Gronnus forced a smile as his fellow Overlord stepped away from the Portal and kept his voice as congenial as possible. "You are looking as lovely as always, I must say."

Freya's dress swirled about her thighs as she stepped up to Gronnus. She placed her hands on her hips. "And you look like a pig. You were never a prizewinner, Gronnus, but you've let yourself go to the hells since the Conclave."

"Now ... now that is uncalled for, Freya!" Gronnus stammered, shaking a finger at her.

"Spare me your bluster. I didn't come here to match wits with you as there is simply no contest."

"Yes, and thank you for reminding me why I despise you so much!"

Freya smirked. "So that's why you want me in on some stupid little deal of yours?"

"If you think it is so stupid as you put it, then why did you accept my invitation in the first place?"

Freya frowned. "Because, you fat idiot, my own plans are slow to come to fruition, and I need more funds in the interim. That is the only reason I am here, so do not even think I am interested in any long-term alliance with you."

Gronnus broke into a triumphant grin. "Oh-ho! So your little scheme against Roquan isn't working, eh?"

Freya's eyes were ice. "What would you know about it? You're so out of touch these days, it's like you don't even exist to the other Overlords."

"I know enough! I know you're behind the browbeating the other Overlords gave Roquan into acquiescing to Urisi demands for a new trade treaty."

Freya let out a quick breath through her nose like a bull before charging. "Do not remind me," she muttered, walking past him in long strides.

Gronnus trotted just behind her. "I hear he already conceded, that he's hosting the Urisi Ambassador even now."

Freya whirled about. He shuddered to a stop with his face only a hand-span from hers. Her hands clenched. "Shut up."

"Didn't expect him to give in so soon, is that it?"

"Roquan is stubborn. I was counting on him holding out longer until ..."

She trailed off.

"Until what?" Gronnus insisted.

Freya narrowed her eyes. "None of your gods-damned business. Let's just say I had my own offer to make to the Ambassador, but I am not yet ready. So consider yourself fortunate. If I were not in any kind of need, I would have told you to jump into hellfire head-first. Now, are we going to your office, or are you going to waste time with your childish attempts at one-upsmanship?"

Gronnus' face became hot. "To my office," he grunted through clenched teeth.

Freya gave him a supercilious smile and continued down the path at an urgent pace, forcing Gronnus to pant from the exertion. She looked about with a contemptuous gaze. "Really, Gronnus, you've let the Manor go to seed as well."

"I do not have many slaves left to tend to the grounds every day."

"Really. All part of this so-called deal of yours with the Far West? You are a fool, Gronnus."

"Then you are a bigger fool for listening to me and coming here!" Gronnus cried.

Freya laughed. "Perhaps I came so I can listen to you prattle on about this stupid idea and have the pleasure of telling you 'no'. Do you really think I would want to partner with someone that cannot figure out for himself how he had been completely fooled by Roquan during the Conclave?"

"What in hellfire are you talking about?"

Freya stopped and turned. Her lips curled in malice. "I figured out exactly how Roquan beat you at all those deals. How he always knew what and how much more to offer each Overlord to top your offer."

Gronnus' eyes widened. "How? How, Freya, how did he do it? That has been haunting me ever since the Conclave. Please, tell me!"

Freya rolled her eyes. "You are so pathetic when you beg, Gronnus. But then you'd know about begging, wouldn't you? It was exactly what you did before the Conclave when you wanted to have sex with me."

"Enough of that!" Gronnus shouted, his cheeks now a deeper scarlet. "What did Roquan do?"

She smiled humorlessly. "Amanda. She spied for him. The little bitch overheard the deals your lackey tried to make and then relayed that information to Roquan so he could top it."

"He can't ... but that's ... no one uses a slave for ..." Gronnus sputtered.

"Open your eyes, you oaf. Do you really think that someone who would train a Draughtless slave would care about any other sacred slave traditions?"

Freya realized the delicious irony of her statement. She knew it was pot calling kettle black considering what her own plans were. She was about to violate even more steadfast traditions. All she cared about was triumphing over Roquan and gaining influence over the other Overlords. It was time she ran the show, and whatever was needed to accomplish that goal was fair game.

Gronnus shook his fist. "Then if Roquan did do something so ... so heinous ... I want to help you in any way I can to destroy him!"

Freya smiled. "Melodrama did always become you, Gronnus. But that still does not mean I intend to ..."

"Ah, but if you would excuse an interruption, honored Overlords."

