It had been a long day for Sizilen. First the press conference, then the interview with Alice South. Then she had been whisked to another skyward inn to meet with a scribe– a journalist they had called him, who was writing a story about Sizilen. He had spent most of the rest of the day in her company, and insisted they eat at a nearby eatery called Rogue.

He asked question after question, about things that Sizilen had never even considered herself. He asked about cultural differences between Embrayya and Canada. He asked about her beliefs, the creation stories of her people and what existed beyond Embrayya.

They spoke at length of trade exports. Embrayyan marble was renown even in the farthest reaches of Ayndir. Trade Ships from the United Trade Company arrived daily in Tyrant’s Fall, bound for the distant shores of Gitunia, Dasha’an and as far away as the Bjarian Holy Lands. Embrayyan wyvern breeds were among the most sought-after in the known world. An’Talei hosted an impressive array of jade deposits.

He even asked more invasive questions about Sizilen’s own personal relationships, about important people, important cities.

Then came the questions of infrastructure. He asked about roads, about the numbers of Embrayyan citizens, the finer details of food production to support their population. The questions began to take a specific direction toward Embrayyan military organization, number of fortifications, mean numbers.

She realized the questions were beginning to take the form of an interrogation. Miles had asked some of the same questions. They increasingly seemed geared toward exposing what Embrayya’s weaknesses were.

She could have told him the truth and gain the trust of the Canadians, which might be a complete betrayal to Embrayya. Her station was merely a means to an end. Once she’d seen that end come to pass, she had no intention of staying there. Still, an outright betrayal might risk her station, which she’d need once she was safely back on Ayndir.

She also could have lied and risked losing the trust of the Canadians. Losing their trust before she could get back home meant she might never see home. That, too, was off the table.

She knew the Canadians already considered her intelligent. After all, the test she was given on her first day was meant to identify the intelligent ones among the Embrayyan captives.

So she decided on the third option– to answer as a Clan-Mother would, just as she had when the same questions were asked of her by Miles and Kia. There, with their scribe, at least, she knew she wasn’t being broadcast to millions of people.

She merely looked the scribe in the eye and warned him that his questions were bordering on her betrayal of her own people, and if she is to be of any use in making peace, she could not tell him everything he wanted to know.

The scribe, thankfully, took it in stride, and steered his questions more toward things of apparent public interest.

At some point, a strange woman approached the table saying Sizilen’s name. Her eyes were wide and she rambled on even as McKinley and O’Neill had her keep her distance from her. She didn’t seem like she wanted to harm Sizilen, only to meet her. Still, the situation made Sizilen very uncomfortable. She’d never been recognized by people she’d never met, and especially not in a world she hadn’t been born to.

By the end of the evening, word had gotten around and as they left the eatery that evening, she found herself blinded by sudden flashes– camera flashes, she’d learned. People were aggressively taking her picture. To what end, she didn’t know.

When she eventually returned to her hotel room, she was exhausted. Not just her, either. Kia collapsed on the sofa in the common room with a groan.

“Oh my God,” she said. “What a day.”

McKinley scoffed. “We still have a job to do,” he said to her.

Kia groaned again. “Are you always on?” she asked.

“As long as there’s a job that needs doing,” he replied. He looked to Miles. “Lieutenant?”

Miles remained silent for a moment. For most of the day he’d looked like he had something on his mind. She looked up to Sizilen.

“Start starlight procedures,” he said to McKinley. “Singh, help him. I need to have a word with Sizilen about today.” He walked toward the exterior balcony and beckoned for Sizilen to follow him.

She followed, and then watched as he closed the door behind him. Inside, McKinley, Kia and O’Neill began to move around the apartment with purpose. She leaned against the balcony, admiring the evening view before looking over to Miles. He clearly wanted to say something, but didn’t speak.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. He looked her in the eye. “How good are you at spotting liars, Sizilen?”

Sizilen cocked her head to one side. “Liars? People who do not tell true?”

He nodded.

Sizilen looked away. “Why do you ask this question, Miles Brady?”

“How I tell a liar is by how they respond when a question is asked multiple times. You ask the question once, and you remember the response. Ask the same question again in a slightly different way, and you see if the response is the same. The more complex the lie, the easier it is to spot differences.”

“Do you think I lie to you, Miles Brady?”

“No,” Miles said. “But I think you’re not telling us everything. Today, during the Alice South interview, you froze up when she brought up slaves. You told me slavery exists in Embrayya. One human can own another.”

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“For a time, yes. When crimes are committed. When debts are owed. But none who are free under the King can be taken. Your people they– they will be slaves.” She looked to him. “Are slaves. Because they are not free under the King. They have no… no rights. Can be hurt. Can be raped. Can be killed. They are more than slaves. Even slaves can be freed.” She sighed. “Tributes. Tributes only can be freed by one– Othniel Caradoc.” She looked down. “He is not… evil King. But he is proud King. Many watch him for… weakness. He knows this. He will not show weakness.”

“What are you saying?”

Sizilen sighed. She didn’t want to tell him, but she had no other choice.

