"That would be the Congo, sir."
"Not nation. Individual staff member. Person. Human. Youngest in years," Threlkeld explained.
"Twenty-one is generally as young as anyone is allowed—as clerks and aides, sir. That would be the minimum age. Diplomatic corpsmen are usually considerably older."
"Very well. The nearest and youngest of the aides."
"I can think of Monsieur Joffrion of France or Sahib Masher of Arabia."
Threlkeld was now weeding out difficulties. Homekind had given them access to one language only. "Someone who speaks the language I am speaking."
The girl frowned. "Sir, you do not know what language you speak?"
A bolt of fear shot through Threlkeld's earth stomach. "Of course I know. The point is, do you know?"
"English," the frustrated guide said. "Very well, I will secure Mr. Twitty of the British delegation. Come this way, sir, madam."
Threlkeld forced a deep intake of oxygen. He smiled at Gelerie and they followed the girl to an elevator. When they alighted, they were escorted down a hall to the doorway marked, Delegation of the United Kingdom.