Rationing births in this way kept the numbers down, and ensured that the blood was not diluted, that the family bonds stayed as tight as possible. It worked. And if this kept up, Regina saw clearly, then in a few generations there would be nobody here but family, a great mesh of sisters, mothers and daughters, aunts and nieces, a core locked together by insoluble bonds of blood and ancestry, able to cope with the inevitably cramped conditions of the Crypt.

But the system threw up dilemmas, such as now. Brica’s fecund days were over, and a new mother must be found.

“I suggest Agrippina,” Leda said. “Brica’s first daughter,” she went on to note, in case Regina needed reminding. “She has been patient since—”

“Since the day I ruined her life?” Regina cackled again. “I hear the mutterings.”

“Six years,” Venus said, “of coping with one little sister after another. Perhaps it is her turn.”

“No,” said Regina thoughtfully. “Let it be Julia.” Agrippina’s younger sister.

Leda frowned. “Agrippina will be disappointed.”

Regina shrugged. “That’s not the point. Think about it. Let Agrippina be the first of the Order to go through an entire life devoted not to the selfish demands of her own body, not to her own daughters, but selflessly to her sisters. An entire life. She will be a model for others, an inspiration for generations to come. She will be honored.”

Leda and Venus exchanged a glance. Regina knew they didn’t always understand her edicts. But then Regina didn’t always understand them herself.

“All right.” Venus stood up. She was heavily pregnant herself, again, and she winced as she hauled herself to her feet. “But, Regina, you can tell Agrippina—”

A messenger ran into the peristylium, flushed and excited, interrupting the women. Regina had been summoned to the imperial palace.

When she took herself out of Council meetings and the like and just walked around the growing Crypt, it sometimes startled Regina to realize there were already thousands of people involved in the Order, in one way or another.