Flere-Imsaho drifted over to the tall windows. Gurgeh looked at some portrait paintings hanging on the walls. After a short while, a youngish apex entered the room. He was tall, dressed in a relatively unfussy and businesslike version of the uniform of the Imperial Bureaucracy.

"Mr Gurgeh; good day. I'm Lo Shav Olos."

"Hello," Gurgeh said. They exchanged polite nods, then the apex walked quickly to a large desk in front of the windows and set a bulky sheaf of papers down on it before sitting down.

Lo Shav Olos looked round at Flere-Imsaho, buzzing and hissing away near by. "And this must be your little machine."

"Its name is Flere-Imsaho. It helps me with your language."

"Of course." The apex gestured to an ornate seat on the other side of his desk. "Please; sit down."

Gurgeh sat, and Flere-Imsaho came to float near him. The male servant returned with a crystal goblet and placed it on the desk near Olos, who drank before saying, "Not that you must need much help, Mr Gurgeh." The young apex smiled. "Your Eächic is very good."

"Thank you."

"Let me add my personal congratulations to those of the Imperial Office, Mr Gurgeh. You have done far better than many of us expected you to do. I understand you were learning the game only for about a third of one of our Great Years."

"Yes, but I found Azad so interesting I did little else during that time. And it does share concepts with other games I've studied in the past."

"Nevertheless, you've beaten people who've been learning the game all their lives. The priest Lin Goforiev Tounse was expected to do well in these games."

"So I saw," Gurgeh smiled. "Perhaps I was lucky."

The apex gave a little laugh, and sat back in his chair. "Perhaps you were, Mr Gurgeh. I'm sorry to see your luck didn't extend to cover the draw for the next round. Lo Wescekibold Ram is a formidable player, and many expect him to better his previous performance."

"I hope I can give him a good game."

"So do we all." The apex drank from his goblet again, then got up and went to the windows behind him, looking out over the park. He scratched at the thick glass, as though there was a speck on it. "While not, strictly speaking, my province, I confess I'd be interested if you could tell me a little about your plans for the registration of Premises." He turned and looked at Gurgeh.

"I haven't decided quite how to express them yet," Gurgeh said. "I'll register them tomorrow, probably."

The apex nodded thoughtfully. He pulled at one sleeve of the imperial uniform. "I wonder if I might advise you to be… somewhat circumspect, Mr Gurgeh?" (Gurgeh asked the drone to translate "circumspect'. Olos waited, then continued.) "Of course you must register with the Bureau, but as you know, your participation in these games is in a purely honorary capacity, and so exactly what you say in your Premises has only… statistical value, shall we say?"

Gurgeh asked the drone to translate "capacity'.

"Garbleness, game-playeroid," Flere-Imsaho muttered darkly in Marain. "Twiddly-dee; you that word capacity beforely usedish Eächic in. Placey-wacey's buggy-wuggied. Stoppy-toppy deez guys spladdiblledey-dey-da more cluettes on da lingo offering, righty?"

Gurgeh suppressed a smile. Olos went on. "As a rule, contestants must be prepared to defend their views with arguments, should the Bureau find it necessary to challenge any of them, but I hope you will understand that this will hardly be likely to happen to you. The Imperial Bureau is not blind to the fact that the… values of your society may be quite different from our own. We have no wish to embarrass you by forcing you to reveal things the press and the majority of our citizens might find… offensive." He smiled. "Personally, off the record, I would imagine that you could be quite… oh, one might almost say «vague»… and nobody would be especially bothered."

""Especially"?" Gurgeh said innocently to the humming, crackling drone at his side.

"More gibberish biltrivnik ner plin ferds, you're quontstipilish trying nomonomo wertsishi my zozlik zibbidik dik fucking patience, Gurgeh."

Gurgeh coughed loudly. "Excuse me," he said to Olos. "Yes. I see. I'll bear that in mind when I draw up my Premises."

"I'm glad, Mr Gurgeh," Olos said, coming back to his chair and sitting again. "What I've said is my personal view, of course, and I have no links with the Imperial Bureau; this office is quite independent of that body. Nevertheless, one of the great strengths of the Empire is its cohesion, its… unity, and I doubt that I could be very wide of the mark in judging what the attitude of another imperial department might be." Lo Shav Olos smiled indulgently. "We really do all pull together."

"I understand," Gurgeh said;

"I'm sure you do. Tell me; are you looking forward to your trip to Echronedal?"

"Very much so, especially as the honour is extended so rarely to guest players."

"Indeed." Olos looked amused. "Few guests are ever allowed on to the Fire Planet. It is a holy place, as well as being itself a symbol of the everlasting nature of the Empire and the Game."

"My gratitude extends beyond the limits of my capacity to express it," Gurgeh purred, with the hint of a bow. Flere-Imsaho made a spluttering noise.

Olos smiled broadly. "I feel quite certain that having established yourself as being so proficient — indeed gifted — at our game, you will prove yourself to be more than worthy of your place in the game-castle on Echronedal. Now," the apex said, glancing at his desk-screen, "I see it is time for me to attend yet another doubtless insufferably tedious meeting of the Trade Council. I'd far prefer to continue our own exchange, Mr Gurgeh, but unhappily it must be curtailed in the interests of the efficiently regulated exchange of goods between our many worlds."

"I fully understand," Gurgeh said, standing at the same time as the apex.

"I'm pleased to have met you, Mr Gurgeh," Olos smiled.

"And I you."

"Let me wish you luck in your game against Lo Wescekibold Ram," the apex said as he walked to the door with Gurgeh. "I'm afraid you will need it. I'm sure it will be an interesting game."

"I hope so," Gurgeh said. They left the room. Olos offered his hand; Gurgeh clasped it, allowing himself to look a little surprised.

"Good day, Mr Gurgeh."

"Goodbye."

Then Gurgeh and Flere-Imsaho were escorted back to the aircraft on the roof while Lo Shav Olos strode off down another corridor to his meeting.

"You asshole, Gurgeh!" The drone said in Marain as soon as they were back in the module. "First you ask me two words you already know, and then you use both of them and the—"

Gurgeh was shaking his head by this time, and interrupted. "You really don't understand very much about game-playing, do you drone?"

"I know when people are playing the fool."

"Better than playing a household pet, machine."

The machine made a noise like an indrawn breath, then seemed to hesitate and said, "Well, anyway… at least you don't have to worry about your Premises now." It gave a rather forced-sounding chuckle. "They're as frightened of you telling the truth as you are!"

Gurgeh's game against Lo Wescekibold Ram attracted great attention. The press, fascinated by this odd alien who refused to speak to them, sent their most acerbic reporters, and the camera operators best able to catch any fleeting facial expression which would make the subject look ugly, stupid or cruel (and preferably all three at once). Gurgeh's off-world physiognomy was regarded as a challenge by some camera people, and as a large fish in a small barrel by others.

Numerous paying game-fans had traded tickets for other games so they could watch this one, and the guests" gallery could have been filled many times over, even though the venue had been changed from the original hall Gurgeh had played in before to a large marquee erected in a park only a couple of kilometres from both the Grand Hotel and the Imperial Palace. The marquee held three times as many people as the old hall, and was still crowded.