Rakkim knelt on one of the large, flat rocks in the water garden, picked a piece of broken glass out of the stream and put it in his pocket. The water garden had been Redbeard's favorite spot on his estate, a full acre of lush greenery under a clear, protective dome. Redbeard prayed here, planned and plotted here, taught Rakkim and Sarah the basics of statecraft and political survival here. He plucked another piece of glass from the stream.

Through a jagged gap in the shattered dome, Rakkim could see the villa where he and Sarah had grown up. Last year someone had driven a stolen car through the plasti-glass, tearing through several panels. The car had been hauled away but the break in the dome remained, along with another dozen breaches. No matter. The vegetation in the dome thrived, the bamboo actually growing through the holes in the roof in parts. He and Sarah and Michael had come here regularly, weeding the garden, cleaning out the streambeds, hauling away trash. Colarusso and his family joined them sometimes, picnicking among the yellow hibiscus blooms beside the waterfall. He picked another piece of glass out of the water. The late-afternoon sun slanted through the dome, bathing the lush greenery with soft, golden light. Cool mist from the waterfall floated across his face.

"I thought you'd be happy," said Sarah.

Rakkim took in the construction cranes around the villa, the workers gone for the day. "You should have told me."

"I wanted to surprise you…and I suspected how you'd react."

After years of vandalism and targeted attacks by followers of the Black Robes, Redbeard's villa was being renovated by the news network in conjunction with the planned retrospective of his life. The outer walls had been rebuilt, the main structure braced, and new landscaping designed. Sarah said Redbeard's office, smaller than most people expected, had already been fully restored. Evidently this was going to be the focus of the documentary, Sarah seated near the great man's desk, talking about his life and the effect he'd had on the fledgling republic.

"It's not the network's job to restore the villa," said Rakkim. "You and I would have gotten to it eventually. Look what we've done with the water garden."

"The villa was falling apart, Rikki."

"Maybe that's the lesson. A great man lived here. Slept fitfully here. Taught the people he cared about here…and when he was gone, when he died…it fell into ruin. Men who hated him in life burned it down, broke the windows, knocked over walls, but the things he did, the people he taught…they endured. Is that so bad?"

"We want to inspire people, Rikki." She leaned closer. "If we don't, somebody else will. Would you rather ibn-Azziz or the Old One captured people's imagination?"

Rakkim didn't answer.

"Redbeard's life is the story," said Sarah. "Head of State Security, never married, Redbeard devoted his life to protecting the nation from terrorist attacks during the early days of the Republic. His partnership with President Kingsley is seen as part of the golden era of the Republic. His peaceful death from a heart attack is part of his mystique, called to heaven by Allah with a whisper-"

"Okay, okay, enough," said Rakkim. "Just tell Legault to leave the water garden alone."

"I already have." Sarah took his hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Sarah led him out of the water garden, down one of the paths and into the rear of the villa, with its vaulted ceilings, marble floors, thick wood and etched glass.

"Nice to know that Legault has no fear of spending other people's money," said Rakkim.

"Hush." Sarah opened the door. "Well?"

Rakkim walked into the solarium. Stared at the clear blue water of the swimming pool.

"Not so bad, is it?" said Sarah, voice echoing. "Took them almost a week just to remove the debris people had thrown in. New filter, new aerator…"

"It's…just like when we were kids." Rakkim looked at her. "It's beautiful. I never expected…" He bent down, put a hand in the water. It was cool. Perfect.

Sarah kicked off her shoes, sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. "This morning Aztlan formally charged the Colonel with murdering their oil minister in Miami."

"I saw the live feed when I went out this morning," said Rakkim. "Thought Argusto was going to have a stroke."

"This is serious, Rikki. The three nations are in a precarious balance."

"Charging the Colonel doesn't even make sense-he's too far north to be worried about Aztlan's territorial ambitions. Besides, the Colonel doesn't have anyone who could pull off an operation like that."

"Aztlan seems to think he managed it." Sarah kicked her feet in the water, making waves. "They're demanding he be extradited to Tenochtitlan for trial."

"The Colonel's as popular as Elvis and he's got over eight thousand armed men backing him up, so I doubt he'll be enjoying that famous Aztlan hospitality anytime soon." Rakkim took off his clothes and dove into the water. He came up in the middle of the pool. "If President Raynaud had a brain he'd tell Aztlan to go fuck themselves-he'd have the whole country behind him. Might even get himself reelected."

Sarah watched him backstroking. "'Go fuck yourself' isn't really a foreign policy. More of a…personal philosophy."

"I should have mentioned that last night at the faculty tea."

"You weren't too miserable, were you?"

"Time of my life. If my life was being stuck in a book." Rakkim beckoned. "Come on in."

Sarah shook her head.

"There are security guards on the access roads-this is as private as it gets. Come on."

Sarah looked around. Slowly unbuttoned her dress.

Rakkim whistled, beat at the water.

"Stop it," said Sarah.

Rakkim didn't.

Sarah finished undressing, neatly folded her clothes on the bench. Looked around again, then walked down the steps into the pool. Breast-stroked toward Rakkim, trying to keep her hair dry. They embraced in the center of the pool, kicking to stay aloft. The afternoon sun turned the water droplets along her ear to gold beads.

"You'll have to thank Legault for me," said Rakkim.

"He wants you in the retrospective too."

"Not a chance."

"Such a shy boy."

Rakkim pressed his erection against her.

"Unhand me, sir," she ordered, her arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close.

"Let's have another baby," Rakkim said softly.

"This isn't…this isn't the right time."

"When is the right time?"

Sarah shook her head.

They drifted apart. Rakkim floated on his back, staring up at the glass ceiling, the clouds floating overhead.

"I'm sorry," said Sarah, "it's just…there's so much going on right now."

"Yeah, I forgot how calm and simple things were when we had Michael."

"Don't be like that."

Rakkim closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of being in the pool again, the feel of the water. So many memories in that house…most of them good. Rakkim couldn't imagine what would have become of him if Redbeard hadn't taken him home that day, made him part of the family. He would have ended up in prison…or maybe working in the Zone, someplace where risk was rewarded, but he wouldn't have ended up here. With Sarah. He owed a lot to Redbeard.

"What are you thinking?" asked Sarah.

Rakkim opened his eyes. "How lucky I am."

"Me too." The birthmark between her breasts was just above the waterline. "Don't be mad at me."

"No…we've got time."

She squeezed out her hair.

"Who was that older man you were talking to at the faculty tea?"

"Karl Hoffman," said Sarah. "Professor Hoffman's one of the world's authorities on the subject of the true cross."

"I bet that's been a real career booster." He saw her expression. "Sorry."