was for real,
whereas Kevyn had been acting silly. "Why waste time convincing people that hereditary royalty
needs to be nullified? Just save your breath and wipe out the entire gene pool."
Funny, but Guber didn't want to snap his heels together, activate every self-defense spell
at his disposal, and get it out of there.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to see Epsi again.
And that was the weirdest thing that had happened to him in a long time.
After all, he was a charter member of the Single, Serene and Smokin' Men's Club. It was
one of their core principles that as soon as a member felt any sort of attraction to someone of the
female persuasion, they put as much distance, physical, dimensional or otherwise, between them
and said object of attraction.
Guber had made up that rule.
Of course, he had made the rule before the French Revolution, when it was dangerous in
a lot of different ways to hang around with those hot French chicks. Or any other hot chicks in a
lot of different dimensions. That was the funny--funny weird, not funny ha-ha--thing about
political and social unrest. It spread to multiple dimensions.
In the centuries since then, Guber had grown a little smarter, worked out a lot of
wildness, had a lot of fun, and realized that the female side of fandom and science fiction writing
came up with a lot more fun than the male side. Girls were cool.
Maybe girls didn't have cooties.
Even if they did, he was willing to bet Epsi didn't have any.
"Well, I figure, hanging tight with you is probably the safest place to be, if the Erasers or
anybody who thinks like this is on the hunt. I'm in." He snapped his fingers, bringing his
electronic tablet to him, to start putting together the next phase of his research.
"What I should do is a PR campaign, once Epsi's problem gets cleared up," Kevyn
mused as he brought in a stack of paperwork four inches thick to land on his lap. "We need to
show both sides of the problem that nearly everybody with purple blood wants nothing at all to
do with politics."
"Except for creeps like Theodosius." He sighed. "And that's exactly what the Erasers are
trying to prevent."
"Too bad we can't do genetic screening for the creeps."
* * * *
Theodosius wouldn't lower himself to actually come chase Epsi down, but he did send
one of his flunkies to listen when she reported to her friends about her meeting with Kevyn and
Guber. She had settled down with some of them to dissect the conference in further detail by the
time the flunky came back, with a summons to report directly to Theodosius. She considered for
a moment just ignoring the poor, worn-out looking fellow. Knowing Theodosius, he had
intimidated the flunky into volunteering to accompany him to the holding dimension. Or he had
attacked the poor fellow to the point that the flunky's ear tips were wilting, convincing him that
he deserved all his troubles, and only Theodosius could protect him from dire punishment--if he
kept the former Administrator King in a good mood.
"Sorry, but you can tell my very distant cousin that not only do I want to maintain my
distance, I'm not repeating myself for his benefit," Epsi said, after tossing aside a half dozen
other, more astringent responses. "He keeps forgetting he isn't the king anymore, and he doesn't
have any right or authority to give orders." The flunky went so white all the color bleached out of
his ebony hair and his navy-and-peach cashmere sweater. Pity for him prompted her to say, "Tell
you what, though. I'll ask my advocate to take you on."
"Would you?" The flunky nearly wept. His knees buckled and the color returned to his
hair. His clothes looked only marginally better; a washed-out shadow of the original colors and
pattern. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of Theodosius's cubicle. "Who's going to
tell--"
"Let him find out for himself." Rosamundiana giggled and her eyes sparkled
wickedly.
How Theodosius found out and how long it took, Epsi had no idea, but
whereas Kevyn had been acting silly. "Why waste time convincing people that hereditary royalty
needs to be nullified? Just save your breath and wipe out the entire gene pool."
Funny, but Guber didn't want to snap his heels together, activate every self-defense spell
at his disposal, and get it out of there.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to see Epsi again.
And that was the weirdest thing that had happened to him in a long time.
After all, he was a charter member of the Single, Serene and Smokin' Men's Club. It was
one of their core principles that as soon as a member felt any sort of attraction to someone of the
female persuasion, they put as much distance, physical, dimensional or otherwise, between them
and said object of attraction.
Guber had made up that rule.
Of course, he had made the rule before the French Revolution, when it was dangerous in
a lot of different ways to hang around with those hot French chicks. Or any other hot chicks in a
lot of different dimensions. That was the funny--funny weird, not funny ha-ha--thing about
political and social unrest. It spread to multiple dimensions.
In the centuries since then, Guber had grown a little smarter, worked out a lot of
wildness, had a lot of fun, and realized that the female side of fandom and science fiction writing
came up with a lot more fun than the male side. Girls were cool.
Maybe girls didn't have cooties.
Even if they did, he was willing to bet Epsi didn't have any.
"Well, I figure, hanging tight with you is probably the safest place to be, if the Erasers or
anybody who thinks like this is on the hunt. I'm in." He snapped his fingers, bringing his
electronic tablet to him, to start putting together the next phase of his research.
"What I should do is a PR campaign, once Epsi's problem gets cleared up," Kevyn
mused as he brought in a stack of paperwork four inches thick to land on his lap. "We need to
show both sides of the problem that nearly everybody with purple blood wants nothing at all to
do with politics."
"Except for creeps like Theodosius." He sighed. "And that's exactly what the Erasers are
trying to prevent."
"Too bad we can't do genetic screening for the creeps."
* * * *
Theodosius wouldn't lower himself to actually come chase Epsi down, but he did send
one of his flunkies to listen when she reported to her friends about her meeting with Kevyn and
Guber. She had settled down with some of them to dissect the conference in further detail by the
time the flunky came back, with a summons to report directly to Theodosius. She considered for
a moment just ignoring the poor, worn-out looking fellow. Knowing Theodosius, he had
intimidated the flunky into volunteering to accompany him to the holding dimension. Or he had
attacked the poor fellow to the point that the flunky's ear tips were wilting, convincing him that
he deserved all his troubles, and only Theodosius could protect him from dire punishment--if he
kept the former Administrator King in a good mood.
"Sorry, but you can tell my very distant cousin that not only do I want to maintain my
distance, I'm not repeating myself for his benefit," Epsi said, after tossing aside a half dozen
other, more astringent responses. "He keeps forgetting he isn't the king anymore, and he doesn't
have any right or authority to give orders." The flunky went so white all the color bleached out of
his ebony hair and his navy-and-peach cashmere sweater. Pity for him prompted her to say, "Tell
you what, though. I'll ask my advocate to take you on."
"Would you?" The flunky nearly wept. His knees buckled and the color returned to his
hair. His clothes looked only marginally better; a washed-out shadow of the original colors and
pattern. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of Theodosius's cubicle. "Who's going to
tell--"
"Let him find out for himself." Rosamundiana giggled and her eyes sparkled
wickedly.
How Theodosius found out and how long it took, Epsi had no idea, but
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