“I believe,” said Rima, before Jisarr could frame a word, “that I owe you an apology.”

Jisarr blinked. “You of all people have every right to be angry with the lot of willworkers.” He opened the bottle and started to pour.

“You aren’t the author of their troubles,” she replied, taking the goblet on her side once he’d filled it. “Semarr made me aware of that – at length.”