June 25th, 1636, Royal Palace, Feplaria

  The air in the hall was thick with tension. So thick, in fact, that some of the frail-minded present felt nauseous merely standing still. A large wooden table, ornate in appearance and draped with silky-white covers rimmed with golden fabric, sat stoically in the centre. The feast laid out on it could only be described as exquisite and full-of-colour. Rajdoot noticed immediately that there was not one meat dish to be seen, interestingly.

  The Indian delegation took its seat as the royal feast began. Rajdoot was seated at the far end of the table, flanked by the rest of the Indians. The Queen sat directly opposite him, on the other end. Whatever the reason, the Queen had chosen to stay surprisingly silent the entire time. She was surrounded by the Arc Mage and some of the high-ranking Dark Elves. The High Elves were nowhere to be seen.

  At the Queen’s silent command, the feast began. The Queen took the first bite. Directly facing Rajdoot, staring him in the eyes, she picked up a piece, and brought it to her lips. Rajdoot stared back, his expression not breaking once, as she gave the signal for the feast to begin. Silently, he too began eating.

  The food was good. It was distinct from the standard Indian cuisine he was used to; a novel mix of novel spices and vaguely familiar fruits and vegetables. Rajdoot was secretly disappointed that there were no magic-infused food items here – at least from what he could see. He didn’t mind, though. The mix of sweetness and sourness was immaculate, he concluded. Other members of the delegation seemed to agree with his ideas, though none let it show on their faces.

  For the most part, there was a distinct lack of conversation between the two groups. The elves had still not been able to process the events that had transpired in the last few hours. The Indians were in the same boat, though to a much lesser degree. Convoluted political games weren’t a novelty by any standards, after all.

  The feast concluded without much talk, and silently servants picked up the cutlery and disappeared from the scene, not making eye contact with the Indians. The courteous smiles plastered on faces stayed, however, in an attempt to somewhat loosen the tension between the Elves and them.

  “I hope the food was to your gentlemen’s liking. Our best chefs have put all their soul and magic in it.” The Arc Mage spoke up. Nonchalant as ever.

  “Magical it was, indeed. Would you mind if we take one of your gifted chefs with us? I can only imagine how blissful it must be to eat such delicious food every day.” Rajdoot did not hold back on the flattery.

  “Haha, that is for the Queen to decide, I am afraid.” The Arc Mage rubbed his hands together. “Now that our bellies – and hearts as well, I pray – have been sufficiently stuffed, it is time we discuss matter of importance.” With that, he rose. Everyone followed, rather hastily. Everyone was rather clumsy and stiff in their movements, trying their best to hide their unsettled nerves. It seemed as if Rajdoot and the Arc Mage were the only ones in the room with any semblance of composure.

  The two men in question seemed to move at their own pace, chatting and laughing as they did. Rajdoot clearly had no trouble adapting to the unfamiliar environment and to the rapidly changing pace of events. Even the Queen that they had heard about from reports seemed stumped and at a loss, with how she was letting the Arc Mage handle things.

  The group slowly walked into a large hall. Cool sea breeze poured in from the large windows, giving the occupants a slight chill. A large, white, circular table in the middle stood out as the primary feature of the room’s interior. At the Arc Mage’s gesture, everyone silently took their seats. The Indian side sat together, with Rajdoot in the centre, while the Elf side had the Arc Mage and the Queen in the centre.

  “Now, shreemaan,” Rajdoot began. “in light of events that have already transpired today, I shall waste no time in unnecessary pleasantries anymore.” He nodded to Dr. Sehgal, and he handed him a brown, paper envelope. Murmurs erupted from the opposite side at the sight of the unfamiliar object. Ignoring them, Rajdoot slowly put his hand inside, and fished out two, large photographs. Placing them on the table, he slid them towards the Arc Mage, and spoke.

  “What can you tell me about these boats, shreemaan?”

  The murmurs evolved into audible gasps of surprise and wonder garnished with bewilderment and confusion. The Queen had her eyebrows arched upwards, in a rare display of emotion, while the Arc Mage simply looked at the photos with nonchalance. After a while, he smiled as he looked up at Rajdoot.

  “You are a clever young man if I’ve seen any.”

