“Hello, Jahon,” Rena greeted him a lull in the proceedings. “Why are you wheeling in a barrel of lobsters?”

  “Because the price has crashed, what with what's happening at the foot of the cliffs. And it seems there's an army of them heading in that general direction. These are basically unsellable on the market, but I helped dad pull up his pots and saw who else was doing the same where we were. So, we know these guys have not eaten anyone. The lobster-fishers have enough to feed their families, and we thought it was just possible that the high council, nobles and their families might want some.”

  “That's a lot of people you've just mentioned.”

  “Yes. I hope they all like lobster. Normally we get two lobsters in five pots, so a string of a hundred pots gets forty lobsters. This barrel is just two pots. Some of them were were hanging on the outside of the pots.” He looked outside, and shouted, “I think we'd better stack them them out there, guys, thanks!”

  “Jahon,” Sashan said, “How many barrels of lobster have you just brought up the hill?”

  “Not really sure. It wasn't quite a cartload. Compliments of the loyal fishing community.”

  Sashan heard his thoughts behind his words: the community had rescued, cherished and married some nobles. Was now a good time to swear in their heirs?

  Sashan looked at Rena.

  “Let them come, and give testimony,” Rena declared.

  “Father,” Jahon said, “Will you lead the way? I'll look after the horse.”

  “All right, lad,” his father replied. “Now, which of you girls is Sashan?”

  “Me,” Sashan replied.

  “My lad's got something he wants to ask you. He thinks it can wait, though.”

  “Dad!” Jahon objected. “The high council is in session!”

  “It'll be in session all week, Jahon.” Sashan said, walking towards him. He noticed that her hair wasn't up, like it had been the previous night, but tonight it was hanging loose except for a single band that kept it from her beautiful eyes. It reached below her waist, and seemed to glow in the lamp light, accentuating her figure.

  “Take him outside, Sashan!” Mari said. “Before he starts fixing any more about you in his mind.” Jahon blushed.

  “I hoped you'd come back,” Sashan said, obeying her friend. “I wasn't expecting the seafood though.”

  “It is our pleasure, high councillor, to share this unexpected bounty,” Jahon's father said. “But please be aware that after this glut comes nothing for years. We will not be catching lobsters or crab again until we can be sure that the ones we are catching have not feasted on human flesh.”

  “There will be more hunger?”

  “There will be less lobster and crab; there will be less money, since lobster and crab are not a staple for most. The price of other fish may rise, since you cannot make bread with fish, or perhaps more deep-water fish will be caught, which means more risks.”

  “Or perhaps the taxes on boats and nets should be adjusted,” Rena said, “The council will pass on your concerns to the politicians who set such rates. But as for issues regarding corruption and the proper use of money, it is the role of the nobles to ask such questions, our role in merely to ensure that such questions get truthful answers. Tell us please, of your claim to the rank of noble.”

  “What did you want to ask?” Sashan prompted Jahon.

  “All sorts of things. Did you know that I'd be speaking in your voice to the lecturers?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “And did you know I'd be remembering your touch and your closeness as I did?”

  “You wanted to remember them.”

  “Will I remember those words and those things until I die?”

  “I... I don't think so. I'm sorry, I was thoughtless, wasn't I?”

  “Were you thoughtless, Sashan? Or was it that you wanted to direct my thoughts in a certain direction?”

  “Do you want to lay a formal complaint against me, Jahon? In my tiredness, in my joy at what I found in your thoughts about me, I interfered in them. I acted wrongly.”

  “I don't want to make a formal complaint, no. But... I want to know, what did you find about my thoughts about other girls? Did you look?”

  “You know what I was looking for, don't you? I wanted to see if you agreed with me about who was struggling to follow God and who was just after a boyfriend.”

  “So you didn't think about the possible rivals you might have?”

