Reginald surveyed the dimmed room. He massaged his temples, trying in vain to stem the flood of memories. It had almost gotten to the point where he saw all his life as one object. That object was not yet complete, with no in- structions for the finishing. Or were there? Reginald again combed though the wreckage.

The long mahogany table was flawlessly polished as always. In less than an hour, Robert Kent would knock. The preparations would have to be completed for the meeting three days hence with Reginald's young charges. The holo equipment for the briefings was already set.

Once more the Duke tried to exorcise his demons.

When he was quite small, he was the Very Young Lord Smythe, his father was the Young Lord Smythe, and his seemingly invincible and ageless grandfa- ther was simply Duke Brian. When he was eight, the Very Young Lord Smythe traveled with his father and grandfather to the Bahamas by ship. It was win- ter, and his elders found an empty beach. He was wearing a sailor suit, un- fortunately with shorts instead of long pants. The sea breeze was cold.

Father said, "I think we are alone."

Reginald looked around, wondering why his elders had brought him. They did nothing without reason. The sand, indeed the earth itself, moved beneath him. He turned toward the source, only to find Grandfather next to him, tow- ering over him even on his knees instead of his feet.

"Reginald," said Grandfather.

The boy was shocked. Grandfather had never called him by his Solar name. Grandfather's eyes looked very strange.

"I am going to touch your head. It will feel strange, but it will not hurt. Will you be brave and do what is asked of you?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

The old man's great hands touched little Reginald's head. He heard tones. His eyes felt strange. He closed them and opened them again. The world about him seemed to have an extra dimension. His grandfather and father were surrounded and permeated by red and white lights of transcendent beauty.

"Gaze into the face of Sol Invictus, Reginald," said Father.

Reginald was shocked. The Solarian Church of England forbid such ac- tion, as did all Solarian Churches. He had made his grandfather a promise, and he kept it, even given the consequences. His elders followed suit. Regi- nald was surprised: his vision was not reft from him, and a conversation had started, a speaking within minds.

I believe I have found my replacement, Lord, said Brian Smythe, and I grow weary. Might I finally rest?

What say you, Nathan? asked Sol Invictus.

The boy has the gifts, Lord, but so did my son Montgomery.

Indeed, said Sol Invictus. Eclipse feared him very much, much more than I expected. If Reginald has similar talent, I will strengthen him to bear the load.

Reginald had no idea what they were talking about. His name had been used, but other than that, they may as well have been speaking in alien tongues. The holy body of Sol Invictus was universally said to be yellow. As Reginald looked up into the brilliant visage, he saw an intricate pattern of crimson and white, like that of his men folk. The boy suddenly looked at his own small hand. It shone white with a weak blue tracery. That tracery seemed important at the time.

Reginald, said a mighty voice in his mind. Your family has served Me well over the centuries. Brian has carried the torch for Me for over eight hundred years; his son Nathan for nearly as long. Thirty generations have passed between Nathan and you, Reginald. For thirty generations they have waited for a descendent strong enough to take their places. Are you the one?

I do not know, Your Honor.

Shall we test the matter, Reginald?

The boy felt his relatives' expectancy. Yes, Sire.

Reginald knew he was like the fish in the freak waterspout they had seen on the trip to the islands: helpless within unimaginable power. Reginald shared some of the God's awareness of him. His cells, bones, muscles, nerves, and subtle fields of his life were all open to Sol Invictus. In the midst of the inspection, the boy realized it was not an inspection. God already knew everything there was to know about him. The Lord of Light was mutating him, bending him to His needs.

When the process was over, Sol Invictus sent him visions of his family tree. Brian fathered Nathan, then twenty generations passed from Nathan to Montgomery. Montgomery had five children, one son and four daughters. Regi- nald descended from the son, while the family blossomed in many directions from the four daughters.

It is your task, Reginald, boomed the voice within his head, to bring that flower back together.

The lines of one of the daughters was highlighted in a glorious purple. It joined with the royal lines of Britain, France, Greece, Austria, Germany, Russia, Spain, Italy, Israel, and Scandinavia. The lines of the other three were nearly as grand.

Your seed, Reginald, will be the glue that binds these lines together. The ruling class of the legacy of Europe will be born from those unions. Guard well the as yet unborn King, said Sol Invictus, Who again emphasized the purple parts of the tree of Brian's descendants, for in His return will be de- termined the fate of the universe.

Fear not, young Reginald. Your forebears will remain to train you for a time. When you truly need Me, I will offer what help I can. Be true to Our cause, and your progeny will rule the heavens as well as Homeworld.

I will serve You, Sire, said Reginald. He sat upon his knees, blasted down by his God's power. He felt warmth and his altered eyes saw light beyond his imagination. He knew he had been changed again.

Brian passed his hand over Reginald's face, closing his eyes in the pro- cess. Reginald thought Brian Smythe had a lot of fingers.

Reginald rubbed his temples as he looked at his reflection in the ma- hogany table. The Very Young Smythe had had black hair and brown eyes. After the day on the beach in the Bahamas, the Very Young Smythe had light blonde hair and blue eyes. After his eightieth birthday, Reginald started dying it white for appearances.

He had found one of his demons. Sol Invictus had given him much, and Reginald had failed his God at every turn. The minions of Eclipse had de- feated him almost universally. Reginald had done every trick of rationaliza- tion he could imagine, and he had not spoken with his God for many years. Yet his bones were straight, his eyesight keen, his health better than 'normal' for a twenty�one year old.

God was not stupid. God was not powerless. Reginald himself was the living proof. He had studied medicine. He had listened for long hours to ex- cellent talks by Nathan Brown and young Eileen, Sarah's daughter. People nat- urally wear out with age. Cell differentiation goes amok, resulting in can- cer, age spots, immune system foul�ups, and a host of other problems. Free radicals accumulate in the flesh and accelerate those processes. Sol Invictus stopped that sort of nonsense in him at the molecular level. Reginald was certain that was a clever trick that most beings could not do.

Nathan...Nathan Brown was almost seventy�five. He looked like he could compete successfully in a Texas�style rodeo. How could that be? Reginald rubbed his temples again. What was he missing?

After the first European War, Reginald returned to England a seasoned veteran at the age of sixteen. His size, quickness, and strength had let him fool a variety of military officials. He had served as an undercover agent in Germany and in Austria with great distinction.

Brian Smythe had passed away in his sleep while Reginald was gone. Af- ter his war experiences, Reginald did not think it was in him to weep. When Nathan Smythe told him of the death in private, Reginald cried in his foster father's arms. Nathan had aged considerably, and Reginald knew his own time of responsibility approached. He studied carefully anything Nathan said, and worked diligently on becoming a gentleman.

Reginald had developed a network of friends and contacts in Europe due to his undercover work. Nathan Smythe gave Reginald another network at a higher social level. Brian and Nathan Smythe had never been alone in their work. Leading families in all nations of Europe and some in the Middle East and the New World kept watch over the bloodlines favored by Sol Invictus. Within five years after the war, Reginald knew personally several members of each such family.

When Nathan Smythe took Reginald to Greece, Reginald was delighted to find that King Constantine himself was the primary contact. He was even more pleased to be introduced to the Princess Melina. She was a bit distant, but still polite. He turned up his charm to its highest setting. Nathan favored Greece for its warmth, and Reginald got many opportunities to see the Princess as the years passed. Eventually her cool graciousness eased into friendli- ness, especially during their many hours together on the dance floor.

They were married just before the great economic slump started between wars. Melina was eighteen to Reginald's twenty�eight, but there was plenty of precedent in Greece for older grooms. By the time Melina was old enough, Reginald thought he had sown all his wild oats.

Reginald had great hopes for one of his children having the throne of Greece while all of them would be aristocrats in Britain. Unfortunately, his expeditions for the Crown kept him away from both London and Athens for all too long. Most of Melina's fertile stages were missed.

Homeworld was tense but basically safe after the second global war. At least that was what Reginald thought. Business was all too brisk for him.

He had kept track of the very lines Sol Invictus had told him to watch. The primary pair of his vigil found themselves with a baby boy late in life. They had sensible jobs in a civilized area. Reginald got lax about the mat- ter. There was so much other work.

The parents of the King�to�be took their unheralded prince to the Ameri- can Federation for a long�delayed vacation. Then disaster struck. The man and woman were killed and the child spirited away. Reginald did not even learn of the problem for three weeks; he discovered it by sending a welcome back cable to which there was no reply.

Reginald combed the Chicago area. He called in favors. He wondered why there would be so much trouble finding a polydactyl boy in the Chicago area. It seemed that something did not want the boy found.

Reginald quit asking for conferences with his God. He had utterly failed in the greatest mission of his life.

Reginald had resigned himself to having no legitimate children. Melina surprised him by delivering Evelyn naturally at age forty�four, nine years af- ter the war against the Twisted Starburst.

By the time Evelyn arrived, his fond hopes for his grandchildren ruling Greece were next to dead. Melina and Evelyn stayed in Athens with King Con- stantine when Reginald was away on business. When Evelyn was thirty months old, Greece suffered a military coup. Melina was killed, Constantine deposed, and Reginald barely retrieved Evelyn alive.

With Constantine, he hurt the colonels in Greece again and again, but it was never enough. He fought the Cold War with the Crown and the with the Americans. Nathan Smythe passed away, and Reginald's life seemed ever darker. He used all the wiles Nathan and Brian had taught him to cover his ever�in- creasing age. He knew, though, that the ever more totalitarian government called bureaucracy would eventually catch him.

He reared Evelyn in England with Gillian as her friend. He encouraged them to think of one another as sisters. Gillian's mother found this both amusing and apt. Reginald grieved when the good woman died shortly after the young ladies left home.

Evelyn wandered off to America, drawn by Sol Invictus knew what, and en- tered graduate school in Bloomington, Indiana. Reginald's unease increased. When she wrote home of a shy but brilliant young mathematician that she wanted to marry, Reginald lost his composure for several years.

He pulled out every tool at his disposal. He called in every IOU. He traced this suitor personally. He did not like the results. Oliver Jones was part mystery, part open book. He was an orphan brought up on a farm outside Bloomington by two semi�retired professors. Jones senior was pure Welsh, and one of the most celebrated of all Welsh academics. His concentration was in solid state physics; his patents made the family independently wealthy. Young Jones' foster mother was an Iranian, which set Reginald's teeth on edge. She was also Bahai of pure Persian descent; that mollified Reginald somewhat, but he hoped Oliver was not some wimp devoted to peace. Her specialty was his- tory. Both foster parents were talented in languages; both loved music and literature. The trio was well�known about the campus for attending local the- ater and the copious musical events.

Perhaps Oliver Jones was not a completely uncultured lout. He certainly was unworthy of marrying the heiress to the throne of Greece!

Who were his real parents? Given most circumstances, young Jones could not have done better. Reginald dug and bribed and used graft and pressure to get at the truth. Custody of Oliver had been obtained through a private adop- tion, which just was not done in America in those days. Yet his foster par- ents had done it.

His blood parents had been immolated in a town called Hammond, Indiana. The boy's clothes and baby carriage had been destroyed in fire as well, yet the boy himself was unharmed. Identification had been impossible, or at least so it was claimed.

