Without preamble, he said quietly, glancing at Malina’s and Ralph’s interlocked hands, ‘Young woman, I would begin these proceedings directly and without interruption, if I could, but a point of order has arisen concerning your status here, requiring that you read and sign a Writ of Proxy. Please understand, that when travellers act as Emissaries in our lands, they are, as a matter of course, obligated to sign the Writ.
‘The reason for this is simple: when an Emissary is not clearly elected to the task by his own people, there may come a time when that Emissary’s people will send us a person, or persons, who are, in fact, acting officially in that capacity.
‘If and when that should occur, the official Emissaries are questioned regarding the first person contacted. This is done,’ he told her, ‘because in the past, persons fleeing justice, who ventured into our lands, on occasion used the title of Emissary as pretence, until they were caught and turned over to their own people to receive justice.
‘In your case,’ he continued, ‘I would waive the matter altogether, if I could, as the social conditions I have just mentioned are not relevant.’ He said this last, turning his head slightly, indicating that these words were meant for a certain person, or persons, in the gallery, or nearby. Continuing, he said, ‘However, certain . . . persons . . . have seen fit to demand the enforcement of this point of law, so that I have no choice but to acquiesce; therefore you must sign the Writ.’ He shrugged. ‘It is just a formality, albeit an irritating one under the circumstances.