  “I heard you comparing some things about me favourably to a couple of girls. I didn't investigate. You want to know if I deliberately manipulated your feelings? Not about them, but... I don't know. Is wearing my hair out since I saw you wondering how long it really was manipulating your feelings? I asked your mind what you wanted to remember. I wasn't thinking of winning points over other girls, I was flattered that you wanted to remember my voice, my scent, and I didn't think about the implications.”

  “So, wanting to win my heart, you did things that you thought would please me?”

  “It makes me sound very flirtatious and manipulative.”

  “I tried to resist, and then I realised something,” he smiled at her.

  “Tell me? I've been trying not to listen to your thoughts now.”

  “I open to you, Sashan.”

  Hesitantly she put her hands to his face, and simply listened.

  She thought he'd be cross, but that wasn't it. He was enjoying her proximity, the touch of her hands, the intimacy of this linking of minds.

  [Do you see?] he asked.

  [No. I'm not digging, I sense your pleasure at this, but I don't know what you want.]

  She sensed his joy at hearing that thought from her, but she was still puzzled.

  So he explained, [I've not shared this with anyone else, Sashan. Only you. I don't want to share it with anyone else. I don't even know what the others feel about me, or how genuine their faith is, but I know you better, and you know me, and you don't reject me, that's something about you that I treasure. I can stand here in your hands with my mind totally at your mercy and I treasure that too. And at least last night or this morning or whenever it was, you were so happy to be treasured by me that you probably made some mistakes. And by the way you've dressed, by the way you've done your hair to please me, I think you still feel happy about the idea of me treasuring you.]

  “Yes. I do.”

  “So as long as that doesn't change, it's not a problem if I remember what your touch felt like the rest of my life is it? Can we plan on spending lots of time together and getting to know each other better?”

  “Not all day every day. For one thing I'm on night duty still and you've got lectures.”

  “Your message of support didn't exactly encourage peace. The lecturers have decided to stand up for their constitutional rights to not have government-appointees in their lecture rooms or research buildings. Admin staff say in that case, core research funds are frozen, and supply orders will be rejected, and lectures cancelled. Academy points out the admin staff don't have the authority to do all of that, and ask the nobility and the high council to investigate what seems like corrupt activity and overstepping of authority and to guarantee that there are no followers of the doom-guard religion in the midst of the admin staff. I also heard that they've formally voted that any academician or lecturer who won't heap scorn on dum-semb is suspended until they face trial. And if anyone tries to force an entry to the labs then the academics are preparing everything from boiling oil to high voltages and concentrated acids and other chemical nasties to repel attacks. But on the plus side, all this gives the head of physics more time to try to get his wife to repent, let me have a good chat with Dad, and then I got about six hours sleep while he was at the market and talking to friends. So both of us will be on night duty too.”

  “It's horrible work, Jahon.”

  “I expect so. I'm still ready to be a stand-in.”

  “And your dad...”

  “His grandma was thrown off a cliff, but survived, rescued by his grandpa. She wasn't the only one, apparently. And Dad decided he didn't trust God when mum died, but he's been challenging Him about dum-semb and my future for the last couple of years.”

  “Praise God!”

  “And thank you, God, for this happy feeling called falling in love.”

  “Yes, God. Thank you for this affirmation of life amongst so much death.”

  Twenty minutes later, having sworn to uphold the constitution and stand firm against the doom-guard and corruption, Jahon faced his first case.

  He read from the card in front of him. “Suspended-from-duty captain Crung, you are still under oath. This member of the high council is here to listen to your thoughts and ensure you do not lie. By your testimony before the high council you were involved in dum-semb, but did not know that it was connected to the doom-guard.”

  “Exactly,” the captain said.

  “You now know that dum-semb is the religion of the doom-guard.”

  “You say it is.”

  “You have heard the historic description of the religion of the doom-guard. Are there discrepancies between that and your experience of dum-semb?”

  “Yes. I was never part of any human sacrifice! I never knew they were happening, that's nothing to do with me.”

  “How many people depend on your income?”

  “My sister is at the academy. Without my paying her fees she'd need to leave.”