Reginald went to Hammond, to the very site of the burning mentioned in the police and fire department reports. The police had abandoned the pa- trolling of the area. His heart was slogging heavily as he approached it. The overall decay and long abandoned buildings reminded him of his previous confrontations with the minions of Eclipse. The neighborhood was a God�for- saken place if there ever was one. In his haste, he had not considered the effect of his appearance in such a lawless environment.

He went directly to the death site. It was a burnt out building on a corner. Curiously, he felt the trace of his broader family. Hope welled up within him. His eldritch sensitivities heightened; he started to see his dis- tant cousins with a boy in a pram. His sense of the past was suddenly over- ridden by his sense of danger. He was already nearly surrounded. The old scum were no match for him, and he left them dead on the ground. When he tried again to read the past, the spoor was gone, destroyed by the violence, by the absorbing state called death.

A woman with a metal grocery cart wheeled up rustily with numerous ex- pectorations. She looked at Reginald as he smoothed his clothing.

"Didn't even stain your clothes, did you, old Limey?"

"No," replied Reginald after he considered the matter.

"Good," said the old woman. She pointed to the corpses, spat in gen- eral, then kicked the nearest. "Them was the ones who torched the bakery. I almost died; lost all my savings on the burn treatments. Whole area went down the WC after that."

She squinted at Reginald. "There was two young kids who looked like you, old man. That's why you're here?"

Reginald quivered in his wing tips. "Yes. Tell me more." He handed her $100, in twenties, which was once a lot of money.

She quickly tucked the bills away. "They were very much in love; they spoke like Limeys. They were mutes, each with six fingers. Their eyes and cheekbones and noses looked a lot like you. I worked in the bakery. I even had a part interest, mind you."

She spat on the bodies again.

"They came in like wild men. They broke up the place. They got con- fused because there were two couples and two babies. They blocked the exits, then torched the place. They shot anyone trying to get out. One of the ba- bies and me were the only survivors."

"Did you see which one lived?"

"No, I woke up in the burn ward. The baby had been adopted already. I don't know whether it was your relative or the love�child."

Reginald cast about for a way to get clues. "Did the babies look the same?"

"Oh, no. No. That's the funny part..."

A freak storm had swept up. A bolt of lightning shot down through the old woman's head. The storm dissipated.

The local police merely said, "Congratulations on surviving, and don't mention the episode. We really do mean don't mention it."

Oliver Jones had grown up in virtual seclusion near Bloomington. His foster parents died when he was seventeen. He was their sole heir. He kept the farm and did his high school and most of his undergraduate degree by cor- respondence. He met Evelyn soon after starting graduate school in Blooming- ton. He was considered remarkable in his abilities, but secretive in his per- sonal habits, even though he was well known about campus from associations with his parents.

He did no military service (medical exception) and was considered very non�political. He was a mutant with six fingers, strange eyes, and odd feet. His gait was peculiar, and he always wore gloves.

Reginald's cousins were straight�haired blondes with brown eyes; Oliver had curly black hair and electric blue eyes. The cousins were seventy and seventy�three inches tall; Oliver was sixty�two inches tall on a good day. How could he be the missing prince?

Reginald wished the old woman had not been killed. Her last piece of information might have been definitive. His other attempts to get at the truth met with complete failure.

The sources he developed on campus told him in excruciating detail of the first meeting of Evelyn and Oliver. They had been illegally swimming nude at a nearby quarry when they bumped into one another and apparently liked what they saw. They had been inseparable ever since.

Reginald was horrified at the possibilities he had for grandchildren through his only legitimate daughter. He arranged with Evelyn to meet the culprit, the fly in the ointment, the filthy wet cur in the fresh laundry, the bastard (literally) from a slum in Hammond.

Reginald duly let the first meeting amplify his prejudices. Oliver looked like a Persian�Welshman, except perhaps for the eyes. Not only did Oliver have six fingers on each hand, he had tendrils on his little fingers, and he was a very potent touch�telepath. Reginald was also a touch�telepath, but God had given him that ability. Where did this little pseudo�Welsh bas- tard get off having it? What a mockery!

Reginald eventually got Oliver alone behind closed doors.

"My daughter is a Greek princess through her mother and will be a Duchess of Britain when I die. What are you?"

Oliver was slightly amused. "An American upstart."

Reginald congratulated himself on not striking the upstart. "Evelyn will inherit over one hundred million pounds from me."

Oliver raised his eyebrows an eighth of an inch. "Mother was secretly a mystery writer. I inherited seven million dollars after taxes from her. Fa- ther's patents gave me an inheritance of five millions after taxes, and their estimated future value is roughly the same. I have Mother's copyrights as well. Evelyn and I can live comfortably on my money. I also have real es- tate."

"Since attaining my majority, I have tripled the size of the estate I inherited."

"I've had five years, sir, and I have increased my estate by forty per- cent. Shall we get out rulers and pull down our pants for comparison pur- poses?"

Reginald was enraged at first, but then he burst out laughing. The un- alloyed impudence tickled him. "What does my only and beloved daughter see in you, Oliver?"

"She loves the way I pursue life's sweet mysteries."

Reginald had to accept that, especially after Evelyn voluminously con- firmed it. Reginald still did not like the LWB, as he came to call him, but he never was in position to deny their relationship.

The week before their wedding, almost two years later, Oliver sold the first of the atmosphere plants to the municipalities of Los Angeles, New York, Houston, and Philadelphia. The American press loved it. Oliver became an in- stant celebrity. The next day, unfortunately, the American president, some sort of farmer from the South, decided to nationalize the new resource with the collusion of Congress.

As his self�congratulatory live press conference the same day, the pres- ident and his wretched smile enjoyed themselves for a time.

"Mr. President, will the Federal Government charge less on an annual ba- sis than Doctor Jones for the operation of the atmosphere plants?"

"No. We will charge roughly twice as much. These cities need the as- surance of the full facilities of the Federal Government. Several career bu- reaucrats will be needed for each plant to insure that no mishaps occur and to watch over the operation for improvements that will require more personnel."

"Mr. President, does this nationalization mean that the Federal Govern- ment now has full responsibility for the plants?"

"I can give you an unqualified yes. These are Federal installations. If anything goes wrong, sue us. We have great faith in Doctor Jones' abili- ties, though, and expect the urban air in America to improve quickly. The emerging problem of acid rain in Canada and in New England should be miti- gated."

"Mr. President, was this move contrived to bolster your chances in November?"

Reginald had made certain to see this conference live when he caught wind of the impending theft. Reginald hated that horrid smile. It was a cross between a death's head grin and a jester's visage. He winced as the president smiled throughout his reply.

"I might use a softer term than 'contrived.' 'Engineered' sounds bet- ter."

Reginald started feeling sorry for himself. His daughter was going to marry a wimp. Granted, he was a spectacular wimp, but that did not change the underlying condition of being a wimp. Reginald was electrified, however, when he saw the LWB on screen, complete with White House press credentials. Oliver stood to his full sixty�two inches, then said, "Mr. President, what goes around comes around."

The cameras switched to a confused president. A telephone on the podium rang.

"I suggest you answer your call, Mr. President," said Oliver.

He did. His face grew bleak. "I believe this call is for you, Doctor Jones. Your plants are malfunctioning."

"My plants?" replied Oliver. "I have myriad witnesses to your claim that the Federal Government expropriated them. You signed HB 6666 on camera and the bill is in the Congressional Record. You and the Congress felt you had the right to steal them, so you did. They are your responsibility now."

"Just what is happening, Mr. President?"

"Instead of taking in polluted air and giving out fresh, they are taking in polluted air and putting out air that is even more polluted."

A reporter started laughing. "Didn't you read the original contracts, Mr. President? 'Satisfaction guaranteed, or double your pollution back?' In Boston, we thought it was a joke."

Another reporter said, "In LA we wondered why Doctor Jones insisted on the phrase 'exercise of eminent domain or nationalization or any supercession of these contracts constitutes proof of lack of satisfaction.' I think we have an idea now, don't we?"

There was general laughter.

The president got the attention of the Secret Service men. He pointed to Oliver. "Arrest that man."

A spare Jewish man rose. "On what charge? If I stole your car, Mr. President, I would have one terrific nerve to get you arrested because the right tail light was busted, or because the engine needed a ring job."

The room grew tense. The Secret Service men quit converging on Oliver when they noted the president's uncertainty.

"If I might make a recommendation, Mr. President," said Oliver, "we can wrap this up expeditiously."

"Go ahead, Doctor Jones," said the wary chief executive.

Reginald quit thinking of the LWB as a wimp. The American Congress re- pealed HB 6666 the same day and paid Oliver damages. Oliver came to his senses, at long last, and used Reginald's help in founding Jones, Ltd., to market the atmosphere plants in Europe and in the Commonwealth. The president and his party suffered widespread defeat in the November elections.

That set of events was seventeen years before the Age of Stable Mira- cles, which Reginald called privately the Age of Scatological Mutants. Since the True Prince was dead, Reginald grudgingly accepted the LWB as his son�in� law. Oliver and Evelyn were married in a simple ceremony in Indiana. They were married again in high style (and at Reginald's expense) at the Cathedral of Saint Lux in London, the first church on Homeworld where Sol Invictus in- scribed the Holy Writ in English.

The tabloids were taken aback when the Queen's own physician pronounced Evelyn eminently fit for wearing traditional white at her wedding. Reginald was taken aback when his twenty�four year old daughter insisted on a private lecture, given by him, about the more private functions of marriage. His wave of hope for an annulment (the LWB must be a cold fish!) crashed on the rocks. Reginald's grandson John was born ten months after the marriage. Just to con- firm Reginald's worst fears, John had the LWB's colors. By the time John was two, it was clear he would have his father's features and stature as well.

In the deepest silences of his own self, Reginald thought of the couple as an archetypical pair out of American burlesque. She was a tall woman with the body of a goddess, and he was a misshapen, limping dwarf. Darkness!

Sol Invictus had charged Reginald with bringing the petals of the flow- ering family back together. Parts of that process were well under way with only unobtrusive aid from Reginald. His distant cousins Nathan Brown and Montgomery Green married his own daughters Laura Cummings and Simone Blumen- thal. Brian Johnson and Brenda Smith were still very young, but they were placed well to discover one another.

Reginald had, to be honest, several extra daughters about. They had each seemed so intensely necessary for the plan when they were conceived. Reginald wondered how they fit into the plan. He got answers that he did not especially enjoy.

Oliver met Gillian through Evelyn. Eve and Gillian had developed simi- lar research interests. They went into business together, and Gillian moved to Silicon Valley to live with Eve and Oliver. Monty and Simone met Sarah Wentworth through business, and the trio set up residence and Green�Green� Wentworth Securities in Chicago. Later Maria joined Oliver, Evelyn, and Gillian.

Reginald was aghast, but the peculiar arrangements did seem to fit into the plan. Worse yet, child�rearing and land had become so expensive in Amer- ica that two incomes usually were insufficient. Trios were common, helped in part, Reginald knew, by the examples of certain prominent Americans.

The seventeen years to the Dawn passed quickly as time does when the surfaces of events seem smooth. Reginald fought the bureaucrats for those seventeen years, but in the end they won after a fashion. He was forced into retirement for being over 65; some even suspected he was 70. Of course, he had to chuckle since he was 93.

