"Another early-morning raid by the rebels, my Lord," said the shimmering Farview image of the wild-eyed young commander. "Seven men killed. We formed a defensive line as ordered but no follow-up attack came. We catapulted their last known positions, but we don't know if they took any casualties, my Lord."

Rithas V'honna wiped his haggard face with a beefy hand and uttered a sigh through his fingers. He dropped his hand noisily to his side and puffed out his broad chest as he always did when he wanted to look confident. Instead, what he wanted to do was wince.

He hated his new title. "Lord General" sounded too much like royalty for his tastes and conveyed a sense of power that he did not have. Though he had high hopes when it had been bestowed upon him by Emperor Z'haas shortly after the aborted attempt by Duric's army to take the Imperial Palace.

"What direction did the attack come from, Commander?" Rithas asked in clipped tones.

"Almost due west, my Lord. The patrol we sent out to search for enemy casualties did turn up something, however. It ..."

"Let me guess," Rithas said sourly. "You saw evidence of a major movement of troops through the area."

"Yes, my Lord. Which is why we were stymied as to why they did not follow up the raid. Clearly it was a probing attack as a prelude to a general offensive."

Rithas gritted his teeth.

"My Lord, I have a full legion under my command and two more I can call in reserve. Please give me leave to mount an offensive. I am sure I can root them out and send a spearhead to Lord K'yonna's realm. I am positive he is at the head of the supply line for ..."

"You will remain where you are, and remain in defensive posture," Rithas said stiffly.

The young Commander sighed. "Yes, my Lord."

"I will take your suggestion to the Emperor and see if he will release the forces for offensive action."

The Commander dutifully, if tonelessly, responded, "Yes, my Lord."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, my Lord."

"Then we are concluded."

The Commander's image faded and vanished.

Rithas' jaw tightened as he turned and headed down the dank corridor. At the end was a large door. The guards saluted him with their swords and stepped to either side. With a grunt, Rithas pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.

As soon he crossed the threshold, sharp footfalls approached him. A shorter, somewhat thin man with a balding pate and a hawk-like nose frowned deeply as he came to a stop, his cloak of deep purple swirling about his legs for another moment in the still, stale air.

"You are late," he declared.

"My sincerest apologies, my Emperor," said Rithas, struggling to keep the sarcastic tone from his voice. "I was unavoidably detained."

Emperor Fenric Z'haas clasped his hands behind his back and walked back to the large wooden table in the center of the room. This room had once belonged to Q'yros when he had been the Emperor's advisor. The remnants of the broken stone table had been removed and the chamber turned into a situation room. A large map of Oceanus was spread out over the table.

On either side, several adjuncts to the Lord General stood at rigid attention, eyes twitching and glazed.

Z'haas thrust a finger at the map. "I want to know what you are doing about the southern incursion."

Rithas stepped forward. "There is nothing to be done, my Emperor. They are skirmishes only. No ground is gained by the enemy."

"And the west? What about the west? How is it holding?"

Rithas heard the hint of desperation in the Emperor's voice. He glanced at his adjuncts. It was clear they had been subjected to another disjointed tirade by Z'haas in his absence. He felt for them. "Holding well, as always. In fact, so well that we don't need all the legions we have there."

The Emperor turned and narrowed his eyes. "This will not be another attempt to convince me to go on a foolish and dangerous campaign."

"Perish the thought," said Rithas. He had to stop himself from following it with the words "that we should do something useful." Instead, he took a moment to find a way to better phrase his feelings. "But you must agree that we do need to go on the offensive at some point."

"At some point. And I alone will decide when that is!"

"Of course, my Emperor."

"We cannot let down our defenses, Lord General. Duric has forces arrayed to the west and south of us to box us in. He is determined to blunt our approach that way."

"Ah, yes, about that. I believe I may have some good news for you in that regard. I believe we have been subjected to a ruse, my Emperor."

An eyebrow rose. "A ruse?"

"We have been led to believe that Duric has at least a full legion, perhaps two. I contend that he has nothing more than two, maybe three brigades."

The Emperor frowned deeply. He grabbed a sheaf of parchments from the table and shook them under Rithas' nose. "That is not what the intelligence reports are saying!"

"Yes, my Emperor, that is part of the ruse. The sheer abundance of reports is itself suspicious."

Z'haas let the hand carrying the pages drop. "Explain yourself."

