is too gracious," replied the envoy. "I
regret that my message is not unqualified surrender."

Vyrtl frowned. "You dare ask terms?"

"I must carry out the commands laid upon me by the Council."

She smiled into his eyes and made a rueful little gesture with both
hands, which she allowed to fall gracefully to her sides. Vyrtl's gaze
was led up and down her figure again.

He forced himself to meet her glance. Rather than expressing any
resentment of his appraisal, it suggested that her resistance to his
demands would be merely formal.

_They've sent me a clever one_, he thought, _but they will find I
cannot be bought off so cheaply. Still, it can do no harm to show that
Vyrtl can be the diplomat as well as a soldier._

"We are unprepared for any discussion," he said aloud. "Since we are
not disposed, however, to be hasty in our judgement, you may wait upon
us in the council chamber in two hours."

The envoy stepped lithely aside when he rose. With some difficulty,
Vyrtl kept his eyes front as he strode from the hall with Wilkins and
his personal guards at his heels. He hastened to his own chambers for
a bath and change of clothes.

He allowed himself to be bathed, scented, and dressed in the most
imperial costume he had brought from Hebryxid. Blonde Xota, his
official favorite who had taken no chance of losing her place by
absence from his side, admired his dazzling jewels and scarlet silks
extravagantly. Vyrtl permitted her to serve him a light lunch, paying
little attention to her chatter.

Once, when he had taken her from the Co-ordinator of his sixth planet,
he had fancied himself in love with her; now he merely amused himself
guessing from day to day to whom she sold her supposed influence. He
sometimes wondered if any wife he owned were innocent of spying.

He rose, summoned Wilkins, and led a small procession to the council
chamber. They found the necessary quota of high officers waiting.
Daphne Foster was summoned.

Vyrtl took his place on a dais at the head of the table, and his aide
arranged the gold-stiffened ceremonial robe. The generals made little
professional jokes, each striving to act as if the victory had been
mostly his own doing. Even the lean Chief of Staff, Tzyfol, looked
satiated.

The Jursan envoy was announced.

* * * * *

Once again, Vyrtl was so fascinated by the girl that he paid scant
heed to the ceremonious greetings. He decided she was younger