When the Year of the Dawn hit, Reginald had twelve grandchildren that fit into the plan, twelve future rulers. Ten were enrolled at PIFP in San Francisco; Maria's two were underage and spent part of their time in Mexico. Even though the prince had been lost, Reginald felt that great things could be done through those twelve. The good genes of Evelyn, Gillian, and Maria would probably offset those of the LWB. The other five children were, naturally, just what they should be.

In retrospect, the red flags were all there, well ahead of time. The ten years of the rising tide of desert formation was clear enough. The fall of politics to brute economic forces seemed natural at the time. The whole- hearted moral, philosophical, and religious rush to bankruptcy in America was a prime driving mechanism. That rush had its parallels in the European Commu- nity and in the former Soviet bloc.

The stratospheric climb in water prices, food riots, stock market fail- ures, and bank crises were just the last symptoms of a long present and deadly malaise. Political leadership, in its ever�increasing myopia, had stu- diously avoided solving the shortages of water, food, and fuel (thirty percent of Homeworld's fuels were once grown in North America and Australia), and the subsequent economic depressions. They avoided even the attempts as 'too cost- ly' while increasing their own salaries.

When total disaster was put at one year to eighteen months in the fu- ture, the Governor of California, of all people, asked the LWB to intervene. After obtaining assurances��very publicly��from the Governor and the simpering president Brand X that no attempt at nationalization would be tried, the LWB found a solution in six weeks. He had been working on it on speculation. Cheap, massive desalinization transformed the water problem to one of plant construction on coasts and one of hauling the water itself. Homeworld breathed a sigh of relief and set to work.

The shocks came quickly after that. Terrorism had been quiet under stronger presidents and better times. The Follower sect of Submission, always a hazard, became incredibly fierce. The sect targeted heads of state, high officials, Solarian leaders, corporate officers, any Bahai or Buddhist, and anyone who got in their way. The sect succeeded against every group. Appar- ently the sect had some idea of Reginald's status with Sol Invictus; he had to fend off five assassination attempts.

The Federation of States collapsed politically and accepted Japan as its mentor and suzerain. Japan forced Oliver into a corner. He traded 99.5% of the water revenues in exchange for Japanese nobility and freedom for himself and any he called family. With those two moves, Japan took world domination. It quickly forced Russia and China to accept it as suzerain. Japanese labor camps sprang up like vile mushrooms throughout the three former superpowers. The military machines of the Russians and Americans were welded into the Com- bined Military under Japanese rule, spearheaded by the CMI. The Chinese mili- tary was disbanded; apparently it was too close to the new First World, as Japan was soon called.

The economic health of Homeworld was restored within months. Strong, undeniable leadership was present, the water problem was permanently solved, and the air problem soon would be. The leaders were those who could make sure the water was delivered, and the inventor of the desalinization process was made the second highest noble of the world. All was right with the planet.

Reginald hated that view of history. It ignored the biggest event of the Year of the Dawn. Ten of his grandchildren and his daughter Laura were brutally murdered by terrorists at the PIFP. Laura had flown in from Boston just to see Erica and John. Shadows and Darkness!

Reginald blamed himself as much or more than anyone for the deaths of Laura and the ten grandchildren. PIFP had become the ultimate symbol of the power of the elite in Europe, America, and the Commonwealth. All five of the children of the High Lord (as those dark creatures, the Japanese, called the LWB) went to PIFP.

Coming directly on the heels of his enforced retirement, the massacre built a certain fury in Reginald, who was used to counter�punching the offen- sives of Eclipse against Sol Invictus. What could he do against death? He could not even forestall being put out to pasture!

When it came to finding a scapegoat, the LWB was tailor�made for Regi- nald's anger. He traveled to California after assuring the location of the disgusting dwarf. Bent on giving the negligent half�wit a long lie�down in hospital, preferably in multiple traction, Reginald forced a solitary con- frontation.

Reginald had his life rearranged that day. Brian Smythe and Nathan Smythe had taught him to fight using fully the incredible body Sol Invictus had made for him. He had never lost a rough�and�tumble exercise except to the elder Smythes. He knew his bones could not be broken. He knew he could not be surprised. He knew his brain could not be fried. Still, he had taken hor- rible beatings and suffered immense pain. He did not see the LWB as a serious threat.

At first, the LWB would not fight, which enraged Reginald even more. Reginald finally insulted the parents of the dwarf sufficiently. Much to Reginald's surprise, he had to reach deep into his knowledge of combat to fi- nally hit a telling blow. The LWB had an unexpectedly strong facility for de- fensive fighting. Reginald's first good blow was a kick to the head that fractured the little bastard's skull. Instead of dutifully falling to the soil, the LWB backpedaled and staggered. His head seemed to glow, which Reginald attributed to an hallucination of excitement.

The LWB rushed Reginald in under a second. Reginald was confused; his opponent seemed healed. The LWB blurred. Reginald lost the use of his left arm from the elbow down: the joint was severely hyper�extended. In less that a minute, Reginald was on the ground, helpless.

The LWB informed Reginald that more grandchildren were on the way. If Reginald had nothing better to do, he would find safe homes for them among his contacts. Reginald would see to their training as fighters and world�watch- ers. The LWB left. Reginald had four hours to contemplate his fate. Regi- nald's grandson George appeared to take him to hospital. How embarrassing, and just how did the LWB know about George?

Toward the end of the Year of the Dawn, Reginald got another nasty tweak on the nose. The Japanese had turned their attentions to Europe. They had decided to expropriate the wealth of Reginald's and of all his aristocratic contacts about the globe. Just at the point where all seemed lost, when Regi- nald would have to make yet another humiliating adjustment to his life, the LWB stepped in. He named all the proposed victims as members of his family, and stopped the theft directly by threatening to stop the supply of water about Homeworld.

That was the final insult! That the little bastard had the audacity, the nerve, to save Reginald's backside when Reginald could not do it himself! Reginald would never forgive, and never forget, what the LWB had done.

To render affairs even worse, Oliver gave Reginald a Midwinter gift that year, a special gift. Reginald opened the Tiffany case to find a small ring of living vine. It was a vine he had never seen before.

"This is a precious gift, Father," said Evelyn. "Gillian and I will show you how to use it."

Gillian showed him how to put it on. He felt silly at first. Then he discovered that the Vine Ring settled into him somehow, and could not be re- moved.

"You bastard!" he yelled at Oliver.

"Perhaps. I don't really remember," replied the LWB mildly.

Before another row started, Gillian and Evelyn headed him off to a room reserved in his manor house for fencing. Rage mutated into wonder as his daughters showed him just a few of the features of the Ring. He could have defeated armies single�handed with it!

"We should be safe with these, Father," said Evelyn.

How bitterly ironic those words seemed to Reginald just a few years later. Before some creature of Darkness defeated the Vine Ring, Oliver man- aged to irritate Reginald incredibly again and again. First he openly named Maria his wife, then Olga, then Xia! The man had absolutely no shame!

Still, Reginald had to admit...the flower continued to come together.

In 19 ASM, when Evelyn killed was for all intents, Reginald had another row with Oliver. It was much more fierce. Reginald discovered that even with his God's gifts and the Vine Ring, Oliver could still thrash him, which he did.

As they lay upon the ground, waiting for George, Reginald managed to croak out, "Oliver. How is it, you little twit, that you can leave me, one of the greatest fighters of all time, flattened, but you could not beat off six second�rate terrorist bullies?"

Oliver sat up, dazed and hurting. He felt so bad that he had not both- ered to heal himself. "I don't know, Reginald, I just don't know. Evelyn could have taken them hopping with one foot tied behind her back. Together, we should have been able to take a battalion of better combat troops. For some reason, neither of us activated a Ring."

The truth hit Reginald. He started to weep at the revelation of another level of his own incompetence.

"What is wrong, old man?"

"My enemy attacked me through you and Eve..."

"Eclipse?"

"Yes. You know Whom I represent, then."

"I've spoken to your Boss now and then."

"Why? I thought you were an agnostic."

"I have these funny eyes. Call it curiosity. By the way, speaking as a friend, perhaps you and He should talk more frequently."

Reginald groaned at the truth of his state told to him by the unbeliev- ing LWB. The dwarf did something that let him sleep through the pain. Regi- nald never did find out what that was, but when Jones, Ltd., started making organ regeneration equipment, he started to suspect.

Reginald looked at his reflection in the table again.

Since Evelyn's apparent passing, he had cherished each visit from his many daughters. Some of them were getting close to seventy; Simone was sev- enty�one! Yet they were firm of muscle tone, clear of eye, light of step, erect of posture. They played tennis just as energetically as he did. Per- haps the gifts given the Envoys throughout history extended somewhat to their children.

Little Sydney even had a baby with Nathan just a few months back, her first; no complications, good�sized boy. Wait. Sydney was over sixty...she was sixty�eight when she delivered.

Reginald touched the transceiver Maria had made just for him. "Kent."

"Sir?"

"Get the plane ready. Tell George to pack for a short stay in the Ba- hamas."

"The meeting, sir?"

"We shall return before it."

"Very good, sir."

Reginald smiled. He touched a control. The windows lowered polariza- tion. The rich yellow light of Sol Invictus flooded in.

Part Two: Renewal

Reginald stood on the beach where Brian and Nathan Smythe had introduced him to his Master. George stood watch. Reginald touched his temples for a short time, and his third lids descended. He gazed into the face of his God.

The rich, transcendent, white and crimson mandala overlaid the yellow orb. Parts of Reginald that were desolate and defeated felt healing. He sensed again the song of Homeworld through his bare feet on sand. He had not known that song for over a century. It strengthened him in his battle with despair. It cleansed away his sharply perceived certainties of failures past and future. Notions that he considered hard facts became negotiable. Land- marks in his thinking were turned into relocatable puzzle pieces in a sea of change.

After he achieved resonance with the song beneath him and the luminous mandala above him, Sol Invictus spoke to his mind.

Tell me of the difficulties that led you to close yourself to Me, even during Discovery ceremonies.

"My efforts in Your behalf during the war against the Twisted Starburst were so pitiful that you had to intervene personally."

Eclipse had many deeply laid plans that I had not anticipated. The first Great War in Europe was only a distraction for the greater mischief of the second. You should not feel thus about your work. The FOTS planned the total extermination of the Jews, Gypsies, and the Slavs if they had enough centuries. Without your labors, six or perhaps eight million Jews would have been slaughtered instead of less than one million. You helped accentuate their failures against the Gypsies and the Slavs. The FOTS and Eclipse would not listen to reason or threat. The whole enterprise became one of damage control until it became clear that no less catastrophic solution would do. You prevented a lot of damage. It was not a good situation, but I think we made the best of it.

"The prince was killed. Keeping him safe to mate with my line was one of my primary responsibilities. I failed that with extreme prejudice."

There was a long silence. Reginald thought he floated in the song from below and the transcendent light from above. George was becoming agitated, which he never did without reason. Reginald slowly expanded his focus of at- tention. A tropical storm was rushing in from the south. The powers permeat- ing him warded off the storm as if in afterthought.

Montgomery Green, Nathan Brown, and Brian Johnson found your daughters, did they not?

"Yes. Children were lost."

More were produced and have lived through many trials. In your older age you have made yourself a good mentor and protector for your grandchildren.

