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I drew the lists Andres had given me from a pocket and studied them. On the topmost sheet were thenames of the first-year cadets. The name of Regis Hastur was at the bottom, evidently added somewhatlater than the rest. Damn it where was Regis? I checked the list of second-year cadets. The name of Octavien Vallonde had been dropped from the rolls. I hadn't expected to see his name, but it would haverelieved my mind.

On the staff list Father had crossed out his own name as commander and written in mine, evidently withhis right hand, and with great difficulty. I wished he had saved himself the trouble. Gabriel Lanart-Hastur, Javanne's husband and my cousin, had replaced me as second-in-command. He should have had thecommand post. I was no soldier, only a matrix technician, and I fully intended to return to Arilinn at

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the end of the three-year interval required now by law. Gabriel, though, was a career Guardsman, liked it and was competent. He was an Alton too, and seated on Council. Most Comyn felt he should have been designated Kennard's heir. Yet we were friends, after a fashion, and I wished he were here today, instead of at Edelweiss waiting for the birth of Javanne's child.

Father evidently saw no discrepancy. He had been psi technician in Arilinn for over ten years, back inthe old days of tower isolation, yet he had been able afterward to return and take command of the Guards without any terrible sense of dissonance. My own inner conflicts evidently were not important, oreven comprehensible, to him.

Arms-master again was old Domenic di Asturien, who had been a captain when my father was a cadetof fourteen. He had been my own cadet-master, my first year and was almost the only officer in the Guard who had ever been fair to

me.

Cadet-master-I rubbed my eyes and stared at the lists; I must have read it wrong. The words obstinatelystayed the same. Cadet-master: Dyan-Gabriel, Lord Ardais.

I groaned aloud. Oh, hell, this had to be one of Father's perverse jokes. He's no fool, and only a foolwould put a man like Dyan in charge of half-grown boys. Not after the scandal last year. We hadmanaged to keep the scandal from reaching Lord Hastur, and I had believed that even Dyan knew hehad gone too far.

Let me be clear about one thing: I don't like Dyan and he doesn't approve of me, but he is a brave man

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and a good soldier, probably the best and most competent officer in the Guards. As for his personal life,

no one dares to comment on a Comyn lord's private amusements.

I learned, long ago, not to listen to gossip. My own birth had been a major scandal for years. But thishad been more than gossip. Personally, I think Father bad been unwise to hustle the Vallonde boy awayhome without question or investigation. Part of what he said was true. Octavien was disturbed, unstable,he'd never belonged in the Guards and it was our mistake for ever accepting him as a cadet. But Fatherhad said that the sooner it was hushed up, the quicker the unsavory story would die down. The rumorshad never died of course, probably never would.

The room was beginning to fill up with uniformed men.

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Dyan came to the dais where the officers were collecting, gave me an unfriendly scowl. No doubt he hadexpected to be named as Father's deputy. Even that would have been better than making himcadet-master.

Damn it, I couldn't go along with that Father's choice or not.

Dyan's private life was no one's affair but his own and I wouldn't care if he chose to love men, women orgoats. He could have as many concubines as a Dry-Towner, and most people would gossip no more andno less. But more scandal in the Guards? Damn it, no! This touched the honor of the Guards, and of the Altons who were in charge of it.

Father had put me in command. This was going to be my first command decision, then.

I signaled for Assembly. One or two late-comers dashed into their places. The seasoned men took theirranks. The cadets, as they had been briefed, stayed in a corner.

Regis wasnt among the cadets. I resented bitterly that I was tied here, but there was no help for it.

I looked them ail over and felt them returning the favor. I shut down my telepathic sensitivity as much as I could-it wasn't easy in this crowd-but I was aware of their surprise, curiosity, disgust, annoyance. It alladded up, more or less, to Where the hell is the Commander? Or, worse, What's old Kennard's bastarddoing up there with the staff?

