The curtains stirred and the Council entered, the first and second ranks of the Sen, to settle on the mats before her. Most were very old, older than kel'ein tended to live, hollow-cheeked and wrinkled; but there was among them Tinas, who had a kel'e'en's robustness about her, and kel-scars slanting across her cheeks. Foremost among them, Sathas also bore the scars, sen'anth; grimness on him was a habit, but more than one face was frowning this night

"Has the Sen questions?"

"You appreciate our present danger," Sathas said. "It is what we warned you, she'pan.”

"Indeed.”

"It does not disturb you.”

"It disturbs me. I would wish otherwise. But that is not ours to choose. Is that your question?”

"The she'pan knows our questions. And they are all tsi'mri.”

"We have choices, sen'anth, and kel Duncan has given them to us.”

"Did you send him out?”

She looked into the guarded offense of Sathas's eyes and tautly smiled, opened her hand palm up. "He is self-guiding. I let him go" Eyes flashed, nictitating with inner passion.

"You seriously consider this offer they have made?" asked Sathas.

"It is a matter we will consider ... for the worth in it. You do not care for his presence, doubtless. But he has brought us choices; and knowledge of what hangs above our heads; he comprehends them… and serves the People. His life has value. You understand me.”

"We understand.”

"And dislike it.”

"We are your only weapon, she'pan, and you are ours. Do you turn aside?”

"From our course? No. No, trust me in this, sen'ein. I am not yet done.”

No one spoke. For a moment eyes glittered hard with speculations. Believe me; it was Intel who spoke, her old she'pan… who could persuade when reason counseled otherwise, with a voice which had wrapped silken cords about herself when she was younger; she had learned it, wielded it... consciously.

Perhaps all she'panei had had such arts; she did not know. It was the nature of she'panei that they never met, save the one by whose death one rose.

It was true that Intel had controlled her children when they would have rebelled, and persuaded elders who had power in their own selves; that half-mad force of her that chilled the spine and held the eye when the eye would gladly turn away… that followed after, so that even out of her presence the most cynical reason had no power to utterly shatter that argument Intel still held her; and she… held them.