Mors had heard of Councilor Sinter, reputed to be the Emperor’s chief procurer of willing females, not highly regarded in any of the palace offices except, perhaps, his own, but he knew of no reason why the councilor would want to speak with him.
Mors stifled a brief panic. If this was somehow connected with Lodovik
It must be! But why wouldn’t Linge Chen send the ship, then? He knew of no connection between Sinter and Chen.
Mors had a sudden foreboding. He was caught between an ancient, almost incomprehensible conspiracy, and the still tightly-meshed and broadly cast net of the Empire. His life as a free man-any life at all!-might very well be at an end.
All because of an attachment to this peculiar and vulnerable world!
Escape was highly unlikely.
Best to go calmly. These days, style was all that was left to a desperate man.
Drawing up his shoulders, Mors walked away from the gate, toward the two men in blue uniforms at the end of the long corridor.