  “We know these boats are in your territory, and we know they bear our flags. We know they were once ours, and we wish to know how and what their fate has come to be – if you would be so kind to enlighten us, that is. You wouldn’t be planning to induct these ships in your own navy’s inventory by any chance, would you? That would make things rather inconvenient for us.”

  “Haha! Not at all! These beloved ships are the pride of our nation! These beloved relics of the past are the reason we are where we are today.” The Arc Mage spoke. Every elf’s eyes alternated between looking at the photo and looking at the Arc Mage, and the frequency of that switch grew higher with every word he spoke. “You see, it is not the first time your people have stepped on our land.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Before you, there were men of valour and honour, bearing the same dark complexion as you, carrying the same pride as you now do. Pious men who, just like you, spoke God’s own language. I still remember the day they arrived here, as if it was just mere moments ago.” Suddenly, the mood in the room had become sombre. Judging by the expressions on the faces of the other elves, including the Queen, Rajdoot surmised they were unaware of the tail the Arc Mage was retelling from memory.

  “Tell me, descendants of the Emissaries,” the Arc Mage now had a serious look on his face. It seemed as if the smile from before was but a mirage. “the day those men arrived, the sky thundered in welcome. In time, they would show us how they wielded that thunder. Aeroplanes, they called them. Many years later, you have now come to our land as their sons and daughters. Do you still wield the same thunder your ancestors carried?”

  Rajdoot smiled. “Yes. Yes we do. And better than our forefathers. Much, much better.”

  The Arc Mage smiled, as if ignorant of all the bewildered elves around him. One look at his face was enough to tell that a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “It has been my eternal wish to hear that thunder once again, before I depart this body. That thunder that brought us salvation and hope amongst darkness and death, and which elevated us from savages in a forest to civilized people who could stand toe-to-toe among the peoples of the world.”

  Rajdoot placed a hand on his chin, appearing to be considering this. “I will do to the best of my abilities to see your wish fulfilled, shreemaan. But before I do, I have a question.” Rajdoot paused for a moment. It was evident the conversation was moving too fast, going by the looks on the faces of people around the room. The stone-cold fa?ade on the Queen’s face was already shattered, and her expressions, while not dramatic in any sense of the word, were amusing to say the least. The Indian side had questions as well, now that the cat was being let out of the bag. Everyone seemed they were on the verge of jumping and shouting them to shut up and explain what the hell was going on here.

  “Go on, young man, say what it is on your mind.” The Arc Mage seemed blissfully unaware of the people around him. Rajdoot suspected if he was doing it on purpose.

  “You said we were the descendants of the, uh, ‘Emissaries’, you say? How can you say with such confidence that we are what you think we are? What if we are not? And how do you know this?”

  “A man’s intuition never lies. That is how man has gone from a wandering, frightened prey to the ruler of country, continent and women. In times of distrust and trouble, when rationality is no longer viable, only intuition alone can guide a man towards the right path.” Arc Mage took a deep breath. “When the Emissaries first came to this land, they taught us many things. Of them, the one thing that truly stood out in my memory was the idea of cycles. When they were leaving,” the Arc Mage’s eyes acquired a dreamy look. Rajdoot was sure the elf who just audibly gasped right now had probably never seen this side of the Arc Mage before. “I asked them if they would ever return. Great men they were. They had refused to build their home here, citing that this land did not belong to them at the end of the day. They had come to our land, confused, stranded, with no clue of where they were, or if they would ever get to go home. But despite all that, they saw our plight, set aside their own, and helped us.”

  The Arc Mage exhaled deeply, contemplating for a moment. “Do you know? Many years ago, there was nothing here? This place was just another patch of forested coastline under the rule of a human kingdom? Our people then were just a group of poor tribes, living at the mercy of the elements and the faraway kings who had probably never seen any of our kind, and wouldn’t bother seeing if they were given the choice. It was the Emissaries, your ancestors, who put aside their grief and carved for us a place in this world.”

  He then turned to the other Dark Elves. “It pains me today to watch the children of my country dance to the tunes of false messiahs, intoxicated on the gifts of a past that has been overwritten by the swindlers and scammers, who can only ever hope to imitate the power those Emissaries possessed.”