Freya frowned and looked past Gronnus. Her eyes narrowed to sharp points. "You."

Jollis smiled and bowed his head respectfully. "Good day to you, Overlord Freya D'yros. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."

Gronnus had turned to face him, but Freya grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. "This is your merchant? The one you're working with? He was Roquan's tradesman, you fat fool!"

"He is not working for Roquan. Roquan ran him off. He is not welcome there."

Freya betrayed shock as she glanced at Jollis again. She had not heard this.

The merchant met her eyes. "There is a saying in my land, Overlord. The fool allows the turncoat to remain on his lands. The wise man runs him off. The truly enlightened is the one that uses him against his former ally."

"Well said, Jollis, very well said!" Gronnus said, casting a smug look at Freya.

Freya folded her arms. "Really."

"What Overlord Gronnus says of me is true, my Lady," said Jollis. "I am indeed no longer in Roquan's employ and no longer welcome there. Feel free to use my services against him if you wish. I have no remaining loyalty to him."

"As I was saying earlier, I am not of the mindset to enter into a deal officiated by this idiot."

"I will not have you continue to insult me, Freya!" Gronnus cried.

"I am only telling you the truth. I have no faith in your ability to conclude any detail satisfactorily."

"And I am telling you, this is a chance for great profit! More platinum than you can imagine!"

Freya snorted. "I can imagine pretty big."

"Ah, but a healthy imagination is always a good one, Overlord," said Jollis. He reached into his robes and pulled out a bulging cloth bag.

"And what is that?"

Jollis' smile widened. He turned to Gronnus. "Your first payment, Overlord, as I promised."

Gronnus let Jollis place the bag in his trembling hands. He tugged at the drawstring. Coins clinked against each other and shone brilliantly in the sunlight as the bag was opened. The Overlord reached inside and pulled one out.

Freya's mouth dropped open. It was a fifty platinum piece.

"Two thousand platinum," Jollis announced happily.

"Two thousand?" Freya exclaimed.

"Two!" Gronnus cried. "You had told me only one!"

"They are feeling very generous, Overlord. They are quite eager to expand the market. Once I told them another Overlord was interested ..."

Freya stepped forward. "Have you told anyone else about this? Any other Overlord whatsoever?"

"No, my Lady. This is a private deal only. Gronnus was generous enough to consider you for this deal, so it behooved me to involve you."

Freya's eyes widened, and she stared at Gronnus.

Gronnus grinned. "Yes, you should be thanking me instead of insulting me!"

Freya clenched her teeth to bite back a retort. "Fine. I will accept this partnership with you. But only for now. And do not get any ideas that I feel like I have any favor to return."

"Perish the thought, Freya. This is strictly business."

"Permit me, then, Overlord, to send my Cohorts to your Manor," Jollis said. "They can negotiate for your slaves and arrange for the Portals to send them to the Far West."

Freya was already seeing a bigger opportunity. If Evella finally came through, she could alter her plans to consider sending new slaves to both the Urisi and the Far West. With all that money at her disposal, once the civil war was over, she could position herself to virtually purchase the support of the other Overlords against Roquan.

Now if only she had hard evidence of Roquan's crime.

"Very well," Freya said with a small smile. "I am sure if they paid that much for Gronnus' pathetic slaves, they should pay a premium for mine."

Gronnus shot a venomous look at Freya but said nothing.

"I am sure they will be quite generous, Overlord," Jollis said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

He bowed to them both and headed away.

Jollis allowed himself a small smile. He had needed a boost to his morale. Not only would he have more slaves to send to the Far West, but he would have another location in which to open his Portals. He hoped this would force the gaze of the Imperial eye to shift from Gronnus' Manor.

His Cohorts had been fortunate enough to obtain all the platinum rather quickly. A lucrative source had presented itself at the right moment. He needed only to arrange for some goods from the black market in return. Normally he would have questioned the source more thoroughly, but time was in short supply, and it was apparent that Freya needed something to convince her of the merits of the deal.

The downside was that he had to open new Portals once more. He had sharply curtailed them to give the Mage Guild fewer opportunities. The Inonni were feverishly working on a way to shield them from detection, but they had been unsuccessful thus far.

But things were in motion once more, and this pleased him to no end.

"Everything is ready, my Lord," said Commander Rol V'klor of the Imperial Legion in an eager voice. His boots squelched against the soft ground as his shorter gait hurried to maintain pace with the long strides of the Lord General. "We started to assemble the battle lines at dawn. We are ready to begin the attack."

