Back in the bedroom they embraced beside the bed, his breath thick in his chest. As they kissed, his hands found her buttocks, pressing her against him. After a moment she pushed him gently away, gazed into his eyes, and helped him down beside her on the bed.

The Kalif was in many ways a disciplined man. Now he was also a man in love, and did not hurry. He caressed, kissed, nuzzled, and after a time he mounted. He was quick despite himself, but she kissed away his disappointment and led him to the bath. Later, in bed again, he rode her long. "Oh Jerym!" she groaned, "oh, Jerym!"

It did not disconcert him; he continued. And when a minute later her fingers dug desperately into his back, the name she cried was, "Coso! Coso! Oh Coso!"

Finally they lay slack beside each other, and he asked no question, simply kissed her. After a little they showered again, then went back to bed, where Tain fell asleep in minutes.

Coso lay longer awake, fingers locked behind his head. Jerym, he thought. It was not a name he'd ever heard. Not a name of Varatos or Klestron, or any world he knew. A Confederation world then. She'd loved Jerym, he was sure of it, and Jerym had loved her. Young love. He wondered if Jerym had been killed in the fighting on remote Terfreya. Or if perhaps he lay in bed on some enormously distant world and wondered about Tain.

A pang of grief surprised Coso. I'll be good to her, Jerym, he thought. I'll be good to her. I promise.

He awakened once in the night and caressed Tain in her sleep, softly, intimately, until she writhed. When she awoke to it, her passion astonished him.

In the morning she disappeared into the bath. Quickly Coso took a small clasp knife from his toiletries and jabbed a finger, bled briefly on the bedsheet, then applied a readymade bandage. As he'd planned weeks before. That done, he put the knife away, threw the covers over the bloodspot, and after knocking, followed his bride into the bath.

Twenty-four

The royal couple spent four and a half days on the island. Their bodyguards kept strictly away, with orders to watch for possible but unlikely intruders by air or sea. In fact, the prospect of intruders was slight. The whereabouts of the Kalif and kalifa were unknown even to the inner council-even to Jilsomo. As far as the outside world knew, they were still in the Sreegana.

By then the Kalif was ready to return to his duties and projects, and the kalifa to the library. Meanwhile his brown skin had darkened a shade, while she had developed a distinct tan and a peeling nose.

They arrived back late on Fourday, and on Fiveday, following a brief morning meeting with his council, he met with the full College before lunch. After acknowledging their formal congratulations on his marriage, he passed out draft copies of a decree he'd written, formally recognizing The Book of the Mountain as having been written by The Prophet and inspired by Kargh. They were to give him their written comments within forty-eight hours, after which he'd issue a final draft to the Prelacy and the Pastorate within a week.

After that he conducted some eighty minutes of discussion on various domestic questions. When he felt they'd reached a suitable stopping place on those, he summarized what he considered appropriate actions or inactions for the present.

Then he stood looking at them for a long pregnant moment. "What I tell you now, I tell you in confidence," he said, then looked them over again. "The last time I said something in confidence to some of you, the House knew about it within two days. That was not acceptable. If what I tell you now should leak, intentionally or accidentally, I'll consider it an act of treason to the throne, and ferret out the source."

The faces that looked back at him were sober.

"You may have wondered," he went on, "when I was going to propose an invasion of the Confederation. Or if I'd decided not to. Before my wedding, I discussed it at length and in confidence with the General Staff. By then of course, they'd digested the available information on the Confederation.

"They consider an invasion entirely practical, and have no doubt they can carry it off with complete success-if given sufficient forces." He smiled wryly. "Their idea of sufficient was all the forces, imperial and planetary, that could feasibly be assembled and sent, given three years' preparation.

"I'd anticipated that: They were exercising a very ancient principle, not taught in any academy but learned early in every officer's career. It's called 'cover your ass.' But when I pressed them on details, they admitted that such an invasion could, in fact, reasonably be launched with forces substantially less than they'd enumerated in their draft report. Though with not so great a margin for unforeseen contingencies.

"We can expect unforeseen contingencies, of course, but by definition we can't identify them in advance. A skilled fighting commander will meet them with what he has at hand, and unless they're overwhelming, he'll overcome them. That's a principle taught in each academy, and by the history of battles from time immemorial. But by most officers it's taken less to heart than 'cover your ass.' And it's natural, and no doubt desirable, for a commander to want as much available strength as he can get. Certainly he should not be sent off ill-equipped, except in dire necessity.

"After reminding them of certain economic and political facts of life, I gave them some guidelines, some practical constraints, and ordered Bavaralaama and Siilakamasu jointly to prepare a revised report, something SUMBAA can base a draft operating plan on. They were to have it ready on my return. I'll meet with them tomorrow and see what they've produced. If I'm satisfied with it as a broad statement of operational considerations and solutions, I'll review it with the full College the day after tomorrow. Then, depending on our discussion, I'll probably voice my intention to the Diet on the day following."

He paused. "The first battle of the war will be fought in the Diet. You're in session almost daily with the House, and while this has not, or should not have been discussed on the floor, lacking a formal proposal from myself, I presume you've heard the subject discussed in the corridors and dining room. I'd like your assessment of attitudes, and the factions taking shape around it. Bijnath?"

The exarch stood. "Your Reverence, the subject has not been particularly prominent among the members of the House or ourselves. Everyone seems to be waiting for your proposal. But it is talked about. So far I've detected only two factions-what might be termed factions. They don't seem well defined, and neither seems large. The Land Rights people are all against it, of course, while most of the industrial nobility, not all of them, like the idea. My impression is that the outer-world delegates generally have not begun to line up as planetary factions. Most haven't yet gotten input from their home worlds.

"My overall reading of their attitudes is that misgivings outweigh favorable interest. Substantially. They're worried about costs and the stability of the classes."

He sat down then, and the Kalif thanked him. Others gave views which did not differ much from Bijnath's. Finally the Kalif asked if anyone had further subjects to bring up, and Alb Thoga raised a skinny hand.

"Your Reverence," he said, "there is something that none of these others seem willing to tell you. About reactions to your marriage. There are those who are outraged by it."

"Outraged?"

"Your wife is not noble, she is not a citizen of the empire, and she has not even accepted Kargh as god! Also there is-question about her suitability. Her-history before she came here to Varatos from Klestron."