In Valdris, in the particular kind of room that appeared on no official architectural plan and was accessed through routes that appeared on no official map, several men and women were laughing.
Not loudly. The laughter had the quality of people who had learned, through professional necessity, to express satisfaction at a register that didn't carry through walls. But it was genuine. The specific warmth of people who had worked very hard at a very complex problem and were watching the solution arrive at exactly the predicted coordinates.
The Merchant Prince had a document in front of him that contained Chancellor Asim's psychological profile, compiled over months by an analyst in the Federation whose relationship to Valdris was one of the city's most valuable and least visible assets.
He had known Asim would take the bait.