"I will be the judge of that, Commander," said Rithas, maintaining his hard gaze forward as they approached the edge of the ridge. "Supplies?"

"A half-moon's worth before we need to resupply them. Then we can get another half-moon to them. I doubt this campaign will last that long, Lord General."

Rithas still hated that title. But at least now he got to do what he wanted, which was command men into battle. "And the rainstorm yesterday will not affect your progress?"

"No, my Lord. The storm clung more to the coastal regions. My scouts tell me that the land dries out quickly to the west. The valley itself was virtually untouched."

They reached the edge of the ridge. Rithas peered down at the assembled men, animals, and equipment of the Third Imperial Legion.

He drew in a deep breath, his chest swelling in pride. He gazed down at the lines of men on horses, at the contingents of men in armor, at the line of archers curving about the rear of the formation.

He was sorely tempted to take direct command of the Legion himself. He wanted the glory of the first victory of the war. But he would have to settle for whatever accolades Z'haas chose to mete out, if any.

"I do hope you are pleased, my Lord," said Rol, sharing some of Rithas' pride.

"It will do." Rithas actually was impressed, but he was also quite enjoying wielding power over men. He was about to turn away when his eyes were drawn to something near the front of the lines.

Flanking the forward lines of the formation were two large catapults, drawn by large beasts, one on each side. They were pulling ahead of the others, a contingent of foot soldiers and archers swarming about each.

"What is that, Commander?" Rithas said, pointing. "Why are they leaving the battle line?"

"They are forming their own battle line, Lord General. They will move along the flank of our advance and launch a barrage at the first sign of resistance. It's called a Two-Point Thrust maneuver, used during the Founding War."

Rithas turned to him. "Really? Are you a student of history?"

"Military history, yes, my Lord. I thought it fitting that a key to Monarchist victory two centuries ago be used in the opening battle of the Reunification War."

Rithas smirked. Yes, he had heard that term being used by the Emperor now. Z'haas wanted to paint himself as the great leader seeking to preserve the nation. He wanted to look good for the history scrolls, which would never tell the tale of how the Emperor had impaled a naked young woman on the end of a sword in his own throne room.

Rithas did not care for such things himself. He was living for the present. He allowed the Commander to have his little fantasy. "Very well, Commander. Have you any scouts remaining in the field?"

"No, my Lord. All have returned and report no resistance to the mouth of the valley."

"It will be the valley where the battle will be waged. They will not waste time engaging us before that."

Rol nodded quickly. "Do I have your leave, Lord General?"

Rithas grinned, almost in amusement. "You have it."

The Commander already had reached into his uniform and pulled out a short tube carved from wood, wider at one end than the other. He placed the narrow end near his mouth, and when he spoke again, his voice was magically amplified. His voice boomed across the clearing below.

"Men of the Third Imperial Legion in the service of the Exalted Emperor Fenric Z'haas of Oceanus!"

At once, all activity talk ceased. Soldiers lined up and drew their swords. Horsemen nudged their mounts into an arrow-straight line. Archers stood poised, right foot forward, left foot back.

"It is time to take the war to the traitorous rabble that threaten the very existence of our nation and our lives!"

This time, Rithas did look amused.

Rol raised his arm, held it aloft for a dramatic moment, then thrust it towards the west. "FORWARD!"

There was a single heartfelt though rigidly disciplined cheer as the Legion began their orderly march.

Rol turned to the Lord General, grinning widely. "I must get to my contingent. Your pardon, my Lord."

"Good luck, and good hunting," said Rithas, but the young Commander was already scrambling down the hillside. He turned his gaze to the advancing Imperial column.

"And so it begins," he said quietly. "Finally ..."

Emperor Z'haas gripped the hand rests of his throne as his Mage ambled towards the dais.

Several times he had to stop himself from ordering Rithas to call off the attack. He was sure that the Lord General was wrong, that one of Duric's legions was lying in ambush, waiting for the Imperial forces to give in to just this sort of foolishness.

"Yes, what is it?" Z'haas demanded of the Mage before he was barely halfway to the throne. "What news of disaster ... what news do you bring to me today?"

"Word comes from your Master Agent, my Emperor!" Q'holan called out. He stopped at the edge of the dais and looked up. "He reports progress in the efforts against the suspected spies at the D'yoran Manor."

Z'haas frowned and cast a cool gaze at the Mage. "Have you forgotten your place?"

