"I'm not sleeping with my guards." And I wasn't. Not yet, anyway, and it would only be one of them if I did. My voice was now sullen.

"I know you're not," Teeg dropped onto the bed next to me. "Reah, I don't care if you sleep with someone else, as long as you love them and they aren't taking advantage of you. I just want to protect you, sweetheart. Gods, you're so young." He pulled me against him.

"If I'm too young, why did you marry me?"

"Now see, you're already learning to twist my words." He lifted my face for a quick kiss. "You're not too young for me to love you." His mouth quirked into a grin.

"Sounds like contempt to me." I struggled to escape his grip.

"Reah, hush." Teeg's arms tightened about me. "Trust me, there is nothing I have for you except love. I wish there was some way I could get that message through so you'd understand it."

"Sure." I struggled in his arms again. Teeg was strong—more so than he looked, and he looked quite strong. There were things that he still didn't know about me. Things that I didn't know how to tell him, if the time ever came when I could tell him.

"Shhhh," Teeg gathered both my hands in one of his, kissing them before holding them against me to keep me still. "Now is a perfect moment, Reah. We're together, and nobody is asking us to do anything. You're safe in my arms, my love." The teardrop fell before I could stop it or wipe it away. Safe? Even in Teeg's arms I didn't feel safe. I didn't feel safe anywhere. Not as long as I belonged to the ASD. Vice-Director Lendill Schaff would use me as much as he could, even when I didn't have the background or experience to be where I was, doing what I was. I shuddered and wept.

Alcohol didn't have as much of an effect on Teeg as it might on others. He sat at the kitchen island and drank anyway. "Mind if I join you?" Tory walked into the kitchen.

"Glasses are over there," Teeg jerked his head toward a cabinet. Tory pulled one out and sat down nearby. Teeg poured out the bourbon. Tory downed his glass in one swallow. Teeg poured more bourbon. "Any advice on how to deal with women?" Teeg asked, topping off his glass.

"None," Tory replied, downing his second glass.

"We'll be back before you know it," Arvil blustered. I don't know why he even bothered. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I turned away from Teeg, knowing I'd probably start crying again if I looked at him. Ry and Tory flanked me as Astralan and his brothers prepared to fold the rest of us to Zephili.

Folding is always so fast, and I knew as soon as my feet landed on a polished wood floor that it might be a while before I got to see Teeg again. I had my comp-vid communicator in my bags, but that was small consolation. Avilepha, I will be with you, Tory reassured me. I knew that, but how closely would Arvil be watching us? A servant came and bowed to Arvil and the Hardlows. The rest of us barely got a glance. He was small, pale-skinned and dressed in white linen, this servant. He was also dangerously close to blending with the wall color.

"I am Master Grish's private assistant," he informed us. "Master Grish is waiting—please follow me." Farzi was beside me, Nenzi on the other side while Ry and Tory came behind. I didn't miss the frown that tugged at Farzi's mouth as we followed Grish's assistant.

Were the others prepared for Grish? I know I wasn't, but I was hidden behind taller people, so the widening of my eyes wasn't seen. Grish was pale, ancient and shrunken. Every bit of exposed skin was wrinkled beyond imagining. Staring was rude, so I turned to Farzi. His face was set in a frown—he didn't like Grish at all. If Farzi had problems with this one, it was probably a good idea to be wary.

I also saw why Grish hadn't come to greet us himself—he sat on a wheeled chair with a high back. It was motorized and heavy—I couldn't see his personal assistant pushing Grish around in it. Wispy strands of colorless hair were combed away from Grish's face, and he appeared cadaverous to me. A monkey-like creature sat on the arm of Grish's chair, and the creature operated the controls, moving Grish's chair from one place to another.

"So, Arvil San Gerxon, you bring your business partners with you? Don't think I fail to recognize Wilffox and Wilffin Hardlow," Grish spoke. "If you think I will charge less for the use of my fields because they present a danger to me, then think again. You are on my world and I am not without resources." Grish's voice was breathless with the effort to speak and his eyes were nearly lost in his face, they were so sunken. Those eyes darted back and forth, now, watching Arvil and the Hardlows closely. He should have been watching the warlocks instead. The moment three more men folded into the room, attempting to throw some wizardry or other around us, Astralan and Stellan had them fried to a crisp. They screamed as they died; I watched in helpless horror as their bodies turned to ash and disintegrated before us. Nenzi and Farzi each gripped one of my arms as I struggled to hold back a scream. Arvil and the others barely spared a blink as Grish's wizards died quickly. At least Astralan and Stellan had enough power to kill swiftly.

