He laughed. “Just try to imagine it. The balls don’t bounce apart right away. They collide and stick together for a while. That’s the resonance.”

“Why would my name mean such a thing?”

“I don’t know.” he admitted. “What are some other common Argali names?”

She thought about it. “Sable for women. Maxard for men.”

“Maxard could refer to a maximum. What is your uncle’s full name?”

“Maxard Osil Argali.”

“Osil means life. Maximum resonance lifetime?”

Kamoj didn’t see what sense that made either. “What about Sable?”

“I don’t know about that one. It just means black.”

“It is a contraction of Metastable state.”

He stared at her. “That can’t be coincidence! Metastable state refers to a resonance.” He looked inordinately pleased with this strange statement. “You’re all named after scattering processes. Wait until I tell Drake.”

“Drake?”

“The anthropologist on the Ascendant. He’s been trying to make sense out of the name ‘Jax.’”

Kamoj stiffened. “What about Jax?”

“It’s actually an acronym. Jks.”

“Yes. I know. But Jax is easier to say.”

“Jks. They’re quantum numbers. For a free particle. J is angular momentum, k is energy, s is spin.” He snapped his fingers. “Jax Ironbridge is a free particle! Actually, he’s one term in the partial wave expansion for a free-particle plane wave.”

“Good for him,” Kamoj said dourly.

His smile faded. “My sorry. That was insensitive.”

Free particle indeed. All she knew about Jax was that she no longer needed to suffer a pendulum of emotions, swinging between fear of his temper and relief for his tenderness. Which was fine with her.

After that they lay in silence, side by side, their heads together. Kamoj was almost asleep when Vyrl made an odd choked sound.

She opened her eyes. “Are you all right?”

He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Yes.”

“Shall I get Dazza?”

“No.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can rub your head.”

He glanced at her. “Yes. Thank you.”

Kamoj sat up and took his head into her lap. As she massaged him, his eyes twitched beneath his closed lids. But after only a few moments he said, “Maybe you better not.”

“There must be something I can do.”

“Get me another bottle. From the kitchen. That one I broke is the last I had up here.”

“Please don’t—”

His face went stiff, like the precursor to an explosion.

“Wait,” Kamoj said. She couldn’t bear the thought of his rejecting her again, a second time in one night. But how could she do what he asked?

Then it occurred to her that if she went downstairs, she might find someone who could give her advice. “I’ll go to the kitchen.”

He relaxed. “Thank you, Kamoj.”

She put on her underdress and a robe, and left their bed. As she tied her sash, she crossed to the entrance of the suite, wondering what she would find on the landing outside. Vyrl’s new bodyguards, stagmen from the Ascendant.

She eased open the outer door, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. Moonlight filtered onto the landing from a window in the stairwell. The two men posted outside were huge, bigger even than Vyrl. They wore black, with no diskmail, only jackets, pants, and knee boots. Metal bands gleamed on their upper arms, and the leather guards on their wrists glinted with metallic ribbing. Each man also wore a black bulk on his hip, not a sword or dagger, but something else with a handle and snout.

Then Kamoj realized one of the stagmen was a stagwoman. Massive and muscled, she stood taller than most men of Balumil. How did Vyrl’s people grow so big?

Both guards were watching her. From their intrigued looks, one would have thought she was some rare, exotic flower instead of an ordinary farm girl.

The man spoke in accented Iotaca. “Can we help you, Governor Argali?”

“I need to go to the kitchen,” Kamoj said.

He smiled down at her. “Tell Morlin what you need. Then you won’t have to walk down there in this cold.”

“Isn’t Morlin gone?”

“Most of the system is down. But you can use the intercom to page someone in the kitchen.”

“I don’t wish to bother anyone. But thank you.” Self-conscious, Kamoj nodded to them as she would to her uncle’s stagmen. Then she started down the stairs. To her relief, neither of the giants tried to accompany her.

No lamps or candles lit the stairwell, but moonlight slanted in through the window slits-white light, which meant more than one moon was up, and probably the aurora as well. She reached the Long Hall on the first floor without seeing anyone. A few lamps burned on the walls, but the corridor was empty. Further down, light slanted out of rooms here and there, on either side.

The first of the lit rooms was empty. In the second, a housemaid was cleaning the floor. Kamoj found Dazza in the third. The colonel was sitting on a sofa, reading an odd book with glowing hieroglyphic symbols on its surface.

Dazza looked up as she entered. “Good evening.”

Kamoj hesitated just inside the doorway. “My greetings, Colonel Pacal.”

“Did you want to talk to me?” When Kamoj nodded, Dazza closed her book and motioned to a chair by the sofa. “Please. Be comfortable.”

Kamoj came in and sat on the edge of the chair.

The colonel smiled. “What is it, child?”

Child? Kamoj stiffened and said nothing.

After a moment Dazza asked, “Have I offended you?”

Kamoj made herself relax. She hadn’t come here to bristle at people. “I need your help, ma’am.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s about rum.”

Dazza pushed her hand through her hair, mussing the grey curls. “Is it rum? Or someone who drinks it?”

Kamoj twisted her hands in her lap. “He wants me to bring him more.”

“Don’t do it. Please.”

“He will send me away.”

“He won’t.”

“He says he will.”

“He doesn’t mean it.”

“How can you know?”

Dazza’s face gentled. “I do believe he’s already in love with you.”

“He can’t be,” Kamoj said matter-of-factly. “We don’t know each other.”

“Apparently it happens this way sometimes, with telepaths.”

“Happens?”

“Falling in love.”

“Everyone falls in love.”

“Not like Vyrl.”

“Why is he different?”

Dazza set her book on the couch. “Psions have more neural structures in their brain than other people. Vyrl, especially. He feels everything more. Add in that emotional artistic temperament of his and you get real fire.”

Her words surprised Kamoj. Vyrl didn’t strike her as emotional, but as capable of deep emotions, which she wouldn’t have called the same thing. She liked the way he expressed himself, open and warm, full of dash. She wondered, too, what Dazza meant by artistic temperament.

“Fire?” she asked.

The colonel smiled. “They used to call it ‘love at first sight.’ That turned out to be a misnomer, though. It’s more ‘at first thought.’”

Wryly Kamoj said, “We have such a saying. ‘Love under the Wild Moon.’ It is because this love makes your life chaos.”

Dazza gave a rueful laugh. “Yes, I can see that.”

“But why ‘at first thought?’”

“The fields produced by his brain couple to an unusually large degree with yours. His mind interprets that interaction in a pleasant way.” When Kamoj shook her head, Dazza tried again. “The process of thinking creates fields in your brain. You can’t see them, but they can affect what is nearby.”

“Like a magnet?”

Dazza gave her a surprised look. “Well, yes, actually, in a sense. The various fields your cerebrum produces are more complicated and less intense, but the basic idea is the same.”

“And Vyrl reacts to mine?”

The doctor nodded. “When people are near each another, the fields interact. Usually the effect is minor, even negligible. But every now and then two people hit a resonance. Combine that with a strong physical attraction and you can get intense emotion in a remarkably short time. Over the long term, it can create an exceptional bond.” Dryly she said, “Poets call it a love ‘deeper than the sea’ or ‘wider than the sky.’ ‘Quantum resonance’ may sound less romantic, but it’s more accurate.”