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the Human Constellation ever discovered it.
    “Perhaps I could answer some of your questions,” he said, “and spare you the trouble of researching me through acquaintances.”
    “That’s very kind,” Batty said, “but it’s not my method. I do all the research first, then speak to the subject last.”
    Speak to the subject , Maijstral thought. He wondered if corner the victim might be more appropriate.
    The Haydn quartet drew to a close, the Bubber sawing away with evident enjoyment. There was scattered applause, and then the sound of the dinner gong. With relief, Maijstral bowed toward Roberta.
    “May I take you in to dinner?”
    “I believe Will is taking me in,” Roberta smiled. “But you may take in Aunt Batty, if you like.”
    “A pleasure,” Maijstral said, and felt rather like the condemned man taking a stroll with his executioner.
    Loud hosannas began to sound as Maijstral and Batty entered the dining room. Startled, Maijstral looked up to discover a music loft above the door, with an entire choir singing away.
    “I’d no idea we were going to be so honored,” Maijstral said. “A chorus and a quartet.”
    “Oh,” Batty said, a bit offhand, “we hear this every night. His highness supports a full complement of musicians and singers.”
    That, Maijstral reflected, was where adroit politics would get you. Joseph Bob’s family had gained their initial wealth and tide through energetic support of the Khosali Empire; and their riches and renown had only increased in the last few generations, since they’d been early and distinguished supporters of the Great Rebellion.
    Once Maijstral’s family had commanded wealth and station nearly equal to that of the Princes of Tejas. Unfortunately Maijstral’s grandfather had been a far more fanatic supporter of the Khosali Empire even than most Khosali, and the family fortune had waned along with the fortunes of the Empire. Until a few years ago Maijstral had spent his life scurrying from one hideaway to another, the bill collectors just behind.
    Fortunately burglary, once you reached Maijstral’s level, paid well. And now that Maijstral had signed a number of endorsement contracts, it looked as if he’d never lack for funds again.
    Maijstral helped Aunt Batty to her chair and sat in his own, between Batty and Roberta, half-expecting at any second to hear the crash of doors and the tramp of jackboots as Colonel-General Vandergilt marched in with a warrant for his arrest for some crime he had neither committed nor even heard of. But nothing happened, so he turned to the Bubber, seated on the other side of Roberta, and said, “Perhaps, in thanks for your music, I might offer a little amusement of my own. Perhaps you could send a footman for a deck of cards.”
    *
    Card tricks alternated with supper courses. Maijstral thought he performed well, though the sight of Roberta’s bare shoulders next to him was a constant, if perfectly agreeable, distraction.
    Maijstral squared his cards and paused in his patter while the dessert course was brought in—Tuscan-style leaping clouds, light and frothy, with warm jugs of coffee liqueur sauce. The Bubber poured sauce on his dessert and picked up his spoon.
    “If you’ll pardon me, your grace,” Maijstral said, rose in his chair, and reached across Roberta’s plate to plunge his fingers into the Bubber’s dessert. Princess Arlette gasped. The Bubber seemed at a loss for a response. “Would this be your card?” Maijstral asked, and raised the three of crowns from the Bubber’s plate. Little dessert-cloudlets rained from the card, but it was perfectly recognizable.
    “Yes!” the Bubber gasped.
    “Another dessert, if you please,” Maijstral told the footman. “And another deck of cards—this one is soiled.” He showed the card to the others, and there was a round of applause, feet tapping the floor in the pattern for “surprise and appreciation.”
    Maijstral wiped his fingers and the card with his napkin and