Evelyn crossed the room and returned the ring.
"Existence is so full of mysteries, isn't it?" murmured Perat. "Sometimes it seems unfortunate that we must pass through a sentient phase on our way to death. This foolish, foolish war. Maybe the old count was right."
"You could be courtmartialed for that."
"Speaking of courtmartials, I've got to attend one tonight—an appeal from a death sentence." He arose, smoothed his hair and clothes, and poured another glass of terif. "Some fool inquisitor can't show proper disposition of a woman prisoner."
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. "Indeed?"
"The wretch insists that he could remember if we would just let him alone. I suppose he took a bribe. You'll find one now and then who tries for a little extra profit."
She must absolutely not be seen by the condemned inquisitor. The stimulus would almost certainly make him remember.
"I'll wait for you," she said indifferently, thrusting her arms out in a languorous yawn.
"Very well." Perat stepped to the door, then turned and looked back at her. "On the other hand, I may need a clerk. It's way after hours, and the others have gone."
Beneath a gesture of wry protest, she swallowed rapidly.