Q'holan looked perplexed for a moment, then quite embarrassed. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My Exalted Emperor, I am but your lowly servant," he said in a reverent voice.

The Emperor paused, then nodded once. He had insisted on this new form of greeting a few days prior. He believed it would instill a greater sense of loyalty and respect from the Imperial citizenry. In his increasingly twisted logic, he believed it would help uncover who among the court might be plotting against him, as they would invariably resist the change.

"You may rise and speak."

Q'holan stood. "As I was saying, my Emperor, your Master Agent reports progress. He says that an Imperial Agent managed to make contact with one of the associates of the foreign spy."

Z'haas pushed himself to his feet and descended the dais. "We have infiltrated their ranks?"

"Not quite infiltrated, my Emperor. Your agents heard that they were in need of a large quantity of platinum. An agent posed as a black marketeer and provided a generous portion of the money in exchange for some exotic goods."

The Emperor's face grew rigid. "Generous portion? How generous?"

"A little over one thousand, my Emperor."

"One thousand? When I authorized this plan, I did not intend for it to be an excuse to pilfer the Imperial treasury!" he shouted.

Q'holan was confused as to why the Emperor was quibbling over this. Surely this was little more than pocket change compared to the Imperial coffers. "Please, my Emperor, I had no control over this, it was the Master Agent that ..."

Z'haas waved a hand angrily at him before clasping both behind his back. He forced himself to take a calming breath. "I will speak with the Master Agent myself on this matter when he next contacts us. Now, has anything else come of this, or has this simply been an exercise in wanton fiduciary excess?"

"Yes, my Emperor. The agent is arranging to meet the foreign spy to receive the requested goods. A trap will be laid for the spy at that time. It is hoped that this ..."

"I do not want hope, I want action! Remind the Master Agent again, Q'holan, that if the foreign spy cannot be caught, he is to be killed! I will break that traitorous Overlord's connection to the Far West no matter what!"

"Yes, my Emperor, understood!" cried Q'holan.

"Is that all you have, Mage?"

"Yes, that's all, my ..."

"Then get out."

The Mage backed away, hastily bowed, and fled the chamber.

The Emperor turned away. He started up the dais, paused, then slammed a clenched fist into the arm rest of the throne.

One thousand platinum! Had he been informed of this foolishness, he would have put a stop to it immediately. Yet he could not speak out any further on it, lest he reveal the Imperium's great weakness.

The Imperial treasury was much more poor than anyone suspected. The few accounting clerks that knew were under threat of death if they revealed anything of the dire state of the Imperial economy.

The merchants were strangling the Imperium. They claimed neutrality, and a willingness to trade with both sides equally, but it was clear to him they were holding back. Their vague claims of the ravages of war slowing the flow of goods were thin at best. It was as if they were trying to tip the balance of power in favor of the Nobility and Overlords.

The Emperor clenched his teeth. He commanded the most powerful navy on Narlass. One order from him, one deadly barrage against the major shore side Noble holdings and Overlord Manors, and the war would end swiftly.

And the merchants would halt all trade with the Empire until it was destitute and barren.

The Emperor turned. "Guards!"

The two guards flanking the doors stepped forward and dropped to one knee.

"Summon Ambassador Mandas at once," said Z'haas as he sat upon his throne. "I wish to offer him a deal ..."

Q'yros glowered at the students as they trundled out of the classroom. A few cast disappointed looks at him.

He knew what they had really wished of him, and it had little to do with learning magic. They had wished to hear a rant about the current administration at the Guild Hall. He had been famous for such things when he used to teach on a regular basis many years ago.

Q'yros uttered a sigh. He had not wanted to give any lectures whatsoever, but the Guildmaster had insisted. It was likely intended to act as confirmation of the rumor that Q'yros had become Q'ixanna's lackey and further diminish his influence.

"Excuse me, Master Q'yros."

Q'yros flinched. "Yes, Journeyman Q'garra, what is it?" he asked in an irritated voice.

Uroddus adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. "I had an idea this morning about the artifacts I wish to investigate, and I need your permission to get past the wizard-locks."

Q'yros draped his hands over the end of his staff. "Oh? What idea would this be?"

"I am hesitant to tell you, Master Q'yros. I feel you will consider it nonsense and a waste of time."

"As limited as my options are for further investigation, Q'garra, it would not surprise me a bit if you suggested reading the entrails of pig, nor would I tell you no."

"Ah, very good, then. In that case, you will not be upset if I also ask for the use of a psychic probe."

