"In themselves, no," Kainor admitted. "But those are only the most obvious of the qualifications. Another is that they must have no close personal ties, including family; that eliminates many possible candidates. All have applied for and been accepted by the main Imperial Military Academy at the Palace Complex, though none has remained there much beyond Test Week. And all, needless to say, are intensely loyal." His ears twitched, this time in irritation. "I am positive there are other qualifications; as I said, I have been unable to discover the actual criteria, which are known perhaps only to the Sovereign and Rangers themselves." Thark held back a growl. "I understand that--still, can you deduce from what data you do have why there are no Irschchan Rangers?" Kainor shook his head slowly. "Not with any degree of confidence," he said. "The only possibility I find marginally sound is that Irschchans who have the requisite abilities also have Talent, meaning they join the Order rather than entering Imperial service." "I suppose that is possible," Thark said thoughtfully. "If you are correct, the lack of Irschchan Rangers will soon be rectified. You will have to find out all the requirements as soon as possible, however. Important as Talent is to one in such a position, they will need the other, lesser, talents as well." II Corina woke with a splitting headache, the characteristic aftereffect of being hit with a neural stunner. Groaning, she opened her eyes and found herself in what, except for the straps holding her in place, was a fairly comfortable, if too large, armchair. A Terran in Marine black service dress uniform sat behind a large metal desk, holding a blaster aimed casually in her direction. Her soul-blade lay beside his left hand. She suppressed the rage she dared not show at that sight. It had been bad enough earlier, when the Sanctioner had taken her blade, but at least he had been an Irschchan and understood its significance. To a Terran, it was nothing but a simple dagger, with no more personal meaning than a kitchen knife. Not that they could understand, she thought, forcing herself to calm. They had no Talent, no way to sense the owner's mind-pattern, impressed on the blade at an Irschchan's coming-of-age ceremony. She could retrieve it telekinetically--that part of her Talent was weak, but the blade was hers--then decided quickly against that idea. The man holding the blaster did not look like the type to tolerate any misbehavior from his prisoner, and she had no desire to test her estimate of his character. He gave her a few seconds to evaluate the situation before he spoke. "Okay, you're awake. Now tell me what the hell that was all about." "He was trying to kill me," Corina replied. "We guessed that much," the Terran said. "I want to know why." "May I know who you are?"