"I have heard these words and I must plead guilty to the vanity that makes me take pride in them. I will not, however, let anyone suggest that my actions make me worthy to replace Khan Ulric. There are others here—Cyrilla Ward, Natasha Kerensky, and Anton Fetladral, for example—who are far more suited than I to the position of Khan. Indeed, both Cyrilla and Anton have served in that role before and should be considered for service again."

Phelan heard Cyrilla chuckle. "Oh, he is good, is he not, Phelan?"

"I guess so..." Phelan gave her a hard look. "Do you know what he is doing?"

She shook her head. "No, but at this rate, I imagine he will succeed."

Conal rested his hands on the hips of his gray jumpsuit. "Of course, saying they are suitable to replace Khan Ulric sounds as though I endorse Ulric's removal as Khan. I do not!"

That statement brought shocked cries from some Council members and battered others into betrayed silence. Phelan saw more than one member who had spoken of Conal in glowing terms blush deep crimson, though several others turned purple with rage. Through it all, Conal smiled, as did Vlad, and waited for the furor to die down beneath the pounding of the Loremaster's gravel.

"I do not support the removal of Khan Ulric because the arguments against him are foolish. How can we reject a man who has brought our Clan closer to fulfilling the goal of this invasion than any other? Can we fault him for taking an unfair advantage when the Wolf spearhead was directed at a heavily populated and heavily defended portion of the Successor States? Can we listen to the cries of foul by other Clans when their plan to hobble us failed, quineg?"

Conal looked around the room, his dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "You seek to rebuke him, but I say we should exalt him. He isa man of vision, and he looks beyond the goal of the invasion to the time beyond. He sees into the future, and it is one in which the Wolves occupy their rightful place within the history of both the Clans and of mankind. To oppose him, to vote against him, should be considered high treason against the Clan.

"Politics is a necessity, yet must it blind us? Ulric and I have had our differences in the past, yet I acknowledge him as an excellent leader. This is a time for the Wolves to come together, lest the other Clans destroy us on the eve of our victory. Let us not deliver ourselves to our enemies. Let us present such a united front that they would not dare think to attack us."

Thunderous applause greeted Conal's speech, and some of his closest supporters rose to give him a standing ovation. When Phelan turned to see Cyrilla's reaction, he found the white-haired woman shaking her head.

"He is amazing, quiaff,Phelan?"

The young man nodded. "If he had not taken himself out of the running for Khan, that speech would have won him the spot instantly. Even some of those he embarrassed have recovered and are applauding him wildly. If he is only planning for the short term and wanted to reap adulation, he got his wish."

"Yes, but is that all he wanted?"

As the applause gradually died down, Carol Leroux stood. "Loremaster, though the request may seem ill-mannered, I have no choice. After hearing that speech, Conal Ward has shown us all that he is, indeed, worthy of our trust. As he declines nomination as Khan, I ask that his name be placed in nomination for Loremaster of the Wolf Clan."

A hundred voices seconded that nomination, and Cyrilla punctuated it by hammering her fist into the bench top. "Oh, crafty dog. Conal, I underestimated you."

Phelan felt confused. "I am missing something. Does not this mean an end to the threat to Ulric?"

Cyrilla shook her head resolutely. "Far from it. It just means the battleground has shifted from the Wolf Clan Council to the Grand Council. There they can vote to censure Ulric for his conduct, and within their confines, strip him of his power. He would still be a Khan of the Wolf Clan, but the Loremaster would fulfill all duties, including voting."

"Then you must stop him."

"I cannot." Cyrilla nodded a salute to Conal. "Because he circumvented my threat this time, to react would be a poor move. Besides, after that speech, he will win no matter what I do."

Phelan ground his teeth. "But that means the Crusaders have won. From what you and Natasha have said, that also means the Successor States stand no chance."

Cyrilla rested her left hand on Phelan's shoulder. "Do not lose heart yet, Phelan. There is a battle to be waged in the Grand Council. As well you know, as long as there is life in Ulric's body, he is more than able to handle both himself and his enemies."

13

DuKirk Building, Dragoon Housing Center, Outreach

Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

17 May 3051

Shin Yodama slid open the door and entered the small receiving alcove. The room's austerity seemed familiar rather than harsh because the quarters were so similar to his own on far-distant Luthien. In fact, the stark simplicity of the furnishings made him feel very much at home, as the arrangement made perfect zen sense. When he remembered that gaijinlived here, it was something of a shock.

Beside the door was a small rectangle of carpet upon which stood a pair of boots and a pair of slippers. Without thinking, Shin pulled off his own boots and donned the slippers. Placing his boots next to those of his host, he walked forward across the polished wooden floor and bowed.

"Konnichi-wa,Major Kell. I thank you for the invitation to visit." Shin looked around the room and smiled. "I envy you your surroundings."

The black-haired mercenary returned the bow. "Thank you, Yodama- san." He waved the Combine MechWarrior to a pile of pillows on the floor. Shin noted that, like himself, Christian Kell wore a short kimono and a regular pair of trousers. The. difference was that Chris' kimono bore no Kurita crests. Shin, proud to display the crest on the breast, back, and sleeves of his kimono, started to fit the lack of crests into the rumors about Chris circulating through the Kurita community on Outreach.

"Please excuse my rudeness, but I wish to speak directly about the reasons I asked you to meet with me." A bell rang in the small kitchenette. "I have some sakewarming," Kell said. "Please make yourself at home."

As Chris returned to the kitchenette, Shin turned to examine a rice-paper painting on the wall. Done in brush and black ink, it depicted a hastily painted 'Mech shielding a woman from a coiled serpent. The simplicity of the work contrasted sharply with the bold strength of the brush stokes. Down the side of the drawing, Shin saw a number of commentaries in Japanese that said much the same thing.

"You are a talented artist."

"Thank you." Chris set the tray with a sakiflask and two small cups on the floor before seating himself on a pillow. "What little skill I have is in my blood."

Shin seated himself and smiled. "If you inherited but half that much skill from your father, I applaud the alliance Wolf seeks to forge. I have no desire to face Patrick Kell's son in combat."

Chris stopped for a moment and Shin felt as though the man's jade stare were slicing through to his soul. Then Chris bowed his head and smiled slightly. "You are good, Yodama -san. You probe without asking questions. Had the ISF arranged this meeting earlier, much could have been resolved before now."