the warriors' hall. The mixture of fear about what was to come, anger at Jason, and the ache of her injuries had her irritable, wanting to get the whole mess over with so she wouldn't have to think about it any more.

Killian was waiting for her, sitting at the judicial-looking Chief's Bench at the far end of the hall. Some clans had theirs ornamented, to varying degrees, but Alanna's was plain: glossy jet-wood, the only color on it the arms of Alanna's chief.

Dana's heart sank as she realized that Killian was clad in leather as black as his Bench, again relieved only by his arms, rather than the usual warrior-drab. She hadn't known he'd earned that—been acclaimed by his peers as having honor so uncompromising it couldn't be questioned. So much for the lady Arden's—and her own—hope of some clemency, Dana thought. Yet Arden must have known the Alanna was entitled to honor-black…

Urged forward by one of her guards, Dana approached the Bench and, before she could be prompted, knelt. A Sandeman knelt only to the gods and to @'s thakur, if @ had one, but this was a special case; Killian was acting on Jason's behalf, so she had to show him the same degree of respect. She heard a quiet sound of what seemed like approval from the warriors and w'women beginning to gather in the hall, but didn't dare let it reawaken her hopes.

She returned Killian's silent gaze. She would continue to abide by the customs she had tried so long to observe—she still didn't see how she could change that now, whatever the circumstances—but she had decided during the flight that she had done nothing to be ashamed of, and wouldn't act as if she had.

Killian nodded once, then accepted the tape her senior guard handed him and slipped it into a viewer in the Bench. Dana could hear only a murmur from the speaker as he played the tape, but she could see Killian's face clearly, and she had seldom seen such an expression of revulsion. Surely she hadn't done anything disgraceful enough to merit that!

When Killian looked up from the Bench screen, his face was set and grim enough to make Dana shiver. He looked at her steadily for several seconds, then rose and came around the Bench to stand in front of her, gesturing to one of the bystanders.

"Da, Glavniy?" the w'woman who approached said.

"Speak English," Killian said. "Contact the Miklos for me, please, and tell him that a serious question of custom has arisen that must be dealt with immediately. I would like him to call a conference of all available on-planet clan-chiefs as soon as possible, for that purpose."

"May I give him details?"

"Show him the tape I just watched; that will be more than enough."

"Yes, Chief." The w'woman went to the Bench and took the tape, then left.

"Please stand, Ms. Manfredi," Killian said, startling Dana—and startling her even more when he took her shoulders and steadied her as she obeyed. "I regret that I must continue to observe the formalities of treating you as an oathbreaker for the moment; custom, as you have shown you understand, should not be broken easily. But I want you to know that I believe you acted honorably and should not have the kind of death he sentenced you to. I do not feel that honor would permit me to carry out that sentence."

Dana was as stunned as she had been when Jason spoke the formula of dismissal. "Chief—"

He raised a hand to silence her. "What to do about your situation cannot be decided by a single clan-chief, even the chief of the First Clan. But I doubt that you—or I—will be left in suspense long, once the Miklos sees that tape and has called the conference I requested. It should be an hour, perhaps a little less, and in the meantime I will have you made as comfortable as your status permits." He nodded to the senior of her guards. "See to it, Bowie, and bring her to the com room as soon as the conference convenes."

Dana spent most of the next hour wondering what in Chaos was going on, even as she appreciated