“Very good, Your Highness,” he said, beginning to back away.

“…Then report to me in the Yellow Room, to let me know it’s been done,” she continued, “and I’ll give you additional instructions at that time.”

“Consider it done,” he replied, and he hurried off.

“Merlin, Llewella,” Vialle said, beginning to rise, “come help me entertain them while arrangements are being made.”

I gulped my last bite of dessert and got to my feet. I did not really feel like talking to a diplomat and his party, but I was handy and it was one of life’s little duties.

“Uh… What are they here for, anyway?” I asked.

“Some sort of protest over what we’ve been doing in Kashfa,” she replied. “They’ve never been friendly with Kashfa, but I’m not sure now whether they’re here to protest Kashfa’s possible admission to the Golden Circle or whether they’re upset about our interfering in Kashfa’s domestic affairs. It could be they’re afraid they’ll lose business with such a close neighbor suddenly enjoying the same preferred trade status they have. Or it may be they had different plans for Kashfa’s throne and we just foreclosed them. Maybe both. Whatever… We can’t tell them anything we don’t know.”

“I just wanted to know what subjects to avoid,” I said.

“All of the above,” she answered.

“I was wondering the same thing myself,” Llewella said. “I was also wondering, though, whether they might have any useful information on Dalt. Their intelligence service must keep a close eye on doings in and about Kashfa.”

“Don’t pursue that topic,” Vialle said, moving toward the door. “If they let something slip or want to give something away, fine. Bring it home. But don’t show them you’d like to know.”

Vialle took my arm and I guided her out, heading toward the Yellow Room. Llewella produced a small mirror from somewhere and inspected her features. Obviously pleased, she put it away, then remarked, “Lucky you showed up, Merlin. An extra smiling face is always useful at times like this.”