  Whatever questions the elves had remained stuck in their throats as they stared at the Arc Mage in disbelief. The entire day had been full of shocking events one after another, shattering the very world of every elf in the room in a heartbeat. All of a sudden, the Dark Elf that had been taught that he was superior to the human was no longer sure of his standing, and all he or she could do was watch and listen, as the shock subsided and the story unfolded, and try his or her best to come to terms with the reality unfolding in front of him.

  “So when I saw your ship near the coast, I knew at once that you were the descendants of the Emissaries. That history was about to repeat; once again, men from India would come to our aid, freeing us from all that binds us.”

  For a brief moment, the room stayed silent. While the Dark elves struggled to appear courteous and diplomatic while grappling with the thousands of questions, the Indian side silently nodded to themselves. They had more or less managed to piece together a rough picture of what had probably transpired.

  “So, shreemaan,” Rajdoot continued. “we still haven’t touched the subject of these ships. Can you tell me about them?”

  “Certainly. Though I am not well-versed in the workings of such marvels, I can recount to you their story as these eyes witnessed.” The Arc Mage’s expression did a U-turn, and was back to his usual jovial self in no time. He continued.

  “As I have said already, the Emissaries came to our land many years ago. These ships you show us in this.. ‘photograph’, If I remember correctly, were part of the unique fleet of ships that they came with. After helping us, they left eventually, but the signs of their existence remained behind, treasured with great care by the elves they blessed.”

  He put a finger on one of the photographs. “These two ships in particular, if I remember, they were abandoned by the Emissaries. They could no longer get them to work, and had too little in way of material to revitalize them. With a heavy heart, they had bid adieu to these two, which even today, lie where they were left, carefully guarded against time and the elements – until now.”

  “I take it that ‘until now’ has something to do with the white-skinned ‘gentlemen’ with an itch to pull a gun at anybody’s head?”

  “You would be right in assuming so. The High Elves – they call themselves – have been going around, defiling all the remnants of the Emissaries. I assume you are already aware, judging by this.. photograph.”

  “We do, yes.”

  The Arc Mage took a deep breath. “I know not how the children of the Emissaries have turned out to be, but if my eyes do not deceive me, then shall I take it that you would not hesitate to use force should it come to that?”

  Rajdoot thought this over. The rest of the Dark Elves seemed to be growing ever impatient being part of such an important conversation and yet being forced to do nothing but sit back and be a mute audience. Especially now, since such a topic had come up. The Queen seemed to have regained her composure though, and now was looking at him with the same stone-cold face she had when the Indians first stepped into the royal court.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Yes. If the situation demands it, then we will not, under any circumstances, shy away from the use of violence.”

  “I object!” A heavy voice thundered. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to the source; a Dark Elf in ornate armour sat on the right of the Arc Mage, one hand on the table. His expression was grave, and his fist clenched. Just by looking one could tell he’d had enough. Rajdoot had an inkling that he would be the first one to crack.

  “Sir Arc Mage, I object! I do not stand by any outside entity attempting to use violence inside our sacred territory, whoever it may be!” Commander Thalanil thundered.

  “Even if the outsiders in question are the ones responsible for the creation of this nation? Even if they mean us no harm?”

  “We don’t know if they wish us harm or not! Not with all that you just revealed and that ship moored in the docks! I am afraid, Sir Arc Mage, that despite all you’ve said, I cannot bring myself to trust these..humans. I am afraid I simply can’t.”

  “What can I do to make you trust us, shreemaan…..may I know your name please, if you do not mind?” Rajdoot quickly replied.

  Commander Thalanil looked at Rajdoot with a difficult expression for a moment. He didn’t expect the man to act so quick. He opened his mouth to reprimand ‘the lowly human’ for speaking up to an Elf in that manner, but no words came out. All he had said about not trusting the apparent ‘descendants of the Emissaries’ was completely unconscious, and he suddenly realized he had made the timeless, age-old blunder of blurting out things precisely when one should exercise silence.

  Ignoring the Commander’s attempts at coming up with a rebuttal, Rajdoot continued. “Rest assured, shreemaan, we do not mean harm to you or your people. We wouldn’t be here if we did, trust me.”

  “And we’re just supposed to accept that? All that proves is that you could annihilate us any moment you wished, and without much effort. Provided of course, that it is not a bluff.”

  “What in the heavens!”