"Yes. The flower cannot close without the prince and his children. The prince is dead. A mongrel Trickster lies in his place, a mutant dwarf who makes illusion parks for money instead of taking the reins of world power back from the Nipponese."

Are you so very certain, Reginald? When Oliver shakes his fist in anger, which is seldom, even the First World yields. You know this person- ally. When Eclipse was well on Its way to turning Homeworld to desert, Oliver stopped it. When fools turned the atmosphere into filth, he found a way to mitigate the foulness.

I thought for years that Eclipse had killed the prince. The decision of his parents to vacation in the States was a complete surprise to Me. Other- wise I would not have let you stay in Europe to shore up the Atlantic Al- liance. It was a well�planned thrust.

My attempts, like yours, to get the feel of the truth of the past in Hammond have failed. I have the impression that Eclipse is also uncertain as to which child survived. This lack of ability to see the past is distressing for a Deity. In any case, Gillian has suggested a novel solution, and an ob- vious one. You have an official copy of the birth certificate, do you not?

"Yes."

You are planning to go to the Midwinter meeting in the Hand of God, are you not?

"Yes."

Go to the meeting. Take the certificate with you. Take equipment for comparing the hand and foot prints of a child with those of an adult. Take an open mind as well.

"I will. Does he have this so�called interstellar drive worked out, or will the joke be revealed?"

Silence followed, and Reginald noted the mental equivalent of a sigh. Reginald trembled; he knew that he had made a misinterpretation of royal pro- portions. The song coming through his soles turned to amusement, so he quit worrying about lightning bolts.

He has perfected two methods of interstellar voyaging. His interests have turned to massive real estate acquisition, definitely with Our approval. Olga's students have already made the maps of the forty�seven planets he in- tends to take. He will need the Noble Family's children eventually to rule these new worlds. He will need skilled leaders very quickly to organize re- cruitment, form the provisional governments, and do the high�technology pio- neering. He will ask you for these things. I tell you this in advance so that you may prepare yourself for what is to come. You will not start a fight with him. You will do as he asks. Do you understand?

"Yes."

Will you do as I ask?

"Yes."

Good. Start preparing the children for their eventual r�les. Start separating the early leaders from their ties to Homeworld. You will have to be very devious and clever. You were once very good at this. Are you up to the challenge?

Did Reginald want his grandchildren to rule four dozen new worlds? Of course! Would he put up with the LWB for a while longer in order to seal their places in a new order? Yes! Sol Invictus was going ahead with the plan even without the prince. It paid to work for only the best.

"Yes. I will serve You well."

Yes. You will.

Reginald's mind filled with laughing light and chuckling song. He looked down to his feet to see that it was permeated with white light, the same white light as in the mandala. When he started to look back at Sol In- victus, his normal vision warned him against it. The contact was broken. He looked to his feet, and the sand was just sand.

"Your Grace!" shouted George. "Look to the sea!"

He did. His Vine Ring activated as Reginald saw the three dozen Aquines emerging armed from the surf. He rushed them, knowing he would kill the scum in less than a minute. Ever since the sea people tried to kidnap Evelyn's boy, he had trained himself to dispatch them rapidly. The Ring flared as it fended off bolts from Aquine weapons. George charged in from Reginald's left, far enough away not to inhibit his actions. He felt George's Ring's outrage singing in his veins in harmony with his own.

The Aquines had come in with the artificial storm. Their corpses would leave with the ebb tide. Reginald felt a clarity of purpose he had not known in decades.

Part Three: Family Meeting

Reginald and Kent surveyed the meeting room two days later in England. All was in readiness for the conference with the grandchildren.

"Cook has outdone himself," said Kent.

"Excellent," replied Reginald.

"Will the masquerade be ended today?"

"No, but I will set them to studying important issues to the exclusion all else. After today, they will be dedicated. They have much to learn."

"Before they start taking the reins?" asked Kent.

"Yes. I will have to decide rough sequencing for goals with Oliver. It might be premature to tell them the entire story immediately."

"Did I hear correctly, Sir? Oliver, not the LWB?"

"Apparently Sol Invictus is willing to go forward with what we have. Who am I to disagree? What we have is the good Doctor, who has, after all, done some interesting and positive things for Homeworld."

"Well," said Kent, "well, well, well."

Reginald laughed. "Go ahead and say what you really mean."

"You have not always been silent about your feelings toward your short- est son�in�law."

"No," replied Reginald.

"So I assume Sol Invictus had quite a bit to say about him."

"Yes, and as I outlined before, He gave me quite a few marching orders. Have you started preparations for the Midwinter meeting?"

"They are going quite well, Your Grace. I've made the necessary con- tacts with Doctor Brown and Sir George. The baggage is mostly ready to go."

George Smythe was the first to arrive. At six feet, five inches, he was two inches shorter than Reginald. He was heftier, reflecting his Olympic de- cathlon wins in 4, 8, 12, and 16 ASM. George had just turned 52 at the end of October, yet he was still getting pressure to try out for the 28 Olympics for the greater glory of Britain.

Despite the season, George was dressed in Caribbean style, complete with energetic patterns and bright colors. George's hair was short, dark, and al- most curly; his eyes were dark blue. His skin was always golden brown or darker. His recent stays in equatorial regions had left him deeply tanned.

"You are getting gray near the temples, George," said the Duke.

"Why does that make you sad, Grandfather?" asked George.

"I hoped time would be a little milder with you."

The two big men stared at each other in the quiet of the richly ap- pointed room. The doorbell rang. Kent went to the door.

George cracked a smile whose brightness matched his clothing. "I've started using the same white dye as you," he said slyly.

"How long have you known?" asked a surprised Reginald. "It has been about five years, since the sea devils last tried to kidnap young Sam. We did a pack of splashing about in the surf."

"Does the natural color show now?" asked the suddenly wary Duke.

"No, but you should be more careful. I could see the yellow when we were dispatching the Aquines two days ago in the Bahamas."

They shared a laugh that continued as Eileen Weston and Birgit H�user entered. Being long�lived was a problem a man could learn to accept, after all.

Eileen and Birgit wavered between being amused and vexed. Eileen was colored exactly like her mother Sarah Wentworth, but was five inches taller. Birgit was a clone of Simone Green, save for the additional six inches of height. Her temperament was similar as well; being ignored was not one of her favorite pastimes.

"Is this a private joke, or do I have egg on my face?" asked Birgit frostily.

George instantly became serious; he rushed forth to accept blame, leav- ing the Duke unscathed. He walked over to Birgit, stood crisply, dropped to one knee, took her hand, then kissed it. "Entschuldigen Sie mir, gn�dige Dame, entschuldigen Sie mir tausandmal, edele Landgr�fin. Wir haben hier nur eine kleine Spass mit einander, nicht an Sie."

Birgit looked indecisive, then smiled brilliantly. "Ausgezeichnet, mein Ritter." She kissed him on the forehead, then pulled him to his feet.

Reginald's eyes narrowed. He made a mental note to do a bit more to keep down the heat among these young men and women.

Eileen's green eyes studied Birgit and George, then Reginald. She won- dered when the old man turned��rather hypocritically, she added to herself�� into a prude. Birgit and George were both warm people who liked to touch the ones they liked. They thought of each other as older brother and much younger sister, not as a couple. Shadows!

The doorbell rang. Kent went to answer the bell. Eileen saw that it was Sharazade and Alain. There would be fireworks if His Grace had the same notions about Sharry and Alain.

Reginald walked over to the newly arrived pair. "Greetings. You seem to be in good health."

Alain Messier bowed floridly as he said, "Yes, thank you. Your Grace appears to be in good health and spirits as well."

"I am indeed," replied Reginald.

Alain had been reared by a Count and Countess in the countryside in the South of France. His accent was as thick as his nationalism, but neither was thick enough to undercut good sense.

Sharazade simply walked up to Reginald and applied an American�style bear hug. George was not certain whether the Duke winced from catching Eileen's less than amused glare or from the surprise and pressure of being squeezed hard about the ribs.

You and most of the others are my relatives; I can feel it in my bones. I'd like to have all these relationships publicly acknowledged. I'm going to break your joints unless you tell me something useful. When is this masquer- ade going to be over, old man?

Externally, Sharry looked calm, pleasant, and happy. She smiled sweetly up at Reginald. George, Birgit, Eileen, and Alain gathered about the odd pair. George looked amused, Birgit expectant, Eileen pensive, and Alain wor- ried.

Before you are thirty, I hope, Miss Habib.

Miss Habib, indeed! You used to change my diapers! I am not some stranger! Tell me something definite now; seven or eight years is a long time.

I am your grandfather.

Well, well. That fits.

Sharazade slowly let Reginald go, trying to catch more information while she still touched him. Her hands traced down Reginald's arms as he drew a tentative breath.

You inherited your father's strength and your mother's willful nature.

You knew them well! I know nothing of them. Why, Grandfather?

Stop this, Sharazade. I will make a general, limited announcement when everyone is present.

The doorbell rang. Sharry gave Reginald disappointed scowl, then dropped his hands. Kent received the new visitors, then escorted them to the meeting room.

The trio had the common height of six feet, five inches, but otherwise they were quite distinct. Two were young men in their early twenties, one dark, the other fair. The third was a twelve�year�old girl whose hair was be- tween red and blonde, closer to red. The men were slender yet strong, rather like champion gymnasts.

"Sam," said Reginald to the dark man as they shook hands.

The redheaded girl tried to look poised, but collapsed into giggles as she raced over to three of the women she liked best in the world. "Danica!" said Birgit as she embraced the preteen. Eileen smiled; George and Danica were among the few people to whom Birgit showed her heartfelt warmth.

"The four musketeers are together again!" said Sharry as she took Eileen, Danica and Birgit in a broad embrace.

"James," said Reginald as he shook the blonde man's hand.

"Duke Reginald," he replied in a clear baritone. "What are the ladies plotting?"

The four in question were silent. They stood facing one another with their left hands in a knot of fingers. Their faces showed a variety of emo- tions, as if they were watching a good holo drama on triply fast forward mode. Danica suddenly took her hand away, and used it to cover her mouth partially.

"Really?" she whispered theatrically, then looked wide�eyed at Reginald.

"That tears it," groaned Reginald.

"Stiff upper lip, old boy," said Sam, who succeeded in keeping a straight face.

"Have they discovered your latest romantic conquest?" asked Alain with his eyes merry.

Reginald favored the Frenchman with a particularly stony glare. "I would be most pleased if you would keep Lois out of this, Count."

Alain's eyes softened. "As you wish, Your Grace, but you should know that I learned of Lois and you through Sharry."

Reginald cast his eyes heavenward.

James decided to expedite matters. "Perhaps we should start the meet- ing��Grandfather."

Reginald looked inquiringly at George. George shook his head.

"Indeed. Let us get the meeting to order," said Reginald. Kent started pointing out seats. The younger members waited for Reginald to start. He stood at the head of the table. He looked at each of the tall, handsome, young people.

"Let us welcome young Danica," said Reginald. "If she's mature enough to ward off an Aquine kidnapping expedition, I think we can trust her in these meetings."

"Hear, hear," said Sam.

Everyone applauded. Danica blushed.