"Duric is an able leader and inspires men under him. He also knows how to place competent people in positions of power. These are not people that would be this careless or this clumsy. Yet we would believe that they continually give away their plans, and that we manage to thwart their attacks at every turn."

The Emperor was silent. Rithas hated having to explain everything to him. He sorely wished Z'haas left soldiering to the soldiers. But the Emperor was so paranoid about anyone moving against him that any major movement of troops had to have his personal authorization, and only after a detailed plan had been submitted for his review ahead of time.

"What purpose would this serve, Lord General?" Z'haas brandished the papers. "Why attempt this deception?"

"To do exactly what it has done, my Emperor, which is to tie down our forces in a defensive perimeter and prevent a serious offensive."

Absolute silence followed. Rithas braced himself.

Z'haas sneered and threw the pages down at the General's feet. "This is exactly what I had suspected. You are indeed going to push your agenda on me. Your Northern Corridor Incursion foolishness!"

Rithas could not keep the tension from his voice. "My Emperor, I again state that it is the most viable military option we have. The Appalanchian provinces are lightly defended, and Duric's forces cannot reach them without us knowing. But they have put out a call to arms, and each quarter moon that passes gives them that much more time to prepare."

"But you would leave the Imperial provinces undefended!"

"No, my Emperor. Duric's armies are still in Keyas and cannot get here in time."

"I am talking about the forces he has pressing against our southern and western ..."

"There are no forces, my Emperor. Or at least none of any substance as I have just explained."

The Emperor hesitated. Rithas held out some hope. Had he finally gotten through?

Z'haas planted his hands on the edge of the table, staring at the map for a long moment. "Are you sure of this, Lord General?"

Rithas quickly came alongside the Emperor, seizing the moment. "If you are still unsure, my Emperor, I would suggest this ..."

He snapped his fingers and reached out a hand. The nearest adjunct handed him a slim pole. Rithas used it to push some counters on the map that represented Imperial legions. "A brief thrust to the west, where the bulk of the attacks are coming from. Just one legion. We have two in reserve nearby. If I'm right, then ..."

He thrust the pole forward. The counters were shoved past the red line representing the borders of the occupied provinces and towards a prominent landmark.

" ... we will plow through this valley, meeting little resistance, and take this Noble Lord's palace. This will have the side-effect of securing a key north-south road and further isolate the north."

The Emperor stared at the counter representing his precious legion. "And if you're wrong, Lord General?"

"Then we fall back. At no time will we give the enemy a chance to counterattack. And if you wish, I will resign, and you can exile me for incompetence."

Rithas almost hoped his plan would fail. He almost preferred exile to dealing with Z'haas.

The Emperor drew himself up. "Very well, Lord General. You have my permission for the use of one legion. And only one, Lord General. Do not attempt to take advantage of my generosity by overstepping your bounds."

"Of course not, my Emperor," Rithas said to the already retreating back of Z'haas.

He waited until the Emperor had left, the door thudding shut behind him. All his adjuncts were abruptly freed from their self-imposed paralysis and attempted to talk at once.

"My Lord! Does this mean we finally can take some offensive ..."

"My Lord, do you realize this will alert Duric's army as to our ..."

"Are you sure one legion is enough, my Lord? If this is not a ruse, and we ..."

"Duric is sure to react, my Lord, surely we ..."

"Enough!" Rithas shouted. "I am well aware of the risks. Yes, this will reveal our long term plans. Yes, there's a chance I'm wrong about the size of the forces around us or the position of Duric's real armies. But this is the best I could get out of the Emperor."

"Should the Northern Plan be altered, my Lord?" asked one of them.

Rithas strolled around the side of the table and looked down at the northern half of the map, where he had sketched in details of his military plan.

It was already intended to be quick. A lightning strike to the north and northeast up the coast, then a sharp turn to the northwest to secure a critical road junction, and then west and southwest to trap the remaining defenders against the mountains.

He shook his head. "No. This is still the best plan we have using the strengths of the Imperial legions against whatever rabble they can come up with. They have nowhere near the inspiring leaders in Appalanchia as Duric."

"What of the Overlords, my Lord? They've already used a Portal once to assist in moving troops."

"Their previous ruse was contingent on its covertness. It would not have been attempted if the plan had been discovered. I have plans to send small bands of soldiers to the Manors and ..."

