“It’s nothing but a ruin. Why should a ruin disturb you so?”

“The Great World disturbs me. The death of it. The way they made no attempt to protect themselves.”

“Perhaps they had no choice,” Simthala Honginda said.

“Hresh thinks that they did. They could have kept the death-stars from falling, if they’d wanted to. Hresh says that there’s an explanation for why they didn’t; but he won’t say what it was. You must work it out for yourself, says Hresh. You won’t understand, he says, if I simply tell it to you.”

“Yes. I’ve heard him say something along the same lines when that question came up.”

“What if he’s lying? What if he simply doesn’t know the answer himself?”

Simthala Honginda laughed. “There’s very little that Hresh doesn’t know, I think. But in my experience, when Hresh doesn’t know something, he usually admits it, without pretending otherwise. Nor have I ever known him to lie. Of course, you know him far better than I do.”

“He’s no liar,” said Thu-Kimnibol. “And you’re right: he’ll say straight out, ‘I don’t know,’ if he doesn’t know. Therefore there has to be an answer to the question, and Hresh must know it. And it ought to be easy enough to work out, if you give it a little thought.” He was silent a time, kneading a sore place in the muscles of his neck. Then he turned to Simthala Honginda and said, smiling, “In truth, I think I know the answer myself.”

“You do? What is it, then?”

“Suddenly it’s all quite clear to me. You don’t need to be one tenth so wise as Hresh to see it, either. Do you want me to tell you the reason the sapphire-eyes allowed themselves to die without a struggle? It’s that they were a race of fools. Fools, that is all they were, without sense enough to try to save themselves. Do you see? Nothing more complicated than that, my friend.”

Curabayn Bangkea was at his desk in the guard headquarters, shuffling documents about, when Nialli Apuilana appeared without warning, stepping through the doorway unannounced. He looked up in surprise, flustered at the sight of her. A host of excited fantasies blossomed instantly in his soul as his eyes traveled the length of her tall, slender figure, so supple, so regal in bearing.

He had always lusted after her, though he knew he was only one of many who felt that way.

She is as skittish as a xlendi, he thought, looking at her now. She eludes everyone who would harness her. But all she needs is the right hand to bring her into line. And why should that hand not be mine?

Curabayn Bangkea was well aware of how absurd these fantasies of his were. The chances that she would come here to offer herself in lovemaking to the captain of the city guard were very small. If he had any doubt of that, he only had to look at her face. Her expression was entirely businesslike, cold and formal.

He rose hastily. “Well, lady, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?”

“You have Kundalimon under what amounts to house arrest. Why is that, Curabayn Bangkea?”

“Ah, does it trouble you?”

“It troubles him,” she said. “This is the city where he was born. Why should he be treated as a prisoner?”

“He comes to us from the hjjks, lady.”

“As an ambassador. Entitled to diplomatic courtesies, in that case. Either he should have the run of the city because he’s a citizen of this place, or else because he’s a representative of a sovereign nation with whom we’re not at war.”

Her eyes were bright with anger, her nostrils flaring, her breasts agitated. Watching her, Curabayn Bangkea found himself growing agitated also. She wore nothing but a sash and some ornamental ribbons across her shoulders. Not an unusual costume in this season of warm weather, but scantier in general than was typical of unmated women nowadays. That kind of near-nakedness might have been acceptable in the cocoon era, Curabayn Bangkea thought, but we are more civilized now. Why did she have to be so provocative?

He said cautiously, “The rule is that all strangers are sent to Mueri House for a period of observation, until we know whether they’re spies or not.”

“He’s no spy. He’s an ambassador from the Queen.”

“There are those who’d argue — your kinsman Prince Thu-Kimnibol is among them, let me say — that that’s simply two ways of saying the same thing.”

“Be that as it may,” said Nialli Apuilana. “He’s complained to me of being held in what amounts to captivity. He thinks it’s unkind and unfair, and I do also. I remind you that his welfare is my responsibility. He was given into my particular charge, you know, by the chronicler himself.”

Curabayn Bangkea’s eyes widened a trifle at that. “If it were up to me, I’d release him from all restraint in a moment, lady. But Husathirn Mueri’s the one who has jurisdiction over him. He was the holder of the judicial throne the day the stranger was remanded to custody. You ought to be addressing your request to him, not to me.”

“I see. I thought it was a matter for the guard-captain.”

“I don’t have any authority in this. But if you like, I’ll speak to Husathirn Mueri about it on your behalf.”

“On Kundalimon’s behalf, you mean.”

“As you say. I’ll try to get the order changed. You’ll be sent word when I do, later today, I hope. You’re still at the House of Nakhaba, right?”

“Yes. Thank you. I’m grateful for your help, Curabayn Bangkea.”

She didn’t sound particularly grateful. Her look was a flinty one, not the least flicker of warmth about it, and the anger was still there, too. Something was definitely wrong, and his offer of cooperation had not repaired it.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, lady?”

Nialli Apuilana was silent a moment. She allowed her eyes briefly to close. Then she said, “Yes, a very foolish one, which I’m almost unwilling to speak of, it was so offensive. There’s a brother of yours, who is on guard duty at Mueri House — Eluthayn, I think that’s his name — he is your brother, isn’t he?”

“Eluthayn, yes. My youngest brother.”

“Yes. A few days ago, when I was paying a regular call there, this brother of yours attempted to interfere with me. There was an ugly incident.”

Curabayn Bangkea said, mystified, “To interfere with you, lady?”

Her nostrils flared again. “You know what I mean. He made a crude offer to me, this brother of yours. Without warning, without the slightest provocation, he approached me, he breathed his stinking breath in my face, he — he—”

She didn’t go on. Curabayn Bangkea felt a surge of alarm. Had Eluthayn really been idiotic enough to do such a thing? There probably was provocation aplenty, he thought, staring at Nialli Apuilana’s uncovered breasts, at her long silken thighs thickly thatched with sleek red-brown fur. But if Eluthayn had dared to put his hands on the chieftain’s daughter uninvited—

“He touched you, lady? He made overtures ?”

“Overtures, yes. In another moment he’d have been touching me too.”

“Yissou!” Curabayn Bangkea exclaimed, throwing his hands out to his sides. “The stupidity of him! The effrontery!” The guard-captain bustled across the room toward Nialli Apuilana, so hastily that he came close to clanging his helmet into the lamp fixture dangling overhead. “I’ll speak to him, let me assure you, lady. I’ll investigate fully. He’ll be disciplined. And I’ll send him to you to apologize in a proper way. Overtures, you say? Overtures?”

The lightest of quivers crossed her shoulders, a disgusted shudder, making her breasts tremble. She looked away from him. In a softer voice than she had been using, as though distress and shame were gaining the upper hand over anger in her, she said, “Punish him any way you see fit. I don’t want any apologies from him. I don’t want to set eyes on him again.”

“I assure you, lady—”