Jollis kept his hands folded before him and maintained a veneer of calm and civility as he strolled alongside the Overlord across the small bridge. "Most impressive," he stated without meeting Freya's eyes. "Quite worthy of your talents as their Overlord."

Freya smiled, letting her hips swing and her short dress fly about her thighs, flashing an occasional glimpse of her bare sex when the breeze caught it just right. "And those are admittedly not my best. You'll forgive me, of course, if I withhold the best until I see just how much this new market values what I have to offer."

"Ah, a wise move on your part, of course."

"I didn't get where I am today by being played the fool."

Just as they stepped off the bridge on the other side of the little moat around Freya's quarters, she slid in front of him, forcing him to stop. He lifted his steady and carefully neutral gaze to hers, one eyebrow rising almost imperceptively in question.

"And you can assure me of this? That I will not be played for a fool?"

Jollis was proud of his mastery of emotional control, for he perceived everything Freya said as a veiled insult. He maintained a rigid calm, face unmoving save to display more inquisitiveness. "Your pardon, Overlord?"

Freya smiled humorlessly and put her hands on her hips. "I realized just the other day how easy it would have been for you to set up a ruse between you and Gronnus. I would have suspected it from the start had I thought that the oaf actually had two thousand platinum."

"You believe this to be a deception, Overlord?"

Freya paused, eyes intense as if studying the merchant's face for any sign of duplicity. She tossed her head and folded her arms. "Let's just say I'm careful about my investments. There has been much deception among the Overlords lately. I refuse to fall further victim to it."

Jollis inclined his head. "Your concern is noted, Overlord. I will endeavor to bring payment quickly upon transporting your slaves to my client."

"And you still insist I cannot use my own Portal for this?"

"I merely wish to spare you some inconvenience, Overlord. My client is conducting much slave business lately and always has a Portal energized. This will save you money as well."

Warily, Freya nodded. "Hmm. I suppose it will."

"I do have a question for you, Overlord," said Jollis, squaring his shoulders as if feeling a need to adopt a more subtly aggressive stand. "How soon could you provide me with more slaves were my clients to accept your first offering?"

Freya smiled slyly. "First we do the deal. Then we'll talk about more."

Jollis considered pushing the point, but decided it was not worth it. Sparring with her now for gain could mean a greater loss later. His loathing of her brooked no leeway to give any advantage. He would arrange things when the time was right, and on his terms.

He suspected that the Overlord was stalling. Even arranging this initial meeting had proven elusive. It was as if Freya were waiting for something else to happen. A little time would allow the Cohorts to determine Freya's game.

All people like Freya played games like this. All that was different were the rules.

Jollis bowed his head. "As you wish, my Lady. In that case, I will depart and contact you when my client is ready to receive your slaves. It should be no more than a very short span of days. Good day, Overlord."

The merchant moved to the side, intending to turn down the path that cut across the concentric circles of slave quarters towards the main gate. Freya again blocked him.

Jollis' gaze rose. Freya's eyes smoldered. Ruby lips curled and glistened somewhere between predatory and sultry.

"Is there something else I may do for you, Overlord?" Jollis asked.

Freya stepped closer. Her hands alighted on his shoulders, fingertips playing along hard flesh. "Perhaps there is something I can do for you, instead."

"I do not follow you, Overlord."

"We never really talked about how much money this client of yours will pay."

"They will pay what they feel the slaves are worth."

Freya gave a throaty chuckle. "Mmm, I've heard that before." One hand slid from his shoulder. A fingertip traced a sinuous path down the front of his tunic and lingered over the tight muscle underneath. "Perhaps we need to negotiate on this point."

Jollis remained impassive. "That would be for my client to decide, Overlord."

"And you have no influence whatsoever? I find that hard to believe."

Jollis did not reply. He stared into Freya's lustful eyes, unmoved.

Her finger strayed towards his waist. "Perhaps I could give you an incentive to strike a good bargain for me. Perhaps better than the one they granted Gronnus. It would be ... quite worth your while."

Freya's finger crossed his waist. His hand flicked out. The Overlord flinched at the viselike iron grip that held her hand immobile a finger's breadth away from Jollis' nether regions.

"I am sorry, Overlord," said Jollis in a stiff voice.

"Unhand me at once," Freya demanded. Her quavering voice undermined her indignation.

Jollis waited until her eyes reflected a little of the fear she had tried unsuccessfully to hide from her voice before he finally let go.

Freya snatched her hand back and rubbed at her wrist. "What was the meaning of ..."

"I believe you are under a false impression, Overlord," said the merchant in a cool voice. "That you can influence this deal with something other than the quality of your slaves."

Freya gave him an imperious look. "All men can be influenced."

"Not me. Not in this way. I would advise against trying again. For your own good, my Lady."

Freya's eyes blazed, though she took a step back. "Is that a threat, merchant?"

"Take as you wish, Overlord. I merely state that I wish nothing to complicate the deal."

