Kai let her hand drop. "Surely you don't have to put me away with her. I'm harmless."

Again the demi-Precentor looked at his screen, but ruefully shook his head. "Do not try to play innocent with me. Despite your diligent attempts to erase all traces of your identity, we know who you are. We are too smart for you. You cannot fool ComStar."

"I suppose not."

Khalsa nodded sincerely as a ROM guard prodded Kai with a rifle. "You suppose correctly. Tracing you through the contents of your rucksack was simple. The holodisks were sent through ComStar, after all." The demi-Precentor sighed wearily. "ComStar does not appreciate deception. I suggest that be something you consider long and hard while awaiting transport to the reeducation camp, Mr. Jewell."

10

JumpShip Dire Wolf , Pre-assault Orbit

Hyperion, Free Rasalhague Republic

8 February 3052

Phelan Wolf looked across the room, drawing in a deep breath, then trying to expand his chest and look more massive as he exhaled. Dressed in a gray jumpsuit with a red dagger-star on its right shoulder and the red and black patch of the Thirteenth Wolf Guards on its left, he knew the uniform, at least, was impressive. In the three weeks since learning of Cyrilla's death, he'd trained hard and honed himself to a fine edge, but it might all be for naught in this first round of the Bloodname battling.

His first opponent, a huge Elemental, nodded slowly. With his clothing peeled to the waist, the man's bronzed flesh looked as if it had been spray-painted over veins and bulging muscles. His right hand twitched and Phelan caught the flash of a silver medallion. As the Elemental's hand closed over it, the Mech Warrior had no doubt the man could have bent the coin in half without raising a sweat.

Phelan turned his own coin over in his right hand. On the head it displayed the Wolf Clan crest: a wolf's-head with narrowed eyes and high, alert ears. On the reverse, as he turned it over, Phelan saw the name "Ward" emblazoned on a scroll. Beneath that, this name, "Phelan Wolf," was inscribed with the date.

Phelan looked up at the Elemental again and took no comfort in the man's evil smile.

Natasha slapped Phelan lightly on the back. "Can't let him get to you. He's just posturing, because if you win the decision, you'll pound him flat."

The younger Mech Warrior frowned. "I am not yet clear on this. If I win the decision, I choose the nature of our battle, but he chooses where it will occur, correct?"

Natasha nodded. "If you win, you choose to fight in your 'Mech. He'll don his armor and unless he's very good andvery lucky, you'll smear him all over the battlefield."

"Hardly fair."

The Black Widow's eyes narrowed. "Fair has nothing to do with Bloodname battles. You are fighting for an honor that knows no equal in the Successor States or beyond them! Defeat him, defeat the rest of those you face, and you prove yourself one of the ultimate warriors in House Ward."

Her fierce expression shifted down into a wry grin. "Besides, if he wins the decision, you know he'll choose to fight you bare-handed. You're no slouch in unarmed combat, but ..."

Looking at his opponent, Phelan saw a pec heave like a tectonic plate in an earthquake. "Yeah, I. don't want to get near him outside my 'Mech, either." He shuddered slightly. "I surrender three decimeters in height and at least thirty-five kilos to that clown."

Natasha winced. "Best not call him a clown until you beat him."

"Good point."

Back beyond Natasha, Phelan saw the small visitor's gallery slowly fill with his friends. Evantha Fetladral, the Elemental with a long red queue hanging from her nearly shaved pate, sat next to Ragnar and appeared to be explaining the whole procedure to him. Next to Ragnar sat a small man with an oversized head topped by a shock of blond hair. Carew, like Phelan, was unblooded, so he listened intendy to Evantha's explanation of the ceremonies. In the same way that Evantha and others had been bred for the massive size Elementals would need, Carew's smaller size had been deemed desirable for aerospace fighter-pilots.

Last into the box walked a tall, slender woman whose white hair was cut boyishly short. Ranna smiled at Phelan, her blue eyes flashing encouragement. Phelan returned her smile and felt his spirits buoy. Ranna sat down next to Carew.

Natasha passed a hand in front of Phelan's face, breaking off his stare. "Think about her later."

Phelan smiled mischievously. "Sorry, but you and your granddaughter are mesmerizingly beautiful."

The Black Widow shook her head. "Fine, dream if you want to, but when I was in your shoes, I was trying to figure out how to even the odds in a straight-up fight with an Elemental."

That sobered Phelan. "What did you do?"

Natasha shrugged. "I won the decision."

The MechWarrior turned the warm coin over in his hand, then stopped playing with it as ilKhan Ulric Kerensky stepped into the room and took up a position in the center. Natasha gave Phelan a pat on the back, then retreated. The Elemental's friends and supporters also withdrew, leaving the combatants alone with the ilKhan.

As Ulric drew himself up to full height, his white hair and goatee seemed to glow beneath the harsh lights overhead. "I am the Oathmaster and accept responsibility for representing House Ward here. Do you concur in this?"

"Seyla," Phelan breathed solemnly.

"Seyla," echoed the Elemental.

'Then what transpires here will bind us all until we all shall fall." The ilKhan nodded respectfully. "You represent the best the House of Ward has to offer the Wolf Clan. Yet it is not for the Wolf Clan that you fight today, it is for the right and honor of bearing the name Ward. This name is exalted, as were the names of all who remained loyal to the dream Aleksandr Kerensky had for his people. Do you understand this?"

"Seyla."

"And in accepting your part in this battle, do you understand that you sanctify, with your blood, Nicholas Kerensky's determination to forge the Clans into the pinnacle of human development? That you have been chosen to participate already marks you as elite, but victory here will rightly place you among the few who exist at the zenith of all the Clans hold sacred."

Phelan nodded solemnly. "Seyla."

Ulric looked at the Elemental. "You are Dean and you have seen twenty-seven years. Why are you worthy?"

Muscles rippled like molten steel as the Elemental stood taller and answered in a deep bass. "I have been nominated to this Bloodname by my elders because of my bravery in the conquest of Rasalhague and the taking of Satalice. I have consistently tested out at the top of my sibko and have never known defeat in single combat."

Ulric nodded stiffly, clearly pleased with the accomplishments of a Wolf, but reluctant to show any sign that could be interpreted as favoritism. "And you, Phelan Wolf, have seen twenty years. Why are you worthy?"

Phelan, as he had been coached by Natasha, raised his head and spoke in a clear voice. "I was chosen by Cyrilla Ward to be heir to this Bloodname. Captured and made a bondsman, I was adopted into the Warrior Caste after proving my worthiness for that honor. I trained and tested out as a Warrior. Single handedly I conquered Gunzburg, and on Satalice I captured Prince Ragnar of Rasalhague. For these things I have been chosen."