At last he came to a passage that intersected the main corridor, where Hanse's study was situated. Ardan didn't know the guard at the door, and he would never pass as a gardener, that was certain.

He retreated down the hall. There was a spare room he had often used on those nights when duty kept him too late to return to the barracks. Would it still be unused by anyone else? Knowing Hanse, Ardan felt almost certain his friend would have appointed the room for him, whether Ardan were present or not at the time of the move to Argyle.

He had to lurk behind draperies and behind tall furniture more than once, as he made his way to the familiar door. He set his thumb against the plate.

Hearing the familiar click, Ardan sighed with relief. If the room was ready, he was almost certain to find at least one change of clothing there.

The chamber looked no different than at any other time he had seen it. Indeed, he might only have left it the day before. Uniforms were lined up in the clothing-cubicle, and there was soap and shampoo in the Cleaner. He was in business!

The grubby gardener disappeared in minutes, his coverall stuffed down the Disposal, along with the goggles and wads of towelling. When Ardan stepped out into the corridor again, it was as his most resplendent self.

"I might as well impress the hell out of them, while I'm at it," he had told his reflection in the mirror. He wore his best uniform, the one trimmed with gold, decorated with bright rows of medals, and with the Federated Suns emblem worked in gems.

Ardan strode up the corridor now, paying no heed to the startled glances of those he passed. Nobody could get to Hanse ahead of him, he knew. He was almost at the door.

The guard stiffened to attention. "Sir!" he barked.

Ardan nodded pleasantly and set his thumb against the identity plate. At once, the familiar voice called out, "Ardan! Come in!"

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, setting in place the bar that prevented automatic unlocking. Hanse met him with outstretched arms, and Ardan returned the bear hug fiercely. "I was wrong," he said, as they stepped apart. "I know now that you do only what you have to do. So much has come into focus for me these past months. Forgive me, Hanse."

Hanse Davion was beaming down at him, his ruddy face bright with relief. "Oh, stow it! he said. "Just let me look at you. What happened out there, Ardan?"

It was to be, of course, a very long tale. They sat together before the window that gave a wide view of the land around the eminence where the palace sat. This was a soft country, the cornucopia of this part of the system. Wide fields were edged with walls to prevent erosion. Flocks of birds wheeled overhead.

Ardan sighed with pleasure at the view. "How good it is to be here! I never much liked Argyle before...too quiet and peaceful. But now I can stand any amount of that, and then some more." He turned to his Prince and began the account of all that had recendy happened.

When he fell silent at last, Hanse sat still, staring at him. Ardan could feel his old friend weighing his story, assessing his appearance and his attitude. The Prince had doubtless been advised that Ardan Sortek was mentally ill. Now he had to make his own decision.

Ardan rose and moved to the window. A shuttle was moving downward onto the private port. Messengers or bureaucrats, he supposed. He turned back to Hanse.

"I am convinced that there is a conspiracy of some sort afoot. Why else would I have been allowed to see the double and then to escape? Even Lees thought that escape was suspiciously easy. I suspect that he must have reported that to you."

The Prince rose and came to stand beside him. "I have been hearing many wild things about you," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "But I know you too well. Whatever happened out there, you are quite sane. But someone has done a remarkable job of trying to destroy your credibility. Why? I cannot imagine how anyone could expect to substitute another man for me."

Ardan set his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Your betrothed has quite a head on her young shoulders. She is the one who found the records of former impersonations. She is the one who set me to thinking about the suspicious ease of everything leading to my escape. She is the one who got her mother to lend me a JumpShip. Without that, I could not have hoped to leave Tharkad City without being seen and reported.

"She thought at least one of the doctors in attendance was involved in some way, and particularly asked me to warn you to be careful." Ardan smiled. "I believe that you have linked yourself with a woman who will be a joy to you. And not only politically."

Hanse looked at him quizzically. "A bit in love with her, yourself?" he asked gently.

The thought surprised Ardan. He was fond of Melissa, true, but that particular part of his heart seemed to be already occupied.

"Very fond of her," he said. "But there might be someone else. Some day. When things are suitable."

Hanse chuckled. "I can guess..." he started to say, before being cut off by a disturbance audible even through the thickness of the study door.

"What the...?" He went to the doorway and unlocked the portal, opening it with a jerk. "What on the Great Green Runway is going on?" he demanded. Then Hanse Davion stopped dead, his face turning very pale.

He was looking direcdy into his own eyes.

27

It was not easy for the Archon-Designate to do anything secretly, but Doctor Erl Karns never suspected Melissa's quiet surveillance.

Ardan had left Tharkad City at the dull and dreary tag-end of winter. With the snow too soft for skiing and too deep for hiking, there were few other entertainments left. Nearly everyone in Tharkad was bored and resdess, now that the end of winter's rule seemed so near at hand. And so Melissa's ceaseless, seemingly aimless prowling about the great house of the Steiners did not seem strange. The computer system was, of course, her most valuable ally.

The Steiner library was comprehensive, updated constandy. Data files from every conceivable source poured into its unlimited capacity every day, including personal dossiers for anyone on Tharkad who had any dealing, however remote, with the royal family, the staff, the military, the diplomatic corps, known and suspected criminals, spies, and agents for commerce. There were few things that didn't find their way into that system, sooner or later.

Melissa knew her way around a computer system. She had learned her letters when she was two from such a source, and had been burrowing her way through all manner of exotic, boring, and unusual files ever since. She knew, too, how to cover her tracks after having sought out the dossier on Erl Karns. Not a trace remained on record to reveal that anyone had been asking questions about him.

She had, of course, told her mother what she intended doing. Katrina, loaded down with overseeing the many matters vital to the Commonwealth, had assented without giving the matter a second thought. So it was that when Melissa tapped on her study door early one morning with a hint of spring in the air, Katrina was astonished at the news the young woman brought to her.

"The good doctor Karns has had dealings with our enemies," Melissa told her. "More than once. He was on Luthien for four years, ostensibly to track down a virus that was plaguing the troops Kurita had stationed on Rasel-hague. Some sort of mysterious tropical disease."

"That's reasonable enough," said Katrina. "A doctor investigates many matters. A virus on one world, even an enemy one, can become a threat to many others, if left unchecked."