Thiyyatt tormented him by doing precisely as Tvorh had asked. It was bad enough that he had to unbind her; she was also naked. He'd never been this close to an unclothed woman, and he didn't need the pheromones to feel excited as he pressed the pustules to release the vines binding her wrists and her ankles.

She stepped forward immediately into Tvorh, pressing her body against his. He stepped back and held up a hand as the scent of desire invaded his mind. "No!"

She came forward another step, forcing him back.

"You swore you wouldn't," Tvorh gasped as his mind reeled.

"I lied," Thiyyatt whispered, her sweet voice begging to be honored by being taken.

"Don't." Tvorh whipped out his knife and held it point-first toward her.

Thiyyatt glanced down appreciatively at the point of the weapon, which hovered near her belly button. She nodded and stepped back. The scent of lavender slowly faded. "I had to know."

"Know what?"

"Whether your will truly was strong." She passed around him, went to the parcels on the floor, and drew up a heavy hairsilk robe. She grimaced. "What is this?"

"The finest clothes we have to offer."

"Barbaric," she muttered. "Where are the spider farms?"

"Spider farms?"

"Do you believe I would wear aught but the finest of spider's silk?"

"We don't have spider's silk."

The princess's face twisted into a mask of rage. "Then why did you not choose to leave me naked, rather than dishonor me with this paltry offering?" Thiyyatt screamed, throwing the robe to the floor and stamping on it.

"Fathers of my fathers," Tvorh groaned. "You're worse than my little sisters."

"How dare--"

Years of being both brother and father took over. "Spare me the outrage. Pick up that robe and put it on right now."

"I am not your slave to do as you command."

"No, you're a spoiled brat. And like any spoiled brat, you need to learn a lesson, so pick it up and put it on."

"I should kill you for your insolence."

"I'd like to see you try."

Her hair shifted, whipping together into slender tubes that formed scales and mouths. Tvorh extruded a small ball of naphthgel into his hand.

"I could poison you with a thousand deaths," Thiyyatt growled.

"And you'd get yourself poisoned with the genophage, if I didn't burn you to a crisp first. What's it gonna be, Thiyyatt? Put on the robe or we can do this right here, right now."

Thiyyatt took a menacing step forward.

She was just another bully, and Tvorh had met enough of those in his life. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm sure you've put plenty of people to death for looking at you funny, but those people never had the chance to fight back.

"Me? I lived in the Chasm for most of my childhood. I was twelve when I first gutted a guy for trying to steal a hunk of my sister's bread. I killed six men before I even got my SOPHIOS, not counting the ones I left bleeding out, and every one of them was bigger than me and stronger than me. You don't scare me, Thiyyatt. You're a stupid little girl."

"You would dare raise a hand against me?"

Tvorh held up his palm and displayed the naphthgel ball stuck to it. "One word from my SOPHIOS and this thing lights into a ball of flame. You're the one who thinks my Bond is as strong as yours. So you decide."

Thiyyatt blinked several times. The snakes on her head unraveled back into hair. "I will do as you ask, low-born, high-blooded Tvorh."

"Good choice."

To Tvorh's relief, Thiyyatt slipped the robe over her head. "And the food?" she asked cautiously, as if expecting to be disappointed, as she pulled up the lid of the basket.

"It's what we have to offer."

"What is this?" She held up a small, soft cube.

"Mycoprotein. It's there to restore you. I know how bad the Verdant Hold can get after a few days. Don't worry, it's not the only thing we're feeding you. It's temporary."

Thiyyatt held it out between two fingers, considered it warily, and then put it into her mouth. "Disgusting," she said as she chewed.

"It's everything the body needs. There are plenty of people here who live on mycoprotein and krill. Just be glad that we brought you meat, too."

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"Good. My Wisdom claims that I am deficient in iron at this moment." Thiyyatt seated herself next to the basket.

"Your SOPHIOS tells you stuff like that?"

"Yours does not?" Thiyyatt replied around the mycoprotein cube.

"Not usually, no."

Thiyyatt gave him a look of disbelief. "You are truly barbarians. How am I to restore the dynasty of Imperatrix Lunja with servants such as these?"

"We aren't your servants."

"Not yet, perhaps." Thiyyatt fished in the basket and drew out a portion of red meat wrapped in wide green leaves. "Low-born, high-blooded Tvorh, tell me: who rules in this new barbaric world?" She put the slab of meat on her lap.

"Well, we're not... we don't have a single Imperator."

"What is this 'Gens Nethress' of which you speak?"

"It's my adopted family group."

"I know that." Thiyyatt rolled her eyes disdainfully. "We had our own Gentes in my time. Does yours rule?"

Tvorh rifled his memory of books he'd read and tutoring he'd received for more details. "Some places. There are a lot of different Gentes. Right now, there are fourteen major ones, but, say, three centuries ago, there were twenty-three majors. And three hundred years before that, there were nine."

"And these Gentes rule based on blood, no doubt."

"Well, yeah. They're families."

"Not simply bloodline, Tvorh, but fitness of blood as well. The SOPHIOS, yes?"