"As has become uncomfortably evident, I need to clear up some, but not all, matters of family," continued Reginald. Sharry and Birgit favored him with hard brown�eyed stares. "First, I am a grandfather of each of the eight of you."

Sharazade looked suddenly uncomfortable and less confident; Alain looked vacant. Danica beamed; George looked relieved. Birgit appeared pleased, but wary. Eileen and James smiled, but had an idea that more was to come.

"Alain is having another one of his petite mal spells," remarked Sam.

"Kent," said Reginald through his sleeve stud transceiver.

Eileen circled the table to Alain and took vital signs using a diagnos- tic tool smaller than her hand. "He's in trouble again, Your Grace��Grandfa- ther."

Kent wheeled in a piece of work that resembled a coffin. Sam and James picked up Alain as Kent opened the top of the big gadget. Reginald rose and started to glow in white and red pattern.

"Show thyself, foul one," he bellowed as yellow Sun light pulsed from his left hand to fill the room.

George was on his feet, a wavering eldritch broadsword in his hand. His head swiveled as he centered in on something normally invisible. He launched a strike with all the force in his mighty thorax and twenty�three inch biceps.

The sound of a man's scream exploded in the room. The vision of a magi- cal artifact assaulted them. A snake�like tube penetrated the far wall and extended with its extensively branched end that reached into Alain's brain. George's first cut had nearly severed the main body. Brownish stinking ghostly ichor flowed from the wound. The ugly gray�green reptilian body lashed about. Sam and James straightened Alain's body in the coffin�like de- vice. George hacked at the serpent, inflicting terrific damage, but it grew new appendages and tried to attack anyone it could reach. Reginald burned great gouges out of the vile instrument with small Sunbursts of yellow ener- gies. Kent closed the lid on Alain.

"No!" shouted a somehow familiar voice that spoke through a wall of pain, frustration, and anger.

Eileen activated the healing device. Blue light enveloped it. The cerulean blue annihilated the serpent parts wherever there was contact. Regi- nald and George raced to the blue light. Their touches magnified the blue glow, which took dead aim at the retreating gray�green, wounded serpent. A distant scream marked the vanishing of the ill presence in the room.

Reginald ceased glowing; George quit wavering. Kent asked for drinks orders. Sam and James began straightening up chairs, papers and whatnot dis- placed by the bizarre battle. The others joined in, and the group was seated again by the time the liquid refreshments arrived. Reginald smiled faintly when the cerulean blue phased into a beautiful forest green.

"He is safe now," said Eileen.

"Can he hear us?" asked Reginald.

"No."

"Good. Kent, bring the rosewood case."

Kent unlocked a nearby cabinet. He brought forth a box the size of a large attach� case. He carried it to the duke, then placed it before him.

"Thank you, Kent," said Reginald with a nod. "As several of you have ascertained, and I have confirmed, we are of the same family. Even Kent is some sort of cousin, aren't you, Robert?"

"Fifth cousin, twice removed, Reginald."

Eileen looked perplexed. "Then why are you a servant, Kent?"

Reginald and Kent looked at each other and laughed. "Kent is a Laird in Scotland. He has land and income from it, shares in modern companies, and his own servants."

Kent said, "As Reginald's chief servant, I'm privy to the secret traffic within the corridors of power. I know the Family mysteries, the dark ones and the bright hopeful ones." He pointed to the rosewood case.

Reginald was about to open the case when Birgit interrupted, "Grandfa- ther, is your relationship to Sol Invictus like Kent's to you?"

Reginald carefully rested his big hands on the sides of the case. He scanned the young faces as he composed a proper reply. "Yes. My service to the Sun God gives me certain knowledge and unadvertised powers. That knowl- edge and those powers are not the reason I serve my Master. I serve Him be- cause His work needs to be done. The rewards are secondary and are not always what I expect or want. What I expect or want is basically, though not to- tally, irrelevant."

Robert Kent nodded, and the youngsters noted it.

Sam said, "The Book of Prophecy speaks of the advent of a Power greater than Sol Invictus called the Lord of Creation. Is this Lord the master of Sol Invictus?"

"Yes," replied Reginald, "though Their relationship is more complex. Sol Invictus has labored for ten millennia for that advent. The human race in its current form was made for His coming. In particular, our family was nur- tured to be His family."

Reginald paused, judging his audience. His blood raced as he felt the deft touch of his master on history. He knew he could never have done this meeting correctly without his recent visit with George to the Bahamas. He silently thanked his master for his gifts.

"In this case," said Reginald, as he patted the rosewood, "are talismans that the Lord of Creation made for each of you."

Eyes widened. Heads leaned forward. Deep breaths were taken.

"Yes," continued Reginald, "He is among us on Homeworld. He knows you, cares for you, wants you to take part in His efforts. By accepting a talis- man, you accept service in His cause, and receive much in return. Rise and view them."

Reginald stood. Everyone��except, of course, the recumbent Alain��soon crowded around him. He opened the case. He was deeply surprised that he had spoken thus of the Little Welsh Bastard.

Sharazade pointed to a circle of odd vine with Arabic writing inscribed under it in light. "That one is mine; it bears my name. What is it?"

"Not of this world," said Eileen, "unless I am mistaken."

"That is true," said Reginald, as his brow furrowed, "but how did you know?"

"The Aquines may have originated on Homeworld as Eclipse claims, but they have spent many years elsewhere adapting to differing conditions. They seem familiar, but little details are off. These vines are even more alien. They are in leaf, yet they are in a closed loop with no roots, a trick Home- world plants have yet to master."

"Why is my name written in Cyrillic?" asked Danica.

"You are even more a Russian than Sharazade is an Arab," replied Regi- nald.

"I see George's name but not his vine," remarked Birgit after she found hers.

George lifted his hand and pulled back his bright sleeve. The elegant but barely visible tattoo lit strontium red. "It is always with me, even in the baths."

"You used it to hurt the demon snake, the hydra," stated Sam.

George nodded.

"Are these safe to touch, or is there some ritual needed to wear them?" asked James.

"For the right persons," said Reginald, picking up James' vine, "there is no problem."

He tossed it to James, who tried to catch it. The vine swooped and ex- panded, then contracted as it settled around his wrist. In a few heartbeats, it changed into a faint tattoo in colors harmonious with James' skin tones. His eyes narrowed. The tattoo lit red, much as George's had. James smiled.

"It is like gaining sight after a life of blindness, or standing after decades of paralysis," said James. He turned to George. "It would be best if you taught me how to use this properly."

"What would happen if a...wrong...person tried to use one of these tal- ismans?" asked Danica.

George shook his head and his dark blue eyes were sad. "That would be very bad, young Miss. Once Brian Johnson and I were with Toshiro Todoraki when he was young and inexperienced. A terrorist named Reza grabbed the boy's hand very hard and was going to cut off his arm at the elbow to get the Vine Ring. Toshiro did not have full attunement to the talisman, and Reza always was a powerful sorcerer. Otherwise he could not have even touched Toshiro.

"Brian and I rushed toward Reza after we had dispatched his underlings, but we were yards away when the sword came down. Toshiro raised a shield, and the sword bounced off. Reza laughed, and made some sort of adjustment. Brian hurt Reza from a distance, nearly cutting off the sorcerer's legs, but the sword came down again. To everyone's surprise, Toshiro's Ring flared. Reza's left hand was severely burned, and his sword arm was severed at the elbow, where he intended to cut Toshiro."

James looked pleased, and his eyes closed. The air about him wavered. "Obviously, I am the right person for this Ring."

"Slow down, James," said Sam. "The power seems to be intoxicating you." James looked miffed, but Sam laughed. "I'll try mine," he said.

Birgit, Sharazade, and Eileen quickly followed Sam with no ill results. Danica, however, did not care for the possibilities of George's story about the sorcerer Reza and the young Emperor.

"How do I know it will like me?" the youngster persisted.

"By right of blood," said Reginald.

"I don't suppose you would care to explain that," said Sharry.

The duke undid the diamond stud on his right sleeve, which he rolled back to expose a glowing Ring. Sharry was mollified.

"You serve two masters," said Birgit.

"Ultimately there is only one," replied Reginald.

"Where is Alain's vine?" asked Danica. "There is his name, just like ours."

When Danica pointed toward the rosewood box, her Vine Ring leapt onto her wrist. Her surprise quickly turned into an introspective smile.

"Clever, these vines," remarked Sam.

"Who was the man who attacked us?" asked Birgit.

Reginald motioned for George to answer. "Your Uncle Jamal, the most in- dividually powerful of our human opponents." George looked back to Reginald. "Jamal had Alain under some sort of spell to gain intelligence about us. As you may recall, Alain's epileptic seizures often occurred during sensitive discussions of Family affairs��what we used to call intelligence. At first we thought it was just the tension of the moment, but there were too many coinci- dences. His Grace seems to have found appropriate counter�measures." George gestured toward Alain.

"That would account for some of the kidnapping attempts," said Sam. "Jamal has contacts with Eclipse, Who is, among other things, the God of the Aquines."

James said, "I have an impertinent question, Grandfather."

Kent chuckled as he wheeled in several trays of light snacks and drink refills. Reginald smiled. "Go ahead."

"What was the original purpose of this meeting of the group?"

Reginald nodded. "It was more Family business. I want you to take jobs in Family companies. You will begin to engage yourself in the Family hierar- chy and see the extent of our operations."

"Were there any particular companies?" asked Eileen.

"Yes," replied Reginald. "I want you to take a position in Jones, Ltd., Eileen, since you have extensive interests in medicine. The other companies are Twinpower and Smith�Estevez. The rest of you could benefit from any of these three groups. There will be travel involved. You will get to use all those tedious languages I forced you to learn. You will deal with a variety of people at many levels, including the top. Some of these will be very irri- tating."

"With a few exceptions," said James, "we've spent our time in Europe, and our orientations have been to Europe, the Middle East, and North America to a lesser extent. Is not our family European?"

"It's a big family," remarked Reginald.

"James," explained Sam, "His Grace here is our grandfather. That means that his children are some of our parents. Jamal is our uncle, not our fa- ther. What does that leave? The three companies mentioned are a bit of clue."

James looked profoundly disappointed as he looked at Reginald.

Part Four: Evening Discussions

The seven younger people retired to the billiards tables in the basement after the evening meal. Alain remained above, still recovering, still oblivi- ous.

Young Danica had quickly adapted to her Vine Ring. She had constructed a force field hammock anchored on a pair of the manor house's six by four inch beams. She lay eight feet above the floor, calmly observing the games below her.

George and James played snooker on the center table. Sam and Eileen played eight�ball to Danica's left, while Birgit and Sharazade played nine� ball to her right. Danica was tired and a little confused, and the hammock was the best bed she had ever nearly slept in. She was still fairly certain that these games with the hard colored balls and green felt tables were played with long wooden sticks called cues. The six grownups were not using cues, although the games otherwise looked standard.

It was 20:45, so Danica was tired. At home in Scotland, she usually went to sleep at 20:00 or maybe 20:30 at the latest if Doctor Jones was tutor- ing her. She had not seen her brilliant tutor for nearly six months; Doctor Estevez had taken his place. Danica had seen Doctor Smirnov as usual during the last half year. She knew she was missing an obvious deduction about her older tutors; what was it? Sleep weighed heavily on her aquamarine eyes.

