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even worse than a commoner in such august surroundings. "Commander Birkenhead was promised a knighthood," the sitting Lord of the House of Dyolov declared in the formal motion. "And he'd surely have received it by now if he hadn't been so busy leaving footprints on Imperious Prime! So let us not permit mere formality to stand in the way of preventing the soon-to-be Sir David from enjoying one of the privileges of nobility that he's so richly earned!" The vote was unanimous, there was more cheering as I was seated next to Lord Robert (who was representing our House as James hadn't arrived yet)…
     
    …and then they adjourned for the day! Even my uncle voted to take the afternoon off!
     
    "Why on earth…" I sputtered as my uncle and I walked side-by-side out of the Hall of Nobles. "I mean… There's so much to do!"
     
    My uncle smiled. "You don't understand, David. The work day is just beginning, and we're actually starting early. Today's business will consist largely of maneuvering to take maximum advantage of your unexpected arrival."
     
    I blinked. "But… I don't even have a vote."
     
    "That doesn't matter in the least," he assured me. "Pay close attention as I make the introductions."
     
    And sure enough, he was right! Every House was granted a little suite of offices that all fronted on the same long corridor. The location of these offices had been locked in long ago, back when the relative circumstances of their owners were far different. Kandoro's suite, for example, was located just a few steps away from the Hall of Nobles, while my uncle and I had to walk almost a quarter-mile. Every five steps, I was required to stop and shake someone's hand. "Excellent work, David!" the least-offensive of these individuals declared, patting me on the back heartily—and making sure with a little subtle pressure that I turned to face the House photographer who was standing right there to record the moment for the serfs back home. Others, however, praised me effusively in front of vid-cams, and two insisted—insisted!—on holding the broom-pennant high over their heads and waving it back and forth.
     
    Then there were the endless questions. "How does it feel to be back?" practically everyone wanted to know. "Absolutely miserable," I felt like answering after the twentieth inquiry, and it wouldn't have been so far from the truth. But there were dozens of other questions as well, most of which I had no business answering and the rest of which were nosey as could be. "How close exactly were you to His Majesty?" one Lord demanded. He was in a position roughly corresponding to that of Uncle Robert—representing his brother's interests until the true House-Lord could arrive. "Did he ever say anything about what he really thought of James to you? How about my nephew Raphael? Was he ever mentioned?"
     
    I stuttered and stammered for a moment, then my uncle interceded for me. "Give it a rest, John!  Raphael is at best tenth in line, and you know it. Besides, David's just back from a long, trying mission. He hasn't even unpacked yet! Have a little decency, won't you?"
     
    To my surprise the other Lord burst out laughing—later I learned that he'd shared a wardroom with my uncle for almost a decade. "You can't blame me for trying, Bob. Now can you?"
     
    Then there were the angry ones who smiled through gritted teeth. Two of the Houses earned much of their income via the shipping trade—their planets were congruent with many of the most strategic locations throughout the kingdom, the places with large clusters of easily-accessible jump-points. Lord Dunbar spoke for both. "You destroyed over thirty enemy ships, son? Well, congratulations! But… What's to keep the Imperials from playing the same game?"
     
    I'd thought that one through early on, even before ordering Richard camouflaged as a merchantman. "The fencibles, sir! We can convoy our ships far more cheaply than the Imperials can, because we've got at least a three year