That seemed to be about average, Thompson found. Gottfried was a Class Three, King a Class One, and all the rest were Fours like Nkomo. Also like Nkomo, all of them intended to repeat the experience as often as they were allowed to. "And if you do become a Kin," King told him, "we want you to be the one who feeds from us. Mine said that it's good with any Kin, but best with someone you know and like or respect. And that a custom is developing for a Kin who leads a regular group of Donors to be responsible for taking care of them that way." Thompson raised an eyebrow. "The Kin is responsible for feeding on @'s people?" "Yes, sir. If you'd Donated, you wouldn't be questioning it, either." "Maybe not," Thompson conceded. It did seem to make an odd sort of sense . . . but he didn't care to find out. "That's academic for the moment, though, so let's do what her Ladyship said, and enjoy the party." * * * * * The next morning, Thompson woke feeling hungry. That was something that almost never happened, especially when he'd been drinking the night before; breakfast, for him, was seldom more than a cup of coffee and maybe an English muffin. Well, he knew where the guest dining room was, he told himself, and it was likely that Audra would be eating there; the rest were more likely to eat with the System Security troops in their chow hall. She wasn't there, so Thompson took a small table and began scanning the menu as soon as he'd punched for coffee. That was delivered by a human waiter, not too surprising in a System Palace dining room, and Thompson was giving his order when King walked in. She looked surprised, but joined him at his gesture and ordered her usual Spanish omelet, toast, and coffee. It wouldn't be quite like the same items on any other world, but it was always how she started the day. When their food came and Thompson cleaned his plate, then signalled for a second helping while she was barely halfway through, King gave her commanding officer a quizzical look. "Is everything all right, Cap?" "Fine, as far as I know," Thompson said. "I'm just hungry." "Hungry enough to eat two breakfasts when you normally don't eat any." King frowned. "Cap--did Carlo pull you away before that detective chief got her fangs into you?" "Yes, why?" "Because some of the tapes I dug out--not the ones her Ladyship left for me--say that some susceptibles get hungrier than usual after they've become infected. But if she didn't bite you, you can't be infected." Thompson set down the coffee cup he'd just picked up, an unpleasant thought forming. "I . . . don't know about that," he said slowly. "I may have a nasty mind, but I can't forget that our gracious hostess used to be a field agent." "And field agents don't exactly have the same standards as the rest of the Imperial services." King hesitated. "Cap, you don't think she'd--"