It's a good strategy. In Byerly's circles, the clever people are liars, and the truth-tellers are fools; he's well-practiced and smooth at dealing with both. It's the smart ones who are somehow, by some miracle, also honest that he has trouble with. The likes of Ivan, for example, who by his odd combination of guilelessness and sharpness had managed to bypass By's layers of deception. (Helped by By's own mistakes, no credit where credit is not due, but still.) And the likes of Beth, too.

So that question causes a little tightening about his eyes, a little sharpening of his smile. The smallest little signs of increased wariness - the sorts of signs that wouldn't slip through if she didn't catch him off-guard. Perpetually. (Damn her.)

"I see," he says, and there's still a little laugh in his voice. But the intense steady focus in his eyes doesn't really track with that casual tone. "So what sort of lying are you talking about?"