  “What does she think of your involvement in dum-semb?”

  “She doesn't know.”

  “Did you swear an oath to hold true to the teachings of dum-semb?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you forced to swear it?”

  “What do you mean by forced?”

  “Did someone explicitly threaten you or someone you loved with death, disfigurement, brutality, homelessness or imprisonment if you wouldn't swear?”

  “No.”

  “Did you learn any teachings of dum-semb after you swore it?”

  “Yes.”

  “As an officer in the army of the Independent Island of Tesk, did you swear an oath that precluded any other loyalties beyond God and family?”

  “Yes.”

  “And part of that oath was to uphold the constitution of Tesk?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you swore an oath to dum-semb, not even knowing what its teachings were?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was told I'd never get a promotion unless I did.”

  “So it was a choice of never getting a promotion or swearing an oath that you'd sworn another oath not to swear.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long did you take to decide?”

  “Pardon?”

  “How quickly did you break your oath to your nation?”

  “I was already in. You don't refuse when you're in!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because bad things happen.”

  “So, having got as far in as you had, you felt you had no real choice, but they presented it as a free choice?”

  “Yes. I thought there weren't supposed to be leading questions.”

  “This is a not a criminal court. This is an inquiry to see if you willingly took part in dum-semb, the religion of the doom-guard. I am your judge, I am your jury, I will sign the death warrant, set you free, or decide to postpone judgement. Do you regret your oath to dum-semb?”

  “I took it to be promoted, I was promoted, I feel I can better serve my country as a captain than at a lower rank.”

  “So you associate your loyalty to Tesk with swearing an oath incompatible with your oath to Tesk.”

  “It wasn't presented that way.”

  “Would Tesk be served by soldiers who don't keep their oaths of loyalty to the constitution and laws of Tesk, and instead swore to the Isles or Caneth?”

  “No.”

  “What is the difference?”

  “They are foreign powers.”

  “Whereas, at least at the Academy, the dum-semb group has openly advocated for the wholesale obliteration of the checks and balances sections of the constitution of Tesk that you have sworn you'll give your life to uphold. So that's OK?”

  The officer was silent for almost a minute, before saying “I have broken my oath to Tesk.”

  “Do you regret your oath to dum-semb?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would the penalties be for breaking your oath to dum-semb?”

  “I swore on my life.”

  “What should the penalties be for breaking your oath to Tesk?”

  “I swore on my life.”

  “What should an officer do who has broken his oath of service?”

  “He should present himself to his commanding officer for court martial.”

  “Who encouraged you to break your oath of service?”

  “My commanding officer.”

  “In the event that a soldier is enticed to break his oath of service by a commanding officer, what should he do?”

  “Report him to his commanding officer, up the chain of command.”

  “You did not do that.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

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  “Because I had what I felt were reasonable grounds to believe that the entire chain of command were part of it too.”

  “Those grounds being what?”

  “I was told this” he ripped a pin from his collar, “this thing is a mark of dum-semb. Every senior officer wore one.” He looked at it with loathing.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “A pattern of dots. I don't know.”

  “It is a pattern showing the map of the main cities of the windward empire, that is to say the main centres of the doom-guard at the height of their power.”

  “I didn't know.”

  “Which nation is the worst enemy of Tesk?”

  “The Isles.”

  “Why?”

  “They want us back, they're overcharging for food to try to starve us into submission.”

  “Are you numerate?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Can you do simple maths?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does a whole eel weigh?”

  “A whole one? Maybe a hundred kilos.”

  “If there were an infinite quantity available, how many live, struggling eels could one men load into a boat in a day?”

  “One? I'd say you'd need two at least. But if they're well practised at it? I guess one a minute. Sixty an hour, about five hundred a day between the two of them.”

  “It takes ten minutes to reel in an eel trap without the eel breaking it, and set it again. How many eels per day?”

  “Oh. Six an hour then? About fifty per day.”

  “You're forgetting getting the eel into the boat and getting the boat to the next trap.”

