“You have been well-briefed.”

“The transmission by your Ministry of War was quite thorough.” Never mind that I had the chance to cherry-pick from dozens of minds as the Need of the Hour granted me after we arrived here…

“Yet one thing we lack,” said the Guotin, “and that is a Heavenly Emperor to lead us: an Archon as Hegemon, or else the very Hooded Man who sent us here. You are called the Herald of the Hooded Man; He sent you here in response to our Emperor’s query. Tell me, what would happen to our Kingdom now if your Kingdom annexed it?”

“Well, for one thing,” and here the Undying Singer’s speech became both colloquial and rather chiding, “you’d have to stop eating everything that swims, crawls, flies or walks.” Alain gestured significantly at his plate on the low table between them, which had held a chicken-based dish, and at the Guotin’s plate, which had held a pork-based dish. “This tea is marvelous, but have you ever asked yourselves why you drink so much of it?” When Sying looked astonished at Alain’s frankness, the latter went on, “It’s because the tea has to counteract the toxins in the meat you eat. We Adamim aren’t like the Bruins – I gather your people remember them? Well, simply because we can eat anything they eat doesn’t mean we should. We’re not designed to do that. They are.”

Before the Guotin could frame a reply, the alarm for general quarters sounded: five gongs of what sounded like a deep brass bell in a row. There was a pause, and then a repeat. And another.

Sying had his slip-on sandals on in seconds, and fastened in seconds after that. Alain had his Starblade and scabbard girded over his jacket before the second series of gongs was over. The third series rang in the corridor outside as the Guotin and the Undying Singer passed into it.

“Hold on, Guotin,” Alain shouted. Once his host had stopped and turned, the power of the Locus’ Ring brought both men instantaneously to the bridge.