Florian had been working the Filly and teaching her for months—had even gone so far as to make a skill tape, patched himself up with sensors from head to foot while he put the Filly through every move she could make, and kept a pocket-cam focused right past her ears—all to teach herhow to keep her balance and how to react to the Filly's moves. It was as close to riding as she had come until today. It felt wonderful.

Uncle Giraud said, being uncle Giraud, that tape had real commercial possibilities.

Florian brought the Filly back quite nicely, to a little oh and a little applause from the kids—which upset the Filly and made her throw her head. But she calmed down, and Florian climbed down very sedately and held the reins out to her.

"Sera?" he said. Ari took a breath and walked up to him and the Filly.

She had warnedeverybody to be quiet. It was a deathly hush now. Everyone was watching; and she so wanted to do things right and not embarrass herself or scare anyone.

"Left foot," Florian whispered, in case she forgot. "I'll lead her just a little till you get the feel of it, sera."

She had to stretch to reach the stirrup. She got it and got the saddle and got on without disgracing herself. The Filly moved then with Florian leading, and all of a sudden she felt the tape, felt the motion settle right where muscle and bone knew it should, just an easy give.

She felt like crying, and clamped her jaw tight, because she was not going to do that. Or look like a fool, with Florian leading her around. "I've got it," she said. "Give me the reins, Florian."

He stopped the Filly and passed them over the Filly's head for her. He looked terribly anxious.

"Please,sera, don't let her get away from you. She's nervous with all these people."

"I've got her," she said. "It's all right."

And she was very prudent, starting the Filly off at a sedate walk, letting the Filly get used to her being up instead of Florian, when for months and months she had had to stand at the rail and watch Florian get to ride—and watch Florian take a few falls too, figuring out what nobody this side of old Earth knew how to do. Once the Filly had fallen, a terrible spill, and Florian had been out for a few seconds, just absolutely limp; but he had gotten up swearing it was not the Filly, she had lost her footing, he had felt it—and he had staggered over and hugged the Filly and gotten back on while she and Catlin stood there with their hands clenched.

Now she took the Filly away from him, for the Filly's really public coming-out, and she knew Florian was sweating and suffering every step she took—knowing sera could be a fool; the way Catlin was probably doing the same, knowing if anything went wrong it was only Florian stood a chance of doing anything.

She was fourteen today; and she had too much audience to be a fool. She was amazingly sensible, she rode the Filly at a walk and kept her at a walk, anxious as the Filly started trying to move—no, Florian had said: if she tries to break and pick her own pace, don't let her do that, she's not supposed to, and she's bad about that.

Florian had told her every tiny move the Filly tended to make, and where she could lose her footing, and where she tried to get her own way.

So she just stopped that move the instant the Filly tried it, noteasy, no, the Filly had a trick of stretching her neck against the rein and going like she was suddenly half-G for a few paces: she was glad she had not let the Filly run the first time she was up on her; but the Filly minded well enough when she made her.

It was not, of course, the show she wanted to make. She wanted to come racing up at a dead run and give everyone a real scare; but that was Florian's part, Florian got to do that: shegot to be responsible.

She passed her audience, so self-conscious she could hardly stand it—she hatedbeing responsible; and uncle Denys was probably still nervous. She came around to where Florian was standing by the rail, and stopped the Filly there, because he was walking out to talk to her.

"How am I?" she asked.

"Fine," he said. "Tap her once with your heels when she's walking, just a little. Keep the reins firm. That's the next pace. Don't let her get above it yet. Don't ever let her do it if you don't tell her."

"Right," she said; and started the Filly up, one tap, then a second.

The Filly liked that. Her ears came up, and she hit a brisk pace that was harder to stay with, but Ari found it. Her body suddenly began to tape-remember what to do with faster moves, found its balance, found everything Florian had given her.

She wanted to cut free, O God, she wanted to go through the rest of it and so did the Filly, but she kept that pace which the Filly found satisfactory enough and pulled up to a very impressive stop right in front of Andy and Catlin. The Filly was sweating—excitement, that was all; and stamped and shifted after she had gotten down and Andy was holding her.

Everyone was impressed. Uncle Denys was positively pale, but he was doing awfully well, all the same.

Amy and the rest wanted to try too, but Andy said it was best not to have too many new riders all at once: the Filly would get out of sorts. Florian said they could come when he was exercising the Filly and they could do it one at a time, if they wanted to.

Besides, Florian said, the best way to learn about horses was to work with them. The Mare was going to birth again and they were doing two completely different genotypes in the tanks; which would be seven horses in all—no longer Experimentals, but officially Working Animals.

Of which the Filly was the first. Ari patted her—good and solid: the Filly liked to know you were touching her; and got horse smell all over her, but she loved it; she loved everything; she even gave uncle Denys a hug.

"You were very brave," she said to uncle Denys when she did it, and on impulse, kissed him on the cheek and gave him a wicked smile, getting horse smell on him too. "Your favorite guinea pig didn'tbreak her neck."

Uncle Denys looked thoroughly off his balance. But she had whispered it.

"Even her inflections," he said, putting her off hers. "God. Sometimes you're uncanny, young woman."

ix

"That's it," Justin said as the Cyteen election results flashed up on the screen, and: "Vid off," to the Minder. "Khalid."

Grant shook his head, and said nothing for a long while. Then: "Well, it's a crazy way to do business."

"Defense contractors in the Trade bureau, in Finance."

"Reseune has ties there too."

"It's still going to be interesting."

Grant bowed his head and passed a hand over his neck, just resting there a moment. Thinking, surely—that it was going to be a long while, a longwhile before either of them traveled again.

Or thinking worse thoughts. Like Jordan's safety.

"It's not like—" Justin said, "they could just ram things through and get that nationalization. The other Territories will come down on Reseune's side in this one. And watch Giraud change footing. He's damned good at it. He isDefense, for all practical purposes. I never saw a use for the man. But, God, we may have one."

x

It was one of the private, privateparties, weekend, the gang off from school and homework, and the Rule was, no punch and no cake off the terrazzo areas, and if anybody wanted to do sex they went to the guest room or the sauna, and if they started getting silly-drunk they went to the sauna room and took cold showers until they sobered up.