George nudged James, then pointed to Danica. The two men started singing a lullaby; the others slowly joined in. Danica smiled and let her worries float past her as she listened to the six skilled voices sing to her in English, then in German, Arabic, French, and Russian.

Even these six were different now, Danica reflected drowsily. Ten hours ago, George had just been her tutor in weapons and music. Sam, Birgit, and James never let economics and politics go when she saw them. Danica had been bored by it all, but she knew a lot about current governments, trade, and diplomacy. Sharazade taught her languages and music; Eileen nutrition and field medicine, as well as how to stay on Reginald's good side. Today had changed everything. These people were her siblings or her first cousins.

"I think she's asleep," said Eileen after they finished a short choral work. "All right, James. Just what is biting you?"

"How many times has His Grace said disparaging things about the rich barbarians in the colonies?" asked James after a short fume.

"Hundreds," laughed Eileen. Her smile faded as she saw how grim James was.

"Aren't the colonies unfinished, undereducated, and short on history?" he continued. "Isn't Europe the center of Western culture, the wellspring of music, art, literature, ethics, and philosophy? Weren't we brought up to be proud Europeans and to be people of whom Europe could be proud?"

"Of course," replied Birgit. "Even George would agree, would you not, Lord?"

"The colonies have things of their own to offer," countered George, "but I am glad to have been educated here, and to call Europe home."

Eileen said, "I don't think one will find too many anti�Europeans here, do you, Sharry?"

Sharazade Habib had grown up in Egypt. Father was a linguist, Mother an archaeologist. At least that was what they told her until she was ten. By then Aunt Rasia had spilled the beans, as the Americans would say.

"You might be with me for quite a while this time, Sharry," Auntie had said.

"Why?" asked Sharry.

"Their mission this time is very dangerous."

Sharry was confused. "What could be dangerous about old glyphs and whisk brooms and talking to tribal chiefs?"

"It depends on the tribal chief," replied Rasia. "Come sit on my lap, Sharry."

Sharry approached Rasia with her usual mix of excitement and fear. Ra- sia had taught her early on the meaning of the word 'promise.' Most of the many promises between them involved secrecy because Auntie was a witch. Sit- ting on Auntie's lap was exciting because Sharry captured some of her witch sight for a time. It was frightening too, because those shared visions some- times changed the girl's perceptions of the world; other times they showed horrifying events as they happened.

That day the visions hurt terribly. Mother and Father were held captive in a tent in Afghanistan. They were bound. The people who held them seemed decidedly unfriendly. The vision faded and was replaced by one of a military base on the far side of Luna. Rasia explained what spies were, what the CMI did, what her parents did, and why some hostiles were upset with them.

"Why do you know so much about this espionage, Auntie? I thought you were an English diplomat at large in the Mediterranean."

"I am," the witch laughed.

Sharry's tutor in science and maths, Doctor Jones, came to Alexandria the next day and stayed for several weeks. Sharry learned trigonometry and Newtonian physics by day, and had intensely vivid and incredibly long dreams at night. At twilight and dawn, she would sit in Rasia's lap and play gig- gling games with Doctor Jones using their six�fingered hands.

It was during these games that Sharry discovered that her tutor was a warlock. After the laughing part, they played another game. Her young hands matched his, palm to palm, finger to finger. The breaths of the trio would become synchronous. Sharry's eyes locked into his electric blue ones.

Find the Habibs, Sharry, he said, mind�to�mind.

She found them in a Cairo hospital. She was very sad, that first time and every subsequent time.

Remember how they looked when they were healthy and whole.

She did that, making the images as three�dimensional as possible.

Compare the two images. Push the injured one toward the healthy one.

Sharry's concentration wavered. The current image of the Habibs showed distress. I'm hurting them!

It is unpleasant for them, yes. Mr. Habib would have an easier time in life with two arms, would he not?

Sharry had to agree. She was too big for Father to pick her up with just one arm.

Mrs. Habib used to be a handsome woman, Sharry. Under those bandages, most of her hurts still linger. You've seen some of the scar�faced beggars...

Sharry needed no more convincing. She knew that Mother was more than just the outside of her skin, but she also knew how cruel people were to the disfigured. Doctor Jones seldom walked around outside in Alexandria. He was right about the beggars, too.

"Homeworld to Sharazade," ventured Eileen.

"Does she have the falling sickness too?" asked Sam.

Sharazade felt Eileen's warm fingers on her temples. She came out of her trance. She immediately lashed out at James.

"You hate Americans, is that it? And now you've discovered that you are probably one yourself? That is just too bad! My father is an American, and if you don't like it, let's settle the matter right now!"

Spats were common in the group. James and Sharazade were instantly in fighter's stances, she with a drawn knife, he in defense. The others scat- tered and watched. Danica slept, oblivious to the spontaneous scuffle; such practice was common in her short life.

The fight was quickly over. Sharazade finally got an opening. James was forced to block her true strike with his hand. Sharazade yelped and dropped the knife. George levered them further apart.

"Stop," he commanded. He favored them with the sort of withering stare that he reserved for idiots who ignored the wind in long�range archery.

"You," he said to Sharry, who blew on her hand, "when you see an oppo- nent shimmering, it means the opponent might not be susceptible to normal at- tacks. The Envoy of Sol Invictus gave James a talisman from a full�fledged Deity. Don't let me catch you ignoring small but pertinent facts like that again."

George turned to Eileen. "Fix her hand. No scars, no blisters."

"Yes, Sir Knight," chuckled Eileen as she hustled off for her medical kit.

George pointed at James. "You! Roll up your sleeve!"

James knew it had to be his right sleeve. He took off his blazer, then pocketed his diamond stud and rolled up the French sleeve. The Vine Ring glowed a fierce red.

"Mine is not glowing," remarked Birgit.

"Have you needed to defend your life in the last five minutes?" snapped George.

"No," said a miffed Birgit. She kept her annoyance to herself. George was their chief weapons instructor, and he never steered them badly.

An ugly lump floated up into their midst.

"That was my knife?" asked Sharazade as Eileen finished putting her hand into an auto�healing box.

"Yes," said George. "James never would have heard the end of it if I had let it burn this excellent wooden floor. If you were a little more strongly attuned to it, Jamey, and you had the same blind reaction of self� protection, Sharry would have to undergo limb replacement."

"Sharazade," George said more mildly, "I think you can see the point of proper training." She nodded. "Tomorrow," George continued, "we will travel to an appropriately desolate place and practice. All of you have been hit by Aquine pain guns, haven't you?"

There was a lot of involuntary wincing.

"I'll take that as an affirmative," said George. "When the Ring is used properly, the wearer is invulnerable to the pain gun, the disruptor�trident, slug throwers, knives, swords, arrows, and the like. Let me emphasize the word 'properly.' The inexperienced can still get hurt."

"What about the sorcerers?" asked a drowsy alto voice above them.

"It's past your bedtime, Danny�girl," said George to the sleepy�eyed redhead, "but it is a special occasion. Sorcerers are tougher. They can make swords out of stuff that isn't matter, swords that can hurt even one of us. They have other nasty tricks, too."

"Mm..." said Danica as she drifted back to sleep.

"So who is your father, Sharry?" asked Sam, who liked to tie down de- tails.

"Doctor Jones," replied Sharazade.

"He's too short."

"He's too smart to be your father."

"He's too dark, and your mother would have had to have been a Middle Easterner."

"He's too ugly."

"He's Welsh, not American. We've all been to his family's ancestral home in Wales."

Sharry was a little surprised by that remark. On the other hand, Aunt Rasia had taught her how to find out secrets. Doctor Jones only wanted to ap- pear to have lived in Wales all his life. She recognized him as an American from tiny linguistic signatures and other means.

"George," Birgit remarked in a penetrating voice, "you haven't said any- thing."

"Sharazade is correct," said George with merry eyes. "Besides, he's my father as well."

The same objections were repeated, only more vociferously.

"How many fingers does each of us have on a hand?" asked George.

"Six," Birgit replied, as an awkward set of truths dawned on her, "as does the good Doctor. All of us have spent months of our lives with him when our foster parents were away." Tears coursed down her silent cheeks.

Eileen comforted her. "It has only been eight months, dear. Let it out."

"They were so young!" sobbed Birgit.

"Yes and no," said Robert Kent from the stair.

"Ah," said Sam, "Robert is in a talkative mood."

"If I am Robert, Sam," replied Kent, "then you can serve." Kent handed Sam the tray, then gestured to the dumbwaiter.

Sam took the tray, looked at the dumbwaiter, then looked uncomfortable as his friends chuckled. "It's a deal. That is, very good, Sir."

Robert went to the big cards table past the billiards. The younger set gathered around him. Birgit sat next to him.

"What did you mean by the 'yes and no' remark?" she asked.

"The Count and Countess were vigorous and young�looking, but they were ninety�six and ninety�eight years old. They enjoyed long and rich lives."

"How did they die? 'Natural causes' is rather vague."

"Eclipse murdered them," Kent said, his normal placidity pierced.

"Would you elaborate on that, Sir?" asked Sam as he served to order herbal teas, tropical fruit drinks, and coffee.

Kent let his anger drain. "There was a spot of water piracy in Algeria. The grain crops were in jeopardy and water revenues for Tokyo were down. CMI had lost seventeen agents, but they were not yet ready to call in the Russian� American battalions and declare martial law. CMI contacted Reginald as Envoy, not as intelligence expert, since CMI knew the four sorcerers were culprits."

Kent sipped coffee from the Kona coast of the big island of the Hawaiian chain.

"Gew�hlt Grossvater dann Muti und Vati f�r die Arbeit?"

"Ja, Birgit," replied Kent. "In a mere two weeks, they exposed the col- laborators, to the delight of the Algerians. They did some courier work in Austria, then returned to Bavaria."

"Where they died on the drive from the front gate," said Birgit, "of natural causes. I still do not understand."

"Payback," said George. "Eclipse used Its control of probabilities to fibrillate them to death."

"Lest there be a misunderstanding," said Kent, "Sol Invictus was fending off an attack in deep space, while Reginald and Jamal were having another of their indecisive duels."

"That is a lot of effort to eliminate an old man and an old woman," said Birgit.

"They served Sol Invictus well," replied Kent. "Their vigor and longevity were part of His appreciation of their skills and loyalty. You are right, of course. It was a lot of effort, but our God protects His own as best He can. Usually the only way for the Dark forces to kill one of the Fam- ily is through a massive distraction."

"Where were you, Birgit, when they were gone on that last mission?" asked Sharazade.

Birgit shrugged an elegant shrug. "I went to Wales with Doctor Jones and Lady Simone. We talked about econometric models."

"Is that where you usually go when your foster parents were away?"

Birgit looked slightly perplexed by Sharry's question. "Now that you mention it, yes. Sometimes they visited me in Bavaria; occasionally Lord Montgomery or Lady Sarah were along."

"All of us were separated from our biological parents," said Sharazade, "but I think it has been clear all along who they were. We've known them years, and spent weeks and months with them. My Aunt Rasia is my biological mother. Despite your objections, Doctor Jones has to be my father. He used to match his fingers with mine when I was a little girl, and he could hear my mind, and I his. When I got old enough to count the days reliably, I found that I experienced years in dream each night whenever I stayed in Wales. In every such dream I met a being who smelled of the sweet olive."

