Vyarin gave the princess a nod, seemingly calm, but his mind was quickly turning. He didn't want to tell her that he had simply stumbled on her by chance; that simply sounded like a lie. Surely she must have been chased into many a room by some ambitious young prince "in a mere turn of fate." Quickly, he did what he did best and assessed his surroundings. He was beginning to become very skilled at this; who knows, a few more months here in this court and he shall be the greatest observer in the world.

"I am of apologies . . . again. You and me did not the talk very in the night, yes. It is good to meet, though I to know name-you." Slowly, Vyarin was becoming accustomed to the fluid cadence of Astalian. Though it still twisted his tongue in knots, there was no denying that the reputation Astalia had for a land of grace and beauty in all things was not in the slightest unfounded. He pointed at the table. "This is . . . painting? Painting of 'Glila Tharr' land. Land of 'krebo odzar.'" He recalled the letter from his father. Zarrir 'Usurper' did not secure preeminence for their bloodline by making idle accusations. If he says that the Gilthans were threatening an invasion, it was because he knew with near certainty. "Is good. To learn many of the enemy. We men of the Zpina have many story of the krebo odzar. You wish I to say to you? It to assist, possible."