csimile broadcasters, Vyrtl gave her leave to depart. Without
seeming to watch, he admired her gait as she walked from the
conference chamber.

* * * * *

Afterwards, he left the generals to their post-mortem and retired with
Wilkins to a private balcony for a bottle of wine.

"How did it go?" he asked, leaning back more comfortably when his aide
had removed the heavy robe.

"You were most generous, Sire, or so I thought."

"It is a virtue that requires a public display now and then, to
strengthen the roots of the myth that grows from it. Too bad old
Tzyfol failed to see that. Why do you suppose he tried to be
obstinate?"

"I expect, Sire, he disliked having an old woman seem to get the
better of him after he had won the military victory."

Vyrtl laughed indulgently and sipped his wine.

"Even Tzyfol," added Wilkins, "might have been generous had she been
young and pretty. Unfortunately, I suppose, it takes an old head to be
an envoy."

The Emperor set his glass down very carefully.

"What did you say?" he demanded evenly.

Wilkins stared, with the expression of a man who fears he may suddenly
recall having used an obscene word in polite company, or having
bragged falsely and unwittingly of tax-evasion to an imperial
collector.

Vyrtl repeated his question in a tone a note higher.

"I-I-I said that if she were young and p-pretty--"

"How old do you think she was?" rasped Vyrtl.

"About s-s-seventy. Maybe seventy-five."

"_What?_"

He surged to his feet, overturning the table. Immediately the glass
doors opening on the balcony were flung back with a splintering crash.

Four gleaming guardsmen charged out with drawn weapons, each obviously
aching to become a hero. Wilkins prudently stood rooted, peering at
them from the corner of his eye.

Vyrtl recovered his poise with an effort.

"As you were!" he ordered. "Help General Wilkins pick up the table I
knocked over. Clumsy thing!"

It was done, and the guard captain apologized for the doors.

"Relax, Wilkins," said Vyrtl when they were again alone. "It just
occurred to me that I ought to have another word with that woman. Have
someone get hold of her at once!"

He left the disordered balcony and waited in a nearby library. The
books lining the walls were real, he noticed idly--another painstaking
point by the designer of the palace.

There Wilkins found him presently, to report that the Jursan envoy was
already