“Oh, I don’t think so, Nira. I have too much work to do, too many documents to read. My mind is swelled with the sheer volume of information that remains to be shared with the worldtrees.” She suddenly noticed the crestfallen expression on her assistant’s face, and smiled. “You, of course, may feel free to go. Please represent Theroc in my stead.” Seeing Nira’s look of joy, Otema said in a gruff voice, “Besides, I am certain the Prime Designate prefers your company to mine. He was merely asking me as a formality.”

“That’s not true, Ambassador!” Nira said, but she knew not to protest too much.

Inside the domed jousting pavilion, Nira sat close to Jora’h in his private spectator lounge. The Prime Designate leaned over to her, his topaz eyes flashing. When he smiled at her, Nira wanted to melt.

“I am saddened that your companion Otema could not join us,” he said.

Nira couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “No, you’re not.”

Jora’h was taken aback; then he chuckled as well. “Perhaps my feelings are too obvious. You are correct. I would have played a fine host to the ambassador, but I would rather spend the afternoon with you.”

“With me … and five thousand Ildirans?” Nira gestured to the crowds lining the brightly lit arena. The spectators sat in designated sections, different kiths clustered together so that as Nira swept her gaze across the cheering people, she saw a spectrum of different facial features and body types.

“Ah, but you are the only person I see, Nira.” Fanfare sounded, and the crowds shouted. “The spectacle is about to begin.” Jora’h brushed his fingers across her wrist, then chastely folded his hands in his lap.

Ildiran jousting was an important ritualistic sport performed inside covered amphitheaters. Mirrored panels alternated with transparent skylights that shone down on a sandy competition field. Warriors clad in highly polished, reflective body armor rode out of dark openings astride gray six-legged reptilian beasts that seemed to be all muscles and spines and scales. The beasts reminded Nira of Komodo dragons with rills at their throats, knobs on their bent limbs.

The heroic jousters came together slowly, the steeds leaving wide footprints in the soft dirt of the combat field. The reptilian mounts hissed and then lashed out with spined tongues, but the riders kept the creatures apart to prevent them from doing damage … at least until the jousting formally began.

The Ildiran knights carried throbbing laser lances, long crystal shafts couched with ruby projection rods and power sources connected to battery packs behind the saddles of the reptilian mounts.

“Are those spears used for combat?” Nira asked in a hushed voice. “Do they stab each other or those creatures they are riding?”

Jora’h’s golden hair waved about his head. “The crystal spears can be formidable weapons, but no sophisticated Ildiran knight would use them in so crude a fashion.”