It took him the better part of a day to get to see the Chief Steward of Moaris Keep and explain to him that he had been unavoidably detained in the far worlds, and that he fully intended to re-enter the Moaris' service and perform his duties loyally and faithfully. After quite some wrangling he was reinstated as one of the Second Stewards, and given functions to carry out in the daily life of the sprawling residence that was Moaris Keep. Several days passed before he caught as much as a glimpse of the Lady Moaris. That did not surprise him; the Keep covered fifteen acres of Borlaam City, and Lord and Lady occupied private quarters on the uppermost level, the rest of the huge place being devoted to libraries, ballrooms, art galleries, and other housings, for the Moaris treasures, all of these rooms requiring a daily cleaning by the household staff. He saw her finally as he was passing through the fifth-level hallway in search of the ramp that would take him to his next task, cataloguing the paintings of the sixth-level gallery. He heard a rustle of crinoline first, and then she proceeded down the hall, flanked on each side by copper-colored Toppidan giants and in front and back by glistening-gowned ladies-in-waiting. The Lady Moaris herself wore sheer garments that limned the shapely lines of her body. Her face was sad; it seemed to Herndon, as he saw her from afar, that she was under some considerable strain. He stepped to one side to let the procession go past; but she saw him, and glanced quickly to the side at which he stood. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized him. He did not dare a smile. He waited until she had moved on, but inwardly he gloated. It was not difficult to read the expression in her eyes. Later that day, a blind Agozlid servant came up to him and silently handed him a sealed note. Herndon pocketed it, waiting until he was alone in a corridor that was safe from the Lord Moaris' spy-rays. He knew it was safe; the spy-ray in that corridor had been defective, and he himself had removed it that morning, meaning to replace it later in the day. He broke the seal. The note said simply: _I have waited a month for you. Come to me tonight; M. is to spend the night at the Seigneur's palace. Karla will admit you._ The photonically-sensitized ink faded from sight in a moment; the paper was blank. He thrust it in a disposal hatch, smiling. He quietly made his way toward the eleventh-level chamber of the Lady Moaris when the Keep had darkened for the night. Her lady-in-waiting Karla was on duty, the bronze-haired one who had served as go-between aboard the _Lord Nathiir_. Now she wore night robes of translucent silk; a test of his fidelity, no doubt. Herndon carefully kept his eyes from her body and said, "I am expected." "Yes. Come with me."