Her eyes were fixed on a wall screen. It showed a slow bustle in the vast space of the adjoining Observatory Hall as staff prepared it for the treaty signing with dozens of cameras, both fixed and aerial, and a covered table on the dais at the front. On the table was a row of handscribing quills but no papers. The Auditor stood in front of the table, turning his head slightly from side to side, as if he could hear something nobody else could. Some of the treaty representatives had started to file in, tiny on the screen.

Kiem paused in the doorway to the anteroom, a slim, gold-embossed case in his hand. Vaile broke away from a hushed conversation with a pair of aides and swiftly crossed to him. She was past stressed; instead she had gone distant and steely. “Kiem, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to her majesty,” Kiem said, tilting his head at the statue-like figure of the Emperor. “What’s the status of the treaty?”

“We don’t know what she’s signing,” Vaile said, brutally honest. “Things change every five minutes. The bloody Auditor doesn’t seem to mind that if we don’t sign it, we’ll be at war within the year.”

“Can I talk to her?” Kiem said. Vaile gave an ironic go-ahead gesture.

As he strode across the room, he studied the Emperor’s lined face. She couldn’t be any less worried than Vaile, but you couldn’t see it; even under a degree of pressure that would crack a ship’s hull, she wore the exact expression she used for council meetings and press appearances. Kiem couldn’t help a twinge of admiration.

The Emperor tore her gaze away from the screen as he approached and raised her eyebrows a fraction. “So,” she said. “Kiem. Have you finished your Thean dramatics?”

Kiem gave a shallow bow. “You did give me the Thean representative post, ma’am.”

“I did,” the Emperor said. “You have certainly taken it in directions I did not expect. However, I am currently dealing with larger problems.”

“About that,” Kiem said. “I might have a solution to one of them.”

She gave him a look that contained more than a hint of disbelief. “You,” she said, “have a solution?”

“Well, I’m more like the messenger,” Kiem said. He opened the embossed

case, drew out some paper documents—real paper, that crackled under his fingers—and handed them to her. “The Theans drafted this and are willing to sign it. The other vassal planets have seen it. Half the Thean newslogs have positive stories ready to run. The Auditor says he’ll accept it if you do.”

There was dead silence in the anteroom as the Emperor read the papers. Even the aides had stopped muttering.

She raised her eyes when she had finished reading and examined Kiem in further silence. Kiem had very rarely been the subject of the Emperor’s unflinching, undivided attention. It was a little like standing in front of a glowing rock you suspected was going to give you radiation poisoning.