“Oh, you know me,” Eris said, playing up Zoe’s Solarian accent. A reminder that despite her surroundings, Zoe was not a politician or royalty. She was a merchant. A dealer. Any Oracle programming in her cohort would stick to business. “I’m always on the job. The God of Death doesn’t sleep in my line of work.” Eris grinned.

Commander Ronan laughed and looked at Clo, Nyx, and Ariadne. “You have an entourage today.”

Eris glanced over her shoulder at the other women. Clo was barely suppressing a scowl. “Oh, they’re not important.” Eris waved a dismissive hand. “Assistant, assistant, assistant.”

“Are they gerulae?” the commander asked with interest.

Eris scoffed. “No, no. They’d be even more useless. They’d walk into walls or some such.” Eris tilted her head at Clo. “Well? I believe my glass is empty.”

Clo stared in bemusement at the half-full glass. With relish, Eris downed the glass in a single gulp, handing Clo the flute. Clo’s lip twitched. “Right away, Negotiare,” she said, body language respectful but her eyes glared a flume you.

“And you,” Eris said to Nyx. “Cheese plate. Now.”

Nyx set her jaw and followed Clo. Eris sighed. “It’s so difficult to find useful servitor, you know. That’s why I have three. In case one or two of them are useless at any given time.”

<You sound like a silthead,> Clo said through the Pathos.

<Agreed,> chimed Nyx.

Ariadne made a small noise of agreement next to Eris. Short and fine-boned as she was, some might think her too young to be an assistant. It was unusual, but not uncommon, to take those from servant cohorts in as soon as they left training. It was easier to shape their programming around specific owners’ needs at a young age. Most young servants were taken in by politicians and other high-ranking officials, a mark of their privilege. That Zoe had a servant so young was a wordless brag of accomplishment.

The commander smiled, with an attempt at charm. “Well, you’ve certainly convinced me to consider adding to my assistants.”

Eris kept her own fake, warm smile. “Just as long as you don’t poach mine, Commander.”

Those in the circle laughed.

<Ariadne,> Eris sent on the Pathos. <Go in for his pass now.>

Back on Zelus, Ariadne had sworn to Eris that her fingers were as light as feathers and she’d be able to lift the badge. Eris sure as flames hoped the girl could deliver. It was easier to work alone. Fewer variables.

“I’d love to know what my commander finds to be so amusing.” The voice came from behind Eris.

Her back stiffened. She reached and grasped Ariadne’s wrist so tightly that the girl let out a short gasp of pain. <Don’t move.>