  “Four an hour?”

  “Eels are caught in marshes. The boat is the same size as a rowing skiff. How many eels before the boat sinks?”

  “Oh. Maybe ten or twelve?

  “Assume it takes half an hour to the fishing grounds. How many eels per day?”

  “I'd guess two trips per day. Twenty eels?”

  “There is a deadly-poisonous water-snake called an 'ar' that hangs around trapped eels. And you can't just hit an eel on the head, to kill it, the head is in the trap. It takes at least three men to pin down a struggling eel. How many men on the boat now?”

  “I'd have someone watching, maybe two. So maybe four men or three and a couple of sons, learning the trade? But that means less eels in the boat, too.”

  “The eel season is only for about three months of the year, that's why they pickle them. How much do you need to spend on bread to feed four grown men and their wives and kids, not to mention clothes and the like?”

  “It... it doesn't make sense!” The captain exploded, “Five eels a day for quarter of the year to feed and clothe a family for a year? How can eels cost as little as they do? There's the shipping, the barrels, the pickling salts, tax inspection...”

  “Exactly. The traders from the Isles are subsidising us. What's the real biggest threat to Tesk?”

  “The doom-guard and their lies,” the captain said.

  “What other lies have you taken as truth?”

  “I... I don't know. About nobles, about how big the army needs to be. God have mercy on me, lots.”

  “Do you reject dum-semb?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you have any faith in God?”

  “It's been a long time since I was at church. But I used to, I'm so far from Him.”

  “Do you repent of the pride at the heart of dum-semb?”

  “I do.”

  “What will you do if someone tells you to obey them because of your oath to dum-semb?”

  “Arrest them, or if I can't arrest them, treat them as any other enemy of the state, sir.”

  “I find you guilty of involvement in dum-semb without knowledge, and not guilty of involvement in human sacrifices. Given your new attitude, I do not condemn you to death, but instead require you to report yourself to the high council as the ultimate authority over the army of Tesk for breaking of your oath of service. I will recommend they allow you to renew your oath and possibly demote you rather than giving you a dishonourable discharge.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you!” he said, as he was led away.

  Sashan reached her hand to Jahon, [Well done, Jahon. I didn't realise about the eels being so hard to catch.]

  [I think they actually catch six per boat per day on average, and bread is a luxury they normally skip and harvest marsh-root instead. But still, it's fishing: not an easy living or a way to get rich, and what I said about the subsidies is true.]

  [I know. I'm going to tell the others to pass the eel-catching numbers around. We do just assume they're easy to catch.]

  [Fishermen don't, but...]

  “Next case,” the soldiers said, bringing in a general bound hand and foot.

  Jahon read the card and said. “Suspended-from-duty general Rasan, you are still under oath. This member of the high council is here to listen to your thoughts and ensure you do not lie. By your testimony before the high council you were involved in dum-semb, knew it to be the religion of the doom-guard, and attained the rank within the religion of novice. Correct?”

  “No.”

  “In what way is it incorrect?”

  “I reject the validity of the suspension from duty. I claim authority over these soldiers. Men, arrest this trumped up teenager and throw him in jail!”

  The soldiers didn't move, but one of them grinned and asked “Can I tell him, sir?”

  “Go ahead,”

  “Ex-general, you have sworn an oath in opposition to your oath of duty and have given your allegiance to an organisation that undermines the constitution. That makes you a traitor in my book. My mate and me, we're loyal. We don't take orders from doom-guard scum, nor traitors.”

  “This trial is a travesty of justice.”

  “Who did you help murder?” Jahon asked.

  “No idea.”

  “He's lying.” Sashan said.

  “What where their names?” Jahon asked.

  “I will not tell you.”

  “Which one was first?” Jahon asked.

  “I will not tell you.”

  “It was a young boy.” Sashan said.

  “From Tesk?” Jahon asked.

  “No” Rasan said.

  “Lying.” Sashan affirmed.

