Giles Og in thirty years — except that he did not expect to live thirty more years. His occupation made that highly improbable.

“I had understood this meeting was to be secret, Majesty,” Dougal said.

King David nodded. “It was and it is. Tell me, my lord, how many of your secret police do you have outside?”

Malcolm Dougal said nothing. The king nodded again. “And as I knew you would not let me come here alone, I saw no harm in bringing a few guardsmen as well. Trustworthy guardsmen.”

“And Sir Giles?” Malcolm asked.

“He’s the reason for the meeting. Malcolm, the budget’s no good. Sir Giles must have more money or the administration is going to collapse.”

“Raise taxes,” Dougal said.

Sir Giles’s voice was quite clear and steady, unlike his appearance. His orator’s voice and timing had been a major reason for his rise through Parliament. “I cannot in good conscience ask for higher taxes, my lord. We have the highest taxes in our history at this moment. Yet, between the wars, the mysterious expedition to-” He hesitated over the name. “To Makassar, and the growing amounts the secret police absorb, more than half the kingdom’s revenues have vanished. With such high taxes we should not have financial problems — but we do. I must know why.”

“No, “Malcolm said.

“I think we must tell him,” the king said.

“Sire! Your promise-”

King David shrugged. “I gave you my word, Malcolm. I won’t break it. Here, let’s sit down and end the formalities. There’s a lot to talk about. Get us a drink, will you, Sir Giles?”

King David sat in a rustic armchair before an open fire and waved the others to join him. He was not large, and although his features were handsome in shape and design, his face had been disfigured by an early disease, so that the gentlemen of the bedchamber had their work cut out before public appearances. He had not bothered with makeup for this meeting. The small scars gave him a rugged appearance, adding to his look of determination.

“His Majesty has told me nothing,” Sir Giles said. He brought small glasses and a bottle of grua and set them on a table near the king’s chair. “He told me only that it is vital to the realm that the large sums spent by your office continue.” Sir Giles paused. “I am a loyalist, and I appreciate the necessity for police to consolidate our new acquisitions, but I am not prepared to pay for my own enslavement, by the crown or by anyone else.”

Dougal laughed. “I do not have in mind enslaving the citizens of Haven, Sir Giles. Quite the opposite—”

“You will pardon my saying that as we do not know where the money goes, we have no evidence of your intentions—”

“The work is vital to the entire planet,” King David said. “My word on it.”

“And mine,” Dougal added.

“Not enough,” Sir Giles said. “Not enough at all.”

“I see.” Dougal regarded the Prime Minister coldly. “Neither my word nor the king’s is good enough—”

“Of course not.” The older man lifted his glass. “Your health.” They drank. “I am loyal to the dynasty, but I am also loyal to the Constitution. If you cannot entrust me with your secrets, I belong not in the government but in opposition.”

“Sir Giles has brought his resignation,” the king said.

“I see.” Dougal stared into the crackling fire. Without Sir Giles the coalition supporting the government would collapse. The coalition was needed.

Or was it? Could the king rule without a government? Malcolm dismissed the thought sadly. The secret police were efficient, but they would be unable to hold on against an enraged populace. The rights of Parliament had been easily won from King David’s father, but won easily or not they would not be lightly surrendered.

And government by terror would never produce what Prince Samual’s World needed.

Would anything?

Malcolm quickly reached a decision. “I’m going to tell you a story, Sir Giles. After you’ve heard it, you will never be far from one of my men. If you ever betray us—”

“Spare me your threats.”

“They are not threats. I hoped to persuade you not to ask to hear.”

Sir Giles sat quietly for a moment. “I almost believe you have a good reason for what you’re doing—”

“I do.”

“But I will not give up the Constitution for an unknown reason. Tell your story. But I promise you only that I will keep your secret. I do not promise to help in whatever-”

“You’ll help once you know,” Dougal said. “My only problem is knowing where to begin.” He stared into the fire. “In King John’s time Haven became the largest single state on Samual. He consolidated a number of petty princedoms and city-states, and it looked for a while as if the old dreams of a single government on this planet would be realized. But the next step was Orleans, and the Orleanists wouldn’t join. The wars went on. Eventually we developed new industries, and unification looked possible again. Except that everything was wasted on wars. Every effort at conquest of the Orleans Republic failed.”

“We nearly had them beaten,” King David mused. “One more campaign—”

“Almost,” Sir Giles said. “Until that damned Colonel MacKinnie of theirs beat us at Blanthern Pass. Iron Man MacKinnie — my lord, I am familiar with our history. What has this to do with the budget? Orleans is our duchy now—”

“It is our duchy because the Imperials came and their Marines helped us defeat Orleans,” King David said quietly.

Malcolm nodded. “Precisely. The Imperials allied with

Haven, and they are helping us establish a unified government on Samual. There’s nothing on the planet that can stand up to their weapons.” He laughed bitterly. “So after ten generations of dreaming about it, we’re getting unification handed to us.”

“But we’re getting it,” Sir Giles said. “More slowly than I like.”

“It goes slowly and it costs money,” Dougal said. “Both for a reason.”

“Yes.” The young king’s voice was hard. “Our goal is to unify the planet, not enslave it. The Imperials will do that soon enough.”

“Sire?” Sir Giles carefully set his glass on the table. “The Imperials are Haven’s ally. How can they enslave us? They’ve fewer than fifty people on the planet.”

“Allies.” Dougal was contemptuous. “Everyone assumed they would be allies, Sir Giles. And they did help us with Orleans. But my agents have found out why they did. They intend to use us to unify the planet, then bring in colonists from other worlds. Traders. Petty bureaucrats who want to be aristocrats and who’ll become our nobility. We will have damned little say in that government.”

The Prime Minister was silent for a long moment. The only sounds came from the forest, and from the popping of the logs in the fireplace. “I would not have thought it of them,” he said finally. “The Navy officers do not act like conquerors. They do not seem such villains.”

“They’re more dangerous than villains.” Dougal spoke rapidly now. “They’re fanatics. The Imperial Navy intends to unify the human race so it can never again fight an interstellar war. If they have to kill off half of mankind to justify Lysander’s title as ‘Emperor of Humanity’ they’ll do it.”

“Just as we were willing to unify Samual by conquest,” David said.

“I see that well enough,” Dougal said. “I know what motivates them. The same goal motivates me. If I’d been an Orlean citizen I hope I’d have had sense enough to see that unification was necessary, and worked to gain some status in the union. Which is what we must do for Samual within the Empire.” The policeman’s voice rose in angry tension. “And by God we’ll outwit them yet!”

Sir Giles leaned forward. “What — what are you doing? We can’t fight the Empire—”

“No. The best we have couldn’t win a single battle,” Dougal said. “But despite that, we can be our own masters yet. They have laws, Sir Giles. They have a Constitution. We can exploit that. One of their rules is that worlds that have space travel enjoy a far higher status than those that don’t. Worlds with space travel control their own domestic affairs, and have representation in the Imperial Parliament—”