Q'yros nearly recoiled. "A what?"

The young Journeyman slipped off his spectacles and tapped them against his hand. "I knew you would be upset, Master Q'yros," he said in a rather matter-of-fact tone.

"Why would I not be? You might as well start reading bumps on people's heads while you're at it! What could you possibly want with such a piece of junk?"

Uroddus considered his next words carefully. "I understand that we no longer pursue Mind Magics. I understand that it is considered a disreputable area of study ..."

"Try useless area of study! Try dead end! Try rightfully abandoned a century ago!"

"Yes, well, all true, Master Q'yros, but the fact of the matter is, a psychic probe does indeed read mind energies, if in its imperfect way, and that makes it suited for what I wish to do."

Q'yros bit off a retort and forced himself to pause. A troubled look clouded his face.

Was he becoming just like the narrow minded fools he so wished he could preach against? Yet this Journeyman was delving into things that had been thrown to the wayside many years ago. They were not even remotely part of mainstream magical theory.

But neither was a Portal opened without a proper focus.

"Oh, very well." Q'yros grumbled. "What else do we have to lose but our dignity at this point, eh? Hold out your hands."

Uroddus slipped his spectacles back on and held his hands palms-up before him. Q'yros lifted his staff and touched each hand in turn. Each glowed blue and tingled in pins and needles for a moment.

"You may now pass the locks," Q'yros said. "And you will find a psychic probe far in the back along with all the other anachronisms."

"Thank you, Master Q'yros."

"Just what is it you expect to learn, anyway?"

"I wish to better analyze the psychic resonance left behind in the artifacts," explained Uroddus. "Something you said to me the other day inspired me to check. Call it ... a hunch."

Q'yros looked surprised. An Empiricist usually never admitted to feeling such things, as married as they were to their hard equations.

"It should also help me better quantify the discrepancy I found in the decay rate." He smiled. "I always look for opportunities to perfect the formulae."

Q'yros nearly muttered something about that being a fool's errand as well, but subsided. "Very well. Inform me as soon as you have found anything."

"With luck, I should have a report for you by this evening."

Q'yros nodded. "Come to my quarters, then."

"Yes, Master Q'yros."

Uroddus headed out of the room.

Q'yros shook his head. It was a waste of time. It had to be. The psychic probe could only tell what kinds of mind energy there was. It could get no more specific than that, if even that. The energy left behind was a jumble of all the mental emanations from those that had traversed the Portal. It was little more than a mental "static" that could tell them nothing.

Yet he could not stop thinking about what that apprentice had said about putting something in the matrix. But the path Uroddus was on required believing that one could simply think at a Portal to make it go where one wished.

And that was a ridiculous notion.

Mandas threaded a path through the cafe, using only the shift of his eyes to search for his contact. It was a tricky balancing act. Guards maintained a ruthless oversight of the Emperor's underlings that attempted to find some solace in the midday meal. He had to look like he already knew where he was going.

Fortunately, he found his quarry quickly.

A diminutive man, cradling a goblet of fruit juice in tight, rigid hands, glanced furtively at the empty chair across the tiny table near the corner. Mandas was dismayed. If any stance simply blared "I'm up to no good" to these edgy guards, that was it.

The guards were there to enforce the now infamous Imperial Rules of Conduct, a long charter that dictated just how denizens of the Imperial court were allowed (and more importantly, how they were not allowed) to act. Parchment copies of these rules were posted in every corridor, in every office, in every recreation area, in every private quarters.

The guards enforced each and every rule with disturbing zeal. One of those rules meant breaking up any gathering of people that stood in one place for more than a brief moment, even if it were just two people exchanging ordinary pleasantries.

It made Mandas' job that much more difficult. Normally the underlings at a foreign court were underpaid enough to become chatterboxes if one waved enough platinum under their noses. Especially the clerks. They were often overworked and overwrought, and Z'haas' were doubly so.

But it had been among clerks where plans had been fomented for a coup against Z'haas, and he had purged it in blood. No one wanted to appear as anything more than a good little cog in the Imperial machine.

Mandas pulled out the empty seat and slid into it in one smooth motion, smiling. "Nehmat! It is so good to see you after so long."

The Imperial clerk Nehmat Ze'klan flinched. He lifted his eyes and offered a twitchy smile, his gray-blue eyes misty. "Um ... y-yes, Mandas. Uh ... it is too bad we couldn't meet up the last time you were here."

