“Officially, I cannot condone Elizavetsian terrorism, but unofficially I expect that few hearts will be broken,” Bronkowski answered.  “Thank you for an educational discussion.”

“You’re most welcome.  Please do get me, soon, the names of the defectors.” 

“But of course,”  Bronkoski answered.

She smiled and broke the connection.  His image disappeared from the viewscreen.

“What was that about?”  Daphne asked.

“At a guess, one of our colleagues set a rabid ferret among the chickens.   We’ll learn, sooner or later.”  Elektra speared an asparagus segment.

“Madam First Minister, Speaker Ariel D’Angelo.  Another ‘can’t be skipped,” Daphne said. She passed across the phone.

“Why, hello, Ariel,” Elektra said.  “A shame you cannot be here.  The lamb today is truly excellent.”

“I cannot be there?” Ariel’s eyes twinkled.  “Yes, I know the rule, but I am about to take advantage of your lamb.  If you do not object.” 

“Ariel, there is a rule,” Elektra said.  The Speaker, she thought, was very definitely not allowed to consort with Lords and Senators.

“Elektra, you know Rafael Parlegrecco.  He seems to be a man of the highest integrity.”

“True,” Elektra answered.  Her asparagus, she thought was cooling.  “And the few times he has chaired a committee, each time on a different topic, he has handled matters very well.”

“Alas, those occasions have been few indeed, because he is a True Monarchist, and his party forbids joining a coalition.”

“I can’t deny that, either,” Elektra said.  “But where is this conversation going?  I seem to be slow.  Or still hungry, with my caramel pudding now in line of sight.” “As Speaker, I have few privileges. One, however, is to nominate my successor, to serve at least until our next session.  And he is my man, unless you know of a strong objection.”