Robert Kent smiled with his eyes, as did George Smythe. Danica slept on diaphanous cords. Sam's eyes filled with tears at knowing his true heritage was both glorious and tragic. James showed a mixture of emotions. Eileen was clearly pleased; Birgit was intrigued at having another set of parents after all.

"Good!" said Eileen, "I'm not insane. The long dreams have made me won- der about myself for over a decade."

"At least you were able to meet your mothers," said George.

"Yes," said Sam, "if only for a few years." He sat at the end of the table opposite Kent.

"So Pablo, Juan, and Julio are our half�brothers as well as bodyguards and weapons instructors?" asked Sharazade.

James said, "Of course! They are Maria Estevez' sons."

"Are there more of us out there, Robert?" asked Birgit.

"In a year or two, Xia Wong's daughter Anne will be joining you."

James asked, "Cousin Robert, why do these high�born women have children with our tutor, who is barely more than an landed Welsh gentleman by adop- tion?"

Kent and George exchanged an expressionless glance. Everyone else was interested in the answer as well.

"Perhaps you might clarify that, Jamey," said George.

"Our mothers are all on very good terms, shall we say, with the men in their extended family. All of those men are high�ranking nobles, including the High Lord himself! Why would they...?"

"Consort with your tutor?"

James looked about nervously. He was starting to get hard stares from his companions. "Yes! All right! I'm a snob! I've always hoped Grandfather was just collecting his wild oats��yes, I suspected, just like you��when he placed us in the homes of good people. Doctor Jones is a bright fellow, but he's hardly one of us, now is he? Did not Grandfather arrange these new and excellent parents for us because he was deeply embarrassed by the Jones con- nection?"

Birgit put her left hand to her brow. "I am missing something."

George said, "You certainly..."

Sam broke in, "So am I! I wonder what it is?"

"I do not know, but we've made important discoveries and have a full day ahead of us," said Sharazade.

George was fit to explode. "Listen!"

Eileen ignored him. "I'm feeling spent myself; let's pack it in."

"Right," said James. He finished his papaya juice, stood up, then made for the stairs.

"Excellent," said Birgit as she rose, "I want to learn all about the Vine Ring. Where are we going tomorrow, George, and when should we be ready to depart?"

Now that George had everyone's attention, he had not the slightest hope of saying what needed to be said. He looked to Kent in silent appeal. Kent's eyes told him to surrender to he situation.

"Let's go to my estate in Scotland," said Kent.

The younger ones were intrigued.

"Yes," nodded George, "the island in particular would be perfect. Let's muster at 0600."

Quick peeks at wrist chronos were followed by widened eyes and a general rush for the stairs. Sleep was a precious commodity. All of them had full schedules, and all of them had endured random sleepless sieges.

When Sam, James, Sharazade, Eileen, and Birgit were gone, George and Kent chose a weary chuckle over heated cursing. They shook their heads in disbelief.

"You can lead a horse to water," George began.

"But you cannot make him drink," continued Kent.

"You can lead a human to logic," ventured George.

"But you cannot make him think," finished Kent.

"I'll help you with the dishes," volunteered George.

"I won't refuse."

"Mm..." said a high voice on high.

"What's that, Danny�girl?" asked George quietly.

"Doctor Jones is the High Lord, isn't he?" asked Danica.

"Of course, my Lady," said Kent.

"Are they stupid, or can't they believe who our father is?"

"It's probably the second case, Lady Danica," replied Kent.

Danica's sleepy eyes squinted. "You are right, Kent. Daddy Oliver put spells on them. The spells are not very strong. Shall I banish them since they irritate George?"

George and Kent looked at each other.

"Thank you for the consideration, but no," said George. "The Assassin killed five of our siblings because they were the High Lord's children. Not knowing they are the High Lord's children helps protect them."

"Oh," said Danica. "The White Goddess showed me another shield against the sorcerers. Daddy Oliver's spells seem to do about the same thing. Kent?"

"Yes, sleepy one?" replied Kent in a low, hypnotic voice.

"Will Grandpa Reggie send Papa Ian and Mama Ludmilla on a mission like he did Count Wolfgang and Countess Th�r�se?"

"We cannot say for certain, but providing a safe home for you has been their primary mission for the last decade."

Danica slipped back into the arms of Morpheus.

"Did you find out about your father on your trip to the Bahamas with Reginald?" asked Kent.

"Yes," replied George. "I met Dad when I was twenty�six, half of my life ago. I never suspected a thing until two days ago; Dad must have put the whammy on me."

The two men finished in silence making the recreation room spiffy. They sat at the table again.

"Tell me more," urged Kent.

"It looked like a deserted beach. Reginald told me to stand guard with my Vine Ring at full strength, so I had my shield up and made a sword out of sections of force planes. He massaged his temples, then I saw him start to look into the Face of God. I tried to stop him from becoming a Blind Fool, but something paralyzed me. He opened his eyes in some odd way. His eyes aren't like those of normal mortals, I presume. Reginald was engulfed in en- ergies from Sol Invictus from above, and from the White Goddess from below.

"The God and Goddess spoke to the Envoy, but I could not comprehend their speech. The power of the White Goddess saturated the ground and low air around us, and flowed through me like water through sand. Her power canceled Dad's spell, and let me see my past."

"All of it?" asked Kent.

"Only a fraction was revealed to me. Remember Karen Morrison?"

Kent looked blank for a moment, then brightened. "Yes! That's an odd name for a for a Jamaican woman. She won the Olympic Pentathlon gold in 2717 and 2721."

George nodded. "I remembered her face and form from the Olympic photo records. She was in the Bahamas looking for solitude. She wasn't looking where she was going; neither was Dad, who was on vacation with his parents. They walked into each other early one morning. At first she was irritated, since she had fallen down in the process. Then she saw Dad and started laugh- ing. He looked sad, but gave her a hand up. She pulled him down instead."

"Then they started making you," suggested Kent.

"With great vigor," replied George. "Unfortunately, the Aquines were about to attack under cover of an artificial storm. I got distracted from the past and had to warn Reginald."

"It must have been eerie," replied Kent.

"Truly," said George. "In any case, what are we to do with Alain? He knows a lot about us and his loyalties are hardly clear."

"I'm so glad you brought that up," said Kent. "Let's go talk to Regi- nald."

They took the stairs, and found His Grace just ending a holophone con- versation. Reginald's expression was rueful.

"It seems," the Duke said, "that Oliver and I have danced an idiot's dance with Jamal as piper. Alain was Jamal's plant from the start. Tomorrow I will touch Alain's past."

"Good," declared George.

Neither Kent nor Reginald was quite so confident.

In the darkness of 0600, George addressed his troops. "We will be de- parting soon for Scotland; thank you for being prepared. First we will par- ticipate in a private Discovery. This way, please."

Kent wheeled the device Alain was lying in out onto the softly lit, closely cropped back lawn toward Reginald. The Envoy was in his official saf- fron robe that was familiar to one and all. Reginald often led the ceremonies at the Cathedral of Saint Lux in London, where the cold fires of the Holy Writ were first traced in English.

"Even though this is a private Discovery, it is still a sacrament," said Reginald, "so I will not omit the prologue.

"From his birth in 653 AUC to his death in 1163, Gaius Julius Caesar was the first Envoy of Sol Invictus, the agent of His desires. During his life, Rome grew from its center in Italy to encompass all Europe, from Ireland to the Urals, from Sicily to the northernmost part of Scandinavia. The Empire at its height included the northern third of Africa and the former conquests of Alexander the Great. The Empire was peaceful and prosperous, and ninety�eight percent of its citizens were Solarian.

"On the Ides of March in 709 AUC, the man Brutus, who would later be known as Saint Ignis, successfully entreated Sol Invictus for an unmistakable sign of His interest and wishes. Brutus was in the Colosseum at the time; that is where the Holy Writ was inscribed in cold fire in the language now called Latin. Gaius Julius Caesar was explicitly named first Envoy. The sub- sequent three Envoys, up to and including Reginald Smythe, have had their names thus inscribed.

"The first Discovery occurred in 729 AUC when Caesar laid by chance a wax tablet of nagging legal questions on the altar. While Caesar asked for Guidance, as was his want at the relative darkness of the new moon, Sol Invic- tus wrote clever clues on the tablets. Caesar's investigators used the clues to uncover sundry crimes, plots, villains, and corruption. Caesar's grip on power, already firm, became stronger since he used the information to promote justice.

"News of this wondrous written communication spread like wildfire through the Empire. Julius was besieged by requests from all corners. With some trepidation, he submitted all requests for information which seemed of serious intent. The Guidance went as usual, except perhaps that those in the Temple universally noted that God seemed amused. Since only 998 of the 20,439 requests for information received answers, it was soon agreed to limit Discov- ery questions to 1000, each to be nonfrivolous.

"In the years preceding his foul murder by the sorcerer Attila, Caesar shepherded the Discovery process to help the smooth running of the Empire. During the centuries of the dark sorcerers, now known as the Age of Unstable Miracles, the Envoy and Discovery were often hidden from the public eye. The Empire disintegrated, and was soon after largely replaced by the adherents of Noneh, the materialist God. Solarianism went into retreat until the early Re- naissance, when the third Envoy, Brian Smythe, reconsecrated the Colosseum and the original Temple in the holy city of Rome. Brian founded the Cathedral of Saint Lux in London, where the Holy Writ, now including the Book of Prophecy, was inscribed in English.

"Discovery was reinstated by Brian. There was a flap when he accepted paper as well as wax tablets, but Sol Invictus answered in both media. Paper became the official medium until the Year of the Dawn, when the one called Lord of Miracles by Sol Invictus tricked the Fourth Envoy, Reginald Smythe, into permitting questions to be posed on high density media, such as laser disks and memory crystals. The number of questions that Sol Invictus will an- swer is now limited only by the number of sensible questions to be asked."

Reginald looked at his family, then at the tree tops. The light of dawn was strengthening. By accident or by design, a shaft of light found Regi- nald's head, giving him a golden halo.

"Lord of Light," said Reginald as he bowed, "our efforts on your behalf would be greatly aided if we could know with certainty the true origins of the man Alain Messier."

Holographic images soon surrounded Reginald, who looked ghostly at their centers. He walked slowly out of range.

George appeared, vacationing in his late teens with Reginald in the south of France. George had time on his hands one fine morning while Reginald met contacts. He explored a beach which he thought was deserted.

"Like father, like son," murmured Kent a few moments later.

George blushed under his tan. His eyes bulged when Discovery revealed that the young woman Mireille was a direct descendent of the eldest of Julius Caesar's 37 daughters.

"By the Light!" said George. "A Merovingian princess!"

Reginald wept openly, causing a ripple of distress followed by rapt at- tention. George and Mireille's daughter was born in due course, then grew tall and beautiful. She was lured by Jamal Hasan into imprisonment. Rape followed; Alain was the result. After his weaning, Alain was subjected by Ja- mal to horrid rites and bizarre surgeries to establish Jamal's mind control. Alain was carefully and fraudulently placed into Reginald's care to spy upon the Duke and his other charges.

Alain's life was illustrated rapidly. Reginald's anger flared and he glared at Sharazade. At the end of the Discovery, the holo image matched the real form of the healing case.

"Please guide me," asked Reginald.

