Rather than shrink away or scream in fright, Blair poured on the charm with the gunmen.

“Why, boys! I had no idea the Hobnobbers had a presence in Doctors’ Commons.”

She didn’t reach out with her hands, which would have alarmed them, but she stepped closer to the gunman on the left.

All three men glanced down at her chest, which suddenly seemed much more prominent than before.

The gunman she approached wavered, and his barrel dipped a bit. He continued looking down at her chest, now thoroughly distracted.

Is she using a skill? Rip thought.

When she struck, it seemed faster than a snake strike. She slapped the man’s gun hand up and kneed him in the groin, wrenching the weapon free as he crumpled. It all happened the blink of an eye.

His partner stared in horror, giving the sergeant an opportunity to pull out his enhanced wrench.

Rip struck down at the arm holding the gun, and heard the forearm snap, loudly, as the weapon dropped to the ground.

The man yelped, but his scream was cut short when Rip followed up with a left fist, punching with all his weight behind it, slamming home on the man’s jaw.

He keeled over backward, knocked out.

[You have defeated a Tier 1 Hobnobber.]

Blair smiled, seeing his success. She nodded, pointing with her chin at the first gunman, still bent over in pain and whimpering.

Rip nodded back and popped him on the back of the head with the wrench.

He collapsed, unconscious.

[You have defeated a Tier 2 Hobnobber.]

“Well! It seems word of your arrival has already spread.”

“You think these guys were here for me?”

“I’ve never generated attention from the Hobs before. It’s likely someone paid for them to intercept us and keep you from the hearing today. That’s the logical conclusion. Let’s move to the center of the path, away from these trees and other ambush spots.”

He followed her as they merged once again with light pedestrian traffic in the park.

“You, uh, just going to leave them there?”

“You’re right! We should cause them a spot of trouble. Where’s a peeler?”

“A what?”

“Officer!”

Blair hurried toward a rather large man dressed in blue with copper buttons the size of silver dollars down his front. He looked them over, gauging their attire and the way they held themselves, and addressed them accordingly.

“Yes, milady? Is there a problem?”

“We saw two brutish sorts over there in the bushes, Officer. I think one of them might have had a gun!”

The policeman’s eyes grew big and he pulled out a billy club from a loop on his belt.

“Oh, they were asleep, too. Or something. Both are just lying on the ground, Officer. It seemed quite odd.”

“I see. Thank you, milady. Ethinium Police will handle this.”

He blew a whistle around his neck and rushed toward the edge of the walkway where Blair pointed. Three other officers came running toward the sound.

Blair smiled at Rip, raised her eyebrows, and they continued walking.

He looked back over his shoulder.

“Are they going to get in trouble?”

“Quite a lot, actually. Weapons are not permitted here, although I’m sure that doesn’t stop some from bringing them in.”

“This is just a wrench,” Rip said holding open his coat. It peeked out from an inner pocket.

“How did you happen to have a place to store that thing in your coat?”

“I asked Mr. Stoffman last night to include several pockets in all my outfits, including ones big enough to hold this wrench. He measured it for me and assured me he would. Sure enough, the coats on all my suits have at least one long thin pocket that’s perfect for this thing.”

“That’s brilliant, Sergeant.”

At last they came to the front of a large building. In big letters above the columned entrance, Rip found an inscription. He read it out loud.

“Valebat quantum possumus.”

Blair said, “It means, ‘Venture to the greatest extent possible.’ Or something close to that. It’s the Royal Venture Society’s motto.”

“Okay.”

“There’s that word again.”

“What’s that?”

“‘Okay.’”

“You don’t use that word?”

“No. I’ve never heard it before you arrived.”

“Okay.”

“Stop it.”

They mounted the steps and made their way though the doors. Inside, they walked into a large atrium, with balconies for offices and other rooms stretching out from other levels.

An older man sat at a reception desk and smiled.

“Ah, Lady Brooke. Welcome back. And I see you have a guest accompanying you this morning.”

“Hello, Charles. This is Sergeant Coulter. He will be attending our public hearing today.”

“Very good, very good. Yes, your team is scheduled to report in Room 301.”

Blair raised an eyebrow.

As they walked past Charles’s desk, she whispered to Rip, “That’s one of the bigger auditoriums. Looks like we’ll have quite the audience.”

“Okay.”

She chuckled and said, “You’re incorrigible, Sergeant.”

Blair led him up a flight of stairs, made from the same white stone as the exterior steps. He noticed a red ribbon of carpet on these, though. It probably helped keep people from slipping, he thought.

On the third floor, she led him down a wide hallway toward the far end.

“Do you call the ground floor the first, or do you call it the ground floor and the second one first?”

She gave him an odd look and said, “The ground floor is first. Why, do they do it differently on your world? Are there different conventions for numbering the levels of a building?”

“Not in my country. But some do.”

“The more I hear about your world, the odder it seems.”

“Okay.”

The last set of double doors off the hallway were wide open. White stone numbers above the doorway indicated this was their destination, Room 301.

A low susurrus of voices filled the corridor as they approached. When they walked in, it all stopped.

To his right and left, Rip found wooden pews crammed with people.

A quick look up showed a ring of additional stadium-style seating, also packed. Every eye in the place focused on them. Although, more seemed to be staring at him instead of his attractive female companion.

Many in the crowd, he noted, wore white lab coats.

A sort of box seat area, currently empty, stood separated from the rest of the balcony crowd above the doorway. By the looks of it, with rich velvet drapes and upholstered chairs, Rip guessed this spot was reserved for the king.

They walked toward the front of the room, where a table with five chairs faced the door and most of the audience. Colonel Bixby, Robert Chance and Dr. Oggolopoli sat in three of the seats. They stood when Blair came to the table.

Chance, who was closest, pulled out a chair for her. She smiled at him and sat. Rip waited until she had fully seated before taking his own chair, along with the other men.

This etiquette seemed a bit ridiculous to him. Who cares if a woman sits first? But this society, he knew from reading, remained very strict about the matter, especially in formal settings like this one.

The low rumble of conversation resumed, as people stared openly at Rip.

He sighed.

It seems I have to face something I hate, today.

Blair glanced at him and smiled.

She leaned over and cupped her hand next to her face before whispering.

“There are always some very good lip readers in a crowd like this. Be careful what you say here.”

He smiled back at her.

“Okay.”