  “How old?”

  “Ninety.”

  “About fourteen,” Sashan corrected.

  “And your initiation was such an unimportant thing for you that you've no idea about the name of either victim or the gender and age of the second.”

  “I hate you.”

  “But he thought of their names,” Sashan said. “The boy Wibor, and an old woman called Marleth. He found them both himself, homeless in alleys.”

  “Other people you've snatched?”

  “Too many to count,” the prisoner said.

  “None.” Sashan corrected “He considered himself above such menial tasks.”

  “Prisoner Rasan, have you rejected dum-semb?”

  “Yes, totally.”

  “He's lying,”

  “Do you know what dum-semb means boy? It means the rule of self. How can I reject the rule of self?”

  “You can repent of your pride and put the creator God on the throne of your life. I have now signed the death-warrant, you have no more than thirty breaths to do so.”

  “I'm supposed to get sixty, young idiot.”

  “No more than sixty, prisoner. I have the power of any judge to choose an appropriate sentence. Put the noose on him, guards. Sashan, you don't need to watch.”

  “Nor do you, sir. It's not a particularly pretty sight.”

  “I grew up as a fisherman. I know what death looks like. Prisoner you have very little time left, and the fires of hell await you.”

  “Oh, no. Not me! I'm going to be dead before you roast alive. You and your snivelling alien rubbish! The old gods of our people have been forgotten too long and are fed up with being ignored, and their anger grows hot. They demand sacrifices if life here is to be saved! Let the daily sacrifices begin once more! In my death-throws I curse...”

  “I thought that was enough of that rubbish, sir,” said the soldier who'd clubbed the prisoner on the back of the head. “I apologise if you feel I should have left him conscious.”

  “I don't think he was going to repent by the end of his blasphemy,” Jahon said.

  “Rena warned me,” Sashan said, shaken and shaking. “I should have listened to her.”

  “Sashan?” Jahon said, taking her hands and putting them to his head. “Let me comfort you.”

  [The prophesy of the final kingdom is in the academy archives. Is it surprising that they come up with their warped interpretations? And remember the reading last week? God will not let us be cursed, and instead will curse those who curse us. So was he cursed with unconsciousness, denying him what chance he had to repent because he so adamantly refused God in his final moments.]

  [Death is supposed to look peaceful.] Sashan thought to him.

  [Not the death of one who dies cursing God, surely?]

  [I don't know how you can do this.]

  [Yes you do,] he corrected her.

  [You're doing it for me, because I said I couldn't.]

  [So you don't feel you have to.] He confirmed, [It is better to work as a pair, I think, but if you can't...]

  [Better to see than imagine. I imagined it would be all like this last man, but the first... You corrected him and gave him hope.]

  [This one wanted no correction nor mercy.]

  [This one was a caged animal, preferring death, thinking it was merely his entrance to some pagan warrior paradise. He wanted to die from a weapon strike, at the hands of an enemy soldier.] Sashan opened her eyes, “He regains consciousness and rejoices to die as he does, at the hands of a soldier. So let me hold the rope,” Sashan said to the soldier. “This murderer of boys and old women who seek help is denied his final wish. Disgraced general, a civilian girl holds the noose tight, and sends you to the hell you have chosen. You do not die a soldier's death, you die in disgrace. Those who hear of your death will learn that you died at the hands of a girl, unable to scream much though you wanted to. You should have chosen to repent of your sins. Perhaps God will hear you if you plead with all your heart now, in the name of Jesus, the judge of the living and the dead. There is no other hope for you.”

  She looked at the soldiers who were looking at her in stark surprise. “He thought that dying at the hands of soldiers was a soldier's death, and guaranteed his future happiness. That's why he was so adamant in rejecting God's mercy. I denied him that so he had a real chance, stripped of all preconceptions.”

  “You are merciful, Sashan,” Jahon said.

