Cari was growing bored with this discussion. Human politics interested her not at all, and she was sure it was of no concern to her master, either. She wished they would return to the matter of the lost article, which seemed to be an urn of some kind; that was a more promising avenue of information. Fortunately at that moment the police captain knocked at the door to the audience chamber. The eunuch who’d been standing behind Shammara walked quickly to the door and, after a moment’s interrogation, allowed the newcomers to enter.
The police captain strode proudly into the room, leading on a chain a tall, handsome man of middle years. The prisoner’s clothes were worn and frayed, but showed faded evidence of having once been respectable. His face was cut and bruised as though from a beating,