"Garrison them?" said an adjunct in alarm.

"Observe them," Rithas said, giving the man a withering look. "They will remain outside the Manor but very obviously present. It should be enough to deter the Overlords from attempting the same trick."

There was a relieved nodding of heads around the table.

Rithas knew he could not risk breaking tradition. Overlord Manors were considered sacrosanct, and not to be coerced in any way by Noble or Imperial. But now that they had used their Portals to aid the Nobility in their rebellion, he felt justified in bringing some intimidation to bear. But this was all he dared do.

"That is all for now," Rithas said. He turned away and headed out of the chamber.

The merchant Jollis wore a mask of serenity as he strolled through the D'yoran Manor towards the Overlord's office. A cold autumn wind blew at his robe, swirling it about his feet, a drying leaf occasionally catching in its folds. Strands of jet-black hair wavered before his cool eyes. Leaden clouds gathered overhead and tinged the air with moisture.

He had received little in the way of good news thus far. His operatives near the Mage Guild could tell him nothing. Whatever research they were doing into the Inonni Portal technology was still kept a guarded secret. His Cohorts were having trouble accumulating the sum he had requested of them. Imperial agents had infiltrated nearly everywhere and were watching the D'yoran Manor. The civil war remained stalemated, with little movement on either side, thus avoiding the chaos that would have given his operation better cover.

He knew there was a risk to Imperial movement. He felt he had a margin of safety. A likely northern invasion route would be far to the east of the Manor, on the other side of the mountains.

Jollis stepped into the reception area of Gronnus' domain.

In the fore chamber, two female slaves sat on an opulent sofa, slowly teasing each other's sex and moaning in strident abandon. They smiled at him, never pausing. Jollis smiled back, though it was forced.

The merchant thought this a rather distasteful show of Overlord power. Gronnus hand-picked two girls every morning to sit outside his office and spend much of the day moaning in pleasure for his benefit. It was a silly ritual in his view, a further example of how rotten the whole Overlord system had become.

Jollis advanced past them and approached the door. By that time, the sound of the two slaves had been thoroughly drowned out by a loud harangue. Jollis waited patiently, listening to the Overlord's voice go from searing rage to impassioned plea to frustrated acceptance of another lost contract.

When silence fell and it was clear that the Farview audience was over, Jollis allowed himself in. He folded his hands before him. "Good day, my Lord. I have ..."

Gronnus spun around and shook a thick finger in his face. "You! This is all your fault!"

Jollis fell silent and regarded the Overlord with an even gaze.

"You're the reason I'm losing these contracts. You've taken all my best slaves. No more, Jollis! No more!"

Jollis allowed himself a small bit of sympathy for the beleaguered Overlord, though it was tempered by the man's dreadful appearance.

Stress had aged this Overlord as it had Roquan, but the merchant was given to understand that Roquan had managed to retain his impressive physique. This was not so with Gronnus. While he had never been in top shape, he had let himself go rather badly. He sported a pot belly now, and his face had thickened, his jowls sagging. His hair was always unkempt.

Jollis believed that age and stress were never excuses for at least making the attempt to look one's best, especially when dealing with clients.

Gronnus met Jollis' silence with puerile rage. "Jollis, you give me back all those slaves you took from me. You will do it now. I am nearly insolvent. I have debts I cannot pay. All your claims of opportunity with the war were lies. I have had nothing but misery since it started. None of the Overlords will even answer my Farviews."

Jollis looked on with mild interest. He suppressed any further reaction. Do not despair, he thought. It is unlikely he thought to contact that particular one.

"You have made me a total exile. I have nothing. At least give me back something so I can try to reverse my fortunes if you will not!"

"Point," the merchant said in a cool voice. "You made yourself an exile in your ill-conceived plotting with the Emperor, not I. I will not take responsibility for your actions."

Gronnus' face became beet-red, his hands clenching. "Why you little bastard, how dare you ...?"

"And I come to you now with a solution to your problems."

Gronnus peered at Jollis in confusion. "What?"

"I have a confession to make to you, Overlord. I have deceived you. Or more precisely, I have withheld the truth from you. But I need to do so no more, for the gamble I have taken is about to pay off."

"Pay off?" said the Overlord in a lower voice. "You mean ... money? Platinum?"

"Indeed. And quite a bit. The first payment is on its way."

