The boy, on the other screen, slumped back in his chair, his face relaxing into its customary expression of vacancy.
“Will you accept my offer of service, Lady Dallona?” Dirzed asked. “It’s as Garnon said; you’ve made enemies.”
Dallona smiled at him. “I’ve not been too deep in my work to know that. I’m glad to accept your offer, Dirzed.”
Nirzav of Shonna had already turned away from the group and was hurrying from the room, to call his home for confirmation on the notches made on the underside of his dining table. As he went out the door, he almost collided with the upper-servant, who was rushing in with a book in his hand.
“Here it is,” the latter exclaimed, holding up the book. “Larnov’s ‘Splendor of Space,’ just where he said it would be. I had a couple of servants with me as witnesses; I can call them in now, if you wish.” He handed the book to Harnosh of Hosh. “See, a strip of message tape in it, at the tenth verse of the Fourth Canto.”
Nirzav of Shonna re-entered the room; he was chewing his mustache and muttering to himself. As he rejoined the group in front of the now dark visiplates, he raised his voice, addressing them all generally.
“My butler found the notches, just as the communication described,” he said. “This settles it! Garnon, if you’re where you can hear me, you’ve won. I can’t believe in the Statisticalist doctrines after this, or in the political program based upon them. I’ll announce my change of attitude at the next meeting of the Executive Council, and resign my seat. I was elected by Statisticalist votes, and I cannot hold office as a Volitionalist.”
“You’ll need a couple of Assassins, too,” the nobleman with the chin beard told him. “Your former colleagues and fellow-party-members are regrettably given to the forcible discarnation of those who differ with them.”
“I’ve never employed personal Assassins before,” Nirzav replied, “but I think you’re right. As soon as I get home, I’ll call Assassins’ Hall and make the necessary arrangements.”