"Very funny," Saltash chuckled. "Nevertheless, I think you'll find that your discomfiture was all for a good cause."
Brim grinned. "I'll try to remember that the next time some dimbulb tries to broil my back with a blaster. Voot's greasy beard!"
During the next week, in his capacity as Commander of a visiting warship. Brim attended more State receptions than be cared to remember. He also put on weight from all the rich food, in spite of his three-and four-c'lenyt morning exercise runs (the normally sedentary Fluvannians thought him quite mad, and often shouted their opinions as he puffed along the dawn-shadowed streets).
One evening, he and Saltash were at a refreshment center after completing the reception line for still another midweek ball when the diplomat nodded toward the main entrance. "I say!" he exclaimed with obvious interest. "Now there's one I haven't seen before. Simply exquisite!"
Chuckling, Brim turned his head for a glimpse; Saltash seldom missed a well-turned ankle.
Suddenly his heart stopped and he almost dropped his goblet. "Sweet suffering Universe," he gasped under his breath.
"What was that?" Saltash asked, his face taking on a look of consternation. "Wilf, old boy," he said, "you've gone absolutely pale. Are you all right?"
At that moment, a paige's voice called out from the ballroom, "Grand Duke Rogan LaKarn, Absolute Ruler of The Torond, and Grand Duchess Margot Effer'wyck-LaKarn, Princess of the Effer'wyck Dominions."
Brim could only stand dumbfounded, his whole being absorbed by the moment. Once, a thousand years before, Margot Effer'wyck-LaKarn had been his one true love, and he, hers. They met nearly fourteen years previously at a wardroom party aboard old I.F.S. Truculent at the beginning of Brim's military career.
"Intriguing," Saltash mused, peering at Brim with considerable interest. "If I remember correctly, she was forced into a political marriage with LaKarn by Emperor Greyffin IV himself. Usually we keep track of friendships with important people. We should have had notification of one like that."
Brim could only shake his head—all references to his relationship with Margot Effer'wyck had been quashed years ago on direct orders from the palace. While Saltash continued to talk, he watched Margot enter the reception line and turn her face for a moment toward the refreshment area, instantly locking gazes with him. She seemed to falter for a moment, recovered, then continued into the line with a startled expression on her face, As always, her strawberry-blond hair was piled in fashionable disarray, framing a perfect oval face, languid eyes, generous lips, and a brow that frowned when she smiled—as it did while she charmed the Nabob within an inch of his life. She wore a glamorous gown in her favorite shade of apricot that set off her ample figure in a most voluptuous way. A small, snug string of elegant Zenniér pearls shone fashionably at her neck.
Behind the Princess stood Rogan LaKarn, her husband. His body was still hideously twisted after a run-in with Brim years previously. He was dressed in an elegant formal outfit that hid some of the damage, but not all. He turned momentarily with a quizzical frown on his countenance, then met Brim's eyes with a flash of abhorrence.
Brim returned his look with a stony implacability until the once-handsome Baron turned to meet the Nabob himself.
"Doesn't look as if that one much likes you," Saltash remarked. "I take it the two of you have squared off before?"
"It's a long story," Brim growled pointedly; then he let the subject drop.
Wisely, so did Saltash....
Brim found himself busy almost the entire evening, meeting what seemed like half of the Fluvannian population. He and Margot Effer'wyck locked glances a number of times, but one of them always seemed to be busy when the other was momentarily free. At last, however, Zacristy, the League Ambassador, disappeared with LaKarn and a scowling Mustafa IX Eyren through one of the Nabob's secret exits. Immediately, the ball settled into what was clearly a second phase; this one more of relaxed socializing than the spirited political mixing after the reception line. Brim was all too glad to accompany Saltash to the bar for another goblet of Logish Meem.
"Hmm," the diplomat mused, "a private audience, no less. Well, I don't suppose I ought to be surprised. After all, LaKarn is more or less the equivalent of a king back in The Torond, even if he is only a figurehead for the Leaguers."
Brim was about to comment when he felt a hand gently touch his arm. Turning slowly, he felt his heart catch once more. "Margot," he whispered, peering into her liquid blue eyes and hoping his voice wouldn't betray the emotion he felt. Clearly, she had aged. She had lines on her face that he couldn't remember. And at close range, he could see that her figure was considerably more ample than when she specialized in perilous covert missions to League planets. Too, her eyes now showed a muzziness that hadn't been there before the TimeWeed. But for all that, to him she was at least as beautiful as she ever had been, perhaps even more so in her maturity. "Baroness LaKarn," he said calmly as he could, "m-may I present The Honorable George Saltash of His Imperial Majesty's Foreign Service? Sir Saltash, Her Serene Majesty, Princess Margot Effer'wyck of the Effer'wyck Dominions and Grand Baroness of The Torond."
"I am honored, madame," Saltash mumbled, bowing deeply from the waist to kiss her gloved hand.
"As am I, Sir Saltash," she said, narrowing her eyes coolly. "You are well known by my husband's diplomatic services."
"Yes," Saltash said, "I suppose I am." He met her gaze with a steely look that told Brim they may never have met, but clearly each had encountered the other's power at one time or another. The diplomat bowed again, this time with a formal click of his heels. "Princess," he said formally, "Commander Brim: I am summoned for a moment to our limousine."
"By all means, Sir Saltash," Margot purred, extending her hand for another kiss.
For a long time following the diplomat's departure, Brim and Margot stood silently, staring into each other's eyes. Then, as if they had been together only metacycles before, she took his hands in hers.
"Hello, Wilf Brim," she said in her dusky, perfectly modulated voice. "It's been a long time."
"A century, at least," Brim stammered. "H-how have you been, Margot? I mean...."
"Are you asking about the TimeWeed, Wilf?" she asked, her eyes peering all the way to his soul.
Brim nodded silently.
"Nothing has changed, Wilf," she said with almost no emotion. "For addicts, death is the only release. The Weed now keeps me alive."
"You appear to have it a lot more under control than before," Brim observed, recalling more than one time when she had seemed to be almost totally under its influence, tike a drunk.
"I won't need more until morning," she replied. "Increased tolerance permits larger doses—they're cumulative, in case you hadn't heard. It provides me with longer stretches of being human than I had before." She lifted a goblet of Logish Meem from a passing servant's tray and looked thoughtfully into it before taking a sip. "Life is still treating you well?" she asked at some length.
Brim took a deep breath. "Years ago when we met," he said, "I would never have believed how generous Lady Fortune has been to me lately." Then he paused, reminded sharply of the loneliness he had experienced after dancing with Tissaurd, and suddenly it seemed to be time for conversation on any other subject. "How is your son Rogan?" he asked.
"Growing into a young man," she replied, "nearly six. Can you believe it?"
Brim smiled, "I remember when he was born," he said, staring off into the past. "It was the day of the first post-war Mitchell Trophy race."
"You remember well," Margot said with a little smile. "Then I am not completely gone from your life, am I?"
Surprised, Brim peered into her eyes and frowned. "Gone?" he asked, then stared at the floor while he attempted to comprehend her words. "Margot," he continued at length. "There is no way you will ever be gone from my life—at least from my past. Many of my most fond memories center around you."