  “The law says he should have a chance to repent. He was looking forward to death before I took hold of the rope. We should tell the next one we need to execute what happened just now, to remove any false hopes his false religion has filled his head with.” Looking at Jahon she added “I still don't think I could pronounce the death sentence, but I can hold a piece of rope to help save a soul.”

  “Testing, testing, one tenth of a percent power,” Salay said into the microphone.

  “I heard you, but missed the power level,” Salay heard Naneela's voice reply.

  “This is one tenth power.”

  “Yay. Not bad! Try a hundredth?”

  “OK. Switching down now. Do you still hear me?”

  “I hear you. You're a bit scratchy, but perfectly understandable.”

  “So what happened to my first call?”

  “I was distracted.”

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  “Talking to Kahlel if you must know.”

  “Oh, I must, I must. Tell me all the details except the ones about electronics.”

  “Why do you assume there's anything apart from electronics?”

  “Because if nothing else he's your patient and I hope your hours of nursing are paying off.”

  “Oh.”

  “And you said exactly the same thing last time we talked. And the time before that.”

  “We've got a lot to talk about.”

  “I'm sure you have, my sister. I'm just wondering what you don't want to admit to.”

  “You sound like you think I'm planning a crime.”

  “No, you sound like you've got a slightly guilty conscience that a quick chat to our honourable mother would quickly clear up and replace with happiness.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about, Salay.”

  “No? OK, well, big brotherly advice: If your patient ever decides he's not a corpse and realises what a pretty young woman he's being looked after by, not to mention the fact he's not in the central zone, run and talk to our honourable mother or father. You do remember how they met, don't you?”

  “You are just so embarrassing, Salay. Just because you're heading off for romance and it seems like half your staff have married because they don't want to go with you, that doesn't mean that everyone else is desperate to pair up. If you must know we were talking about Kahlel's sister spending time with someone who's almost certainly the wrong guy.”

  “Sorry for sticking my oar in.”

  “But I don't remember how mummy and daddy met, so remind me.”

  “She was caught in a raid at an overlooked church, and grandad decided to make her talk to dad about it.”

  “By 'it', you mean the gospel?”

  “No, why she was willing to risk getting caught in a raid in the central zone and thus pay the entire raid-budget for the year herself, and if she'd prefer to have a permanent invitation to visit the heart of the empire instead for rest-day worship.”

  “Oh, right. I remember.”

  “So what's this wrong guy's name?” Salay asked.

  “Tarok,” Kahlel said, “According to my sister, he's generous, kind, very good company and... urm quite a bit older than she is.”

  “Tarok is about fifty. He's also the most central of all the central zoners. What's she been giving in exchange?”

  “Urm, not sure.”

  “Because if Tarok Count of Tuma is giving her gifts, then be assured he expects gifts in reply, or great honour or hold on, when did he appear on the scene?”

  “Just after I became a patient.”

  “Naneela, do you remember that speech I always give my new employees?”

  “Yes, Salay.” Naneela replied, “And I said it was silly. You may boast later. I know about Tuma, I'd forgotten his given-name. I take it I need to ask mummy what to do now?”

  “No. Because if you go getting parents involved then there's an official loss of face involved. Write him a letter of congratulations at finding love at his late stage of life, that you're surprised he's picked someone from... where are your parents from? Kahlel?”

  “Tunga.”

  “Oooh, play with that Naneela! You know, you obviously are spending a lot of time with Kahlel since he was injured defending your honour, and he's not pressing charges for your misplacement of the soldiers who ought to have been there, so how can you not, etcetera, and you've explained that to his parents so they don't get the wrong idea, you wouldn't want to give the wrong idea to someone from Tunga, that can lead to all sorts of trouble, but maybe she wasn't in hearing range. But really he's only a junior staff member, and you can't go to every junior staff member's sister's wedding or you'd never get anything done, and so on. Sorry if that's unfair on you Kahlel, but Tarok of Tuma almost certainly isn't after your sister, he's hoping to end up in an position where his friends think he has influence, where he can name-drop about who's going to be at his wedding.”