“King may not release your people. Because he is proud. Because to rivals– to enemies he will be weak.”

“Who are your King’s enemies?” he asked. “Rival nations? These other kingdoms you mentioned? Turzan? Cayde?”

Sizilen laughed. “Cayde does not bother with Embrayyan affairs,” she said. “Turzan is weakened. No. Clans. Clans… plot. Lie. What is the word– to make weak?”

“Undermine?” Miles asked.

“Undermine, yes. They all allies in eye of the commoner. But Clan-Houses plot. Conspire. Keep secrets.”

“Including your Clan?” he asked. “Does Clan Oringard plot? Does it lie?”

She looked away. “Clan Oringard…” she began. “Lesser Clan. No land. No house. Only in name.” She looked back to Miles. “If Clan Oringard does not lie, does not plot, there will be no Clan Oringard.”

Miles nodded in understanding. “Between you and me, Sizilen Oringard, the same thing is true here,” he explained.

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Then you hear these questions–”

“The CBC guy today? Yeah. He was getting a little too specific,” he said. “Just so you know, my team has nothing to do with that, but I have a hard time believing he was asking you all those questions for the public interest.”

“He was… ithos?” She didn’t know the proper word. “One who pretends?”

“Spy?” Miles shook his head. “I don’t know. He was vetted. If he was a spy, he’s a spy for our side. But it doesn’t make sense to go through him when we’ve–” he paused.

“When you what?” Sizilen asked.

“It would only make sense if it’s something we haven’t been ordered to ask you,” he replied. “Trade and infrastructure,” he began. “Embrayyan VIP’s. These are all questions we’ve already asked you.”

“And I told you the same as him,” she said. “I will help you make peace. But I will not give away secrets that could let you hurt us, Miles Brady.”

Miles nodded. “He didn’t even pry about the Elder Law,” Miles observed. “Or how the portal functions.”

“Miles Brady,” Sizilen began. “Maybe you do not know your own people as well as you think. Maybe they not trust you as much as you think.”

Miles shook his head instantly, as if it were impossible. “Look, Sizilen, I’m willing to entertain that possibility, but I doubt it. My clearance level–” he paused, looking unsure of himself.

“Clans plot,” she repeated. “Do you think your nations do not?”

He suddenly looked unsure of himself. It took a moment, but his features eventually hardened. “Sizilen, do you trust us?”

She blinked in surprise at the question. “Who is us?” she asked. “Is us you?” she pointed to Miles. “Or is us your leaders?” She frowned.

Miles looked back at her. He laughed, “I guess that answers my question,” he said. He started to turn around.

“Wait!” Sizilen said suddenly, reaching out and grasping his shirt. “If I trust or not, not important. I have no choice but to trust that Canada does not lie to me. That you do not lie to me. If you were in my world alone, could you trust?”

Miles remained silent in thought, then looked up at her. “I serve my country,” he said. “But I won’t lie to you. Not knowingly.”

“Miles Brady, if I tell you secrets, will you tell your leaders? Your Colonel Burke? Your Jonathan Pike?”

Miles took a moment before responding. “If they ordered me to, yes. If it represented a threat to our sovereignty.”

“Then I believe you,” Sizilen said. “That you would not lie. And so I choose the same, not to lie.” She sighed. “So it is not a lie to say I cannot tell you all you wish to know, but I will say I do not wish harm on you or your people. I will cooperate. I will help you make peace with Embrayya. I will help your people know us better. I will help. May be hard. May not work. But I will try so that your people will release me. This is my promise, and I trust in yours.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Maybe trust can be had then. For now, we must settle on not lying.”

Miles smirked. “Fair.”

They were suddenly interrupted by the glass door to the apartment sliding open. “We have a problem,” Kia said. She was holding up a small black button between her fingers.

Miles leaned over and examined it. For a moment, he looked at it skeptically, then his eyes suddenly widened.

“Shit,” Miles said.

“What is?” Sizilen asked.

He looked at her for a moment, then pressed his finger to his lips, beckoning her to be silent. From behind Kia, McKinley came outside, waving a small device around the balcony. After a moment, he stopped and shook his head.

“Inside?” Miles asked.

McKinley nodded. “Clear,” he said.

He then looked to Sizilen. “It’s a bug. A… listening device.”

“Listening?”

“They were listening to us speak,” he said, pulling her back inside and closing the window. “Shit.”

“Who?” she asked

He looked to Kia. “Where was it?”

“Bookshelf speaker,” she said. “It wasn’t placed carefully.”

“You’re sure we’re clear?”

McKinley nodded. “For now. Your phones aren’t going to work, but if there are any left in here, they’re not going to be transmitting.” He nodded toward the balcony. “And just because there are none outside doesn’t mean they can’t hear what you’re talking about.”

“I do not understand,” Sizilen asked. “Who is listening?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Kia asked. “It’s literally easier to list people who don't want to listen.”

“I’ve got to report this,” Miles announced. He looked to Sizilen for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, then steeled his gaze. A moment later, he turned and walked out the door.