Redana bows low, one arm pressed to her chest, the other sweeping as counterbalance. It is the height of Tellus’s chivalry. “In the name of Her bride,” Redana says smoothly, without so much as a note of her fret entering her voice. “I accept your generous gifts, matron of the hall. But I cannot swear that I’ll join your war; I mean to mend it.” She straightens up, and does her best not to look at Lacedo. Are her ears red? They certainly feel warm enough. “I am Redana Claudius, daughter of Empress Nero Claudius and Zeus Stormbringer, traveling to the far ends of space by the will of the gods. I am the student of the Hermetics, but I have enough authority that they cannot disregard me, and I cannot listen to Lacedo’s account without wanting to make amends. Your culture here is wonderful, and I’m sure the Hermetics value it in their own strange way. I can arrange for a more mutual agreement to be made through my instructor, the Magos Iskarot.”

Self-conscious of the many eyes on her now, of the stillness in the hall, she runs one hand through her neon bangs. “I mean it,” she adds, impulsively. “The Hermetics shouldn’t be [i]kidnapping[/i] anyone. They’re supposed to be stewards and archivists and technicians, not [i]conquerors.[/i] And I can’t leave without setting this right.”