An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Caelian was a dead-end world, in every sense of the word-a planet abandoned after years of struggle against its incredibly fluid ecology had bought the colonists nothing but a stalemate. Most of the population, when offered transport to the new world of Esquiline a quarter-century ago, had jumped at the chance... but for a small fraction of that populace, the mindless Caelian ecology had taken on the status of a powerful and almost sentient enemy, and to run from that enemy had seemed to them to be an acceptance of defeat and dishonor. Corwin had visited Caelian once since that remnant had dug in for the battle, and had come away with the uncomfortable picture of the people of Hell's Blender as rafters on a raging river. Drifting away not only from the rest of the Cobra Worlds community, but possibly even from their own basic humanity.

All of which made Vartanson a very wild card indeed... and a man no one else in the Directorate ever really liked to cross.

Not even the governor-general. "I understand," Chandler said again to Vartanson.

Soothingly. "Actually, I think that even if we don't find another good candidate, these three new Cobras plus the experienced one ought to be adequate for the mission's needs."

Corwin took a deep breath. "Perhaps," he said carefully, "we ought to see this lack of a fifth Cobra not as a problem but as an opportunity. A chance to throw the Qasamans a curve."

He looked over to see Telek's eyes on him. "You mean like that switch your brothers pulled back on the first mission?" she asked. "Good idea, that-may even have saved the entire mission."

Silently, Corwin blessed her. She couldn't know what he was about to propose, but by reminding the others of how well that other scheme had worked out she'd weakened the automatic resistance his enemies would almost certainly come up with. "Something like that," he nodded, unconsciously bracing himself. "I'd like to suggest that we create, solely for this mission, the first woman Cobra. Now, before you voice any objections-"

"A woman Cobra?" Atterberry snorted. "Oh, for- Moreau, that is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard."

"Why?" Corwin countered. "Just because it hasn't ever been done?"

"Why do you suppose it has never been done?" Priesly put in. "Because there are good reasons for it, that's why."

Corwin looked over at Chandler. "Mr. Chandler?"

There was a slightly sour look on Chandler's face, but he nodded. "You may continue," he said.

"Thank you." Corwin's gaze swept the table, settled on Priesly and Atterberry as the two most hostile-looking. "One reason that the idea of women Cobras sounds so outlandish is that the Old Dominion of Man had a fairly strong patriarchal orientation. Women simply weren't considered for elite military troops-though

I'll point out that during the Troft War there were a large number of female resistance fighters on both Adirondack and Silvern."

"We all know our history," Nguyen put in gruffly. "Get to the point."

"The point is that even what little we know of Qasaman society paints it as even more patriarchal than the Dominion was," Corwin told him. "If the thought of female warriors strikes you as ridiculous, think of how they'll see it."

"In other words," Telek said slowly, "they're not likely to even consider the possibility that a woman along on the mission could be a demon warrior."

"A demon what?" Priesly frowned.

"It's the Qasaman term for Cobras," Chandler told him.

"Appropriate," Priesly grunted.

Vartanson threw him a cold look. "Being borderline demonic is often part of our job," he said icily.

Priesly's lip twitched, and he turned abruptly back to Corwin. "Your assumption, of course, is that the mission will be caught," he said. "Isn't that being a little pessimistic?"

"It's called being prepared," Corwin said tartly. "But assuming they won't get caught brings me to my second point: we want people who can fit in well enough with the Qasamans to poke around for answers without being immediately branded as foreigners. Correct?" He looked at Chandler. "Can you tell me, Mr. Chandler, how many of the Cobra candidates on your list can speak Qasaman?"

"All of them," the governor-general said stiffly. "Give me a little credit, Mr.

Moreau-Qasaman may not be an especially popular language course to take, but there's a reasonable pool of proficient people out there to choose from."

"Especially since most young men with Cobra ambitions try and learn it," Gavin pointed out.

"I understand that," Corwin nodded. "How many of this pool can speak it without an Aventinian accent?"

Chandler's brow darkened. "Everyone who learns a foreign language speaks with an accent," he growled.

Corwin looked him straight in the eye. "I know someone who doesn't," he said flatly. "My niece, Jasmine Moreau."

"Ah-well, there it is, everyone," Atterberry put in sardonically. "That's what all this is about-just another blatant grab for power by the Moreau family."

"How does this qualify as a grab for power?" Corwin snorted. "By sending my niece out to possibly get herself killed?"

"Enough." Chandler hadn't raised his voice, but something in his tone sliced cleanly through the burgeoning argument. "I've worked up a preliminary cost analysis for the proposed Qasaman mission-we'll take a short recess now for you to examine it. Mr. Moreau, I'd like to see you in my office, if I may."

"You realize, I presume, what you're asking the Directorate to do," Chandler said, gaze locked on Corwin's face. "Not to mention what you're asking me, personally, to do."

Corwin forced himself to meet the other's gaze. "I'm doing nothing but trying to give this mission of yours a better chance of success."

Chandler's lip twitched. "So it's 'my' mission now, is it?"

"Isn't it?" Corwin countered. "You clearly set it up privately, without the assistance or even the knowledge of the Academy board. Not to mention the knowledge of the Directorate itself."

Chandler's expression didn't change. "You have any proof of that?"

"If Justin had known this was in the works, he would have told me about it."

"That's hardly proof. I could have sworn all of the Academy directors to secrecy."

Corwin didn't answer, and after a moment Chandler sighed. "Let's be honest, here, shall we, Moreau? Logic and social goals notwithstanding, the real reason you want your niece in the Cobras is because your brother wants her there."

"She wants it herself, too," Corwin told him. "And, yes, I'll admit that there's part of me that wants to keep the family tradition alive. That doesn't negate the reasons I gave the Directorate a few minutes ago."

"No, but it muddies the politics considerably," Chandler grunted. "Okay, then-run the scenario. Tell me how the votes would fall if we went back and called a showdown."

"Telek and I would vote yes," Corwin said slowly. "Priesly and Atterberry would of course vote no, whether they agreed with me or not. Vartanson and Bailar... probably yes. Vartanson because if women were allowed in, it would effectively double Caelian's pool of Cobra candidates; Bailar because the Qasamans are only a few light-years from Esquiline's doorstep and he'll be more concerned with the logic of Jin's case than in history. With Vartanson's double vote, that would give me five votes."

"Which means you need one more vote for a clear majority," Chandler said. "Mine, for instance."

Corwin looked him square in the eye. "Yours was always the only vote I really needed."

For a moment Chandler gazed back at him in silence. "Politics goes in cycles," he said at last. "If the governor-general's office has more power now than it has had in the past, I make no apologies for it." He pursed his lips, slowly shook his head. "But you're wrong if you think I can push this through on my own, against all opposition. Priesly alone would be too much to buck."