"Well, here we are ripped away from our pleasant lives, and I'm named Maitimo and she knows someone named Maitimo and you slightly assassinated someone named Maitimo, I think that might matter."

"I don't know anyone named Maitimo. It's not an Osirian name."

"You know one too?" Cor asks Mirelótë.

"Yes..."

"I assume your ex didn't look like her?" he asks Cor.

"Not particularly, that's why I said it was probably a coincidence! He's an Elf. Redhead. Male. Light-skinned."

"Zero for four."

"This isn't funny."

"Well, I guess we had all better listen to the fellow with the servants and the - do they actually kill things with the swords or are they ceremonial -"

"She reads neutral evil," he tells Cor and Mirelótë.

"Delightful."

"How informative is that, exactly -"

"- moderately? Someone who has done nothing of note in their life except leave their baby they couldn't feed to die will read neutral evil but not be a particular menace to anyone who isn't a baby. For a space empress I'd expect it to be pretty predictive but she also might've beaten the truth spell and be lying about being a space empress."

"It tracks your whole life, or just recent events?"

"Whole life."

"About a thousand years ago I killed a lot of people. That'd do it?"

"How many?"

"Twenty-five billion."

"Dear god."

"Why did you do that?"

"Twenty-five billion?"

"I can think of a good reason. I can only think of one and doubt it enormously but I can think of one."

"There wasn't a good reason. I just lost my temper."

"Well, I hope you're right to trust your palatial security, here."