  “I know the type,” Kahlel said.

  “Thanks, Salay, I'll swap him a personal letter from the imperial princess and insult to my acquaintance for whatever inconsequential gifts he's given her. Now turn off and call me in an hour.”

  “Yes, imperial highness.”

  Naneela turned off the radio. And turned to Kahlel. “And that is why we talk about anything but our feelings, Kahlel. So that I can write that sort of letter in good faith.”

  “I still don't understand, highness.”

  “What don't you understand, Kahlel?”

  “Why I warrant such special treatment if we do not admit to the existence of feelings.”

  “Because you risked your future, yes you did, don't deny it, a technician with non-functional hands is called unemployable. You risked your future to protect my personal honour. You were raised with Tunganese values, that's what you do for an employer. I know that and I understand that. It was my mistake that the guards let him in, and were on the wrong side of the door. I was raised with heart-of-empire values. If you suffer for my mistake then it is up to me to make amends as best I can, isn't it? I write the letter for the same reason. I should have warned you and your family about central zone stupidity, not to mention the absolute necessity to reciprocate if any gift is given. By not reciprocating with any gift your sister has effectively promised that she'll guarantee him royal access. That's the only gift in central-zone thinking that you don't promise. She probably thought she was reciprocating with the implicit promise of herself, if she thought in terms of reciprocating at all. But that would be said, something like 'all I can offer in exchange is myself on our wedding day.' And if she doesn't mention a wedding then she's saying clear your diary tonight.”

  “That's disgusting.”

  “Yes. But that's central-zone thinking. She should always have some sort of gift she can give in exchange. A piece of her own art or something like that is fine. But she must give something or promise something, or refuse the gift.”

  “You can refuse a gift? Even as an adult?”

  “Certainly. You can say 'I'm sorry, I can't offer even a promise in exchange.' That basically means 'get lost, I'm not interested.' Or you can say, 'I'm sorry, I can't accept it today, perhaps some other day I'll have some way or reciprocating.' Which basically means, 'Bother, I've just given away my last trinket.' or maybe 'I'm expecting a closer friend to offer me something.'”

  “What does 'I can't accept that, I don't have anything suitable to reciprocate with' mean?”

  “I'm not sure. It probably means 'what sort of a gift do you call that?' I am so glad I don't live in the central-zone. What were you offering her?”

  “Just a flower to a girl at school. I suggested that an occasional smile would be ample repayment, and she called me weird.”

  “Let me write that letter, Kahlel.”

  “Certainly,”

  “And Kahlel, you have royal access. That is not, however for trade, it is your personal possession, like your liver. You should not boast of it, or mention it, you should just make use of it when you need to for discussing work things, and anything else, except feelings. If you have any, pretend they're not there, please.”

  “Do you expect the ban on discussing feelings will last a long time?” Kahlel asked.

  “My current assumption is longer than you would prefer.”

  “That... seems like a good assumption to me.”

  “But hopefully not an unsupportable amount of time, and long enough to get you better.”

  “Some factual statements I find myself compelled to utter: I have a very reasonable, capable and considerate employer, who is a princess of considerable complexity and beauty.”

  “Stop it,” Naneela said, laughing. “I've got to write a serious letter.”

  Count Tarok, I'm surprised and amazed to hear that after all these long years love has led a noble so wise and experienced in the games of the central zone to settle his affections on the innocent young Tunganese girl, entirely ignorant of such entertainments. Could it be that you have mistaken her innocence for something else? Surely you would not expect the entertainments of the high nobility of the central zone to be understood by one so low-born? But since a Tunganese feud is a terrible thing, I write in case that is exactly what has happened. If my fears are entirely misguided, I wish you a happy life together and strong sons and beautiful daughters.

  I do not deny that I heard of your incipient wedding from her brother, a low-ranking employee, but I hope you are not under any mistaken assumptions that any members of my family would expect to be at her wedding. I have thirty employees of greater rank than he, and who knows how many sisters or brothers they have. If a precedent was set to attend the wedding of every noble or every employee's siblings, I imagine there would be little time for other work!

