As such, it poked deeper than any gibe. "Um, yeah. I'm on my way downtown. The Royal Museum has an exhibit about the Distorts of Khelm....I'mnot a problem. I look quite old enough to be in-phase." That last was true. Jirlib wasn't as big as Brent, but he already had the beginning of paternal fur showing through the slits of his jacket. But Viki wasn't going to let him off that easily. She jabbed a hand in Gokna's direction: "So what is this? Your pet tarant?"

Little Miss One-Upness smiled sweetly. Jirlib's whole aspect was a glare. "You two are walking disaster areas, you know that?" Exactly how had Gokna fooled Jirlib into taking her along? The question sparked real professional interest in Viki. She and Gokna were by far the best manipulators in the whole family. That was why they got along so badly with each other.

"We at least have a valid academic reason for our trip," said Gokna. "What's your excuse?"

Viki waved her eating hands in her sister's face. "We're going to see the snow. That's a learning experience."

"Hah! You just want to roll in it."

"Shut up." Jirlib raised his head, took in the various bystanders back at the express stop. "We should all go home."

Gokna shifted into persuasion mode: "But Jirlib, that would be worse. It's a long walk back. Let's take the bus to the museum—see, it's coming right now." The timing was perfect. An express had just turned onto the uphill thoroughfare. Its near-red lights marked it as part of the downtown loop. "By the time we get done there, the snow fanatics should be back in town and there'll be an express running all the way back home."

"Hey, I didn't come down here to see some fake alien magic! I want to see the snow."

Gokna shrugged. "Too bad, Viki. You can always stick your head in an icebox when we get home."

"I—" Viki saw that Jirlib had reached the end of his patience, and she didn't have any real counterargument. A word from him to Brent, and Viki would find herself carried willy-nilly back to the house. "—uh, what a fine day to go to the museum."

Jirlib gave a sour smile. "Yeah, and when we arrive we'll probably find Rhapsa and Little Hrunk already there, having sweet-talked security into driving them down direct." That started Viki and Gokna laughing. The two littlest ones were more than babies now, but they still hung around Dad nearly all the day. The image of them outsmarting Mother's security team was a bit much.

The four of them maneuvered back to the edge of the crowd, and were the last to board the express....Oh well. Four really was safer than two, and the Royal Museum was in a safe part of town. Even if Dad caught on, the children's evident planning and caution would excuse them. And for all the rest of her life there would be the snow.

• • •

Public expresses were nothing like the cars and airplanes that Viki was used to. Here everyone was packed close. Rope netting—almost like babies' gymnets—hung in sheets spaced every five feet down the length of the bus. Passengers spread arms and legs ignominiously through the web-work and hung vertically from the ropes. It made it possible to pack more people on board, but it felt pretty silly. Only the driver had aproper perch.

This bus wouldn't have been crowded—except that the other passengers gave the children a wide berth.Well, they can all shrivel. I don't care. She stopped watching the other passengers, and studied the cross streets streaming past.

With all the work going on underground, there were places where street repairs had been neglected. Every bump and pothole set the rope netting asway—kind of fun. Then things smoothed out. They were entering the poshest section of the new downtown. She recognized some of the insignias on the towers above them, corporations like Under Power and Regency Radionics. Some of the largest companies in the Accord wouldn't even exist if it weren't for her father. It made her proud to see all the people going in and out of those buildings. Dad was important in a good way to many people.

Brent swayed out from the rope netting, his head coming close to hers. "You know, I think we're being followed."

Jirlib heard the quiet words too, and stiffened on the ropes. "Huh? Where?"

"Those two Roadmasters. They were parked near the bus stop."

For a second, Viki felt a little thrill of fear—and then relief. She laughed. "I bet we didn't fool anyone this morning. Dad let us go, and Captain Downing's people are following along the way they always like to do."

Brent said, "These cars don't look like any of the usual ones."

TWENTY-EIGHT

The Royal Museum was at the City Center express stop. Viki and her siblings were deposited on the very steps of the place.

For a moment Viki and Gokna were speechless, staring upward at the curving stone arch. They had done a show about this place, but they had never been here. The Royal Museum was only three stories tall, dwarfed by the buildings of modern times. But the smaller building was something more than all the skyscrapers. Except for fortifications, the museum was the oldest intact surface structure in Princeton. In fact, it had been the Royals' principal museum for the last five cycles of the sun. There had been some rebuilding, and some extensions, but one of the traditions of the place was that it should remain true to King Longarms's vision. The outside sloped in a curving arch, almost like an inverted section of aircraft wing. The wind-run arch was the invention of architects two generations before the scientific era. The ancient buildings at Lands Command were nothing compared with this; they had the protection of deep valley walls. For a moment, Viki tried to imagine what it must be like here in the days right after the sun came to life: the building hunkered low beneath winds blasting at near sound-speed, the sun blazing hell-bright in all the colors from ultra to farthest red. So why did King Longarms build right on the surface? To dare the Dark and the Sun, of course. To rise above the deep little hidey-holes andrule.

"Hey you two! Are you asleep, or what?" Jirlib's voice jabbed at them. He and Brent were looking back from the entrance. The girls scrambled up the steps, and for once didn't have any smart reply.

Jirlib continued on, mumbling to himself about daydreaming twits. Brent dropped behind the other three, but followed close.

They passed into the shade of the entryway, and the sounds of the city faded behind. A ceremonial guard of two King's troopers perched silently in ambush niches on either side of the entrance. Up ahead was the real guardian—the ticket clerk. The ancient walls behind his stand were hung with announcements of the current exhibits. Jirlib was grumbling no more. He jittered around a twelve-color "artist's conception" of a Distort of Khelm. And now Viki could see how such foolishness had made it into the Royal Museum. It wasn't just the Distorts. This season's museum theme was "Crank Science in All Its Aspects." The posters advertised exhibits on deepness-witching, autocombustion, videomancy, and—ta-da!—the Distorts of Khelm. But Jirlib seemed oblivious of the company his hobby was keeping. It was enough for him that a museum finally honored it.

The current-theme exhibits were in the new wing. Here the ceilings were high, and mirrored pipes showered sunlight in misty cones upon the marble floors. The four of them were almost alone, and the place had an eerie quality of sound about it, not quite echoing, but magnifying. When they weren't talking, even the tick of their feet seemed loud. It worked better than any "Quiet Please" signs. Viki was awed by all the incredible quackery. Daddy thought such things were amusing—"like religion but not so deadly." Unfortunately, Jirlib had eyes only for his own quackery. Never mind that Gokna was engrossed by the autocombustion exhibit to the point of active scheming. Never mind that Viki wanted to see the glowing picture tubes in the videomancy hall. Jirlib was going straight to the Distorts exhibit, and he and Brent made sure their sisters stayed right with them.