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He turned back to Clarey. “Do you think you can pick up some of those what-do-you-call-’ems—ulerins—for us, too, or is there a tabu of some kind?”

“Not ulerins,” Clarey corrected, “uleran. And you can walk up to any marketplace and get as many as you like—providing you have the cash, of course.”

“I told you the job had musical overtones. I’ll bet that makes up for some of the discomforts and privations.”

“It’s not too uncomfortable.”

“There speaks a true patriot!” Spano approved.

Han measured Clarey with her eyes. “You’re quiet, Secretary,” he said nervously. “You used to talk a lot more.”

Blynn stared at him. She smiled. “You’re the one who has things to tell now, Clarey.”

“And show,” the general said, almost licking his lips. “Every one of your tapes made my mouth fairly water. I trust you brought an ample and varied supply of those delicacies.”

Clarey’s smile was unforced this time. “I got your message and I brought along a large hamperful, but it’ll be hard to make the people back home keep thinking my aunt’s an invalid if she eats like a team of hax. My wife baked some pastries, which I especially recommend to your attention.”