Mandas turned his head and lifted his hand to attract the attention of a servant. Just off to the side he saw a guard turned their way, listening. "Think nothing of it, Nehmat. I was rather taken with how you had secured such a position on the Imperial staff. Only one season at the job and you already boast a senior pay grade. Well done! Truly it must be an honor to serve for your illustrious Emperor."

"How did you know...? Er ... Yes ... Of course." He let out a tiny, fluttering laugh. "I'm a bit overwhelmed by it myself, you understand. Big responsibility. You can't ... can't imagine how big."

Mandas ordered some wine from the servant. The guard was still listening. His contact had nearly blown it. Mandas had done some research into the young clerk, specifically so he could appear as if the young man were an old friend.

Even then, he was pushing it. The man was barely out of his teens. His cherubic face and foppish brown curls seemed more suited for wooing some lady of a respectable clan for a social boost rather than squirreling himself away in a dark clerk's office.

"Naturally," said Mandas smoothly as he turned his eyes back to Nehmat. "Especially given the importance of your current assignment."

Nehmat looked about to speak, but stopped himself at the last moment.

Mandas hoped Nehmat was important. The clerk was currently an assistant to the Emperor's Mage, and had done some work with Q'yros before that. If anyone had any information that was of use, it was him.

"Hopefully you will make a name for yourself, Nehmat," said Mandas, leaning back in his chair. "I always thought you had ambition. You just need to apply yourself."

Nehmat smiled, though it was forced. "Your words are very kind, Mandas, thank you. I ..."

He trailed off and bit his lip as a servant brought the wine. Mandas nodded thanks and took the moment to check the guard again. The guard had stopped listening and had moved off to check on another.

Mandas leaned in and said in a low and urgent voice, "Quickly now, before someone else listens in. What is it you have for me?"

The clerk's eyes widened and he fidgeted.

"Come, come, Nehmat, we don't have much opportunity! And keep it succinct!"

Nehmat's mouth opened and closed several times, as if his mind were racing too fast for his voice to keep up. Finally, he blurted, "Portals."

Mandas took a quick sip of his wine to keep up appearance. "What about Portals?"

"The Mage, the last one, that is, he was studying them for the Emperor."

"Whatever for? What did Z'haas want to know about them?"

Nehmat's eyes darted. "I-I don't exactly know, but ... but he was worried about them ... Q'yros, too ... obsessed with them, even ..."

Mandas frowned. "I still don't understand. What is there to know about Portals?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't get any details. Well, except one, but I don't know what it means, since I don't know Portals myself ... I ... I just ..."

Nehmat's gaze rose, and his eyes glazed as he stared past Mandas.

"Well, what is it?" demanded Mandas. "What is it you heard? What ..."

"Ambassador Mandas!"

The Ambassador turned swiftly in his chair and looked up at three armed guards.

Looking cool, aloof, and dignified, Mandas rose to his feet. In as supercilious a voice as he could muster, he said, "Is there a reason you are interrupting a private conversation?"

"The Emperor demands your presence in an audience with his Exalted Self."

"Oh, does he, now? He believes he can order about a diplomat as if I were one of his lackeys, hmm?"

The guard looked uncertain, as Mandas had hoped. "I have my orders, Ambassador."

"Yes, quite. And so do I. And they do not involve being bullied about by the Emperor's overpaid ruffians. He shall wait until I have concluded this conversation."

The guard frowned in confusion and looked past Mandas. "With whom, my Lord?"

Mandas looked down his nose at the guard before turning his head. Nehmat was gone.

Hellfire. He turned back towards the guards and gave an indignant little sniff. "Very well. Since you have seen fit to frighten my companion off with your trollish behavior, I suppose I have nothing better to do than to see your Exalted Emperor."

Mandas left, the guard glowering at his back.

That had been his only lead, and it had sounded like a very important one. But he was as mystified as he was curious. What could there possibly be about Portals that would have both a Mage and an Emperor upset over them?

In the throne room, Mandas barely had time to convey a greeting when a parchment was shoved into his hands.

"Here," said Z'haas. "Read this. We can finalize it before the end of the day if it meets with your approval."

Mandas gave the Emperor another tiny sniff, but when he saw that the document he had been presented was a treaty, his curiosity overcame all other considerations.

The words were written in a hasty scrawl, with some crossing-out and corrections in the margins. It was obviously only a first draft, having not seen the touch of a clerk's hand. As he read, his frustration turned to astonishment.

The Emperor clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels like an impatient child. "Well, Ambassador? Is it to your liking? Do you believe your King will accept this?"