  Before Rajdoot could reply, the doors to the hall opened suddenly, and another voice cried out. The source of the voice trudged on forward, unheeding the panicked appeals of the Dark Elf sentries. Oh nice, thought Rajdoot. It’s the blondies.

  The High Elf who shrieked out first looked ran his gaze around the room. His face was scrunched up, and his eyes were bloodshot. So tightly were his fists clenched, that Rajdoot could clearly see the veins in the skin covering his frail, bony hands. It was the same blonde elf who had haughtily put a gun on his head previously.

  Horith’s unstable gaze rested on the Arc Mage, and his expression scrunched up even more. “WHAT are you doing, Arc Mage? Have you no awareness of the shameless acts you now commit?! Sitting on the same table with filth?!” He barked.

  Commander Thalanil stood up immediately with a stern expression. “Father Horith, you are in the presence of Her Majesty the Queen of Feplaria! I strongly request you to exercise restraint and maintain decorum!”

  “I am a High Elf! I don’t need to heed the honour of some lowly Queen ruling over some impoverished backwater vagabonds! Answer me Arc Mage! What are you plotting!”

  Audible gasps were heard from the Dark Elf side, and Commander Thalanil took a step back in surprise. Even the Arc Mage had his eyes wide open in shock and amusement. This High Elf had just insulted the good Queen directly in her presence. The person in question looked at the Horith with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the room became silent as a silent terror descended upon the Dark Elves, now afraid of Queen Yaereene’s wrath, waiting with bated breath for the moment it would descend upon the rude High Elf.

  Oh! I know that face! Rajdoot thought, his face reflecting the serious mood of the elves around him, completely disconnected from his thoughts. You’re speechless at the man’s audacity, aren’t you? Getting insulted right at your face when your reputation and demeanour is like that feels so out of left field that one needs at least a few minutes just to comprehend whatever was said. Yeah, I can sympathize with you, lady! Whether or not those were his actual beliefs, no one knew.

  Horith’s assistants who had, until now, been trying to calm him down, suddenly felt him stiffen up. His eyes were glued to something on the table. Before anyone could say a word, he moved forward and picked it up. It was the photographs. Horith stared at it, not uttering a word, a whisper. His eyes had gone as wide as a ravine.

  “You…” the shaking in his hands resumed with even greater intensity as he stared at the photographs, ashen-faced, the words leaking out of his mouth. Slowly, his eyes lurched up from the photographs, resting shakily on the humans.

  “…you took these photos?”

  The question was rhetorical. The Dark Elves didn’t know the concept of photography, neither did they understand the idea of a photograph – except a certain few, which he didn’t like. There was no doubt as to who that left as the prime suspect. Horith stared at the humans, as the crystal-clear, colour image of the blissfully-unaware High Elves tinkering with the newly-discovered boats taken from an impossible angle – without getting discovered, at least – danced in his absolute mess of a mind, like the memory of a very bad and very persistent nightmare.

  Rajdoot automatically assumed the question was pointed at him. The other Indians with him on the table were equally capable as him – even better, if he was to be asked – but had decided to let the man from RAW take the lead and steer the ship, so long as it wasn’t headed towards the bottom, that is. They too had tense expressions and jumpy nerves, calmed only by the coolness on his face. Worst case scenario, they all had their personal defence weapons still on them, and they had Major Solanki’s operatives in the hall with them.

  Rajdoot made a motion of bringing his hands up to his chin halfway, as if resting his elbows on the table to then later support his chin, appearing to be deep in thought. He stopped halfway, with his hands in front of his chest. “Yes. We did.”

  Horith stared at the human for a solid ten seconds. Rajdoot stared back. The tension in the room suddenly spiked. The air now felt too suffocating and heavy for anyone to utter a word. The other High Elves in the room had now got a peek at the unusually-clear and high-quality photographs, and were now on guards as well. The air was so thick, in fact, that one could try to cut it with a sword, and still find it stuck halfway through, unable to move at all.

  A shriek. The chairs shot back violently. Feet shuffled hastily. Loud clangs, followed by loud metallic clicks. Horith didn’t knew what happened in that instance, but when he came to, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. The familiar metallic rifling of the muzzle, leading inwards to a perfectly-circular, yawning abyss. The brown, thick fingers wrapped around the pistol grip, covered in veins, and the singular middle finger slotted neatly into the trigger guard. Everything else was unfamiliar about the gun. Horith wasn’t unarmed, either. His own hand gripped his issued-pistol. But in front of the gun and the confident hand holding it, it looked pitiful at best. His aim was off too, aiming at the table below instead of his target ahead of him.

