That last word was spoken with an ominous emphasis that had floated behind the slightly amused tone of his other words.

“Who the hell are you?” I muttered, turning on him and caring nothing for Mithos’s irritated sigh. He knew who we were well enough, so why pretend?

“My name is Dantir, rebel hero,” he said, turning to face me. Then a joyless smile cracked his face and he added: “Just joking. Sorry. I am Linassi of. .”

“Why the hell would I care. .” I began, rankled by his composure and confidence.

“Excuse me,” he replied with a calming gesture. “Perhaps I should have made myself clearer. I am Ambassador Linassi and I have a coach outside.”

This was clearly supposed to mean something to me. It didn’t, but that was a feeling I was used to. Mithos looked up and met Linassi’s eyes for the first time. Apparently, something was going on here that I knew nothing about.

“And you have?. .” began Mithos.

“Full diplomatic immunity, yes,” answered the stranger, gazing emptily across the bar. “My driver is waiting in the yard. I suggest we move quickly.”

“What?” I asked, looking from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Will,” said Mithos, taking a hurried swill of beer and getting to his feet. “Just follow the ambassador.”

“He could be anyone,” I spluttered, ignoring the fact that the man was standing beside me.

“My papers,” he said, plucking a wad of parchment from inside his jacket. “You can examine them as we go.”

Out in the street, the sounds of the curious crowds dwindled significantly. A glance toward the open door told me why. The unit from the Waterman had regrouped and were mingling with the sentries.

“It looks like the decision has been made for you,” said the ambassador, if that was what he was.

Mithos nodded solemnly, returned his papers, and indicated that he should lead the way. The older man inclined his head gravely and, without another word, led us in a series of long strides across the room.