"Don't send threats against us—I assure you we've survived for a very long time with the help of our warlocks," Wilffox informed a cowering Grish. "Now, we can have a civilized meeting and perhaps come to some arrangement, or we can fry you where you sit and take what we want instead. Personally, I have no desire to run Zephili—I just need the use of your fields for a few full turns."

"I expect to be compensated well," Grish whined. As first meetings went, this might be the worst I'd ever seen or been a part of. Farzi was now as close to me as he could get on my left, Nenzi was hugged up against my right side and Tory was nearly holding me up from behind. Ry stood close enough that he'd be included in our shield, as would the other reptanoids, I noticed. A small question niggled at me, but I didn't have time to dwell on it right then—Arvil and the Hardlows were engaged in a standoff with Grish of Zephili.

"We will inspect your fields tomorrow, to see if they are suitable. We will compensate you if we find them so, Grish." Arvil waved a hand as if that would make his words true. I didn't hold much hope that Grish might survive if Arvil found the fields too much to his liking. "May we hope you still have your bribes in place with the Alliance?"

Arvil's question stunned me and Tory put a hand on my shoulder. Warning me, no doubt, not to make a sound. I didn't—I knew better. We were in a dangerous game and the stakes had just been raised. I hoped Ry or Tory were busy sending mindspeech to Lendill. My brain had gone into frozen overload and I wasn't sure I could have sent anything at that moment.

Lendill? The Vice-Director was receiving mindspeech from Rylend Morphis in the middle of the night.

Ry, this had better be good, Lendill opened one eye, determining that it was still three clicks before dawn.

Maybe—Arvil San Gerxon just asked Grish of Zephili if he still had his bribes in place with the Alliance.

Ry, if you'd thrown ice water in my face, I might have wakened more slowly. Lendill was now sitting straight up in bed.

Yeah—it got our attention too. I think Reah is catatonic, right now.

Do you have any names?

Not yet, Lendill, but we'll send information if we get it.

Ry—do your best, you and Tory—make sure Reah isn't too scared to speak. Aurelius said she was crying, she was so scared when he talked to her. That isn't what I meant to happen.

Lendill, what were you doing when you were nineteen?

Raising hell in school—why?

Reah wasn't prepared for this. She worked in a kitchen all her life until now. And just because she managed to kill off a few spawn on Mandil, you put her in the middle of this. Tory complains about it every day. At least that man she married isn't bad—he seems to care about her. If he didn't, I don't think he'd live long after this is over. Ry wasn't mincing words with the Vice-Director.

I know. Look, I'll try to make it up to her, somehow. Just—do your best to smooth things over, all right?

I'll do what I can, but Grampa Wylend already asked me to look out for her. You don't turn down Grampa Wylend.

I would imagine not. Lendill's sending was dry. He didn't think too many people managed to defy a request from the King of Karathia. Ry cut off the communication and Lendill, now wide-awake, stood up and went to turn the light on over his desk. He'd received a message from his father three days earlier. He hadn't heard from Kaldill Schaff in years. Wondering why he was getting a message now, Lendill punched in the private code to contact his only living parent.

Kaldill stood in his kitchen on Wyyld. Not long ago he'd learned to bake bread. He enjoyed it now—getting out of bed early to set the dough to rise. He hadn't needed much sleep in a long while. If Lendill hoped to wake him, he'd failed. Kaldill smiled brightly as his son's face appeared on the comp-vid screen. "Lendill, you finally choose to return my call?"

"Father." Lendill nodded respectfully.

"I suppose you want to know what I want?" Kaldill was still smiling.

"Yes, father, that's why I contacted you." Lendill knew not to trust the smile; Kaldill could have the worst news and would still be smiling at his son.

"Ah, well," Kaldill employed power to settled the comp-vid on the wall before his face so he could keep working and still speak with his son.

"Well, what?" Lendill had never had the patience the others of his race did. He was only half-elven, after all. He'd wondered through the years just what it was that convinced his father to have a child with a humanoid. Lendill looked human, but his father had pronounced him immortal the moment he was born. Another of Kaldill's talents, Lendill now knew. Lendill would have died long ago if he hadn't been immortal. He just didn't get any other gifts from his father's race. Lissa, who was very powerful, had given him mindspeech. He still hadn't told Kaldill about that, else his father would be contacting him in that way—quite often, more than likely.