Ilan Potestas tapped a black brogued foot to the music with his guests on all sides — far, far outnumbering his body guards. He felt impatient. Ignatius Varian had slipped through Ilan's fingers all night, and he was fighting the temptation to command one of his security to bring Varian by force.

Leander was at his back, in a much smarter three-piece suit than the one Louis had given him, which looked about a century out of style, and the tower's uniformed guards were never far, wearing matte midnight blue to avoid drawing the eye.

He was detained again by toasts to his long life and survival until he remembered he didn't care about successfully completing the social valediction drinking ritual, and he broke straight through his company at the merest hint of Varian's purple coat tails disappearing between black suit backs.

He and Leander were closing in, cornering Varian in the corner opposite the elevators when Cristo popped up. "Boss—" he started.

"Cristo, good, you can help," said Ilan. "Between the three of us we should be able to trap him."

"Trap him?"

"Yes. You flank on the right, Leander on the left. I'll catch him in the middle."

"We're hunting Ignatius Varian?"

"He's running," said the boss. "I don't see how else to catch him."

"Okay," said Cristo, and he stalked off to the right, a mild smile betraying his incredulity.

Leander went left, but Varian had plenty of obstacles to sneak around, meandering guests, some of them ballroom dancing, and waiters avoiding stepping on toes in a desperate effort to be of service.

The boss passed between them all, as if they parted out of his way, and Varian's eyes darted left to right for an escape. Ilan wondered if he was about to break every social rule into a run to get away.

That would be hilarious.

Varian noticed Leander coming for him and went the other way straight into Cristo, but when "Julian Somnare" approached with loud, polite pleasantries, Varian didn't run away — he slowed to talk, social constraints appropriately in place, even if it meant the boss caught him.

By the time Ilan got there, Cristo was corralling his prey with conversation. "If only our perception of the passing of time was altered, it really must have been President Solin's doing," Cristo was saying. Then he turned to Ilan to invite him into their exchange, but Ilan was done playing games and making conversation.

"Let's have a drink in my office," said the boss. Leander appeared on Varian's other side.

Varian rubbed his hands together and said, "I think I've had enough drinks, boss. It's early—"

"A coffee," said Ilan. Behind Varian's back, Ilan opened a link through which was a closed office door, and when he nodded to it Varian spun on the spot, hesitated but didn't look back, and entered in front of Leander.

On the other side, the office door swung open as if inviting them in, and the boss and Leander came through, leaving Cristo to scamper off happily back into the crowd. Two uniformed security guards had been posted outside the office door. It closed.

The office, located in the hovering penthouse, was enormous, with an enormous wood conference table, and three guest armchairs. Behind the desk was a view of the snowy night from the penthouse, visible through a permanent link, as if it were a window.

The boss withdrew a box of cigars from a drawer in the desk and offered one to Varian. He selected one for himself and it was lit the instant it reached his mouth.

Ilan made sure Varian had a moment to think about that — cigar unlit between his lips — before lighting it for him. In Potestas Tower, Ilan had the power of the stars, and other powers besides; Varian had nothing.

"Explain to me why you were planning to betray President Solin. Before she was assassinated."

Varian took a puff of his cigar and said with uncharacteristic courage, "Betrayal? What's the point of an election if I don't have the right to choose who to vote for? In the past I've voted for other candidates."

"But never Justin Marius."

"I've voted on his side for a number of policies. I think he's really grown into his leadership position at Constellation. This is his year. It's not a betrayal."

"It is if you were coerced to cast the president out of office, or worse, if you were paid to."

Varian fumbled the lit cigar so badly on its way to his mouth that he burned his right hand and had to grab it with both. The blistering hand on its way to his mouth, he said, "Paid? Paid to — no, you've got it all wrong." Ilan leaned back in his seat with the deep suspicion that Ignatius Varian didn't want him to believe the denial.

He looked petrified. On purpose.

Perhaps to make the boss believe he was lying — that Justin Marius in fact was paying him — he launched into an incredible cover up that could be discovered in minutes, and Ilan happened to be prepared to debunk it in seconds. Varian squirmed and spouted, "They took my wife, my children! What could I do? I already lost Julia, my first wife; now my family is all I have."

He did look pale.

