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."This isn't Camelot," she had said."There'll be no meetings of equals here.Bring me a big, long table, with a big chair at this end."Robin knew it had been a natural mistake for the Titanides.There was a humanway and a Titanide way.They were ignorant of the psychological edgeCirocco sought by sitting at the head.So they had brought a big chair.Sometimes Cirocco sat in it.But more and more lately, it stood empty, and Robin conducted her businessfrom her customary seat at the right of the throne.Others were taking their seats now.Directly across the table, Nova thumped ahuge stack of paper onto the table and slipped into her own chair.She glanced up at her mother, nodded, and then began penciling notes in themargins.The older witch sighed.She wondered how much longer Nova could keep this up.She would speak to her mother.It was possible to conduct business with her.But it was all so careful.There was no laughter, no joking, not even anycomplaints except those couched in the reasoned, maddening language of thebureaucrat.Robin longed for a good old shouting match.She looked at the still-empty chair.Cirocco Jones, flanked by her two chiefadvisors.The Bitch and Two Witches, she had overheard someone say.Most ofthe Council did not realize the rift between mother and daughter.Stuart took his seat to Robin's right.She nodded at him and smiled politely,which was an effort.She didn't like the guy, but he was able, efficient,canny, and brilliant, when it suited him.He was also awfully ambitious.Inanother situation he would be doing his best to stab Robin in the back.Justnow he was biding his time, waiting to see if Cirocco really would relinquishpower at the end of one Earth year, as she had promised.If she did, thefeathers would fly.Trini sat down next to Nova, who leaned over and kissed the Elder Amazon onthe lips.Robin squirmed in her chair.She didn't like Trini much more thanshe did Stuart.Maybe less.It was hard to believe they had once been lovers,briefly, twenty years ago.Now she and Nova were an item.Robin didn't knowhow genuine it was.Nova obviously retained her crush on Cirocco.Robin feltsure part of the reason for their public displays of affection was Nova'sshrewd knowledge that it would irritate her mother.She scowled, and looked away.O brave new world.The other chairs were filling up.Conal took his eccentric seat, a few yardsbehind Cirocco's chair and slightly to one side, where he could watch theproceedings and smoke his cigars one after the other.He would say nothing,and hear everything.Most of the Council hadn't the slightest idea what tomake of him.His position was a device, Robin knew.He had the look of anPage 170ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlassassin about him when he cared to project it.He looked sinister, wreathedin smoke.Cirocco slid into her throne, scooted down on the seat of her pants, and puther boots up on the table.She had an unlit cigar clenched in her teeth."Let's get going, folks," she said."So what's your gut reaction, Conal?" Cirocco asked."Gut?" He considered it."Better, Captain.Not a lot, but better.""Last time you didn't think it was going to work.""So a guy can be wrong."She studied him.Conal bore it, unperturbed.At first he had felt left out.There was a job for everyone, it seemed, butConal.Oh, sure, there was talk of him leading the air force, if and when, andhe had organized the Bellinzona Air Reserve.They wore uniforms if they wantedto.But they didn't fly airplanes, and wouldn't for some time.He had thought he was being left out, and had been hurt about it.Butgradually he had realized that, if Robin was Cirocco's surrogate Mayor duringthose times when the Captain was out of the city on her mysterious errands,Conal was her eyes and ears.His duties were amorphous, which suited him fine.What he did was driftaround, in a variety of clothing.Nobody but Council members and a few of thetop police knew he had anything to do with the governing of the city.He couldcome and go as he pleased, and people talked to him.Everything he heard wentto Cirocco.He didn't have Nova's computer charts or Robin's experience andelaborate theories, but he knew the secrets."What about that black market crap?""I agree with Robin.""Are you trying to needle me, or what? I agree with her, too, but Idon't come to you for theories, Conal.I come to you for reality."Conal was a little surprised at her reaction.Looking closely, he saw she wasunder a great deal of strain."The black market is not the problem Nova's building it up to be.There's not much stuff, and the prices are very high.""Which means," Cirocco said, "that very little food is being diverted at thedocks, and we've still got shortages.So the shortages are real.""Nobody's going hungry.But a lot of folks wish the manna was still falling."Cirocco brooded about that for a while."How about the Buck?"Conal laughed."The word is, a Buck makes a good coffee filter.Use five or ten of them, andwhen you're done the brown stains might be worth something.They're alsouseful rolled up to snort coke with.""Wastepaper, in other words
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