Tvorh nodded. "The major Gentes are the only people who can regularly afford SOPHIOS treatments."

"The Wisdom, you mean."

"Right. The Wisdom."

"And so these major Gentes rule by their fitness for the Wisdom."

"Sure."

"Carried in their blood."

"Sure."

"And yet I have not scented a single one of them who bears even the slightest sliver of fitness compared to me. The scarlet woman's Wisdom is nine tenths dead. The girl--what is her name? The one I eviscerated."

Tvorh boxed in his anger at the cavalier statement. "Senrii."

"Yes. Senrii. Her Wisdom is little better. Tell me, low-born, high-blooded Tvorh, are there any among your people with a Wisdom that even approaches the strength of yours?"

"Uh."

"This sound is not an answer."

Tvorh shrugged. "No. I'm pretty strong. I don't know why."

"Because though you were low-born, Tvorh, you are high-blooded. The genes that you bear inside you make you most fit to rule. And I? I am most fit as well." Thiyyatt smiled triumphantly at Tvorh.

"You think that you deserve to rule because of the strength of your Wisdom."

"You have just told me that this is the way of your people." Thiyyatt stroked the wrapped parcel of meat on her lap. "Your Gentes use the Wisdom to maintain their power. As did the Gentes of my world."

Did everyone Tvorh met need to be a power-hungry maniac? "You'd fit in perfectly with Gens Nxtlu."

"This means nothing to me."

"All you have to know is that it's not a compliment."

Thiyyatt leaned back onto her palms. "Why not? What is unique to this Gens Nxtlu, that they would be so wise as to agree with what I said?"

"They believe in survival of the fittest. With themselves at the top, of course, and anyone who disagrees with them slaughtered. All of humanity exists to serve them."

"Ha! Pathetic."

"But you just said--"

Thiyyatt placed the meat aside, rose fluidly, and spun in place, arms outstretched. "I do not need to prove my fitness to rule. My Wisdom already does so. When Imperator Misibsen put down the Ten-Thousand-Uprising, did he put them to the sword merely to prove his own worth?"

"What did he do?"

"He rehabilitated them, of course. They became his most fervent supporters because of his graciousness. Tvorh, everything that a human being is, everything that a human being can be, may be constructed. Beauty. Ruthlessness. Strength, both of mind and of body. Even conviction and love. All of these may be granted to man."

"Through direct gengineering, you mean."

"When necessary. Your world is most fallen if this has become a taboo. How many millions could be strengthened to the fullness of humanity otherwise?"

Tvorh shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

"If your Gentes have not spent these past centuries finding a way around the danger, they are cowards. A true ruler has no fear that his subjects will rise against him."

At last, here was an opening. "We'd like to do better, Thiyyatt," he said. "We'd like to fix the genophage."

"But?"

Tvorh hated to bow and scrape. Thiyyatt rubbed him the wrong way, but if this was what it would take to get her help, he'd do it. "But we can't without more knowledge. We know your people were working on a cure, but your Wisdoms were stronger than ours."

"Oh, low-born, high-blooded Tvorh." Thiyyatt leaned over like a teacher looming above a foolish student. "Did nobody ever teach you that the surest way to ask a favor is to ensure your interlocutor believes it to be her idea?"

Tvorh leaned back, staring up at Thiyyatt. "What?"

"You drew me so close to the request," Thiyyatt said. "Almost to the door of the palace. And then, when the handle was in my grasp, you ripped my hand from it to open the door yourself." Thiyyatt clucked. "You are lucky I am forgiving." She waved a hand. "Go on. Make your clumsy request."

"We want your help in finding a permanent cure for the genophage. A vacc--"

"Done." Seeing the look of surprise on Tvorh's face, Thiyyatt added, "I do not intend to live the rest of my life in this cell. My needs align with yours."

As Tvorh watched in shock, Thiyyatt strode to the door. "I will require full access to all synthesis facilities you can provide, of course. If my people, in the brief period after they bound me through time and before they died, could not find an answer to the disease, then it will not come quickly. Also, I require one of these Chimeras you describe. Tests are necessary."

She wanted access to the whole libraratory? Tvorh couldn't promise that. "I'll have to ask the princeps."

Thiyyatt rounded on him, her face suddenly contorted in rage. "Did they send you to bargain with me or not? Do you have the authority or not? My help in exchange for my freedom!"

The door dilated open. "Agreed," Princeps Dorsin said from the other room, turning from the graphene monitor he'd been using to watch Tvorh. He nodded at Thiyyatt. "I am Magus Princeps Dorsin Generosus Ortus Nethress. You tried to slay my daughter."

"A misunderstanding, Princeps," Thiyyatt said.

"Come. Let us speak."

Thiyyatt strode right past him out of the room. "Of course. Our task beckons. Let us set ourselves to our labors." She paused, not turning back, and raised a long-nailed finger. "Tvorh will be my interface to your Gens. My...assistant in this endeavor." Even though she faced away from him, Tvorh could sense her smile. "He pleases me."