Finally I got their attention and told them of Kennard's misfortune. It caused a small flurry of whispers,mutters, comments, most of which I knew it would be unwise to hear. I let them get through most of it,then called them to order again and began the traditional first-day ceremony of call-over.

One by one I read out the name of every Guardsman. Each came forward, repeated a brief formula ofloyalty to Comyn and informed me-a serious obligation three hundred years ago, a mere customaryformality now-of how many men, trained, armed and outfitted according to custom, he was prepared toput into the field in the event of war. It was a long business. There was a disturbance halfway through itand, escorted by half a dozen servants in Hastur livery, Regis made an entrance. One of the servantsgave me a message from Hastur himself, with some kind of excuse or explanation for his lateness.

I realized that I was blisteringly angry. Fd seen Regis des-

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perate, suicidal, ill, prostrated, suffering some unforeseen aftereffect of kirian, even dead-and he walked in casually, upsetting call-over ceremony and discipline. I told him brusquely, "Take your place, cadet," and dismissed the servants.

He could not have resembled less the boy who had sat by my fire last night, eating stew and pouring outhis bitterness. He was wearing full Comyn regalia, badges, high boots, a sky-blue tunic of an elaboratecut. He walked to his place among the cadets, his head held stiffly high. I could sense the fear andshyness hi him, but I knew the other cadets would regard it as Comyn arrogance, and he would suffer forit. He looked tired, almost ill, behind the facade of arrogant control. What had happened to him lastnight? Damn him, I recalled myself with a start, why was I worrying about the heir to Hastur? He hadn'tworried about me, or the fact that if he'd come to harm, I'd have been in trouble!

I finished tbe parade of loyalty oaths. Dyan leaned toward me and said, "I was in the city with the Council last night. Hastur asked me to explain the situation to the Guards; have I your permission tospeak, Captain Montray-Lanart?"

Dyan had never given me my proper title, in or out of the Guard hall. I grimly told myself that the lastthing I wanted was his approval. I nodded and he walked to the center of the dais. He looks no morelike a typical Comyn lord than I do; his hair is dark, not the traditional red of Comyn, and he is tall, lean,with the six-fingered hands which sometimes turn up in the Ardais and Aillard clans. There is said to benonhu-man blood in the Ardais line. Dyan looks it.

"City Guardsmen of Thendara," he rapped out, "your commander, Lord Alton, has asked me to review the situation." His contemptuous look said more plainly than words that I might play at being in command, but he was the one who could explain what was going on.

There seemed, as nearly as I could tell from Dyan's words, to be a high level of tension in the city,mostly between the Terran Spaceforce and the City Guard. He asked every Guardsman to avoidincidents and to honor the curfew, to remember that the Trade City area had been ceded to the Empireby diplomatic treaty. He reminded us that it was our duty to deal with Darkovan offenders, and to turn Terran ones over to the Empire authorities at once. Well, that was

fair enough. Two police forces in one city had to reach some agreements and compromises in living

together.

I had to admit Dyan was a good speaker. He managed, however, to convey the impression that the Terrans were so much our natural inferiors, honoring neither the Compact nor the codes of personalhonor, that we must take re-sponsbility for them, as all superiors do; that, while we would naturally preferto treat them with a just contempt, we would be doing Lord Hasrur a personal favor by keeping thepeace, even against our better judgment. I doubted whether that little speech would really lessen thefriction between Terrans and Guardsmen.

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I wondered if our opposite numbers in the Trade City, the Legate and his deputies, were laying the lawdown to Space-force this morning. Somehow I doubted it.

Dyan returned to his place and I called the cadets to stand forward. I called the roll of the dozenthird-year cadets and the eleven second-year men, wondering if Council meant to fill Octavien Vallonde'sempty place. Then I addressed myself to the first-year cadets, calling them into the center of the room. Idecided to skip the usual speech about the proud and ancient organization into which it was a pleasure towelcome ifeem. I'm not Dyan's equal as a speaker, and I wasn't going to compete. Father could givethem that one when he was well again, or the cadet-master, whoever he was. Not Dyan. Over my deadbody.

