Calla Westyn reached the limit of her mandate on the twelfth day.
She arrived at the morning session carrying the stillness of a person who had spent the previous night reading her authorization documents with the specific attention of someone looking for room that was not there and confirming that it was not there. She sat at the table.
She arranged the maps that had been their working language for eleven sessions. She looked at Khao'khen with the honest eyes of a diplomat who had decided that the only respect she could offer him at this point was the truth delivered without the softening that her profession usually provided.
