He knew a bit about the Four Tellers of Mano, but he had always assumed that they were charlatans putting on a show of otherworldly omnipotence to placate and manipulate the populace. Now, sitting in the very presence of an actual magi seer, he wasn’t so sure.

“All things considered,” Everson replied after a considerable pause.

“You’re still alive,” The Which continued without a hint of threat. “Have you considered that?”

“Extensively. And I keep reaching the same conclusion. Why?”

Instead of answering, The Which sat back in her chair and narrowed her eyes. Everson felt properly scrutinized, and he silently hoped that the quickened pulse in his neck was not obvious.

“I must say, you don’t speak like a soldier,” The Which said.

Everson mentally kicked himself. He was proving to be green at every turn. It had never occurred to him that he would have to adopt a clandestine persona. The Indiran military certainly provided comprehensive preparation, but espionage was not, as of yet, a necessity for a nucruit. Then again, Everson had much more to hide than the average infantryman.

“We educate our soldiers on Indira,” he sidestepped nimbly. “Is that not the case here on Mano?”

The Which raised her eyebrows toward the stone in her forehead until they underlined its oddity. She cast a quick glance to the guards on either side of the entrance, who pretended not to listen.

“I am not of the military and I am not familiar with their methods,” she said. “As a magi seer, I oversee Front Tier and foresee our future.”

Everson forced his face to remain blank, as if the confirmation were meaningless to him. “I’m honored,” he said as blandly as possible.

The female laborer had measured her movements even more when The Which had entered, almost as if to avoid notice, and now placed the final dish on the table. Her eyes still unengaged, she turned to The Which and curtsied, a gesture Everson found to be near ludicrous given her size. The Which nodded and the server’s decisive exit was the most rapid exhibition of movement she had displayed thus far. Everson waited until she was out of earshot.

“Your servants,” he began tentatively. “They appear very…different. I’ve run into a few of them. Literally.”

“Of course.” The Which smiled. “How could you not notice? Those are the Leftists. Their ancestors were left behind on the planet before the Great Schism. To escape the toxic environment, they took shelter below ground and evolved there, it seems. The subterranean environment led to their poor eyesight, and their size can be explained by the sudden decrease in gravity. Unfortunately, they also have decreased mental capacity, so they labor. Is there not a subspecies on your planet?”

Subspecies? Everson had never heard the word, and even if he had, he certainly would not have thought it applicable to a living being who could be considered a person. To be fair, there was indeed a hierarchy on Indira, but from serf to sovereign, each person took pride in their position and was respected and valued for it. Subspecies. The offensive term made Everson regret that he himself had judged the Leftists based solely upon their appearance. After all, he believed that the enmity between Indiran and Manolith could partially be blamed on the distinct difference in their skin color.