"Cleanse Alain fully, I repeat, fully, of the influence of the disciple of the Black Stone. Then accept him completely and without reservation. Take care of his daughter Leila, for she is a hanging weakness."

With that, the presence of Sol Invictus departed. George noticed that Reginald's hair dye had lost its effectiveness.

Reginald looked directly at Sharazade. "Where is Leila?"

"At the monastery in Canterbury."

"Contact them and authorize George to pick her up."

"She needs special medical assistance."

"She will get it. Make the call."

Sharazade did that. "She needs delicate neurosurgery and adjustments to her immune system."

Reginald looked at Alain, then returned his gaze to Sharazade. "I will speak to my Master and to the Lord of Miracles."

"Why would the High Lord give aid to a child such as this?"

Kent and Reginald regarded one another, as did George and Danica.

Reginald said to Sharazade, "The Trickster is my distant cousin, and hence your blood relative. His sense of family is very strong. The odds are better than even."

"Yes, Grandfather."

Reginald looked at the others. "Take a lesson from this. Be very care- ful with whom you are intimate."

"Shall we meet you here or in Scotland, Sir?" asked George.

"Scotland. The drill is going to be very thorough. Then the corporate assignments will be made. Kent, take them to Scotland. George, proceed at once to the monastery; I'll get meet you there."

"Sir."

George moved to the armory for knives, slug�throwers, and crossbows. Reginald moved to the conference room for the calls. Kent got the young peo- ple moving toward the van. "What shall I do with Alain, Sir?"

"Take him with you. We will try to fix his problems permanently at your estate," said Reginald without stopping.

"Very good, Sir."

Danica helped Kent move Alain. Birgit comforted Sharry.

George was in radio contact with the monastery. There seemed to be no problem. George parked the van in the circle drive. Reginald, Julio, Juan, and Pablo arrived in short order. The abbot appeared and showed them in, then took them to the room where Leila was cared for.

"Sharazade donated the money for her care," said the abbot. "I thought you knew."

"No," said Reginald with grudging respect, "she's my granddaughter, and she has taken up my old profession. She's very good, but we recently had a large security breach. Our family's enemies will attempt to hurt us through Leila. We will ask our Master and the Lord of Miracles to make Leila whole."

"Our prayers and efforts only showed minor improvements in her overall health," said the abbot. "Why would the High One aid you? I thought you were not on good terms."

Reginald blushed. "Sol Invictus negotiated a rapprochement. Besides, Oliver is my distant cousin."

The abbot nodded. "Enough said. Flesh of his flesh, and all that. Is there anyone who isn't your distant cousin, Reginald?"

"You should know, Benedict."

"Are the shock troops mercenaries or grandsons?"

"Grandsons."

Benedict nodded. "Let's get Leila's healing case onto a gurney."

The paraplegic beggar touched his collarbone. "Imam."

"Report, Reza."

"They've taken your granddaughter."

"How many? What sort of vehicle?"

"The old man, the big Bahamian, and the three eldest Latins are in a well�disguised all terrain assault vehicle headed north on the main road."

"Identifying marks on the ATAV?"

"It looks like an expensive yellow�gold van or mini�bus with three doors on each side, one on the back. There are no signs or stickers. Its license is 4�ENVOY."

The other voice paused. "Your disguise has served us well. Hadji is in India, but Ali is close enough. I'll send him to aid you and help as I can at long range. Pursue them openly. Get Leila if at all possible."

"Yes, Imam."

Contact broke. Reza waited a few moments for the foot traffic to clear. A rich carpet of vibrant color appeared. He levitated onto it, his white in- valid's clothes transforming to a dark robe and a turban. He and the carpet sailed out of the compound in utter silence.

"Darkness!" swore Reginald. "Benedict just called. One of the para- plegics at the monastery was our old friend Reza. He's in hot pursuit. Per- sonal shields up, now! George, prepare to switch to hover mode."

The hydra appeared to starboard a few tense minutes later. It tenta- tively touched those in the ATAV, and was repelled by the shields and the healing case. It went for the engine. George tensed for the worst. The hy- dra recoiled moments later with parts missing. It withdrew rapidly, oozing a sickly brownish ichor.

"Isn't that a shame?" remarked Julio in vast insincerity.

Reginald grunted in agreement. "Reza is almost upon us."

Juan pointed to a blip on tactical. George interjected, "Ali is flying in from the east. I'm switching to hover."

Pablo asked Reginald, "Don't we have any good protection for the tires?"

"No," replied Reginald. "Switch to mirrored surfaces."

George nodded as he pushed a button. "Shall I get off the main road? There's a lot of traffic and we are getting too much attention."

"Right. Take overland route B."

Juan said, "The sorcerers met and have gotten over their confusion at missing us. They are headed directly for us. At present rates, they will in- tercept us in five minutes."

Reginald nodded. "Speed up, George."

"Aye."

Reginald opened the healing case. He gasped in surprise. Pablo stepped over, as did Julio.

"What is it?" asked Juan from the tactical display. "We've got inter- cept in two minutes. They sped up too."

"Leila is not exactly what I expected," understated Reginald.

"The alligator skin is particularly striking," remarked Pablo.

"The fangs caught my attention," said Julio nonchalantly.

"She's changed considerably from the time covered by the Discovery," said Reginald. "Benedict probably shrouded the case to keep her from prying outside eyes. In any case, I've got to know." He put his hand over her heart. A nimbus of yellow Sun light enveloped his hand and her chest. The old man's eyes looked sad. "She is Sharazade's daughter." With a blink the Duke extinguished the light. He withdrew his palm.

Suddenly Leila's eyes, dead, flat, and reptilian, snapped open. Her back muscles and disproportionately small arms launched her. She found a thick vein in Reginald's forearm to sink her fangs into. His arm started swelling immediately from the venom.

Pablo's shield pulsed. Leila was out of the case and slammed against the door in half a second. She was enclosed in a tightening force bubble.

Reginald managed to say, "Don't kill her," before he fell.

"Evasive, George," ordered Pablo. "Julio, you and Juan stuff Grandfa- ther into the case, then seal it. He has only a few seconds. Move!"

Julio and Juan lugged the big man into the case, thanking Sol Invictus that their father had categorically refused to make anything but full�sized models. George executed sharp turns over the countryside.

Pablo lifted the inside of his right wrist to his eyes, composing what he wanted to say. Before he spoke a word, the blossom part of the small tat- too of a cut rose lit lavender.

"Pablo," spoke the voice. "How may I help you?"

"Sharry's daughter Leila bit Grandfather. Leila is..."

"I understand. You are being pursued by unfriendly elements."

"Yes. We need help quickly."

"Tell Juan and Julio to stop gawking and close the case."

Pablo glared at his brothers. They checked the rim for overhanging fin- gers, then snapped it shut just before George executed a high g�force turn. Laser beams flashed in a flurry of near misses.

"Hold Leila still, but let her breathe."

Pablo loosened the force bubble. Leila gasped. The blue light from the healing case doubled in intensity every quarter second.

"Hold her carefully for ten seconds. Count, Pablo."

"Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco..."

"I can't see!" yelled George, even though his goggles were ninety�eight percent polarized.

Pablo had long since shut his eyes tightly and covered them. Juan and Julio were praying on the floor. Leila felt different in Pablo's invisible grasp, even as he counted.

"Seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez."

Pablo opened one eye experimentally. The lighting was normal again. The voice from his wrist said, "Watch your driving, George." Then the laven- der glow flickered and vanished.

"By the light!" swore George as he veered away from a minor cliff bor- dering a sea. "We're at Kent's estate." He activated a scanner. "They are just about done unloading."

Pablo nodded. Julio pointed in silence. The five�year�old dragon girl had been replaced by a light olive, normal six�week�old baby girl.

"Unless we have some diapers on board, I think we had best hurry," said Pablo.

George took a quick look. He accelerated to the island.

"Did you teleport them?" asked Ali through his communicator as he swept the area looking for clues.

"No. Did you?" replied Reza.

"Nor did I see an explosion. I felt a tremendous pulse of power."

"So did I. Stronger than the Imam."

"Or Noneh."

"Or the Stone."

"We've got a new player in the game."

"Who is not on our side."

"We're in trouble."

"Jamal must have felt it, probably Hadji as well."

"Every half�trained sensitive in the Andromeda galaxy felt it."

Jamal Hasan cringed in his bed in Arabia. The Creator had entered the fray and set back his plans. Reginald was healed instead of dead. Leila was reset��there was no other word for it��to what she should have been before Ja- mal had started altering her morphogenesis. George and the Latins were safe. Jamal was still hurting from the wound George had struck, and he could no longer feel Alain in the least. The hydra's probe of the ATAV engine had ac- tivated a trap, a nearly deadly trap.

Jamal sent his mind over Homeworld to judge his position in various af- fairs. He found something in Scotland that he did not expect. He grinned, then finally broke out laughing.

His connection to Leila still existed, though it was tenuous. Leila was still a hanging weakness��for the other side! The Creator knew this. The Creator could have changed it, but did not. Jamal had definitely chosen the right side in the Great Struggle! Confusion to the luminous!

Sharazade suddenly became aware of something totally unexpected. Birgit saw the change in her face, and drew her to one side while the others contin- ued setting up the practice field.

"Tell me," said Birgit as patted Sharry's back softly.

Sharry was confused about how, but definite about what. "I'm lactating. I've done it before, so I remember the feelings. Does Kent's staff have any babies about?"

Before Birgit could answer, George floated the ATAV quietly onto the small beach area nearby. "We'll have to check that out. Let's see how the search for Leila turned out."

The two tall women strode to the beach. George rapidly shut down the machine and got out. He opened the back gate, then helped Julio and Juan take the healing case out. Pablo came out next, handed Sharazade a bundle wrapped in his shirt, then took a fourth handle on the healing case. The four big men trotted double time toward the small castle.

"That was His Grace��Grandfather," said Birgit. "I wonder..."

"Later," said Sharazade. "Take the baby while I fix my dress. We are going to the castle where it is marginally warmer." She proceeded to open her bodice and manipulate what had been under it.

"Sharry!" exclaimed the shocked Birgit as she followed her sister. "We are in the open!"

"After what everyone saw during Discovery, this is nothing. Give me Leila."

Birgit's eyes grew large as she handed Leila back. Mother and daughter fit together like hand in exactly the right glove.

Jamal beamed in self�satisfaction. He felt what Leila felt, tasted what she tasted. The experience brought forth deeply buried memories of his own nursing of his mother, Princess Fatima of Arabia. The hatreds and woundings of his recent decades of life were momentarily washed away in a warm flood of feelings of security and love.

He shoved aside the war against his father, and remembered his rich early life. He watched in wonder as his left half�hand, rent asunder by Brian Johnson in a fierce skirmish twenty years before, was made whole in the space of ten seconds. He folded up the hydra and put it away. Let the water pi- rates fend for themselves.

He stood and walked outside his mansions to his prayer tower. He climbed to the top and stared into the last part of the setting of Sol Invic- tus. It had been decades since he had thought of the orb as Sol Invictus in- stead of the enemy. As if for the first time, he heard the calls of birds and smelled the rich ecology about him.

What a splendid day it was! He stared at his mended hand, at the won- drous omen of the coming of the Creator.

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