"Payment? For what?"

"For the service of your slaves in the Far West market."

Gronnus remained silent, staring.

Jollis smiled. "You see, my dear Overlord, I had to engage in this bit of deception in order to elude the Emperor's hand. At the time, his suspicions of the Far West made any open dealings with them very problematic. This is no longer an issue now that he is a declared hostile power, and the lines of battle have already been drawn. We need not worry about discovery any longer."

The lividness drained from Gronnus' face. "You opened a new market? H-how lucrative? How much are they willing to pay? How much, Jollis?"

"The first payment of one thousand platinum should arrive within another few days."

Gronnus gasped, his watery eyes gaping. He staggered and slapped a meaty hand on the desk to steady himself. "The first payment?"

"Indeed. Your slaves are highly prized there, it would seem."

Jollis sometimes amazed himself at how smoothly he could tell a lie. The bold lies were indeed easy to tell, and more easily believed, especially to the ears of the desperate.

"Gods ... yes ... I can repay the worst of my debts ... compensate for the loss of my last contracts ..." Gronnus muttered.

"There is, however, one caveat, my Lord. Your slaves alone will not be enough to saturate the market. You need to enter into an arrangement with another Overlord to provide a greater variety."

Gronnus narrowed his eyes and glowered. "Another Overlord? Are you insane? Have you not heard what I just said about them refusing my Farviews?"

"Have you attempted to contact Freya D'yros?"

"Absolutely not! I will have nothing to do with that infernal woman. She is a backstabber and a cheat!"

"Nevertheless, I believe her slaves have qualities that are valued in the Far West market."

Gronnus snorted. "Yes, and if I let her in on this deal, she will find a way to usurp it to her own ends, I tell you!"

Jollis shook his head. "No, Overlord. You will remain in control of the deal. I will see to that. She cannot exploit it any more than you will allow her. I will be the broker, as I have been all along, and I will not tolerate any attempt to twist it to her own purposes."

His hands clenched as if reaching for the lifeline that Jollis had just tossed to him, yet his face remained pained.

Jollis sensed the Overlord was about to capitulate. The merchant's timing was impeccable. He managed to catch Gronnus at his most vulnerable financially and emotionally.

"You've already deceived me once, by your own admission, Jollis," the Overlord declared. "How do I know you will not do it again?"

Jollis smiled. "Ah, but I deceived you for your own gain, my dear Overlord. Can you truly fault me for that?"

"I will believe that when I have the money in my hands."

"And you shall very soon. In fact, would it not work to your advantage to have Freya see you receive payment in person while you attempt to negotiate the deal?"

"What, you want me to get her to come to my Manor?"

"Yes. Is it not tradition to do such deals in person?"

"Well, yes, it is, but I am not sure she will come."

"You must try, Overlord, if you wish to see this deal come to fruition. You would not want the Far West turning to another source instead. Such as Roquan."

Gronnus' eyes burned. "Certainly not!"

"I would suggest using that as a selling point to Freya. Like you, she has no love for that Overlord. If you would frame it in the context of dealing a blow against him, I am sure she will agree to come. Offer to use your Portal to transport her."

"My Portal? Do you realize how expensive it is to run ..."

"Overlord," Jollis said pointedly. "Very soon, money will no longer be a concern to you."

Gronnus glared at the merchant. "You had better come through on that promise, Jollis. I will not be set up for a fall!"

Jollis smiled. "Indeed not, Overlord. I would never think of such a thing."

Q'yros gripped his staff in white-knuckled fingers and used all his willpower not to tap it impatiently upon the stone floor of the chamber.

The aged Mage's eyes narrowed as the young Journeyman came around to the same spot. Q'yros clenched his teeth as the man looked down again at the very same gem fragment, then let out a growl as the man picked it up and held it up to the light.

"You do realize, Q'garra, that is the same one you have already looked at?" Q'yros finally blurted. "Three times!"

Journeyman Mage Uroddus Q'garra did not seem to hear as he twirled the fragment in his slender fingers. Light flashed from the gem and his spectacles. "Patience, Master Q'yros," he said softly, as if whispering to a lover rather than speaking to a superior. "Patience."

"At my age, and in this crisis, that is in short supply."

Uroddus lowered the fragment and turned. "Do you or do you not wish me to make these calculations, Master Q'yros?"

