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surprise, the High Leader did not answer immediately. “That, of course, is why I am here. Succession, as it were…”
    “Something you will never have.”
    As if she had said nothing, Cornelian went on. “Something that is very important to me. And something only you can help me with.”
    “I’d rather die.”
    “I won’t make the obvious joke,” Cornelian said, seeming to come back to himself; it occurred to Tabrel suddenly that he might be drugged.
    “All told,” Cornelian went on, “I would never give you the chance to end your life the way your father did. He was a remarkable man, in many ways,”
    “And you murdered him.”
    “Gave him the chance to murder himself. His love for you was very great. It is something I would like to … understand.”
    Now Tabrel was sure the insect man was drugged; but in a moment the High Leader had cleared this point up.
    “I have come from a Period of Darkness, Tabrel, and in it, for the first time in a long time, I have thought of something beyond the immediate. I am a strong man, and I will not fail, but there comes a time when every man, even the strongest, must think of the … future…”
    “I told you, you will never get what you want from me.”
    “That is not true. But I wish to make it … pleasant for you. And then I would make certain … accommodations.”
    Tabrel glared at him.
    Cornelian gave a horrid simulacrum of a cunning smile. “I will be plain. If you were to … help me, I will return you to your present husband—”
    Tabrel shuddered.
    The High Leader chuckled. “I realize that Jamal Clan has little left to recommend him. After all, he is limbless save for one arm, and Titan, his planet, is no longer there for him to rule.”
    “I was married to him on paper only,” Tabrel replied sadly, “and even that was forced.”
    “You have pity for him?”
    “Love, no—but pity yes …”
    Cornelian said, “Then I will … dispose of him, if you wish—”
    “No!”
    “It was only a suggestion, Tabrel. There are other ways he could be … pushed aside.”
    “The marriage would be upheld in court.”
    Cornelian chuckled again. “I control the courts on Mars.”
    “In my own heart, I would still feel bound.”
    “Even though your father never gave his consent?”
    “It would be wrong at this point to do otherwise.”
    “How sad,” Cornelian said, mocking pity. “It must be terrible to have a conscience. However, I would abide by your wishes. My other suggestion was that I would agree to reunite you with Dalin Shar.”
    Tabrel’s cheeks flushed.
    “You are interested in the proposition?”
    “I must not see him again; not while Jamal lives.”
    “Then, as I said, Jamal will cease to live—”
    “No!”
    “Truly a horrible appendage, this conscience. For it is obvious that your heart lies with King Shar of Earth; and yet you will do nothing to help him. Ah, well, then perhaps you will feel nothing when I crush his army, and his planet …”
    “You cannot do that!”
    “But I will! It is already planned! Unless, of course …”
    Tears streamed from Tabrel’s eyes, and hot anger filled her; she balled her fists beneath the satin sheets and thick quilts and she pushed against her invisible bonds, wanting nothing more than to spring from this bed and rend the horrid insect leering before her apart with her bare hands.
    “For his sake, I would … accommodate you,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
    “I must say, you are not attractive when you are angry,” Cornelian said—but there was a hint of triumph in his languid tone. “And, if you truly do agree with my plans, I will vow to take no action against Earth and young Shar. It is an itch that I can allow to go unscratched, for your sake.”
    He moved closer, and now Tabrel was subjected to his examination at close range. Even through the invisible containment field, she could smell the light, acrid odor of the oils that lubricated Cornelian’s fittings; there was also a