She gestured at the comfortable armchairs, and Rabenstrange nodded. The two of them crossed the day cabin, followed by Major Shiang Schenk and Captain Spencer Hawke. Schenk, whose uniform bore the skeleton shoulder flash of the Totenkopf Hussars, the elite regiment of the Andermani Empire, was technically Rabenstrange’s senior military aide, but that was simply a polite fiction. In fact, the Totenkopfs were responsible for the personal safety of members of the Anderman Dynasty, and Schenk and Hawke had developed a comfortable relationship based on mutual respect and professionalism. Neither of them was entirely happy about the side arm riding at his counterpart’s hip, but they’d been forced to learn to deal with it, since both of them were responsible for protecting people who were required by law to be accompanied by armed bodyguards at all times.

That restriction could make things awkward enough under most circumstances, but the situation was worse than usual in Rabenstrange’s case, despite his and Honor’s personal friendship. In fact, it would have been the next best thing to impossible if Emperor Gustav hadn’t granted a very specific dispensation in Honor’s case to his across-the-board rule that no one aside from assigned Andermani security personnel was allowed into proximity with any member of the Anderman Dynasty when armed. Partly that was because Andermani security knew about the pulser built into Honor’s artificial hand, which she would have found just a bit difficult to leave behind on social occasions. But it was also a special declaration of trust in her, and she often wondered how hard it had been for Rabenstrange to talk the compulsively suspicious Emperor around.

Which had a certain bearing on the present conversation, she supposed.

Rabenstrange seated himself, and she sank into another armchair, facing him. Nimitz, who’d been watching the Andermani’s arrival from his perch, hopped down and sauntered across to the visitor. He looked up for a moment, cocking his head thoughtfully, then launched himself into Rabenstrange’s lap, and the herzog chuckled as the ’cat stood on his four rearmost limbs and extended his right true-hand.

“It’s good to see you, too, Nimitz,” he said, shaking the offered true-hand. He and the treecat were old acquaintances, and Nimitz settled down on his lap comfortably.

“You do realize that I realize the two of you are setting out to double-team me, don’t you?” Rabenstrange inquired, looking up to smile at Honor.

“If there’s any double-teaming going on here, it’s his idea, not mine,” she protested. “On the other hand, you’re probably right. He’s about as shameless at manipulating the two-legs around him as any ’cat I’ve ever seen. Darn good at it, too.”

“Yes, he is,” Rabenstrange agreed, then nodded as James MacGuiness entered the day cabin. “Ah! The inimitable—and inestimable—Mr. MacGuiness!”

“Your Grace,” MacGuiness responded, bowing slightly. “I was wondering if I could get you and Her Grace some refreshment?”