Q'yros could not answer that honesty. No, he did not want it. He felt he was scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of talent at the Guild Hall. "Carry on," he grunted.

Uroddus nodded once. He swiftly lifted the platter he had tucked under his arm. He plucked the quill pen he had tucked into his hair and jotted down some numbers upon a parchment. "These measurements take time, Master, if you wish an accurate reading." He paused and looked over the data he had already collected, adjusting his spectacles. "I must say, some of these numbers are rather unusual."

"I did not bring you here to tell me the obvious."

The Journeyman looked at Q'yros and stiffened. "Of course not." He put down the shard. "I believe I have enough for a preliminary analysis. One moment while I perform some calculations."

"Yes, yes, get on with it."

Q'yros tried not to fidget as the quill went scratching incessantly across the parchment. An Empiricist! Q'yros could scarcely believe he was reduced to summoning one of these intellectual madmen.

Like many older Mages, Q'yros felt that Empiricism was just an excuse to get out of doing any real work. They were wasting their time -- so the common wisdom went -- trying to reduce Magic to a set of mathematical formulae.

Magic did work by proscribed laws. But these laws merely described what Magic could and could not do, and how various elements of Magic interacted with one another. The actual practice was more an art than a science. It required a very creative mind and a degree of intense faith. One simply had to have the knack for seeing how it all worked together.

Scratch scratch scratch ...

Q'yros ground his teeth. He had never heard a more annoying sound. Mages rarely wrote anything. Some were actually illiterate, save for their knowledge of runes. General reading comprehension was not needed to understand and use magic.

Uroddus finally stopped. He slowly tucked the quill back into his hair as he stared at the parchment.

"Well?" Q'yros finally prompted.

"How odd," said the Journeyman. "How very odd."

Q'yros frowned and surged forward. "What is it?"

Uroddus looked up. "How old did you say these artifacts were, Master Q'yros?"

"A year and a season. Perhaps a bit longer. What of it?"

"Well, you know, of course, that magical resonances decay over time ..."

Q'yros banged his staff on the ground, throwing blue sparks. "Yes, yes! You do not need to tell me these things!"

"But you are aware that they decay at a precise rate?"

"Of course. Get to the point!"

The young man slipped off his spectacles. "The point is, Master Q'yros, that I can detect two sets of energies here. The Portal energy and the lingering psychic resonance of those that last traversed the Portal. They should decay at the same rate. Except that the psychic resonance remaining is five-point-three-six percent greater than it should be."

Q'yros frowned deeply. He had the urge to yank the parchment from the Journeyman to view it himself, but realized the numbers and formulae would mean nothing to him.

"Which can be explained only by either, one, these are not artifacts from the same Portal device but from two of different destruction times, or, two, there was more psychic energy present when the Portal was used than can be accounted for by standard Portal mechanics."

Q'yros was already shaking his head when Uroddus was halfway through the first one. "No, they are from the same device. The energy signature was verified by the Guildmaster himself, and that is his field of expertise."

Uroddus nodded once. "Then that leaves only the second explanation."

If this had been a season ago, Q'yros would have immediately responded that this was impossible. Instead, he now looked out over the artifacts himself, his eyes darting. "Are you sure of this, Journeyman Q'garra?"

"Positive." He lowered the platter and parchment and folded one hand over the other. "Perplexing, is it not?"

Q'yros' mind raced.

Something placed in the matrix. Something that the Portal energy followed to its destination. Something that did not require a focus yet acquired the target anyway. But what?

"Q'garra ... what if I told you that someone could project a Portal without a focus?" Q'yros said. He turned his head towards the younger man. "And with pinpoint accuracy?"

To the old Mage's surprise, the young man shrugged nonchalantly. "It is something we will likely achieve eventually."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

"It's simple. All points in the universe can be described mathematically relative to all other points. I can say that a location is precisely three-point-seven leagues from here at an angle of three-six degrees from due north. Or, I can use a system of axes, much like we use latitude and longitude in navigation."

"Because your lot still thinks you can reduce Magic to a bunch of numbers."

"With time and effort, yes. Ultimately, Portal Magic is simply a means of determining the coordinates of your target location in space and projecting Portal energy to that point. Surely the use of a focus is not the only way it can be achieved, it simply represents the technological limitation we are at now."

Q'yros made a face. "But how would you propose to get these ... these coordinates into a Portal matrix at the source?"

