“I hope you will learn much from this diplomatic trip, my son,” he said with a beatific smile. The Prime Designate seemed untroubled; it was easy to manipulate him.

Jora’h’s tiny gold braids floated in a nimbus around his head as he nodded. “I will be pleased to view Theroc with my own eyes, Father. And I look forward to meeting with Prince Reynald again. I believe he will be a friend to our Empire.”

The Mage-Imperator nodded, feigning contentment in his reclining chair though fully aware of the desperate growing danger from the ancient hydrogue enemies. “Yes, we must make sure that our alliances are secure.”

Jora’h glanced at the green-skinned female, Nira, who waited with spectators outside the cordon, where Bron’n and other bodyguards kept them at a safe distance. “Still, Father… are you convinced you don’t require my counsel and assistance here? What if the hydrogues attack another Ildiran facility?”

The Mage-Imperator nudged his chrysalis chair closer to where his son stood. “Jora’h, because of your friendship with Reynald, no one can negotiate with the Therons as well as you. At present, this is the most important duty you can perform for the Ildiran Empire.”

The Prime Designate bowed, pleased to be given such a responsibility. “As you command, my Mage-Imperator. You see all and know all.”

Waving to the spectators, he cast a lingering gaze toward the female green priest, to whom he had never said his private good-bye. Jora’h led the bureaucrats and nobles into the transport ship that would take them to Theroc, where he would be conveniently preoccupied for some time. The Mage-Imperator’s faithful and unquestioning minions would cover up the mess and concoct appropriate excuses and alibis, if necessary. Jora’h need never know.

He had worried that his son would ask Nira to accompany him on this journey—which would have forced the corpulent leader to make an awkward refusal, based on some pretext or other. But the old green priest had preempted Jora’h’s request, saying that their work on the Saga of Seven Suns was not proceeding as rapidly or efficiently as it should. Before Nira could ask to join the Prime Designate, Otema had made it very clear that her assistant must remain in Mijistra and do her work.

That was perfect, the Mage-Imperator thought. The young woman is mine.

As the Prime Designate departed into the dazzling sky, the spectators cheered and raised their arms. The Mage-Imperator’s restless braid twitched at his side as he scrutinized the green-skinned young woman, analyzing her and deciding how best Nira could be used… how long she could last under the harshest circumstances.