"And you do it admirably," he said, brisk now. He set the message tube down by his chair and continued: "We'll not discuss business at the table; I find it spoils the appetite. Please, sit." He moved to escort her to her seat.
She nodded and let him do so, angling her body so her back was never turned to him.
He pulled her chair out from the table with a little bow and flourish; it slid noiselessly on the black stone floor. She nodded again, in gratitude, and took her seat, and Lord Exsil Vis pushed it back in for her, the epitome of good manners and decorum. What was his game?
As he seated himself, she took stock of the food in front of her: mostly fish and fowl, with a smattering of vegetables and greens.
"I apologise for the lack of vegetables," came his cultured voice from the head