Uroddus pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "That I do not know, Master Q'yros. We have not as yet ascertained the formulae behind Portal mechanics."

Q'yros stared at the artifacts. They looked no less a cipher than they had before. "Thank you, Q'garra, you may go."

Uroddus paused, then nodded once and headed out of the chamber.

The old Mage was still short of understanding, yet so close. The Empiricist had not brought him any closer to reaching his goal, save to introduce yet another oddity about this foreign Portal technology.

The psychic energy meant nothing. It was no more than lingering thought energy from those using the Portal. If it did have something to do with this, Q'yros was again stumped as to what.

"My Emperor. My Emperor, please, a moment!"

Z'haas glared at his Mage as the slender man attempted to keep up. The Emperor barely slowed his pace. "I have little time, Q'holan, I have the Urisi Ambassador waiting for an audience with me."

Mage Rylls Q'holan panted lightly as he came alongside Z'haas. "You wished an intelligence report from me, my Emperor ..."

Emperor Z'haas came to an abrupt halt. "Yes, what is it? Have they seen something?"

Q'holan paused to catch his breath, which made the Emperor's glare more ominous. "Your agents have reported increased trader activity near the D'yoran Manor, my Emperor."

"I am not interested in the Overlord's trading habits!"

"I know, my Emperor," Q'holan said in a rush. "But they have all been clanless merchants."

"And why should that be a concern?"

Q'holan had to suppress a sigh. He hated this job. When the Emperor had informed him he would be "promoted" to Prime Adviser in addition to his role of Head of Security, he had been elated. He had not understood Q'yros' reluctance in taking that role, and then in giving it up later.

It had taken only a quarter moon working under Z'haas' impatience, puerile stubbornness, and inability to grasp simple logic to understand why, and now he had already sent two missives to the Guild Hall begging to be reassigned somewhere else.

"Clanless merchants tend to leave a country that is at war, my Emperor," said the Mage. "Since they do not enjoy the same protections and guaranteed respect for their neutrality as Guild Clan merchants do. So seeing so many this active in one area is suspicious."

Z'haas gaze became knife-like. "What is that traitorous Overlord up to, then, Q'holan? Can you tell me that?"

"We don't know yet, my Emperor."

"Why do you not know?"

Q'holan tried not to look anxious. He longed for the more mundane tasks of taking care of the maintaining the Mage-sight and anti-Portal wards. "These merchants are very ... elusive, my Emperor. I've been told that it is if they are themselves intelligence agents as well."

"Of course they are, Q'holan. They work for the hostile forces of the Far West."

"Well, we don't know who they work for, my Emperor ..."

Z'haas took a step closer to the Mage. "I will not be taken for a fool! I already know Gronnus is in league with our enemy!"

Q'holan looked perplexed. "Well ... he is on the other side of the war, is he not?"

"I do not mean that enemy. I mean the true enemy. The Far West. The one that opens Portals into our lands to foster their own plans of subversion. This civil war is little more than a distraction. It came about only because the Nobility are traitors that would rather see Oceanus fall than allow me to defend the realm."

The Mage hated it when the Emperor went off on a tirade. He rarely listened to reason when that happened. "My Emperor, if I may ..."

"All I want to hear, Q'holan, is that you have discovered what exactly the Far West is doing with these Portals and how that Overlord is involved."

"But that's just it! There have been no Portals opened near the Manor in a half-moon!"

Z'haas frowned. "Are you sure of this?"

"That is what I have been informed by the Guild Hall."

The Emperor sneered. "I would not trust anything from that traitor Q'yros!"

Q'holan blanched at such slander against a highly respected Mage, but he managed to bite back any words of protest. "This information comes from Guildmaster Q'ixanna himself, my Emperor. I'm sure it can be trusted."

Z'haas said nothing in reply, unmollified.

Q'holan did his best not to take that as a veiled insult towards the Guildmaster. "Um ... anyway, my Emperor, your Master Agent in the field needs your approval for a plan."

"A plan? What plan?"

"He believes that the clanless merchants have a Master, my Emperor, one that is giving them their orders. The plan is to draw him out and capture him for interrogation."

Z'haas took on a determined, satisfied look. "Well, it is refreshing to hear that I have someone that is actually competent outside of the Imperial Palace," he said loftily. "I grant my permission and add my own caveat. If they cannot capture him, they are to kill him instead."

