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equidistant intervals, and a similar carpet ran from each toward the circular stepped structure on which rested the Throne of Light.
    In all probability, the throne rotated to face whatever portal the Emperor wished or protocol demanded.
    Empires need Emperors, and the bigger the Empire, the more impressive the Emperor should be. As a practical matter, reflected the Trade Envoy for the Coordinate of Accord, Emperors only came in one size—human. At least, human emperors did. His Royal and Imperial Highness Jostan Lerann McDade N’troya, while white-haired and close to 196 centimeters, was only human.
    The Emperor of the Terran Empire, the Hegemony of Light, the Path of Progress, compensated for his mere humanity by wearing an unadorned and brilliant white uniform that cloaked him in light, making him the focus of the receiving hall in which a full-sized Imperial corvette could have been hangared.
    A crowd, gathered around and on the lower steps of the throne pedestal and large enough to comprise several subotta teams, was lost under the sweeping lightstone buttresses, and the height of the ceiling swallowed the pulsing beams emanating from the Throne of Light.
    Nathaniel waited on the tan carpet, as he’d been briefed by the majordomo, Receiving Auditor, whatever she was called.
    Several of the group gathered below the throne, a good stone’s throw away, glanced at him and pointedly turned their heads.
    The Imperial hangers-on all affected light-colored clothing. Only the Emperor wore out-and-out white, and no one wore a predominantly dark outfit.
    Nathaniel wore Accord’s diplomatic blacks. If he had worn the greens of the Ecolitan Institute, the effect and impact would have been the same. In the bright universe of the Imperial court, two colors were absent. Solid green and solid black—the colors of Accord, the colors associated with the Ecologic Secession.
    “The Lord Nathaniel Firstborne Whaler, Trade Envoy from the Coordinate of Accord. Presenting his official credentials to His Imperial Highness, Provider of Prosperity and Sovereign of Light.”
    The announcement stilled the hall for less than an instant.
    “We await your arrival.” The Emperor’s voice filled the hall, overtoned and benevolent.
    Nathaniel marched up the tan carpet, which gradually lightened into gold as it neared the Throne of Light. The throne itself stood higher than he’d realized from the holo projection.
    Stopping before the bottom step, the Ecolitan bowed once.
    “Lord Whaler, the Empire is pleased at your presence.”
    Nathaniel climbed four steps. The Emperor stood and descended.
    From the corner of his eye, the Ecolitan could see that the Empress, who had remained in her seat below and to the left of the Emperor’s, was not in the slightest interested in Accord or in credentials. She continued her conversation with a blond man dressed in a peacock blue tunic belted in scarlet.
    “Lord Whaler.” The Emperor addressed the Envoy.
    “Your Highness.”
    A minor murmur circled the crowd on the throne pedestal. Protocol required the more formal “Sovereign of Light.”
    But, thought Nathaniel, we provincials can’t be expected to know everything about the delicacies of court etiquette.
    Nathaniel handed him the credentials case.
    “My credentials, my writ to the Empire. May we all live in peace and prosperity.”
    “On behalf of the Empire and its peoples, I accept your credentials and your wishes for peace and prosperity.”
    The smile the Emperor N’troya gave the Ecolitan was genuine enough, and so were the tiredness and the thin lines radiating from the corners of his dark eyes.
    “Was your trip pleasant, Lord Whaler?”
    “To reaching New Augusta, I looked forward. Seeing your receiving hall, disappointed I am certainly not. Most impressive and suited to you.”
    The Sovereign of Light chuckled.
    “I gather that’s a compliment, Lord Whaler, and in our position as royalty, so shall we take it.”
    The royal chuckle