  I assume Tithia has told you of her visit to the heart of the empire. Did she explain the circumstances? I'm not even sure she knows all of them. I have been working on a method of long-distance vocal communication, and had arranged a demonstration of it for my imperial parents. The long-established duty roster put her brother, (a technician who had recently been demoted to fourth rank for spilling his soup on some valuable equipment), in the laboratory at the other end.

  Given the importance of the demonstration to myself, I had instructed the guards to wait outside the laboratory, for fear that one of them might disturb the delicate equipment, some components of which are thought to be so fragile that a badly-aimed sneeze might disturb them. Of course I also instructed the guards to not allow the technician to consume any food in the laboratory.

  I failed to anticipate that a certain high-ranking colleague of his had become mentally unstable, and was determined to ruin the experiment and bring disgrace upon myself in the eyes of the emperor. The technician first refused to obey the official's order to pretend the equipment failed to communicate, stating that he would not bring dishonour on me, and then sought to protect the equipment from boiling liquid that the official flung at it. Clearly if I'd not been so worried about sneezes from the guards, none of this would have happened. Thus it is that the technician suffered serious injuries as a result of my fears, protecting my personal honour. I'm sure you're aware that this is a high value among those from Tunga, and that it is my duty in Tunganese culture to do all I can to ensure that his injuries are properly treated.

  I do not wish to suffer the indignity of hearing that an employee has somehow ruined his hands (and thus livelihood) by inattention or incompetence. and so I have decided that the simple task of changing his bandages is a duty I must do myself. Tunganese culture appreciates such a personal response, whatever the result, I understand. It is far more convenient for me to have him here so I can do this with little time wasted, and he retains his mind, of course, and is quite capable of remembering simple observations I'd otherwise have to write down immediately, so I make use of him in this capacity also. And as an extra pair of eyes to watch out for stupid mistakes as well.

  Of course he needs to be able to talk to me if he is to point out mistakes without me constantly having to ask him, and thus he has the right to speak to me if he feels the need, and (perhaps somewhat astoundingly) he chose to tell me about Tithia's news at an appropriate time — perhaps I should mention that his mother provides him with clean clothes and I presume news from home on a daily basis.

  If Tithia has filled your head with nonsense about me and her brother having some kind of deep romantic conversations, I can assure you that no such conversations have taken place. Indeed, such conversations that we do have are almost entirely centred around work or scientific and theological topics, though we also touch on culture. The Tungan culture is so fascinatingly full of ways to start a feud!

  This reminds me; I'm sure you're aware that Tithia has made a commitment to follow Christ, and must warn you seriously that in the eyes of any Tungan, if you have made no such commitment then any marriage would certainly be a cause for feud, as would divorce or infidelity.

  I'm aware that gifts of limited value have probably been given to Tithia, and she's probably only blushed in her ignorant innocence at what you might expect in return, thinking only of her wedding day (don't be tempted to pre-empt that, unless you wish her knife in your guts!). However, I'm also aware that a personal letter bearing an imperial seal has significant status value, though of course you would never be so unmannerly to try to sell it, I'm sure.

  Thus, if this letter causes you to realise that an almost tragic mistake in communication has been made, I trust you will account for her honest broken heart as adequate payment for your annoyance at plans ruined, will be gentle in ending the relationship and that you will not demean her (and maybe risk a feud, I don't know!) by demanding back any baubles and trinkets you've given her. And if you are so petty, I shall in return be equally petty and demand back this letter, of equally little value once the contents is read.

  Princess Naneela

  Imperial Highness, You are of course correct that a letter bearing an imperial seal is worth more than a few diamonds. But might I humbly beg for a note that I could show without displaying Tithia's naivety to all? She is a sweet girl, utterly charming, but entirely unsuited to central zone society. Not to mention too young for me.

  Tarok of Tuma