Q'holan's eyes widened, but he quickly nodded. "Er, yes, my Emperor."

"If that is all?"

"Yes, it is ... my ... Emperor ..."

Q'holan trailed off, as the first word had barely left his lips when Z'haas clasped his hands behind his back and stalked away.

Mandas uttered a long, windy sigh that echoed eerily in the large, round chamber that was the Emperor's throne room.

Normally, waiting was something for which he, as an ambassador, had a knack. It was very common in the Urisi Nation to be left waiting for a meeting with a foreign potentate, sometimes so long that servants brought tea and pastries to stave off hunger. But more to the point, he would be spending his waiting time in beautiful, opulent splendor, where he could admire the wealth and artistry that bespoke of the great wealth and power of the monarch.

When he waited in the throne room of the Oceanus Emperor, however, he felt as if he were standing in a mausoleum.

The chamber was quite stark, virtually unadorned save for fancy carvings in the stone vaulting, and rather dim, despite the sunlight that poured in from the stained glass windows near the top of the rotunda. He felt he were being called to court with the dead.

It made the title of the Oceanus ruler even more pretentious. Emperor indeed! The Urisi actually controlled half again more land than Oceanus, and double the citizens, and their monarch was "merely" a King.

The great gilded double doors of the chamber finally began to open.

Mandas straightened, brushed out his mustache with a tiny comb that he made disappear as quick as it had materialized, and stood to one side of the purple carpet that led from the door to the dais that held the throne. He folded his hands behind him and raised his head imperiously.

Emperor Z'haas swept into the room as soon as the door had parted far enough, his cloak billowing. "My apologies for keeping you waiting, Mandas, I was unavoidably detained," said Z'haas in a tight voice.

Mandas merely nodded and said nothing. In his nation, such silence would be perceived as a small slight, a way of showing a bit of disdain for the ruler's tardiness.

He imagined it would be lost on someone so boorish as Z'haas. Simply no good breeding here at all, he thought. It is a wonder they have survived this long without internal conflict.

Z'haas walked up to Mandas and assumed a regal pose. Yet the rigidness of his stance betrayed the irritation he was feeling, and Mandas could see it at once. "One thing I must ask you, Mandas, before we open any dialog between our two nations."

"Yes, your Highness?"

"I am given to understand that an ambassador from your nation is to be dispatched to the traitorous rebels. Is this true?"

Mandas thought the Emperor's indignation more amusing than upsetting. "This is indeed the truth, your Highness. Understand that we cannot take sides in your little war. We have no interest in tipping the war one way or the other."

"But surely it is obvious that you are dealing with the legitimate government of Oceanus?"

Mandas smiled humorlessly. "I suppose that remains to be seen. That the purpose of civil war, yes?"

Z'haas took a slow, deep breath to steady himself. "Really, Mandas. It is clear what side is the correct one, considering that the Imperium has lasted for ..."

"Please, your Highness, it is useless to pursue this line of reasoning," Mandas said. Such that it is, he added in his head. "My orders from His Majesty are clear. We cannot favor one side over the other. It is that simple. My hands are tied."

"Be aware that I do not take kindly to a foreign power ... as closely allied as we may be to that power ... contributing to our enemy's war effort!"

Mandas understood that Z'haas was trying to play up on the de-facto alliance between Oceanus and the Urisi. But the fact of the matter was that nothing on paper committed the two nations to anything but trade. "Then you may rest assured, your Highness, that we will do nothing of the sort. No war supplies will be given to the, ah, rebels."

"Well, this is good news indeed, Mandas. Very forward-thinking on your nation's part. I am most pleased."

Mandas gave the Emperor a tiny smile and inclined his head once.

"Can I count on a fair price for such goods for the Imperium, then?"

"Ah, yes, well, there's the problem, your Highness. We cannot trade war goods to you, either."

The Emperor's apparent upbeat turn abruptly vanished. "And why not?"

"For the reason I have stated before. We cannot take sides. We are willing to trade anything else you desire, or help open a new market for your own goods, but we ..."

"Yet you are willing to trade with the Overlords! It's a slave transaction you wish, isn't it? That damnable slave trade. I wish it had never been allowed in Oceanus!"

Mandas hesitated. As a response to his statement, the Emperor's words made no sense. But in the larger scale, it said volumes.

