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There was no doubt in his voice, but the whole group had lost its animation. Even if they returned to Voitan, it would be as beggars.

"I was surprised by your choice of messengers," Denat said, deliberately moving away from what was obviously a painful subject. "My people wouldn't have entrusted such a grave responsibility to a female."

"Because we're worthless and unintelligent?" Sena snorted. "Good only for birthing babies and cooking?"

"Yes," Denat said calmly. "I was surprised that the people of Voitan were so accepting of women working other than in the fields and home. You keep to the Voitan customs?"

"With difficulty," T'Leen Sul said. "Marshad doesn't agree with those customs. A female cannot own property and she must obey the orders of any male. Such are both customs and law in this land, so it's hard for one raised among the customs of Voitan to put up with. Females are common in weaving, but that's because it's work males don't want." The old male grunted in laughter. "But Sena was raised in the Voitan way, and she's proof that not all females are worthless and weak."

"So she is," Denat grunted. He looked at the little female out of the corner of his eye. "So she is." He gave himself a shake. "But returning to the matter of starvation." He reached back into his sack. "I brought some food. When that runs out, we'll have to see what we can think of."

"Well," Sena said, clapping her hands in resignation, "that means we can stay out of sight until we have to go to the bridge. Of course, staying out of sight means being stuck in the company of a smelly tribesman for all that time, but at least one part of the plan is working."

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

"This is going too smoothly," Pahner complained, shaking his head.

"Really?" Roger looked around the room and chuckled. "I suppose Voitan was your idea of just the right amount of friction?"

"Yes, Your Highness, it was." The captain turned dark eyes on the prince and nodded. "We survived." He shook his head again. "Something is bound to screw this up, and there's not much in the way of a backup."

"Blow the town down and take what we can?" Despreaux suggested.

"More or less." The CO straightened and kneaded the small of his back with both hands. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"Seventy isn't old," Roger told him with a laugh. "Look at my grandfather. He lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and eighty-three senile years."

"Not a record I hope to beat, Your Highness." The captain smiled. "Time for bed. We'd better be on our toes tomorrow."

Roger nodded a good night to Pahner as he left the room, then looked over at O'Casey.

"You've been particularly quiet this evening, Eleanora," he observed, taking off the borrowed helmet he'd been using to monitor the operation.

"Just thinking about our host," the chief of staff replied with a smile. "And about universality."

"How so?" Roger asked, mopping at his sweaty forehead. The evening was unusually hot, even for Marduk. It usually cooled off a bit after nightfall, but not tonight, apparently.

"If you don't mind, Your Highness," Despreaux said, "I'm going to turn in as well. I have guard duty in a few hours."

"Take off, Nimashet." Roger waved one hand in a shooing gesture. "I think we can guard ourselves for a while."

The sergeant smiled at him and left the room behind the captain. Roger watched her go, and then turned back to O'Casey.

"You were saying?" he said, then noticed her slight smile. "What?"

"Nothing," his former tutor said. "I was talking about universality. It's not quite a given that fops aren't to be trusted, but rulers who pay more attention to their wardrobes than their subjects have a habit of coming to bad ends."

"Did you have anyone in mind?" Roger asked coldly.

"Oh," O'Casey chuckled, "that wasn't directed at you, Roger. Although, at one time it might have been," she added pensively. "But, frankly, son, there's not much of the peacock left in you."

"Don't be too sure of that." Roger gave her a wry smile now that he realized the comment wasn't directed at him. "I'm definitely looking forward to getting back into some civilized clothing."

"That's fair." O'Casey looked down at her own stained uniform. "So am I. But I wasn't speaking of you. I was actually thinking of Ceasare Borgia and your father."

"Now that's a comparison you don't often hear," Roger said tightly.

"Perhaps you don't," O'Casey acknowledged, "but before I was your tutor, I used it frequently in lectures. I suspect that was one of the reasons I was assigned to you in the first place. That and the follow-through, which is that, frankly, it's an insult to the Borgias. They never would've screwed up their plot the way New Madrid did."

"You know the whole story?" Roger asked in an odd voice. "I never realized that."

"I'm sorry, Roger," O'Casey said sadly. "I'm surprised you weren't aware of how widely it's studied. I only learned the details after becoming your tutor, of course, but the broad outline is used in political courses as a case study. It's right up there with the takeover of the Solarian Union by the Dagger Lords."

"Really?" Roger's eyes were wide. "Well, you never discussed it with me!"

"It's a sensitive subject, Roger." His chief of staff shrugged. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings, and I felt that you must have already learned any lessons it could teach long before I was named your tutor."

"Really," Roger repeated, sarcastically, this time, and leaned one elbow on the table and fixed her with a glare. "That's just absolutely fascinating, Eleanora, because I have never known what it was that got my father exiled from Court, which makes it rather difficult to learn anything from it, wouldn't you say?" He let out an exasperated hiss and shook his head. "I'm so glad that you were respectful of my feelings, teacher!"

"But..." O'Casey stared at him, her face white. "But what about your mother? Or Professor Earl?"

"Ms. O'Casey," Roger snarled, "I don't remember my mother from when I was a young child at all. Only a succession of nurses. From the time I started to know who she was, I have a general impression of seeing her—oh, once a week or so, whether I really needed to see her or not. She would comment on the reports from my tutors and nannies and tell me to be a good boy. I saw John and Alexa more than I ever saw my mother! And as for Professor Earl, I asked him once—just once—about my father. He told me to ask my mother when I was older." Roger shook his head. "The good doctor was a fair tutor, but he was never very good with the personal stuff."

It was O'Casey's turn to shake her head, and she pulled at a lock of hair.

"I'm sorry, Roger. I just assumed Hell, everybody probably assumed." She grimaced in exasperation, then inhaled sharply.

"Okay. Where do you want me to begin?"

"Well," Roger said with a smile, "I had this tutor once who was always telling me—"

"To start at the beginning, and go through to the end," she finished with an answering smile. "This will take a long time, though," she said more seriously, and Roger gestured around the room.

"You may not have noticed, but I've got all night."

"Hmph. Okay, let me think about how to begin."