Then at Mira.

Mira was looking at the food she had organized, which she did every time to ensure it was as she’d requested, and her expression communicated nothing useful.

Elara sat in the remaining chair.

The food was the same quality as the first dinner — substantial, warm, the kind that was for eating rather than for displaying. Someone had added a dish she didn’t recognize, something that smelled like the eastern provinces, which meant Mahir had stopped somewhere on his way here and had the specific instinct to bring something.

She noted this.

Did not say anything about it.

"Item twenty-one," Mira said, across the table. "You finished it."

"The fourth section," Elara said. "The piece that’s been resistant."

"What resolved it," Mira said.

"I stopped trying to build it from the legal framework and built it from the outcome instead," Elara said. "What does the instrument need to accomplish and what’s the minimum legal structure that accomplishes it." She paused. "The fourth section was overcomplicated because I was trying to satisfy four requirements simultaneously. Two of them were the same requirement stated differently."

"That’s why it’s been resistant for three months," Mira said.

"Yes," Elara said.

Mira looked satisfied in the specific way she looked satisfied when a problem that had been occupying working memory was resolved.

"Tomorrow I’ll review the complete draft," she said. "If it holds I’ll have it ready for the administrative director by the day after."

"Good," Elara said.

She reached for the food.

Beside her, Mahir was eating with the considered pace she had noticed at the first dinner — the kind of person who tasted things. She had noted it then and had been noting it at intervals ever since in the way she noted things that she found interesting without always knowing why she found them interesting.

She knew why now.

She did not examine it further. There was food and people and the dining room and the river visible through the window in the evening light. That was enough for now.

"The eighth appointment," Ken said, from his end of the table. He had apparently been considering something. "The patrol log shows a behavioral pattern that doesn’t match any of the three categories we identified this afternoon."

Everyone at the table looked at him.

"Fourth category," he said. "I think there’s a fourth category. Someone who was placed by the Empress Dowager’s network, knew approximately what they were placed for, and during the incursion actively worked against the network’s interest." He paused. "The eighth appointment’s patrol log shows movement during the incursion that doesn’t match standard post behavior and doesn’t match incursion participant behavior. It matches someone who was managing the situation against the expected outcome."

The table was quiet for a moment.

"Show me," Mahir said.

Ken produced the patrol log from wherever he had been keeping it — he had apparently brought the relevant documentation to dinner, which was entirely Ken behavior.

He slid it across the table.

Mahir read it.

"Timing is wrong for standard post behavior," he said. "You’re right. He moved against the traffic pattern of the incursion."

"Toward the supply corridors," Ken said. "Which were the entry points."

"He was trying to secure them," Mahir said.

"Or he was trying to signal their location to someone outside," Ken said. "The movement is ambiguous."

Mahir looked at the log.

"No," he said. "Secure. The movement pattern is defensive, not communicative. If he was trying to signal he would have—" He pointed to a specific notation. "Here. He would have moved here. This is the position with external sight line. He went here instead." He pointed to a different notation. "Interior. Defensive position. He was trying to hold the corridor closed."

The table was quiet.

"Fourth category," Elara said. "Placed by the wrong people. Knew what he was placed for. Actively worked against it."

"Yes," Ken said.

"That’s the most complicated category," Caius said, from the middle of the table. He had been listening without speaking, which was something he did in operational discussions — followed the shape of it before contributing. "Because he can’t have reported what he was doing without revealing that he knew what he was placed for."

"Which means he’s been carrying it alone for a year," Mahir said.

The table absorbed this.

"He needs a different kind of approach than the other seven," Elara said.

"Yes," Mahir said. "Not an assessment. A conversation."

She looked at him.

He looked back at her.

"Two different things," she said. "Assessing someone who may be an active asset versus talking to someone who acted with integrity in a situation where he had no good options."

"The second kind requires establishing that it’s safe to talk," Mahir said. "Which takes longer. And requires trust rather than assessment."

"Can you do both," she said. "The seven assessments and the conversation."

"Yes," he said. "But separately. Different timelines, different approaches." He paused. "The conversation should come last. After the assessments are complete and the environment is clearer. He’ll be able to tell the difference between a safe environment and a risky one. He’s been doing it for a year."

"Three weeks for the assessments," Ken said. "The conversation after."

"Yes," Mahir said.

Elara looked at the working list she had brought to dinner — not because she had planned to work at dinner, but because she had been carrying it when she came upstairs and had set it on the table before sitting.

She added a note to item fourteen.

’Fourth category identified. Eighth appointment — conversation, not assessment, after primary framework complete.’

Set the pen down.

The food was getting cold.

She ate it anyway.

Around the table the conversation moved — not always about the working list, not always operational, the specific quality of a table where the people at it were the same people whether they were talking about item fourteen or about the eastern province’s food that Mahir had brought or about Fenwick’s response to the relay Nadia had sent him updating him on the capital progress.

Fenwick had responded in three words: ’About time. Well done.’

This had been read aloud by Nadia with the specific flat tone she used when something was simultaneously ridiculous and accurate.

Everyone at the table had done something — not quite a laugh, not quite just recognition, the specific sound of people who had been through something together and had arrived somewhere worth arriving.

Elara looked at the table.

At the food and the lamplight and the river through the window and the seven people around her.

The system was on the windowsill. Present. Watching.

She was not going to ask it for the report tonight.

She already knew what it said.

’Subject is at dinner. At a table. With people. Not working.’

Except she had added a note to item fourteen.

’The report notes this,’ the system would say. ’And notes that the note was necessary and correct and also that she set the pen down after and ate the food.’

’Both things,’ the system would say.

Both things.

---

After dinner.

The others filtered out in the gradual way of an evening ending — Petra with her drafts, Dimitri to review the provincial handoff package, Nadia to check the relay, Ken to his room with the eighth appointment’s patrol log, which he would apparently look at again before sleeping because he was Ken and this was what Ken did.