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The vids had revealed no questionable activity around the machines nearest the Sixes table last night or on the two previous occasions.

Majel rubbed his face and gave the order for the technicians to strip out, clean and reset all of the floor devices.

Seylin sighed.

“It could be,” she said tentatively, “that it’s nothing more than five chizlers in twelve days—an, an initiation rite or some such—and not meant to divert our attention from something serious.”

“It could,” Majel said tiredly. “But that’s not the way the smart money bets.” He sighed.

“I need to get some rest. I have an appointment tomorrow—today—for luncheon with the Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission, and I’ll need my wits hard by me. Send the vids out to the surveillance company, and have them deep-scanned from three days prior to our first chizler through this evening. Concentrate the technicians’ work in the two main rooms. That will be enough to let us open tomor—tonight. Offer a bonus if the Yellow Room is likewise cleared and ready to open. Close the Sixes table.”

“Close the Sixes!” Seylin repeated. “But it’s our most popular—”

“So it is,” Majel interrupted. “And we are working on a new configuration which will put Sixes, Ante, and Snakes in their own parlor, with refreshments on offer, and dedicated staff.”

“Oh,” said Seylin. “And dedicated cameras, too. I suppose we’d better, considering.”

She sighed and stood up.

“What’s the trade mission to do with us?”

“I’m the liaison between the mission and the Council,” Majel said, though it sounded surreal.

“That’s new, is it?”

“Since yesterday’s meeting,” Majel admitted. “If you need me, I’ll—”

“We won’t need you,” Seylin interrupted. “Go on upstairs and sharpen your wits. I’ll take care of things here.”


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