The ashy taste of smoke still clung about the anteroom as I nodded to the guards at the doors and went in.
Jhansi had sent five people to attempt to persuade me to ally with him.
I knew only one, Ralton Dwa-Erentor, the second son of a minor noble, who might style himself Tyr because his father’s rank and his own title did not come directly from the hands of the emperor. Had the emperor bestowed the title, Dwa-Erentor would have been Kyr Ralton. I nodded to him, as politeness dictated, for he had proved himself a keen racing man, riding sleeths, a dinosaur-like saddle animal I do not much care for, and I fancied he hewed to Jhansi’s party because of his father.
The leader of the deputation rose from the chair to greet me. He rose slowly. I allowed this. I would be patient, understanding
