"How immediate is immediate?"

"My mother… I think. I was only four when she was found at the bottom of the stairs near the women's quarters. I've always suspected my Aunt Sabina was behind it, but there was no proof."

"Poor little boy." Her hand cupped his cheek. "Do you remember her at all?"

"Just flashes. The rustle of silk and lace and the smell of her perfume mostly. And her hair, like a golden cloud." She rolled over and snuggled close, her buttocks pressing into his groin. "What else is so different between Takis and earth?" It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, and he was grateful to her. Talking about the family he had abandoned always made him sad and homesick.

"Women, for one thing."

"Are we better or worse?"

"Just different. You wander about free after you reach childbearing age. We would never allow that. A successful attack against a pregnant woman could wipe out years of careful planning."

"I think that's horrible too."

"We also don't equate sex with sin. A sin to us is casual reproduction which could upset the plan. But pleasure, now, that's another matter. For example, we take attractive young men and women from the lower class-the non-psi people and train them to service the men and women of the great households."

"Don't you ever see the women of your own class?"

"Of course. Until age thirty we grow up together, train and study together. It's only when a woman reaches childbearing years that she is secluded to keep her safe. And we still get together for family functions: balls, hunts, picnics, but all within the walls of the estate."

"How long are the little boys left with their mothers in the women's quarters?"

"All children are left until they're thirteen."

"Do they ever see each other again?"

"Of course, they're our mothers!"

"Don't be defensive. It's just very alien to me."

"So to speak," he said, snagging the gown and running his hand up her leg.

"So you have sex toys," she mused while his hands explored her body, and she fondled his stiffening penis. "Sounds like a nice idea."

"Want to be my sex toy?"

"I thought I already was."

It was a chill that brought him awake. He sat up to find Blythe gone, and the covers trailing across the floor. He became aware of voices from beyond the beaded curtain. The wind was gusting about the building, setting up a keening howl as it sought out the cracks and crevices in the windows. The hair on the back of his neck was rising, but it had nothing to do with the cold. It was those deep guttural voices from behind the curtain, reminding him of children's boogy stories of unquiet ancestor ghosts possessing the living bodies of direct descendants. He shivered, and thrust through the beads. They fell tinkling behind him, and he saw Blythe standing in the center of the room carrying on a spirited argument with herself.

"I tell you, Oppie, we must develop-"

"No! We've been over this before, our first priority is the device. We can't be sidetracked with this hydrogen bomb right now."

For a long moment Tachyon stood frozen with horror. Such things had happened before, when she was tired or under stress, but never to such an extent. He knew he had to find her quickly if she was not to be lost, and he forced himself to move. In two strides he was at her side, gripping her close, reaching for her mind. And he almost retreated in terror, for inside was a nightmarish whirlpool of conflicting personalities, all battling for supremacy while Blythe spun helplessly in the center. He plunged toward her only to be blocked by Henry. Furiously Tachyon thrust him aside, and gathered her within the protective ward of his mind. The other six personalities orbited around them, fighting the ward. Blythe's strength combined with his, and they banished Teller to his compartment, and Oppenheimer to his; Einstein retreated mumbling while Salk just seemed bemused.

Blythe slumped against him, and the sudden weight was too much for his exhausted body. His knees gave way, and he sat down hard on the wood floor, Blythe cradled in his lap. Out in the street he could hear the milkman making his deliveries, and he realized it had taken hours to restore her balance. "God damn you, Archibald," he muttered, but it seemed inadequate, as inadequate as his ability to help.

"You don't want to do that," murmured David Harstein. Tack's hand froze. "The knight would be better." The Takisian nodded, and quickly moved the chess piece. His jaw dropped as he contemplated the move.

"You cheat! Why, you miserable cheat!"

Harstein spread his hands in a helpless, placating gesture. "It was just a suggestion." The young man's tone was soft and aggrieved, but his dark brown eyes were alight with amusement.

Tachyon grunted, and wriggled back until he could lean against the sofa. "I find it rather alarming that a person of your position would stoop to using your gifts in such a despicable manner. You should be setting an example for the other aces." David grinned, and reached for his drink. "That's the public face. Surely with my creator I can fall back into my lazy, bohemian ways."

"Don't."

There was a moment of strained silence while Tach stared inward at pictures he would rather forget, and David with elaborate concentration gave the pocket pegboard chess set an infinitesimal shift to the left.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right." He gave the younger man a soothing smile. "Let's go on with the game."

David nodded, and bent his wiry dark head over the board. Tach took a sip of his Irish coffee, and allowed the warmth to fill his mouth before swallowing. He was ashamed of his overreaction to the teasing remark. After all, the boy had meant no harm.

He had met David in the hospital in early 1947. On the Wild Card Day, Harstein had been playing chess at a sidewalk cafe. No symptoms had manifested themselves then, but months later he had been brought writhing and convulsing into the hospital. Tach had feared that this intense, handsome man would be yet another faceless victim, but against all expectations he had recovered. They had tested: David's body exuded powerful pheromones, pheromones that made him hard to resist on any level. He was recruited by Archibald Holmes, dubbed the Envoy by a fascinated press, and proceeded to use his awesome charisma to settle strikes, negotiate treaties, and mediate with world leaders.

Of the other male Aces he was Tachyon's favorite, and under David's tutelage he had learned to play chess. It was a testimonial both to his own growing abilities and to David's teaching skills that he had resorted to his powers in an effort to keep the game from Tach. The alien smiled, and decided to repay the other man for his interference.

He carefully sent out a probe, slipped beneath David's defenses, and watched as that fine mind weighed and evaluated possible moves. The decision was reached, but before Harstein could act upon it Tach gave a sharp twist, erasing the decision, and substituting another in its place.

"Check."

David stared down at the board, then flipped it onto the floor with a howl while Tach climbed onto the couch, buried his head in a pillow, and laughed.

"Talk about me cheating. I can't control my power, but you! Reach into a man's head and…"

A key scraped in the lock, and Blythe called out, "Children, children, what are you battling about now?"

"He cheats," the two men called in chorus, pointing at one another.

Tach gathered her into his arms. "You're freezing. Let me fix you some tea. How was the conference?"

"Not bad." She removed her fur hat, and shook snow from the silver-tipped ends. "With Werner down with the croup they were grateful to have my input." She leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss on David's darkly shadowed cheek. "Hello, dear, bow was Russia?"