ble experience treating
hangovers."

With that, the group of Kins broke up and began circulating. Thompson
took a hearty drink from the mug he held, while the rest of the team
took advantage of the Count's offer, accepting mugs of their own from
the waiter. Not at all to his surprise, he saw that all of them had
fang marks on their throats; when Nkomo lowered his mug, Thompson
indicated the marks. "How was it?"

Nkomo rubbed the marks, grinning. "It was great, sir--like nothing
I've ever felt before. I'm going to do it again, as often as they'll
let me." He gestured resignation. "Not as often as I'd like, but the
one who fed on me says they don't take chances on their donors' health;
even if I dose with rapid-heal, which I intend to, I'm not allowed to
donate more than once every four tendays. What they call a Class Four
Donor."

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 Th