I confined myself to giving basic facts. After today there would be a full assembly and review everymorning after breakfast. The cadets would be kept apart in their own barracks and given instructions untilintense drill in basics had made them soldierly enough to take their place in formations and duties. Castle Guard would be set day and night and they would take it in turns from oldest to youngest, recalling that Castle Guard was not menial sentry duty but a privilege claimed by nobles from time out of mind, toguard the Sons of Hastur. And so on.

The final formality-I was glad to reach it, for it was hot in the crowded room by now and the youngestcadets were beginning to fidget-was a formal roll call of first-year cadets. Only Regis and Father's youngprotege' Danilo were personally known to me, but some were the younger brothers Or sons of men Iknew in the Guards. The last name I called was Regis-Rafael, cadet Hastur.

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There was a confused silence, just too long. Then down the line of cadets there was a small scuffle andan audible whispered "That's you, blockhead!" as Danilo poked Regis in the ribs. Regis' confused voicesaid "Oh-" Another pause. "Here."

Damn Regis anyhow. I had begun to hope that this year we would get through call-over without havingto play this particular humiliating charade. Some cadet, not always a first-year man, invariably forgot toanswer properly to his name at call-over. There was a procedure for such occasions which probablywent back three dozen generations. From the way in which the other Guardsmen, from veterans to oldercadets, were waiting, expectant snickers breaking out, they'd all been waiting-yes, damn them all, andhoping-for this ritual hazing.

Left to myself, rd have said harshly, "Next time, answer to your name, cadet," and had a word with himlater in private. But if I tried to cheat them all of their fun, they'd probably take it out on Regis anyway. He'd already made himself conspicuous by coming in late and dressed like a prince. I might as well get onwith it. Regis would have to get used to worse things than this in the next few weeks.

"Cadet Hastur," I said with a sigh, "suppose you step forward where we can get a good look at you.

Then if you forget your name again, we can all be ready to remind you."

Regis stepped forward, staring blankly. "You know my name."

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There was a chorus of snickers. Zandru's hells, was he confused enough to make it worse? I kept myvoice cold and even. "It's my business to know it, cadet, and yours to answer any question put to you byan officer. What is your name, cadet?"

He said, rapid and furious, "Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Has-tur-Elhalyn!"

"Well, Regis-Rafael This-that-and-the-other, your name in the Guard hall is cadet Hastur, and I suggest you memorize your name and the proper response to your name, unless you prefer to be addressed as That's you, blockhead" Danilo giggled; I glared at him and he subsided. "Cadet Hastur, nobody's going to call you Lord Regis down here. How old are you, cadet Hastur?"

"Fifteen," Regis said. Mentally, I swore again. If he had made the proper response this time-but how

could he? No

one had warned him-I could have dismissed him. Now I had to play out this farce to the very end. The look of hilarious expectancy on the faces around us infuriated me. But two hundred years of Guardsman tradition were behind it "Fifteen what, cadet?"

"Fifteen years," said Regis, biting on the old bait for the unwary. I sighed. Well, the other cadets had a right to their fun. Generations had conditioned them to demand it, and I gave it to them. I said wearily, "Suppose, men, you all tell cadet Hastur how old he is?"

"Fifteen, sir," they chorused all together, at the top of tfaeir voices. The expected uproar of laughter finally broke loose. I signaled Regis to go back to his place. The murderous glance he sent me could have killed. I didn't blame him. For days, in fact, until somebody else did something outstandingly stupid, he'd be the butt of the barracks. I knew. I remembered a day several years ago when the name of the unlucky cadet had been Lewis-Kennard, cadet Montray, and I had, perhaps, a better excuse-never having heard my name in that form before. I haven't heard it since either, because my father had demanded I be allowed to bear his name, Montray-Alton. As usual, he got what he wanted. That Was while they were still arguing about my legitimacy. But he used the argument that it was unseemly for a cadet to bear a Terran name in the Guard, even though a bastard legally uses his mother's name.