"But not necessarily directly spectated by my citizens and your clanspeople." He moved over to her, very straight-backed, one eye glinting gold and slit-pupiled before blackening again. It was half-hidden by a cheap amulet he'd picked up in Mair and usually tinged with a delicate touch of shadow. An optical illusion, distorting colour. He was under no illusion that the disguise was anything but perfunctory.

"Let's not. Have you heard the one about the rice?"

His fingertips skimmed over the wood of his desk as he passed it. It was gored with chips, dents and scrathmarks where his habit of drumming his nails on it had had rather cruel results. His voice was light and calm.