What could this mean? Emma wondered. Perhaps this was another employer, like her last, Sun TV, a holiday TV station, who were tightening up on the lic...nce they allowed their staff. The Managing Director was a small man with a penchant for cigars, which Emma found thoroughly disgusting but she restrained the temptation to comment. His office resembled the office of most Managing Directors except for the scattered pictures of Harlot TV presenters in different degrees of undress. ‘This is going. ”“Queen Synel may be in trouble,” Joric summed up.Troubled, Radu looked to one of his oldest friends and advisors. “What do you think, Werten?”Werten paused a moment before holding his old, gnarled hands before him and staring at them. Though wrinkled and spotted, the hands never wavered and were steady. He turned them palm up, his fingers spread wide. The fingers were long and thin, and pale to nearly being translucent. He flexed them marginally and continued his silent contemplation. After. More

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