The Vulcan watched as Tazol stepped out of hearing distance, then met Thea's penetrating gaze. "If the Praetor does not trust her pawn," he countered levelly, "perhaps another should be selected, Thea." He paused, tone softening. "I … merely need … medication," he stated.

Thea's face darkened, but she harnessed her reaction quickly. "Should you be lying, you will need more than medication," she replied. But as Tazol returned to the tour party, she manufactured a smile.

"The guards will bring T'Lennard at once, my Lord," the Ravon's commander said with the traditional Romulan salute. "Is there anything else my Praetor requires before proceeding to the Warrior's gaming deck?"

The Vulcan shook his head, started down the corridor once again, then stopped when the whine of an alien communication device erupted from the nearby wall. After excusing himself with exaggerated apologies, Tazol stepped over to the device, speaking for a long time in hushed tones. At last, however, he returned to the group, his expression dark and unreadable.

"My apologies, Lord," he said quietly. "Apparently, there has been some disturbance on Romulus." He looked up, addressing the shadowed face of the Vulcan pseudo-Praetor. "Details are sparse, yet it seems that the governor of Romulus has … gone mad." He bowed respectfully once again, as if to diminish the news. "Without direct summons, Governor T'Rouln attempted to gain entry to the palace. He … had several Warriors with him, my Lord," the commander continued shakily, "and there was bloodshed on the palace grounds."

In Thea's eyes, the Vulcan read a moment of horror, of confusion, of disbelief. Also, he saw a truth. She had not encountered the madness until now. An eyebrow rose.

"Did T'Rouln give any reason for his attempted seige, Commander?" Spock asked.

"According to Commander Tavor at the palace, the governor believed he had … received a summons from the Ancient Ones," Tazol murmured, laughing nervously at the absurd explanation. "He stated that his mission was to tear down the palace walls, sell the riches within … and bequeath the proceedings to the people of Romulus." He paused, looking at his boots when he spoke again. "Commander Tavor sends his regrets, my Lord, with the news that Governor T'Rouln was killed during the battle."

Thea's brows rose, but she carefully turned to the Vulcan. "As your adviser, my Lord, I point out that we must return to the palace at once. It will be necessary to appoint a new governor immediately."

Spock nodded, glanced inconspicuously at the wrist chronometer, then turned back to the Ravon's commander. "We will complete the tour quickly, Captain Tazol," he said. "Notify your bridge crew at once; have them lay in a course for Romulus at maximum speed."

Tazol bowed again. "Yes, Lord," he replied, and returned to the communication outlet.

"Well done, your Excellency," Thea said, keeping her eyes on Tazol's back nonetheless. "You impress even me." With one hand, she motioned Sarela closer. "Verify the information through my private channel to Tavor," she instructed the other woman. "While I do not believe Tazol is brilliant enough to manufacture such a lie, it is nevertheless wise to be well-informed."

The Vulcan stared blankly at Thea as Sarela walked away, surprised that the Praetor had not been aware of the madness long before now. For an instant, he found himself wanting to merely explain the situation to her, present her with the evidence uncovered on the ShiKahr, and rely on whatever integrity she possessed. But the consideration quickly left him. Without coming directly to the point—without telling her how much he already knew about the time-tampering—there would be no way to guarantee her reaction. And angered, she could have the truth extracted forcibly. With the rapid progression of the pon farr, there would be no way, the Vulcan realized, to prevent himself from revealing whatever she wished to know should she order a vid-scan. He watched the real Praetor carefully as she stepped aside, conferring with Sarela on one side of the corridor.

But the Vulcan's attention was diverted as the lift doors at the end of the hall opened, and two guards escorted McCoy toward the tour party. Dressed in elaborate Romulan slave attire, the doctor appeared vaguely ridiculous. Flowing silk robes tapered to the floor in splashes of bright colors; and the ornate gold collar around the human's neck shed an air of mystique to the normally reserved surgeon.

As McCoy approached, face red, he bowed. "You requested this slave's company, Lord?" he asked in faltering Romulan which was laced with a distinctive Southern accent.

The Vulcan inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I … am in need of medication," he murmured, his eyes going instinctively to Thea's as she returned and stood close at his side. For a moment, he was sorry he had chosen that particular excuse, but resigned himself to the consequences.

McCoy's brows narrowed as he took a step forward, careful to speak in quiet tones. "What about Tazol and the guards?" he wondered. "I didn't exactly have room to strap on a medi-kit; and with the blasted garb, the colors clashed like hell!"

But Thea's eyes clouded suspiciously. "Then … you are genuinely ill," she surmised, scrutinizing the Vulcan. She shook her head in frustration. "We shall terminate the tour and return to quarters at once. Sarela has informed me that the incident at the palace was genuine; and while I have no immediate explanation, it is obvious that Tazol will become suspicious should we continue with the charade of an inspection."

Looking guardedly at McCoy, the Vulcan nodded. "Very well," he conceded, slipping back into the role of Praetor as he summoned Tazol over with a quick gesture. "I grow weary of waiting, Commander," he said. "This flagship is obviously in fit condition; and I see no need to proceed further."

Tazol's face darkened, but he bowed nonetheless. "As you wish, my Lord," he murmured. "The Ravonis setting course for Romulus; we shall attain orbit within twenty-one hours at our present speed."

The hooded figure inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Dismissed, Commander Tazol. Carry on with your duties."

Nodding curtly, Tazol quickly slithered into the nearest lift, leaving the corridor empty save for Spock, McCoy, Sarela, Thea and the two guards.

But as the Vulcan turned to Thea, it was to confront questioning eyes.

"What is the nature of your illness?" she demanded quietly. "For obviously it is a condition which your doctor seems unable to treat adequately."

But before the Vulcan could respond, McCoy stepped forward, nearly tripping over the long robes. "Now listen here!" he began defensively. "I may agree to parade around like a goddamned Christmas tree in this costume of yours, and I may even agree to risk life and limb by walking into your Empire, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and listen to you practicing medicine without a license!" He cast a sidelong warning glance in the Vulcan's direction. "Captain Spock was injured during a routine planetfall last week; he's taking antibiotics to combat infection—and when he doesn't get treatment on time, he manifests symptoms of fever! So you leave the doctoring to me, your royal Highness!"

But Thea only laughed at the doctor's tirade. At first, she found herself doubting his word; but when she remembered the intercepted transmission of a few days before, the story fell temporarily into place.