on her way back to that planet.

"I called the landing field guard," he explained, "but she had already
taken off. His spotters swept space for them and got a curve on the
ship."

"Of course," mused Vyrtl. "The treaty has been broadcast."

"Shall I have the patrols close in on her rocket?"

"No." The Emperor pondered a moment. "Have a telescreen set up in here
so we can speak directly."

A frenzied bustle ensued as Wilkins directed a platoon of awed techs
through the process of bringing the mountain to Mohammed. In the end,
the Jursan ship was in communication. The aide called for Daphne
Foster, then stood aside.

Vyrtl was glad, when she appeared, that Wilkins had placed a deep
armchair before the screen for him.

Was _this_ the woman with whom he had--?

* * * * *

She was still tall, but her white hair gave her the look of the
seventy years with which Wilkins had credited her. Deep laugh-wrinkles
bracketed the mouth, with more at the corners of the still bright
eyes. The delicate bones of her face were more prominent.

There was nevertheless a clear resemblance to the Daphne Foster he had
received earlier.

_She looks ... she looked_, thought Vyrtl, _as this woman might have
looked when she was young ... or might have wanted to look._

No, that was not quite it.

_As she knew a man would have liked her to look!_

The woman on the screen spoke, her eyes smiling into his in a manner
that was painfully familiar.

"Your Illustrious Sublimity has become the first to share my little
secret."

Vyrtl, with a concentration of will, prevented his eyes from peeping
sidelong at Wilkins' expression.

"We are somewhat surprised," he said, knowing it for an asinine remark
but afraid to risk his dignity by being plainer.

"Of course," she said, "I hardly expect it to make any difference in
the imperial announcement of peace, but if any clarification is
desired of me, I shall be happy to oblige."

Vyrtl thought furiously. Had he actually _said_ anything to Wilkins or
anyone else? He tried to remember every word spoken at the conference.
It seemed to him there had been one or two slips, but they had been
taken for imperial witticisms.

No, he was safe enough. The Jursan Council and their technicians
naturally must know the "clarification" offered him, but they would
know better than to publicize it. He could afford to show no mercy if
they did. As things stood, it might be best