Suddenly Rodlox stepped away from the curb, moved into the center of the roadway, and stood directly in Dybo’s path. There were five paces between them. Spectators gasped.

Dybo looked up, startled.

"Get out of the way!" shouted someone from the roadside.

Rodlox spoke firmly. "No."

"You’re blocking the path of the Emperor," said another spectator. The procession came to a complete halt.

"I know exactly what I’m doing," said Rodlox, glancing once at Oro, standing at the roadside, the aide’s muzzle scrunched in a satisfied expression.

Dybo himself spoke now, his smooth voice the most remarkable of all his musical instruments. "Please step aside, friend." His words were fluid, warm, a spoken song.

Friend, thought Rodlox. He doesn ’t even recognize me!

"No," Rodlox said again.

Dybo’s face twisted in concern. "You’re not injured, are you?" His muzzle tipped up and down as he appraised Rodlox. "Are you unable to move?"

"I can move," said Rodlox, his tone steady, controlled, "but I will not."

"Why not?" said a calm voice from behind him. Rodlox turned to see the blind one, Afsan, facing in his direction. It was disconcerting to have those empty sockets, covered by caved-in, wrinkled lids, staring at him. At his side, Afsan’s reptile hissed softly at Rodlox.

"That is no concern of yours."

"You interfere with a procession of which I am part," said Afsan, spreading his hands. "You block the path of my friend and ruler, Dy-Dybo. Yes, Rodlox, it is a concern of mine."

Rodlox felt his heart flutter. How did the blind one know who he was? "You called me by name."

"I recognize your voice. We met once shortly before your ascension, when Len-Ganloor brought you to the Capital. What, I wonder, is the new governor of Edz’toolar doing here so soon after his last visit to this province?"

This Afsan … a most disconcerting individual. Rodlox had heard tales of his facility with arguments. Best not to engage him further. He turned instead to look defiantly at Dybo.

For his part, Dybo seemed unperturbed, as if such a thing as a recalcitrant pedestrian was a matter of no import next to the issues of state. "I ask you again," said the Emperor politely, each word flowing into the next like water into a goblet, "please step aside."

"And I say again: I refuse."

"Very well," said Dybo, with a tilt of the head which reaffirmed that the whole matter was of little consequence to him. "Then I shall go around you." Dybo moved diagonally toward the curb, but Rodlox again stepped in his path. The crowd was silent.

"A real leader would not concede territory to another so easily."

"A real leader," said Dybo in a congenial tone, "knows what is worth arguing over and what is not." Again, the Emperor stepped aside, but once more Rodlox blocked his path. Dybo then moved to the left, and Rodlox did likewise. The imperial guards had stepped back to stand on either side of Dybo, their banners snapping in the breeze. Their eyes were locked on the Emperor, looking for any sign from him that they should intervene. The whole procession was breaking up now. Everyone had turned around to see what the delay was, and some, including several crafters and members of Galpook’s hunting pack, had moved near.

Dybo let out a sigh, a long affected hiss indicating that he’d grown tired of this game. He took a bold step forward. Rodlox reached out a stiff arm and pushed it into the Emperor’s shoulder.

A murmur went through the crowd. To touch another — especially the Emperor!

"Do not do that again," said Dybo quietly. But Rodlox tipped from the waist, his tail lifting from the ground, and in a slow, deliberate gesture, too choreographed and extended to be instinct, he bobbed his torso up and down, up and down. A display of territorial challenge.

Silence, save for some whispering behind him. Rodlox realized that Novato had stepped over to Afsan and was giving him a running description.

"I challenge you," Rodlox said, his voice loud and firm. Dybo spread his arms. "Challenge me for what? This is a street of the people; all streets in Capital City are so designated. I don’t claim it as my territory; you, Rodlox, and all others are free to use it."

Rodlox bobbed again. "It’s not the street I challenge you for," he said. "I challenge your right to rule. I challenge your right to be Emperor."

"I am of The Family," said Dybo. "I am the son of the daughter of the daughter of the son of the daughter of the son of Larsk, the prophet."

"And," said Rodlox, "I, Rodlox, governor of Edz’toolar, am also" — he had rehearsed the litany — "the son of the daughter of the daughter of the son of the daughter of the son of Larsk, the prophet."

"The fellow’s mad," said a voice from the curbside. "Thinks he’s the Emperor."

Rodlox wheeled to face the speaker. "No, I do not think I am the Emperor, citizen, and I assure you I am not mad." He turned again to Dybo. "Am I, brother!"

"Brother?" said Dybo, his mouth remaining agape after speaking the word.

Rodlox heard what sounded like a sharp inhalation of breath from behind him. Was it Afsan? "Yes, brother: male child of the same parents." He pointed to the one who’d called him mad.

"You! Come here!" The citizen — a maker of pottery, judging by the symbols on her blue sash — seemed afraid. "Come here, I said. I’ll not hurt you."

Rodlox’s muzzle didn’t flush blue, but then if the citizen really did think him insane, she might not give that much credence. A couple of those standing near the citizen urged her on, and she took a hesitant step forward. "Come closer," snapped Rodlox.

"I… I do not wish to invade your territory," said the citizen.

"Hahat dan, for God’s sake!" said Rodlox. "I grant you permission. Come stand right next to me, right here." He pointed at the ground beside him. The citizen looked back at the crowd.

"Go ahead!" shouted an onlooker. Others made encouraging gestures. The potmaker slowly stepped up to Rodlox.

"Now, look at my earholes." Rodlox swiveled his neck so that the citizen could see first one, then the other.

The citizen’s expression was blank. "Yes?"

"Look at them. What do you notice about them?"

"I don’t know what you want me to say…"

"The shape, fool. The shape! What shape are they?"

"Oval, I guess."

"Oval. Unusual, isn’t that?"

"Well, I suppose. But, umm, I mean no offense by that."

"None taken. Go look at the Emperor’s carrioles."

The citizen stood there. "Your Luminance?"

"Hahat dan," said Dybo, with a slight concessional nod. "Feel free."

The citizen peered at the sides of Dybo’s head. "Well?" snapped Rodlox.

"His are oval, too."

"Louder. Shout it. I want everyone to hear."

The citizen’s voice cracked slightly, but she did manage a more robust volume. "I said, his are oval, too."

Rodlox bowed full concession at the citizen. "Thank you. You may return to the side of the road." The citizen hastened to do just that. Rodlox shouted so all could hear. "My associates and I have cataloged fourteen distinctive physical features that Dybo and I have in common. Fourteen!" He turned through a slow circle, facing members of the public, the procession, spectators on the far curb, and then Dybo again. "The earholes are an obvious example." He tipped forward, lifting his tail from the paving stones. "The mottling on the undersides of our tails is the same." He pointed at his own feet, then at Dybo’s. "Instead of our middle toeclaw being longer than the other two, it’s the same length as our inner toeclaw." He looked up. "We both have exceptional vision. Our muzzles are shorter than average. And on and on."

Dybo spoke softly. "I fail to see the significance…"

"We’re brothers," said Rodlox flatly. "Brothers."