Mandas was momentarily speechless. He was sure this was a joke.

"Ah ... well, your Highness, it, ah ... it is certainly rather generous ..." Mandas finally said.

That was not, however, the word of which he had been thinking.

The trade treaty that Mandas held was something wished for only in the most wildest of dreams or imposed upon a defeated enemy. First, it opened up the entire Imperial market to the Urisi. Whatever goods they wanted to buy, they could. All previous export restrictions were simply dropped. Second, the Urisi could sell anything they wished to citizens in Imperial-controlled territory. No quotas, no duties, no tariffs.

No, generous was not the word. The word was foolhardy.

The Emperor held his head aloft. "Oceanus is proud to advance the cause of free trade."

"One cannot get more free than this, your Highness," Mandas said delicately.

"Indeed, indeed. Now, if you do approve of this, I will have a formal copy made and it can be signed by dusk."

Mandas did not understand. Surely the Emperor was not that stupid! This treaty would be a boon to the Emperor in the short term, as there were many goods that the Urisi wished and would snap them up very quickly. But in the long run, it would be an incredible drain on the Imperial economy. Cheaper Urisi goods would flood the market and out-compete domestic goods in many vital areas.

These were areas that Oceanus had traditionally placed tariffs upon for just this reason.

"Well, Your Highness, if you would allow me to look it over once more ..."

Z'haas sighed and folded his arms. "Very well."

The Emperor's desperation was obvious. Was there something going on that Mandas did not know?

It was when the Ambassador looked over the document for a second time that he gained a small clue. "Ah ... Your Highness ... there appears to be a ... a mistake in this draft. You mention here about our merchants delivering goods to you and picking up your goods in return. Surely you meant just merchants in general?"

"No. I mean I wish your merchant clans to mediate the trade specifically."

"Begging your Exalted pardon, Your Highness, but is this not rather ... inefficient?"

Mandas had wanted to say "stupid."

"I see it as a way of opening up the market further," explained Z'haas. "Your merchants can take advantage of the additional offerings in Oceanus as well as mediating trade between our nations."

Mandas now did believe the Emperor stupid. What Z'haas failed to grasp was that there was no such thing as "our" merchants or "your" merchants. All merchants were loyal to a Guild, not the nation in which it resided. They had their own territories and agreements between their respective Guildmasters. There was little that a nation could do to affect it.

Or perhaps the Emperor was not being stupid, but was merely hiding something.

"Your Highness," Mandas began as politely as he could. "I am afraid that I must insist that this clause be modified before I can agree to the treaty."

Z'haas frowned. "And why is this?"

"It would be far more expedient to let the merchants themselves handle this. It will be far cheaper and convenient, to say nothing of ..."

"I will decide how I wish trade to be conducted within the borders of Oceanus! And I mean its true borders, Mandas, that of the territories properly loyal to me. I will exercise proper control of all commerce, as that is my right."

With that statement, the Ambassador had his answer.

Mandas counted himself fortunate that Z'haas was such a terrible statesman. He did not know the fine art of keeping information from a diplomat. Now the Emperor had all but admitted that the Oceanus merchants were embargoing him. It was not a full, formal cut-off, but enough to make a statement.

It was unusual for merchants to take sides, unless one had done something to violate their traditional neutrality in time of conflict. But little else made sense to Mandas.

Mandas simply could not agree to a treaty in this state. He did not care to think what the High Minister would think of such a document.

"I will need to consult with my government before I can give you an answer, Your Highness."

Z'haas looked ready to explode, and he advanced a step as if intending to land a blow on the Ambassador. He let out a windy sigh and waved a hand in dismissal as he turned away.

"Fine. Go consult with the Urisi. Surely they will see the foolishness of your reluctance and the great advantage that this treaty will bring to our two great nations. Now, leave me."

Mandas' jaw tightened. He turned on his heel and left the chamber.

Foolishness, indeed! Mandas thought vehemently, the parchment clutched in his curled fingers.

Once again, Z'haas was trying to manipulate the Urisi into doing something they did not wish to do. Even if they could influence the merchants to go along with this charade, it would be seen as interference in the civil war. The King would not agree to it.

Mandas had been burned once by Z'haas. He refused to be burned again.

Q'yros slowly rose from his chair, the crackling fire in the hearth twinkling in his incredulous eyes. "You are insane."

Uroddus slipped off his spectacles and tapped them against the parchment. "The figures tell the tale, Master Q'yros. I am simply extrapolating from them."

