The Sural nodded, then glanced at Storaas. His old advisor
looked as puzzled as the engineer.

    “You may go,” he told the engineer. “Keep me informed.”

    “Yes, high one.”

    When he was gone, Storaas said, “The Parania is not known
for disseminating false information.”

    The Sural leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers in
front of his face. “A laborer hears talk of the Interstellar Trade Alliance. The Parania finds the report creditable enough to bring it
to my attention. If I investigate, I risk falling into an entrapment. If I do
not investigate and it truly is odalli,
we risk exposure. In either case, the Monral has a needle to my throat.”

    Storaas shook his head. “I do not believe he meant the
report to leave Monralar.”

    “Explain.”

    “He has always taken great care to avoid your attention. It
is difficult to believe he would change his tactics now.”

    He tapped his fingertips together. “Indeed.” He stood and
pushed himself away from his desk. “If odalli are communicating with Monralar, the Jorann will
want to know.” He glanced out the window at the rising sun. “Be ready to call a
meeting in late morning.”