[ Csevet's reasonable decision not to prostrate himself in order to not draw attention is, as soon as Maia recognizes his voice and looks up to see him, completely moot. Because the second that Maia looks up from his chair and sees Csevet - his secretary, his Csevet, a piece of home - standing there, he jumps to his feet, knocking over his chair and jostling the table with a great clatter. ]

Csevet!

[ He blurts it loudly, unthinking and, for the time being, completely indifferent to the stares from the neighboring tables. Maia reaches out; his first instinct is to fling his arms around Csevet, the way his tiny nieces have taken to doing whenever he comes to visit them. But he restrains himself that far, at least. He only reaches out, gripping Csevet by the shoulder, wanting to feel that he is really there, not a fancy or a ghost, but solid and real. ]

I thought I would never see you again!

[ Maia is much too caught up in his emotions to notice or care that he has slipped into an informal address. His eyes are shining and he is beaming, face bright with wild happiness. Csevet looks just the same as Maia remembers him: so proper, so calm.

It is only as a waiter comes up to right Maia's chair that he realizes what a scene he is making and shrinks, chastened and embarrassed, but unrepentant. He gestures, Csevet to his seat and takes his own, but leans forward so far that the table does little to separate them. ]

When did you get here? I have- [ He pauses, catches himself: ] We have been here three weeks, and would know how the kingdom does in our absence. Are- are our nohecharei...?

[ He can't bring himself to finish the question, to ask what had become of Cala and Beshelar when he disappeared. ]