That I want her to come back. That I'm not sure her contacts will trust me. That I'm not able to balance being me and being an informant for Maksim and not telling Elzbet anything and sewing violet stars and leading a silent revolution. That I'm not sure I can see it through to the end alone. That all of this may be the price that the dragon demands, even if it isn't here yet and may never come. That maybe the only way forward is to let the pressure chew you up until there's nothing left, and that's how you win.
I had to remonstrate with the Artisans over the coffin. They wanted to apply only four layers of lacquer, arguing with great impudence that it would suffice. I informed them with no uncertain terms that, though the Barbarians were at the gate, this was no license to degenerate to the level of savages ourselves. Seven coats of lacquer should be considered a bare minimum, and for the quality of wood I have supplied and the cost of the preparations, some might consider seven coats sparing. I have started to regret engaging them.