She turned, and her eyebrows were arched. "Are you claiming now to be of the aristocratic order? A moment ago your name was Malaine."

A new voice sounded unexpectedly. "So it was, but it is the second name which is correct. You are Biron Farrill indeed, my good sir. Of course you are. The resemblance is unmistakable.".

A small, smiling man stood in the doorway. His eyes, widely spaced and brilliant, were taking in all of Biron with an amused sharpness. He cocked his narrow face upward at Biron's height and said to the girl, "Don't you recognize him, too, Artemisia?"

Artemisia hurried to him, her voice troubled. "Uncle Oil, What are you doing here?"

"Taking care of my interests, Artemisia. Remember that if there were an assassination, I would be the closest of the Hinriads to the possible succession." Gillbret oth Hinriad winked elaborately, then added, "Oh, get the lieutenant out of here. There isn't any danger."

She ignored that and said, "Have you been sounding the communicator again?"

"But yes. Would you deprive me of an amusement? It is pleasant to eavesdrop on them."

"Not if they catch you."

"The danger is part of the game, my dear. The amusing part. After all, the Tyranni do not hesitate to sound the.Palace. We can't do much without their knowing. Well, turnabout, you know. Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"No, I'm not," she said shortly. "This is none of your business."

"Then I'll introduce you. When I heard his name, I stopped listening and came in." He moved past Artemisia, stepped up to Biron, inspected him with an impersonal smile, and said, "This, is Biron Farrill."

"I have said so myself," said Biron. More than half his attention was upon the lieutenant, who still held his blaster in firing position.

"But you have not added that you are the son of the Rancher of Widemos."

"I would have but for your interruption. In any case, you've got the story now. Obviously, I had to get away from the Tyranni, and that without giving them my real name." Biron waited. This was it, he felt. If the next move was not an immediate arrest, there was still a trifling chance.

Artemisia said, "I see. This is a matter for the Director. You are sure there is no plot of any sort, then."

"None, Your Grace."

"Good. Uncle Gil, will you remain with Mr. Farrill? Lieutenant, will you come with me?"

Biron felt weak. He would have liked to sit down, but no suggestion to that effect was made by Gillbret, who still inspected him with an almost clinical interest.

"The Rancher's son! Amusing!"

Biron brought his attention downward. He was tired of cautious monosyllables and careful phrases. He said abruptly, "Yes, the Rancher's son. It is a congenital situation. Can I help you in any other way?"

Gillbret showed no offense. His thin face merely creased further as his smile widened. He said, "You might satisfy my curiosity. You really came for Sanctuary? Here?"

"I'd rather discuss that with the Director, sir."

"Oh, get off it, young man. You'll find that very little business can be done with the Director. Why do you suppose you had to deal with his daughter just now? That's an amusing thought, if you'll consider it."

"Do you find everything amusing?"

"Why not? As an attitude toward life, it's an amusing one. It's the only adjective that will fit. Observe the universe, young man. If you can't force amusement out of it, you might as well cut your throat, since there's damned little good in it. I haven't introduced myself, by the way. I'm the Director's cousin."

Biron said coldly, "Congratulations!"

Gillbret shrugged. "You're right. It's not impressive. And I'm likely to remain just that indefinitely since there is no assassination to be expected after all."

"Unless you whip one up for yourself."

"My dear sir, your sense of humor! You'll have to get used to the fact that nobody takes me seriously. My remark was only an expression of cynicism. You don't suppose the Directorship is worth anything these days, do you? Surely you cannot believe that Hinrik was always like this? He was never a great brain, but with every year he becomes more impossible. I forget! You haven't seen him yet. But you will! I hear him coming. When he speaks to you, remember that he is the ruler of the largest of the Trans-Nebular Kingdoms. It will be an amusing thought."

Hinrik bore his dignity with the ease of experience. He acknowledged Biron's painstakingly ceremonious bow with the proper degree of condescension. He said, with a trace of abruptness, "And your business with us, sir?"

Artemisia was standing at her father's side, and Biron noticed, with some surprise, that she was quite pretty. He said, "Your Excellency, I have come on behalf of my father's good name. You must know his execution was unjust."

Hinrik looked away. "I knew your father slightly. He was in Rhodia once or twice." He paused, and his voice quavered a bit. "You are very like him. Very. But he was tried, you know. At least I imagine he was. And according to law. Really, I don't know the details."

"Exactly, Your Excellency. But I would like to learn those details. I am sure that my father was no traitor."

Hinrik broke in hurriedly. "As his son, of course, it is understandable that you should defend your father, but, really, it is difficult to discuss such matters of state now. Highly irregular, in fact. Why don't you see Aratap?"

"I do not know him, Excellency."

"Aratap! The Commissioner! The Tyrannian Commissioner"'

"I have seen him and he sent me here. Surely, you understand that I dare not let the Tyranni-"

But Hinrik had grown stiff. His hand had wandered to his lips, as though to keep them from trembling, and his words were consequently muffled. "Aratap sent you here, you say?"

"I found it necessary to tell him-"

"Don't repeat what you told him. I know," said Hinrik. "I can do nothing for you, Rancher-uh-Mr. Farrill. It is not in my jurisdiction alone. The Executive Council-stop pulling at me, Arta. How can I pay attention to matters when you distract me?-must be consulted. Gillbret! Will you see that Mr. Farrill is taken care of? I will see what can be done. Yes, I will consult the Executive Council. The forms of law, you know. Very important. Very important."

He turned on his heel, mumbling.

Artemisia lingered for a moment and touched Biron's sleeve. "A moment. Was it true, your statement that you could pilot a spaceship?"

"Quite true," said Biron. He smiled at her, and after a moment's hesitation, she dimpled briefly in return.

"Gillbret," she said, "I want to speak to you later."

She hurried off. Biron looked after her till Gillbret tweaked at his sleeve.

"I presume you are hungry, perhaps thirsty, would like a wash?" asked Gillbret. "The ordinary amenities of life continue, I take it?"

"Thank you, yes," said Biron. The tension had almost entirely washed out of him. For a moment he was relaxed and felt wonderful. She was pretty. Very pretty.

But Hinrik was not relaxed; In his own chambers his thoughts whirled at a feverish pace. Try as he might, he could not wriggle out of the inevitable conclusion. It was a trap! Aratap had sent him and it was a trap!

He buried his head in his hands to quiet and deaden the pounding, and then he knew what he had to do.