"There is a billiards room on the other side of the bar lounge. Your second wife, Odelia Varian, and your three sons, Max, Regus and Quintus, are playing pool. Regus's fiancee, Alba, is with them. My staff says she's carrying a child. Tragic. Don't worry about your family. Potestas Tower security will watch them."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lied," said Varian. Ilan got the sense he wasn't done lying. "The truth is complicated, I'm worried you won't believe me. The truth is that Marius has been working on my loyalty for years, slowly infiltrating my own security, the staff in my home — I found out that, believe it or not, every hire I've made in the past three years is on Marius's payroll, they're all his! I have no protection, my security are murderers who have all of my door keys."

"Ignatius," the boss said, "I know why you lied, and it's not because the truth is complicated. If that were the truth, you would have led with it. There's nothing honorable about betraying the empire to save yourself, but it's not worth covering up with a story. You're lying because he offered you something. There is shame in dooming the empire with your own greed. What did he offer you?" Ilan met his eyes across the table and waited.

But Varian wasn't done squirming yet. "Maybe I liked the platform," he said.

Ilan stood up and hammered both palms into the conference table. "Which platform is that? The one that divides the empire into two levels with staggeringly different qualities of life — or the one that gives board members permission to murder, blackmail and intimidate electors to make it that way?"

"I just want my family to be on the right side of the divide."

"What did he offer you?" Ilan asked again.

"I lost my Julia to one president's crackpot experiments; I don't want to lose everything. A single person can make magic reality and the empire can go ahead and rise or fall at his or her whim."

"What did he offer you?"

"N-nothing," said Varian. Ilan threw his cigar into the ashtray on the desk. Sparks flew. There was a secret Varian was worming all over the place to keep to himself. It shattered Ilan's patience into embers and ashes like the smoldering cigar on the desk.

Still towering over Ignatius Varian where he quivered in his seat, Ilan shouted and his eyes blazed. "You pathetic man. You idiot. I thought you would be reasonable." Making every effort to come off as unhinged, he stabbed his finger toward Varian's face and said, "You're going to regret that you weren't." A small square link shot into being, angled to reflect both his face and Varian's pale, horrified one. Before the recipient answered the call, Ilan said, "My security have your family in their sights. An instant from now you will regret being unreasonable for the rest of your healthy eternal life."

From his round eyes and rod straight spine, Varian understood.

A number of countable seconds passed before Varian shouted, "No!" and he stood up so he could pace the office while he stalled, having a think.

"Your hesitation speaks volumes," said Ilan. "It must be something very good." He let the comlink wink out of existence and waited for Varian to finally crumble to his knees. "It's telling that the reward is something you would consider trading your family's lives for. And it's a good thing I didn't start out by threatening your own life. You never would have hesitated, and I wouldn't have learned anything — but I can, of course, kill you."

"You wouldn't," said Varian, but his heart wasn't in it. He moped his way back to his chair and fell into it.

"What lines are worth crossing to get what you want, Varian? Yesterday, I never would have considered it. But today everyone seems to be finding out what lines are worth crossing. Some lines are worth crossing, but for what I'm not sure I understand. Today I learned that the company election has been compromised.

"I imagine Justin Marius has extracted magically binding contracts to prevent voters like you from breaking promises. But he didn't have to make one with you, did he? He had something to offer that you would never give up, never even reveal under threat. That's good. If you have no contract with him, there will be no conflict when you make one with me."

"I did make a contract already," Varian said, his eyes flashing.

"This should be interesting, then. What happens to someone makes two conflicting magically binding promises? I love experiments. Tell me what he offered you. I can't let you go without satisfying my curiosity, but you should take this last chance to restore a tiny vestige of my esteem for you."

Varian stared down at the burning nub of his cigar. He didn't see how close it was to burning his fingers. "It must be priceless," said the boss.

A flash of anguish across Varian's face preceded a minute sitting with his mouth partway open and the tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth; what he was about to lose on the tip of it about to tumble out. Ilan really was dying of curiosity. He held still and held his breath out of fear the slightest movement would cause Ignatius to clam up.

When the man spoke he gave so little breath to his voice that the boss heard only the consonants. "He brought Julia back to me," he said, breathed in, and added the still shocked unnecessary addition, "from the dead."

I don't know about you, but I'm finding myself amazed at how much better at this Ilan is than Stephen. Two points Ilan, negative one points Stephen! Thanks you reading Stars Rise, have a good one, and don't forget to vote if you're still having a good time!