Everyone fell silent as he stood up. Eyes and farsight were focused on the giant stone trough which had been set up next to the well. The hose end curved over it. For an achingly long minute nothing happened, then it emitted a gurgling sound. Droplets of water spat out, prelude to a foaming torrent that poured into the trough. It began to fill up remarkably quickly.

Edeard remembered the flow of water from the old well pump: this had several times the pressure. Melzar dipped a cup into the water and tasted it. 'Fresh and pure, he announced in a loud voice. 'And better than that: abundant. He stood in front of Edeard, and started clapping, his eyes ranging round the crowd, encouraging. Others joined in. Soon Edeard was at the centre of a storm of applause. His cheeks were burning again, but this time he didn't care. Akeem's arm went round his shoulder, mind aglow with pride. Even Geepalt was acknowledging the success, albeit grudgingly. Of Obron and his cronies there was no sign.

There was the tidying up, of course. Sacs of the oily vegetable mush which the cats digested were filled and positioned beside the well; valves adjusted so they dripped a steady supply down slender tubes. Edeard connected the far end of each tube to the mouth of a cat, instructing them to suckle slowly. Wedard and his apprentices fastened the hose to the side of the well. The ground was cleared. Finally, the huge stone capping slab was moved over the shaft, sealing the cats into their agreeable new milieu. By that time apprentices and household ge-monkeys were already queuing at the trough with large pitchers.

'You have a rare talent, my boy, Melzar said as he watched the water lapping close to the top of the trough 'I see we're going to have to dig a drain to cope with the overspill. Then no doubt the Council will soon be demanding that mad pipe scheme to supply the houses. Quite a revolution, you've started. Akeem, I'd be honoured if you and your apprentice would join us for our evening meal'

'I will be happy to liberate some of the wine you hold prisoner, Akeem said. 'I've heard there are whole dungeons full under your Guild hall.

'Ha! Melzar turned to Edeard. 'Do you like wine, my boy?

Edeard realized that the question was actually genuine, for once he wasn't simply being humoured. 'I'm not sure, sir.

'Best find out, then.

The crowd had departed, creating a rare atmosphere of satisfaction pervading the village. It was a good way to start the new spring season, ran the feeling, a good omen that times were getting better. Edeard stayed close to the trough as the apprentices filled their pitchers. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but they seemed to be treating him with a tad more approbation than before. Several even congratulated him.

'Haunting the site of your victory?

It was Salrana. He grinned at her. 'Actually, just making sure the cats don't keel over from exhaustion, or the hoses don't tear free. Stuff like that. There's a lot that can go wrong yet.

'Poor, Edeard, always the pessimist.

'Not today. Today was…

'Glorious.

He eyed the low clouds that were blocking the sun from view. 'Helpful. For me and the village.

'I'm really pleased for you, she exclaimed. 'It takes so much courage to stand up for your own convictions, especially in a place like this. Melzar was right; this is a revolution.

'You were eavesdropping! What would the Lady say?

'She would say, Well done, young man. This will make everyone's life a little better. Ashwell has one less thing less to worry about, now. The people need that. Life is so hard, here. From small foundations of hope, empires can be built.

'That has to be a quote, he teased.

'If you attended church, you'd know.

'I'm sorry. I don't get much time.

'The Lady knows and understands.

'You're such a good person, Salrana. One day you'll be the Pythia.

'And you'll be Mayor of Makkathran. What a grand time we'll have together, making all of Querencia a happy place.

'No more bandits. No more drudgery — especially not for apprentices.

'Or novices.

'They'll talk about our reign until the Skylords return to carry us all into the heart.

'Oh look, she squealed and pointed excitedly at the trough. 'It's overflowing! You've given us too much water, Edeard.

He watched as the water began to spill over the lip of the trough. Within seconds it had become a small stream frothing across the mud towards their feet. They both ran aside, laughing.

Justine Burnelli examined her body closely before she put it on again. After all, it had been over two centuries since the last time she'd worn it. During the intervening years it had been stored in an exotic matter cage that generated a temporal suspension zone so that barely half a second had passed inside.

The cage looked like a simple sphere of violet light in ANA's New York reception facility, a building that extended for a hundred and fifty storeys below Manhattan's streets. Her cage was housed on the ninety-fifth floor, along with several thousand identical radiant bubbles. ANA normally maintained a body for five years after the personality downloaded out of it, just in case there were compatibility problems. Such an issue was unusual, the average was one in eleven million who rejected a life inside ANA and returned to the physical realm. Once those five years were up, the body was discontinued. After all, if a personality really wanted to leave ANA after that, a simple clone could be grown — a process not dissimilar to the old fashioned re-life procedure that was still available out among the External Worlds.

However, ANA: Governance considered it useful to have physical representatives walking the Greater Commonwealth in certain circumstances. Justine was one of them. It was partly her own fault. She'd been over eight hundred years old when Earth built its repository for Advanced Neural Activity, the ultimate virtual universe where everyone was supposedly equal in the end. After so much life she was very reluctant to see her body 'discontinued', in much the same way she'd never quite acknowledged that re-life was true continuation. For her, clones force-fed on a dead person's memories were not the same person, no matter there was no discernible difference. That early-twenty-first century upbringing of hers was just too hard to shake off, even for someone as mature and controlled as she had become.

The violet haze faded away to reveal a blonde girl in her biological mid-twenties. Rather attractive, Justine noted with a little tweak of pride, and very little of that had come from genetic manipulation down the centuries. The face she was looking at was still recognizable as the brattish party it girl of the early-twenty-first century who'd spent a decade on the gossip channels as she dated her way through East Coast society and soap actors. Her nose had been reduced, admittedly, and pointed slightly. Which, now she regarded it critically, was possibly a little too cutesy, especially with cheekbones that looked like they were made from avian bone they were so sharp yet delicate. Her eyes had been modified to a pale blue, matching Nordic white skin that tanned to honey gold, and hair that was thick white-blond, falling down below her shoulders. Her height was greater than her friends from the twenty-first century would have remembered; she'd surreptitiously added four inches during various rejuvenation treatments; despite the temptation she hadn't gained all that length in her legs, she'd made sure her torso was in proportion with a nicely flat abdomen which was easy to maintain thanks to a slightly accelerated digestive tract. Happily she'd never gone for ridiculous boobs — well, except that one time when she was rejuving for her two hundredth birthday and did it just to find out what it was like having a Grand Canyon cleavage. And yes men did gape and come out with even more stupid opening lines, but as she could always have whoever she wanted anyway there was no real advantage and it wasn't really her so she'd got rid of them at the next rejuvenation session.