Mandas considered his next words carefully. "Can I take this to mean that you are not happy with the slave trade?"

The Emperor sneered. "It is a useless distraction, Mandas. A way of providing for the immoral succor of the indolent and slothful Nobility. It should have been seen as the first sign of the growing irrelevance of that social class. When this war is over, I fully intend to abolish all rank and title of the Nobility. With them gone, the Overlords' slave trade will wither and die like the anachronism that it is. Then all power will be concentrated right here, where it belongs."

Oh dear, thought Mandas.

This was not good. Not good at all. It was not just the loss of the slave trade that worried him. By eliminating an entire class of wealth, it would severely cut into Urisi trade from Oceanus. He doubted that the Imperium could make up the difference by itself. A major source of revenue would be shut down. It would have a ripple effect through the entire economy of the Urisi.

And the High Minister was worried only about an external influence in Oceanus! They had more to worry about with the Emperor.

"Ah," said Mandas, forcing a polite but tight smile. "It is always wise to consolidate power after such a conflict. I am sure His Majesty would do the same in your position."

The Emperor added quickly, "That is to say, Mandas, that the slave trade is not for Oceanus. I take no exception to it outside our borders. Please do not take my words to mean any more than a statement of internal policy."

Mandas noted that the Emperor had recognized part of his diplomatic mistake, but not all of it. It was as Mandas had expected. This Emperor barely had a grasp of how the world worked. It was not surprising, considering how little Oceanus needed to perform upon the world stage outside of trade. Perhaps it would be better for the Nobility to usurp the throne and place someone in power with a more worldly outlook.

But he still had to find the answer to the question for which he had been sent to pose: who else had designs on influencing Oceanus, and in what direction?

"Of course, your Highness," said Mandas. "It is for you to decide what to do with your wayward provinces. Or ... other matters of state."

The Emperor hesitated. "Other matters?"

"Such as the disposition of Colos. I seem to recall when we last met that you had designs on that nation."

Mandas wondered if that were still a sore point with the Emperor, and the flicker of hatred in Z'haas eyes confirmed it. The ambassador silently dared the Emperor to make further note of it.

"Yes, well ... you understand I abandoned that operation when I was met with the more immediate threat," said Z'haas curtly.

"If I may ask, your Highness, do you intend to return your attention to them in the near future?"

"Why is it you wish to know this, Mandas?"

Mandas sensed the growing unease. He was likely triggering the Emperor's paranoia. He realized that the hope that this would be a simple task was a vain one.

"The Urisi are still interested in a joint venture that would be mutually beneficial to our two great nations," said Mandas. "It is understandable if you are reluctant due to, ah, recent events."

Z'haas folded his arms, his face stony.

Mandas decided to push it a bit. "Simply keep us in mind if you reconsider it. We do consider ourselves an ally of yours, even if we cannot interfere in your internal war. In fact, we hope that Oceanus as a whole is allowed to resolve this dispute as it sees fit, with no influence from anyone."

Silence, stark and taut.

Mandas felt faintly insulted. He was all but saying explicitly that he was willing to overlook the bit of trickery Z'haas had used to try to get Urisi forces to engage Duric's army at the first confrontation outside the Palace.

Z'haas finally drew in his breath and let go in an acid voice, "I would strongly suggest, Mandas, that the Urisi reconsider their neutral stand. What happens here will have far-reaching effects throughout Narlass. You cannot turn your back on it. I am the rightful ruler of Oceanus, and the realm will be preserved and protected from all threats."

Mandas noted the very slight emphasis on that one word.

"Only I can reunite Oceanus," continued Z'haas. "Only I have the proper vision. Only I have the fortitude and focus to see this nation through whatever crisis will befall us."

So he does still believe in an outward threat, Mandas thought. He is all but admitting it to me.

The Emperor let out a sigh. "I grow fatigued. I wish to retire for a short while. This audience is concluded. I will summon you when I wish to talk more with you about expanding our trade."

"Of course, your Highness," Mandas said, though the Emperor was already heading towards his private chambers.

Mandas waited until Z'haas was gone before allowing himself a frown. The Oceanus Emperor had grown even more erratic than he last remembered. None of this boded well for either Oceanus or the Urisi.

Yes, Z'haas had been right to say that what happened here would be felt all over Narlass. In fact, it was exactly what Mandas now very much feared.

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