"I haven't decided yet," said Arcturus, and Angus's political instincts sensed evasion.

"I could set up an interview with Nestor Jurgens," said Angus nonchalantly. "He runs one of my machine tooling factories in Fairstens. He's a good man—you could learn a lot from him."

"What would I want to learn from a factory manager?" said Arcturus.

"Nestor's more than just a factory manager," replied Angus, irritated at his son's ingratitude. "All my managers effectively run their businesses autonomously. They're CEOs and financial managers all in one, though, of course, they answer to me. You're eighteen now, and you'd learn the ropes of what it takes to succeed in the industrial marketplace and acquire the skills you'll need if you're going to succeed me."

"Succeed you?" spat Arcturus. "I have plans of my own."

"I thought you said you hadn't decided on what you wanted to do."

"Well, I have."

When Arcturus didn't continue Angus sat back. "Are you going to keep us all in suspense?"

"You'll find out," said Arcturus, and Angus hadn't liked the sound of that one bit. After Arcturus's stunt at Graduation Day, Angus knew his son's mind could work in the most devious ways.

Arcturus had excused himself from breakfast at that point, and only Dorothy's spilling her cereal over the table had prevented Angus from going after him and demanding to know what was going on.

Angus pushed thoughts of Arcturus from his mind as Katherine gave his hand a squeeze.

He turned to her and kissed her cheek, and the crowd went wild.

They walked along Senators' Parade, the shimmering whiteness of the Forum drawing them ever onward. A tall figure in a red toga stood at the top of the steps and Angus smiled as he recognized Lennox Craven, the senior consul of the Senate and the man who would formally welcome him.

"This must be killing him," said Angus. "Having to welcome me in personally."

Katherine didn't need to ask who he meant, and smiled back. "I'm sure it is, but I can't say I have any sympathy for him."

Angus heard the steel in her voice, knowing that Katherine believed with utter certainty that Craven had dispatched the men who had come to kill them in the summer villa. She was probably right, but without concrete proof, there could be no public accusations.

"I'm going to enjoy watching that bastard squirm," said Angus.

"Careful, dear," cautioned Katherine, waving to the crowd. "There are a dozen holocams on you, and it would be bad form if someone lip-read that from you."

"Very true," said Angus. "As always, you are the soothing wind to my raging storm."

"Such is my role." She smiled. "But just make sure you do make the bastard squirm."

Lennox Craven was not a man given to public displays of emotion, but as he watched Angus Mengsk march toward him with barely disguised relish, it was all he could do to keep the anger from his face.

Dressed in a red toga identical to Mengsk's, Craven knew he was nowhere near as imposing or impressive a figure as his nemesis, but then, he had never set out to make himself a self-styled man of the people.

He knew for a fact that Mengsk's public face was as manufactured as that of any of the dozens of vacuous actors and actresses that UNN's celebrity channel broadcast day and night. Mengsk might pretend to be the champion of the common man, speaking out against the perceived injustices of the Confederacy, but hadn't he in fact benefited massively from all the Council of Tarsonis had done?

Wasn't Mengsk a wealthy man thanks to the very apparatus he so gleefully attacked with his speeches in the Forum and his incessant interviews on UNN? No, Lennox Craven knew the true face of Angus Mengsk, which made it all the more galling that he had to stand here as though they were the greatest of friends.

It made him want to throw up.

Even with bribes and calling in the many favors he was owed, he had not been able to prevent Angus from winning the hearts and minds of the people and the right to speak at the Close of Session. The Council had been most insistent: Angus Mengsk must be silenced. If one of the Confederate's most treasured and pampered worlds was seen to turn against them, then it would only be a matter of time before others attempted to follow its example.

And that could not be allowed to happen.

His paymasters were demanding results, and Lennox Craven had singularly failed to deliver them.

Thousands upon thousands of people lined the streets, and Craven could not remember a time when such numbers had come out to watch a senator march to the Forum. He remembered the year he had been chosen to make the Close of Session speech, and his bitterness at the apathy the people had displayed threatened to choke him in the face of Angus's popularity.

He drew himself up to his full height as Angus and his wife reached the bottom of the wide steps that climbed to the columned portico and the great black doors, beyond which lay the grand debating chamber.

Angus turned to give another wave to the cheering crowds, raising both arms above his head and accepting their adulation. He then turned and, taking his wife by the hand, began his ascent of the steps.

Craven could see the relish in Mengsk's eyes and prayed the man would stumble and fall flat on his face—anything to puncture the pompous arrogance that surrounded him. But Angus reached the top of the steps without mishap, and Craven fixed a practiced smile across his features and assumed the dignified mien of a seasoned senator who was about to welcome one of his dearest friends.

"Angus Mengsk, you've brought quite a crowd with you," he said by way of greeting. "And Katherine, you look radiant. A pleasure to see you, as always."

Mengsk's wife curtsied graciously and said. "Thank you, Lennox."

Angus Mengsk came forward with his arms open, and Craven's smile faltered.

Dear God, was the man expecting an embrace?

The crowds roared, and Craven knew he would have to play along with this charade of friendship. He opened his arms as Mengsk swept him up in a crushing bear hug, then awkwardly patted Mengsk's back in a suitably brotherly fashion, hoping that this would suffice.

"I know it was you who sent those men to kill me," whispered Mengsk. "I just wanted you to know that before I destroy you in there."

Craven stiffened, but before he could reply, Mengsk released him and made his way to the great doors of the Forum. Katherine Mengsk swept past Craven, locking her eyes with his as she went to join her husband. Though she said nothing, her cold gaze pinned him like a butterfly on a collector's wall.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Lennox Craven turned and followed Angus Mengsk into the Forum, already dreading what the damnable man was going to say in his speech.

The inferior of the Palatine Forum was no less magnificent than the exterior, the floor of the vestibule fashioned from great slabs of black marble veined with gold and its columns fluted and rising to dizzying heights. The alabaster walls were painted with great murals depicting the pioneers of Korhal's heroic past: revered senators, intrepid spacefarers, great architects, military commanders, and far-seeing philosophers.

Angus and Katherine crossed the vestibule and approached the bronze doors of the great chamber of the Forum, behind which could be heard the animated buzz of voices.

Lennox Craven caught up to them, but Angus did not deign to glance in his direction.

Katherine squeezed his hand. Once again, Angus was thankful for her steadying presence.

She turned to him and said. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Angus without hesitation.

Katherine smiled and made her way to a door at the side of the vestibule, which Angus knew led up to the viewing gallery. Tradition demanded that only senators enter the main chamber through this door, so Katherine would need to view proceedings from above, with the rest of the families and Invited guests.