"Did you not hear what I told you before?"

"About that particular line of research being a dead end? Yes. But nothing else fits the facts."

Q'yros could only stare, fingers tight about his staff.

"When I took the readings with the probe, I detected mostly what I expected, which was mental static consistent with the passing of people through the Portal," continued Uroddus. "But there was a small amount that was not just static. It appeared to be from human abstract thought. And the amount present perfectly accounted for the discrepancy in the decay rate."

"Do you realize what that sounds like? You might as well tell me that someone simply wished their way through the Portal like some ... some fairy tale!"

"Nevertheless, Master Q'yros, given the lack of any other evidence, it would seem that the only reasonable explanation is that human thought was purposely implanted into the matrix."

"There is nothing reasonable about it, Q'garra! There is no way to perform such a feat."

"No known way, you mean."

Q'yros growled and lifted his staff, pointing it at the Journeyman. "I do not need you to tell me what is known and what is unknown. We abandoned Mind Magic for a reason. It went nowhere. The human mind cannot be read. Period!"

"But, if we assume for a moment that we could ..."

"We can't!"

"If we could, Master Q'yros! If! Please, allow me to advance a hypothetical situation if you would."

Q'yros pulled his staff back and dropped the end heavily to the floor. He gestured tiredly for Uroddus to continue.

Uroddus put his spectacles back on. "Thank you. Now, assume for a moment that such a thing were possible. Consider how we create a focusing pearl. We cast a spell upon it so that it can read the coordinates of its location and provide that to the Portal."

"Coordinates again! More Empirical nonsense!"

"Please, Master Q'yros, indulge me a little further. Whatever you wish to call that essence, the pearl channels it somehow. What if someone could do the same by examining the memory of one that had been to that location? The coord ... essence, rather ... would be transferred into the matrix in that manner instead, and the Portal energy projected to that location."

Q'yros bit off a retort, his hands a vise about the staff.

"Do you see where I am going with this? I contend that the Portal matrix does not care where its coordinates come from. We pass them via a pearl at the location. Perhaps this foreign power has managed to do what we have not, which is to obtain them directly from the mind."

Q'yros wanted to object. He wanted to scream at Uroddus that this was nonsense. He wanted to expound at length on how such a thing was impossible. He wanted to deny that such a thing could ever be accomplished.

But that was exactly Q'ixanna's reaction when Q'yros first told the Guildmaster about how Portals were being opened without a focus. He had wanted to rail at the insanity of such an idea as well.

Q'yros cast a sharp gaze at Uroddus and spoke in a remarkably soft but grave voice. "Do you realize, Journeyman Q'garra, the implications if what you have told me is true?"

"It would allow one to open a Portal virtually wherever one wished, assuming that he had a person willing to provide the proper memories for the Portal."

Q'yros nodded slowly. "You have heard, I assume, of the reports of merchants that have gone missing?"

Uroddus blanched. "No, Master Q'yros, I have not."

Q'yros frowned. "I should not be surprised, considering how ... ah ... never mind ..."

The Mage had nearly made a disparaging comment about Q'ixanna. It appeared that the Guildmaster was not above such pettiness as withholding news from the outside world to further his hoard of information.

"There is one other thing, Master Q'yros," Uroddus said after an uneasy pause.

Q'yros sighed. "What now?"

"Opening a Portal using this method may render warding ineffective."

Q'yros' eyes widened. "Explain yourself!"

"Warding relies on blocking the connection between focus and matrix. With the focus effectively at the matrix, anti-Portal wards as we know them may no longer function."

Q'yros paled and fell heavily into the chair. "You had better be wrong about that, Q'garra!"

"Before we panic, Master Q'yros, we should confirm that my hypothesis about the mental energy is correct. Fortunately, I believe I have a way to do that. We simply need one of these Portals to open again. Then if someone could get to that location within no more than two days, he could take a reading with a psychic probe. That would prove conclusively whether or not I am interpreting the data correctly."

"We have a little problem with that, Q'garra. No Portal has opened up in nearly a moon."

"Then I suppose we will have to wait, Master Q'yros."

Q'yros knew he had a bigger problem on his hand, and that was the Guildmaster. Even if a Portal did open, convincing Q'ixanna to let someone go make the reading was going to be near impossible. "Very well, Journeyman. Thank you for your help. I will inform you if and when a Portal opens."

Uroddus hesitated, as if he were hoping for more. He nodded once and left.

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