The man wore long robes snug at his waist. Several sections of the fabric were crosshatched with reflective material. His head was hairless, his alien features angular and craggy, his skin a yellowish gray. A colored electrostatic field flickered around his head like a hood projected by small devices at his collar. Nira couldn’t tell if it was a protective covering or some sort of fashion adornment.

The Ildiran man raised his left hand at his side, palm outward, then turned it sideways. He spoke in perfect Trade Standard. “I am Klio’s, the Ildiran Minister of Commerce. I have come to act as business liaison with Captain Rlinda Kett.”

After Rlinda introduced herself, Ambassador Otema extended her diplomatic credentials, which seemed to fluster Klio’s. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I am here only for Captain Kett. The Prime Designate will arrive for you momentarily.”

Rlinda’s brown eyes went wide. “The Prime Designate’s coming to see them?” She gasped at Otema and Nira. “Do you know who that is?”

Though Nira was wide-eyed and enthusiastic, Otema remained unflappable. “We will greet him with suitable respect, as the representatives of Theroc.”

Klio’s ushered Rlinda to a doorway in the expansive dome. The merchant woman walked slowly, as if consciously delaying in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Ildiran heir. But the bureaucrat hurried her toward his offices, leaving Nira and Otema waiting alone beside the Voracious Curiosity.

On the opposite side of the platform, more doors opened. Three hideous-looking Ildirans stepped out, broad-shouldered warrior kith with bulging muscles, fangs, and claws. They carried hand weapons: curved knives and wicked-looking crystalbladed katanas. With flashing feral eyes, they scanned the platform, then stepped aside, rigidly at attention. The next person who stepped forward was the most hypnotically attractive man Nira had ever seen.

Ambassador Otema bowed, but Nira could not tear her eyes away from the man. He exuded charisma. His face was handsome, perfectly sculpted, with a long chin and wide-set eyes that were a strange color of smoky topaz. His features were perfect and timeless, and bronze skin made him look like a museum depiction of an ancient pharaoh. Around his head, a mane of braided golden hair twitched and moved as if alive with static electricity.

Nira finally averted her gaze, but clearly the man had noticed her. Paying more attention to her than to Otema, he said, “I am Prime Designate Jora’h, and I am glad to receive you. Ambassador Otema?” He nodded to the old woman, then turned to Nira, reached out to cup her chin, and raised her face so that she could look at him again. “And I am also most pleased to meet you. What is your name?”

Nira’s voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. After the briefest hesitation, Otema answered in a slightly scolding tone. “Her name is Nira, Prime Designate. She is my assistant and will help me study your great epic.”