano shot a quick glance at Shang, then lifted her head higher. "Each of the Great House leaders would give much to get their spies into the gathering, but Davion and Steiner have been very careful about how many individuals will attend from each House. There is no chance to bring in Maskirovka as servants because ComStar has offered its personnel to handle all such menial duties." Romano smiled and squeezed Tsen Shang's arm. "But I have a way around Davion's proscriptions."

  Maximilian nodded solemnly. "Romano has suggested that Tsen Shang accompany her to the wedding ceremony as her escort. In that capacity, he will be able to mingle with the other guests and learn all he can about whatever may be of interest to us in the activities of our fellow Successor States. I will have half my crisis team with me."

  Candace grinned, but her eyes were fierce. "Lady Romano, you have indeed hit upon a magnificent plan." Her smile broadened as confusion wrung all joy from her sister's face. "And father, you are correct. It would not do for you to be without your crisis team."

  Candace smiled at Justin, too, in a way that made him decide he was not going to like what was coming. He shook his head at her but Candace ignored the implied warning.

  She looked down with an exaggerated expression of giving thought to some serious matter. "It is a pity, though, that we cannot surprise Prince Davion at his wedding in the same way he has surprised us by announcing it so suddenly." All at once, her eyes grew wide, and she pressed her hand to her mouth as though in amazement. Glancing up at her father, she smiled. "But there is!

  "What if we could bring to the wedding, as our guest, an individual guaranteed to send anxious ripples throughout the gathering? A person whom Hanse Davion has publicly embarrassed, only to have the tables later turned on him? And what if that individual could also gather information of use to the Maskirovka?"