The king’s advisor Ibrahim ibn Mahmoud turns out to be an energetic, fat little man with a taste for expensive suits. His only deviation from the exacting demands of fashion is one of those little red hats they wear around here. Abominable, really.

There are about twenty guests at the salon, most of whom are very clearly not Morrocan. Ibrahim leads you all ably through conversations on man in the state of nature, advances in physics, and astronomical phenomena.

You stick doggedly to the persona you’ve developed and, by the time you break for tea, have managed to at least mildly offend most everyone there.

As the guests break into little groups, you lift your tea and head straight for the advisor.

“Ah, our visiting scholar!” says Ibrahim. “I trust you are enjoying your evening? A moment, Mazim, where is the baklava? Well, bring it out! Hurry hurry! I love this baklava, the best baker in Fez is married to my second cousin. Want one? No? You don’t mind if I do I hope? Anyway, I was hoping to give you something.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

He wipes his sticky hands on a napkin, reaches into his waistcoat, and pulls out a slim red calling card with gold filigree around the edges. You turn it over. There’s no name.

“This,” he says, lowering his voice, “is an invitation to a little demonstration we are giving at the palace next week. You’ll find it most–hrgnnn!”

The advisor suddenly turns purple and topples to the floor.

Somebody’s poisoned the baklava!

1. Stay in Character. Wring your hands. Postulate loudly.

2. Lead the investigation. Nobody move! The murderer may still be among us!

3. Escape. You were closest. Suspicion may fall on you.

4. Pretend to offer medical assistance… and pick his pockets!