  His attendants had brought out there guns as well. Same as Horith’s. Their aim was surer, and their minds clearer. Still, they shook. The prospect of a real gunfight was now suddenly very real. The prospect of losing lives injected uncertainty in their minds and haziness in their eyes. Horith realized his gun was on safe, and the chamber was empty.

  The Indians were all on their feet, already having taken two steps back. Their hands were either on their waists or their chests, gripping tightly on something black, concealed inside the fabric. It finally dawned upon the Queen that their clothes looked unusually baggy when she noticed Rajdoot reach up to his chest.

  The man in question was standing upright, ahead of the rest of the Indians. He had his gun drawn, his expression as cool as the metal surface of his pistol. The gun was pointed directly at Horith, its tritium iron-sights aligned neatly between the High Elf’s wide-open eyes.

  He wasn’t alone. Two of Major Solanki’s operatives, which had silently stood in the back until now, flanked him on either side, their spears discarded. Their carbines were up in the ready position, their handguards resting on the shields held by the other hand. Sunlight reflected off the cold, black metal surface of the gun and the red-tinted glass of the Trinetra sight mounted on top of the receiver covers, illuminating the ‘Made In India’ engravings clearly for all in the room to gaze upon. Unlike the High Elves, there was no uncertainty or haziness in the eyes that stared down these sights.

  The Dark Elves stayed frozen in place. The Commander had stepped back, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The other Dark Elves had jumped back as well, reaching for their weapons. Only the Arc Mage and the Queen remained in place, the former slightly amused by the display, while the latter with her eyes wide, though with her mostly stone-like expression, it was hard to tell unless one focused hard enough.

  “Disappointing.” Rajdoot’s voice finally broke the tension. His felt unnervingly cool in the midst of the standoff. There was no shakiness, no nervousness, no fear in his voice. Neither was his face so shaken. All that had changed was that his smile was gone.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” Commander Thalanil was the first to recover from shock. He had now fully drawn his sword, and kept it on the ready between himself and the table. Two other Dark Elf sentries had taken position besides the Queen and the Arc Mage. Though their swords were drawn, their stance was awkward and unsure. No one knew who the real threat was. Or worse, if both of them were threats.

  “Shreemaan,” Rajdoot ignored the bewildered Dark Elves and turned towards Horith, his gun not straying an inch from its target. “I’ve told you this before. We have guns. We’re not whatever you think we are. We have complete authorization to shoot in situations where our personal well-being is in jeopardy. But you’ve disappointed me. I thought you were someone capable of rational though and discussion like a normal sentient being.”

  “Y-you…” Horith could only manage to utter those words as Rajdooti pressed the gun on his forehead. His colleagues twitched slightly, but could do nothing. They already had their hands full with the Indian carbines aiming down at them.

  “Since this is the language you understand, I guess I’ll be flaunting my skills as a linguist now. I’ll be brief: why are you messing around with the boats?”

  Horith felt his calm return slightly, and his grip on his pistol tightened and steadied a little. “Y-you have no business with those boats. They belong to the Elves.”

  “Oh? And why would that be? Clearly they are flying our colours, bear our markings, and match with our records of boats that went missing a long time ago. No matter how you put it, those boats very certainly don’t belong to the ‘Elves’.”

  “Preposterous! Lies and lies over and over again! What evidence do you have to back up your baseless claims?! The boats have always been there!”

  “My evidence is the gun pointed at your head.” Rajdoot replied. “We don’t need to waste time proving anything to anybody when we have seen the truth with our eyes. Especially not to you, after how brutally you put down your ‘fellow elves’ on that island.” He increased the pressure in the hand pressing the gun down on Horith’s forehead, allowing just enough of his fabricated anger to leak out of his demeanour to put weight in his words.

