The Kalif nodded. "So Jilsomo told me. But their motives do not excuse their acts. Acts which killed many people, nearly killed the kalifa and myself, and caused much destruction. Including the palace, a building dedicated to the memory of The Prophet."

The Kalif's voice had continued mild, but there was something implacable in it. "Nonetheless," he continued, "even before Jilsomo told me what you just did, there was never a question of impalements. Nor will there be executions of any sort. Those who bear the title of Successor to The Prophet should do their utmost to behave accordingly, and I will not degrade the throne by barbarities."

Again the general nodded, his expression patient. "But reparation demands for rebuilding the Sreegana could ruin them, leave them destitute."

"Indigent perhaps, but they won't go hungry. Prisons provide a balanced diet. If they don't, we'll need to correct that. What else do you have for me?"

Obviously the matter of reparations was not subject to dispute. The general took it with thin lips, but somehow it seemed to the Kalif that his response was not genuine, that the man was not much disappointed if at all. As if the issue was not actually important to him. It felt-it felt as if the general had brought it up to see what he'd say, to feel him out, then let him have his way with it.

"One more thing, Your Reverence. Your invasion plans have the support of virtually the entire officer corps, in the fleet as well as the army. If it so happens that the House of Nobles continues recalcitrant…"

Bavaralaama stopped short there, as if the unspoken remainder was self-evident, but the Kalif wouldn't let him off so easily. "Yes?" he said.

The general met his eyes, in a manner of speaking, but kept a screen between them. "If Your Reverence is so inclined, you could simply ignore the House. Override it. With no risk. In fact I urge it on you, if they refuse your proposal, or give you less than you consider desirable. Or try to impose conditions."

The Kalif looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I suppose I could, Elvar. But that would make me a dictator, and the law worthless. I might even get away with it-it seems likely I would-but the empire would be the worse for it. It would divide the people severely, and there could hardly be a reconciliation afterward. We'd all pay in blood, sooner or later. You, I, everyone."

He looked the general over. "I appreciate your telling me, though," the Kalif went on, "and the support you offered." He pulled himself to his feet then, indicating that the audience was over. "When a ruler plans a military venture, he likes to know that his generals agree with him."

They finished their meeting with brief formal courtesies, then the Kalif watched the general leave. The man's message was food for thought, and some of it hard chewing. Not just the verbal message, though that made it clearer. Bavaralaama had arrived without an appointment, or even advance notice. Which seemed to say that the Imperial General Staff considered themselves in charge-that the Kalif ruled now at their pleasure. No doubt they'd put up with a lot, but there were limits. They would have their invasion, and any scruples he might have, regarding the House and the law, would not be allowed to intervene.

He wondered what would happen if he told the general some of the thoughts he'd been having since he'd witnessed the destruction of the Sreegana. He didn't intend to find out.

Lord Agros called for an appointment before coming out. In fact, he called within an hour after the general left. His wish to speak privately surprised the Kalif more than the general's visit had.

Again the Kalif was on his feet when his guest walked in. At the Kalif's order, Sergeant Candrakaar had accompanied him only to the door, then stayed outside. The kalifa, however, was there with him, though not standing; her presence threw Agros for a moment. "Your Reverence," he said. "Lady Tain. It's good to see you looking so strong."

It was the Kalif who answered. "Indeed, friend Agros. Looks are deceiving. But we're better day by day." The two men sat down, and the Kalif looked quizzically at the Leader of the House. "I'm surprised to see you still here. With the Diet adjourned and the delegates dispersing over the empire, I'd have thought you'd be at home."

"And so I would be, Your Reverence. But my interests are diverse, and I still have business here in the capital before I leave. Some of it with you."

"Oh?"

"Your Reverence, there is something I think you should know. You're aware, of course, that Alb Jilsomo presented a first cost estimate for restoring the palace and the other government buildings damaged. And proposed an appropriation to finance it, compensation to be taken from the officers involved, and their families as appropriate."

"Including Rothka's estate. Yes. And the final act of the Diet was to approve it unanimously. Jilsomo told me."

"Correct." He looked briefly at the kalifa before he continued. "I also wish to express my profound sympathy for the pain and loss which you and the kalifa have suffered."

"Thank you, friend Agros." The Kalif thought to add that there were those who'd lost more, but he kept the thought to himself. Losing the fetus had been hard, especially on Tain, and Agros had seemed honest in his sentiment.

There was an awkward moment then, as if Agros had more to say, something which didn't come easily. "One other thing, Your Reverence. The House has developed a somewhat different, a considerably more favorable attitude toward your invasion plans. A change contributed to by the industrial faction, the lesser nobility, and the labor unrest that has grown even more troublesome since the attack on the Sreegana. I believe you'll find the House much more amenable to productive negotiation when the Diet reconvenes."

The Kalif's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? That's something Jilsomo had mentioned as a possibility, but coming from you, it seems like something more."

"I believe Your Reverence can count on it."

"Umm. Tell me. Confidentially. Did the-military have any influence on this change of attitude?"

The nobleman waited a long and pregnant moment, then answered. "A most puissant influence, Your Reverence."

"I wouldn't wonder. Well, I dare say I brought this on us myself." He sighed audibly, then surprisingly grinned. "Friend Agros, I recommend that you feel at ease with the situation. I have no doubt it will work out well for the empire and the estates. All of the estates."

When Agros had gone, the Kalif turned to the kalifa. She looked troubled. He wasn't surprised, considering what she'd just heard.

"So there will be an invasion," she said thoughtfully, then looked up at him. "Coso, what does puissant mean?"

He smiled wryly. "Agros was telling me that the military are a major cause of their changed attitude. Perhaps the major cause. The House is afraid of the army."

He paused, pursed his lips, then smiled again, his eyes intent on her. "My dear, we have things to talk about, you and I. About a suggestion you once made, a question you asked. I think there's a way."

Sixty-one

Their return from the hospital was the occasion for a parade second only to the one on Prophet's Day. But quite different; this one was largely military. The Imperial Guard, now a short battalion in numbers, led off in the place of honor, followed by the survivors of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Infantry Regiment, and the 27th Armored Battalion-the units that had defeated the coup attempt. Other units of the Capital Division followed, interspersed with fraternal groups, sports groups, and military units flown in for the event. Their bands played, instruments flashing in the morning sun. Flights of gunships passed over, one after another, preceded by their shadows.