‘I am.’ Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen lowered his voice, although the chamber was tightly sealed against eavesdropping. ‘I understand, I comprehend. Though I’d like to be certain I’m carrying out the emperor’s order… Not that of some… corporation…’

‘Emperors pass,’ drawled Leuvaarden. ‘And corporations survive. And will survive. But that’s a truism. I understand your anxieties, Baron. You can be certain, sir, that I’m carrying out an order issued by the emperor. Aimed at the empire’s good and in its interest. Issued, I don’t deny it, as a result of advice given to the emperor by a certain corporation.’

The envoy opened his collar and shirt, demonstrating a golden medallion on which was depicted a star set in a triangle surrounded by flames.

‘A pretty ornament,’ Shilard confirmed with a smile and a slight bow that he understood. ‘I’m aware it is very expensive… and exclusive… Can they be had anywhere?’

‘No,’ stated Berengar Leuvaarden with emphasis. ‘You have to earn them.’

‘If you permit, m’lady and gentlemen.’ The voice of Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen assumed a special tone, already familiar to the debaters, that signified that what the ambassador was about to say was considered by him to be of the utmost importance. ‘If you permit, m’lady and gentlemen, I shall read the aide memoire sent to me by His Imperial Highness Emhyr var Emreis, by grace of the Great Sun, the Emperor of Nilfgaard…’

‘Oh no. Not again.’ Demavend ground his teeth, and Dijkstra just groaned. This did not escape Shilard’s attention, because it couldn’t have.

‘The note is long,’ he admitted. ‘So I shall precis it, rather than read it. His Imperial Highness expresses his great gladness concerning the course of the negotiations, and as a peace-loving man joyfully receives the compromises and reconciliations achieved. His Imperial Highness wishes further progress in the negotiations and a resolution to them to the mutual benefit of—’

‘Let us get down to business then,’ Foltest interrupted in mid-sentence. ‘And briskly!’ Let’s finish it to our mutual benefit and return home.’

‘That’s right,’ said Henselt, who had the furthest to go. ‘Let’s finish, for if we dally we’re liable to be caught by the winter!’

‘One more compromise awaits us,’ reminded Meve. ‘A matter which we have barely touched on several times. Probably for fear that we’re liable to fall out over it. It’s time to overcome that fear. The problem won’t vanish just because we’re afraid of it.’

‘Indeed,’ confirmed Foltest. ‘So let’s get to work. Let’s settle the status of Cintra, the problem of succession to the throne, of Calanthe’s heir. It’s a difficult problem, but I don’t doubt we’ll cope with it. Shall we not, Your Excellency?’

‘Oh.’ Fitz-Oesterlen smiled diplomatically and mysteriously. ‘I’m certain that the matter of the succession to the throne of Cintra will go like clockwork. It’s an easier matter than you all suppose, m’lady and gentlemen.’

‘I submit for consideration,’ announced Philippa Eilhart in quite an indisputable tone, ‘the following project: we shall turn Cintra into a trust territory. We’ll grant Foltest of Temeria a mandate.’