reached

a real Prince.
Phocion saluted Harry sadly and moved on, from all indications going in pursuit of one of the tourist women.
Gabrielle glanced at the woman beside her, who appeared to be far off somewhere in her own thoughts. Then she leaned across the table. "Harry, what did you mean, really? Arrested?"
Harivarman reached absently to give the set of optic controls on his side of the booth a random shuffling. Now the people passing were suddenly all nude, and certainly the booth made handsomer nudists of them than nature. The optics computers were biased toward subtle flattery in one mode, in another toward total exaggeration, enough for comedy. That mode did not come into play so often.
The Prince said gently to Gabrielle: "I meant arrested. I take it you've heard about the Empress?"
"Of course. But I don't see what that has to do with—you."
"Being arrested these days is nothing," said Greta Thamar suddenly, and Harivarman looked at her; she was looking past him. "Not like it was in the old days," she said, and suddenly peered at him closely. "What do