“The rebellion’s over,” she said, and did not flinch from Ake’s expression. “In the eyes of the Republic it never began.”

“We know, you stuck-up cunt!” the cook Nitu snapped. The dog whined and Ulyu Xe shushed it with a touch.

“Nonetheless,” Ake said. “We wish to negotiate.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Baru said.

“I think your intentions are rather beside the point,” Ake said, crisply. “Run, will you please?”

The boy Run came out from under Ude’s arm and with downcast eyes offered Baru a page of paper. She accepted it, and murmured thanks: he flinched like she’d put a spark out on his eyelid. Ude went to the back, where a low arch and a sooty curtain led to a hearth room, and brought a stool back for the head of the table.

“Your Majesty.” With a short bow he invited Baru to sit. He would not look at her. “If you please.”

Faham Execarne came in with an armful of driftwood from his curing-pile. “Hello, everyone,” he called, “remember my rules about guests. If anyone gets hurt I’ll feed you so many tapeworm eggs that you’ll never satisfy your appetite till the day you die. And a terrible day that will be, as the worms split your guts and crawl out your navel. Carry on, everyone!”

The dog bumbled amiably against his ankles. He ruffled its scruff and went off into the rest of the house to start a fire.

The paper in Baru’s hand read, in sharp Aphalone blocks, ACTS OF SURRENDER.

It was like they were putting on a play, and the topic was a diplomatic meeting. But they had to know, certainly, that they were utterly powerless.…

“I don’t understand what you want,” Baru admitted. “Why are you doing this?”

There was a general rustle around the table. Dziransi’s fists curled. “We want to negotiate,” Ake repeated, with finality. “To make our terms. Will you sit?”

“If this is not a negotiating table,” Ulyu Xe said, reasonably, “what else could it possibly be?”

And then Baru, through a roundabout and cryptic detour, understood.

*   *   *

WHY do people do the things they do? If there are reasons for their acts, reasons like threads which trail back into the snarled silk of a life, how can we deduce those reasons from the acts?

Begin with a hashing function.

A hashing function is a one-way equation. How can there be such a thing? If two and two make four, then four is made of two and two, isn’t it?

No. Given only the number four you do not know if it was made from two and two, or three and one, or four and nothing. You cannot easily go in reverse.

Say that you are a spymaster.