He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. “I didn’t think you’d come. She breathed deeply. His technique had gained much subtlety over the years.
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