  “W-What are you b-blabbering about?!” Horith shouted. Only now he realized that with every word, he was sinking deeper and deeper into the trap set by this human. A chill set in immediately as he tried to steer clear of the imminent catastrophe. “W-Wait! Do not trus-”

  “Shreemaan you are guilty of betraying your fellow comrades and then killing them in cold blood. Not only that, you are trying to steal in plain sight of everyone what is the sole property of the Indian Armed Forces, and by extension, the Republic of India itself.” With that, Rajdoot withdrew his gun. Flexing his elbow, he casually clicked the mag eject button. With a loud click, the magazine slid effortlessly into his hand. Next, he pulled back the slide, tilting the gun so that the chambered round went straight up in the air, all the while his eyes remained locked onto the elves in front of him. Rajdoot watched impassively as Horith’s darting eyes tracked the tumbling live round, until it landed squarely in Rajdoot’s hand. He smiled, and slid it back in the magazine, before inserting it in the gun. He didn’t pull the slide back this time, unlike when he drew his gun.

  “Y-you’re getting ahead of yourself, h-human!” Horith fumbled. “I-I still have my gun up! Y-you think y-you’ve won!”

  “What might be you talking about?” Rajdoot spoke as he holstered his gun back in his robe. “Your gun is empty and you may as well be aiming at your own foot instead. Now regarding the boats,” he shifted the topic. “when will you return those boats to us?”

  “H-Hah?”

  “I said when will you return those boats to us? I don’t think we can have any diplomatic relations between us and the elves until our lost property is returned.”

  Horith’s mind went blank for a moment, then was flushed with burning rage. His eyes become even more bloodshot, and his expression soured exponentially. Had it not been for the doctor’s advice the previous day, he might have ended up using his magic on the human.

  “NEVER!” he thundered. Everyone who was breathing a sigh of relief at the prospect of the situation calming down was jolted awake. “NEVER SHALL I SURRENDER TO THE HUMANS! WE WILL NOT GIVE ANYONE THOSE BOATS! NO MATTER HOW MANY LIES YOU SPREAD!”

  The room went quiet at the loud declaration from the High Elf, who was now panting from all that shouting and the stress. Even Horith’s assistants had to take a step back, shocked by his sudden outburst. And while the humans seemed equally taken aback by the declaration, only Rajdoot stood calm and unfazed.

  Not satisfied, Horith continued. “We reject all of your baseless claims! The boats are ancient treasures that belong to the Elves, and we will take them back with us so we can study them and utilize their magic for the greater good of the Elves! There will be no more discussion, for our verdict is final!” He jabbed a finger at Rajdoot, before turning around on his heels and stomping out of the room with his confused assistants in tow.

  The room felt silent every remaining pair of eyes in the room watched the High Elves depart. Rajdoot quietly threw a glance at the Dark Elves. All of them, except the Arc Mage, seemed shaken to various degrees, including the Queen, though she seemed the most composed of them all. From the outside, her beautiful and calm visage, the flowing silver hair cascading down her back, untouched by the ugliness around her would be enough to convince the casual onlooker of her invincibility. But Rajdoot was no casual onlooker. Just one glance was enough to reveal the cracks and seams in the wall of invincibility; the faint trembling of the fingers, the slightly strained eyebrows, the barely contained yet beautifully hidden, all-devouring flood of anger that threatened to spill out any moment.

  He turned his head towards the Arc Mage. The man seemed to always be in his own world, unaffected by the dark and tense mood of the room. Always as jovial as ever, he smiled as Rajdoot turned to face him. Rajdoot smiled back.

  “Well, shreemaan, that was quite an eventful day, wouldn’t you agree? I am sure our eyes would be feeling rather heavy after such all this, so why not we retire for the day? Surely there are no more matters that need to be attended to urgently?”

  The Arc Mage surveyed the room. The Indian guards flanking Rajdoot quietly backed off, picking up the spears they had so readily discarded in favour of their concealed weapons, which they now folded with deftness and dexterity evident of experienced warriors. And while the rest of the Dark Elves stared blankly at the humans, unable to comprehend properly what had transpired, he was no fool. He knew what these weapons could do, how they operated them. He, along with the Queen, had been among the few Dark Elves who actually saw with complete clarity how Rajdoot swiftly drew his weapon in less than a blink of the eye. With a smile, he spoke.

  “Absolutely! After such an exciting day, I too feel a little tired. Let me show you to your quarters, if you do not mind!”