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I turned my attention to the man. He had, with him, on his lap, the diplomatic pouch, opened, and the letter cylinder, taken from my pouch. It had been sealed with wax and ribbon, the wax bearing the seal of Gnieus Lelius, regent of Ar. "Are you Aemilianus," I asked, "commander in Ar's Station?" "I am," he said, looking at me. I glanced toward the retreated slave, who had turned to regard me. The fellow on the curule chair smiled. "She has dared to look upon you?" "No," I said. - (Renegades of Gor)