"We could assign him to selling the boat and say we have a party member selling a boat for us and they might not even turn out to care."

"I haven't, like, done anything awful to anyone. Promise."

"Fine, sell the boat."

"Get good money for it."

"Yes, your grace."

Sigh.

"I told you I'm sensitive about people's graces. Call me Niss."

"Awww. Us too, or only him?"

"Everyone can call me Niss, it's the best bit of my name."

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear it," he says, nodding at some gold-robed people waiting on the docks.

She waves at them politely.

"You jumping overboard?"

"I think that's more suspicious than not doing that," he says, but he looks pale and unhappy.

"Still have my water breathing if you decide to anyway."

"Thanks."

They get out of the boat.

"Ran into trouble?"

"Not very much of it. Archbishop, these are Mahdi, Belmarniss, and Hagan. My friends, Archbishop Sidqi of Sothis."

"A pleasure," he says distantly. 

Hagan relaxes very slightly.

"Afternoon. Never met an archbishop before."

"Let's walk," he says, and gestures them down the pier. Hagan tenses again, but they head only over to the big marble port building that coordinates customs declarations and tariffs.

The crowd parts for them.

"I think," says the ambassador when they've stepped inside, "that you ought to take some time away from adventuring in the Inner Sea."

"Understood, sir."

"I wanted to answer any questions you might otherwise be tempted to answer by investigating, or tempted to speculate loudly about in ignorance of the effects that speculation might have on regional stability."

"Is there - an account of this adventure we should give, if people ask, Cicerone."