"Fine. Leave, then. But do not take long to contact me again, or I will reconsider the deal."

Jollis bowed his head once and headed past Freya.

The merchant was not pleased with himself. He had let his emotions affect his judgment again. The best course of action would have been to indulge in Freya's sexual overtures and let her believe it would get her a better deal.

He could not in good conscience, however, soil himself with intimate contact of any kind with this woman. She had reduced her slaves to nothing more than glorified sex toys. The Oceanus slaving traditions had always repulsed him, but Freya represented the worst. She and her Manor thoroughly revolted him.

It was clear that she was doctoring her Draught to achieve much of the effect. Her slaves had no minds of their own. They lived only for sexual pleasure, and their cravings made it an effective and cruel weapon to use against them.

Jollis barely acknowledged the guard at the main gate as he stepped through. He headed into the forest and to the small, shaded clearing where his Cohort waited by two horses.

The Cohort bowed his head at his Master's approach. "Did it go well, Wanderer?"

"As much as it fulfills this phase of the new plan, yes," Jollis said stiffly. "Ask me not further on this matter."

"As you wish."

Jollis sighed and, after a pause, spoke his mind anyway. "It seems, my friend, that we are asked to do ever more distasteful things to accomplish our goals."

"And I am afraid I must ask one more of you today, Wanderer. I have received word from our Cohort in the town of Jassa. There is a problem with a goods exchange."

Jollis frowned as he took the tether to his horse in hand. "The goods we are exchanging for the Overlord's platinum, you mean?"

"Yes. Our client states now that the delivered goods are inadequate. He is demanding to renegotiate."

Jollis pulled himself up and mounted his horse. "There will be no renegotiation. He is getting what he specified, nothing more, nothing less."

"I know, Master, but he is insistent, and will complain to the Guild if you do not at least speak with him."

Jollis frowned. Independent merchants were allowed to operate in lands traditionally served by Guild-affiliated clans, but they must adhere to a strict code of conduct. Any violation of protocol was subject to intense scrutiny. The last thing Jollis needed was more attention. He was already working far more openly than he wished.

Moreover, the merchant had already taken a risk in opening an Inonni Portal to obtain the exotic goods in the first place, but it had been the fastest way to transport them. Every little bit of time he could save was precious to him.

"I suppose he will not accept Farview," said Jollis resignedly as he took the reins in hand.

"No, my Wanderer, I am sorry."

"Jassa will divert me from the main road back to the D'yoran Manor. It will mean an extra two days travel. Inform Overlord Gronnus of my delay. Tell him that negotiations with Freya were successful so he will not pester you."

"Yes, of course."

"Are you in contact with this cohort at Jassa?"

"Yes, I can Farview him."

Jollis nodded. "Do so. Arrange to meet outside of town, near the river, in three days."

"Yes, Wanderer."

Jollis had already snapped the reins and turned the horse towards the road.

Evella stared glumly at the apparatus, her head propped up with one hand, a goblet half-filled with a steaming beverage in the other. She shivered through a slow sigh as a breeze blew in from the window and touched her nude body.

She had let the latest experiment run overnight in hope of a breakthrough. While the golden liquid that dripped from the end of the pipette was still pristine and perfect, what had collected in the flask overnight had already congealed near the bottom. The cloudy rust-colored sludge was already dotted with tarry black.

Evella brought the goblet to her lips, only to be startled by the thump of the door of her office. She flinched and yelped as her hot cider splashed and missed her bare skin by several hair's breadths.

"So have you done it yet, or should I just collar you now?" demanded Freya.

The goblet rattled against the table as Evella put it down. She stood and turned to face her Overlord. "I've only had a few days since the new supplies have arrived, my Lady. Please, I need more ... ulp!"

Evella's head was wrenched back, the Overlord's fingers curled tightly into her hair.

"Do you want to know what I need, my dear Evella?"

Evella panted and trembled. She stared at Freya, unable to move let alone speak.

Freya pulled down. Evella whimpered, her back bending until her knees gave way. She thumped to the floor before her Overlord. Her eyes were wild with terror. Her hands clenched and unclenched, arms rigid along her sides, as if petrified.

Freya left her like this, listening to her frightened pants, before her other hand reached forward. She lifted her dress and slid her feet apart.

Evella whimpered again and closed her eyes. Freya jerked her head hard. Her eyes shot open, sparks dancing at the edges of her vision. She bit her lip hard as she stared at Freya's bare sex.

Freya pulled the Healer towards her and held it. Evella's breath was hot with panic on her folds.

"Look at it," Freya snarled. "Smell it. Go ahead. Take a big whiff of it. Now."

The vision of Freya's pussy became blurred. She blinked away tears as she forced herself to take a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose at the thick aroma of the Overlord aroused sex. She let out a revolted moan.

"You don't come through for me, Evella, and this will be your world. This will be your only use to me. Do I make myself clear?"

Evella sniffled. "I-I'm trying ... p-please, I really am, I ..."

"Answer the question!"

"Y-yes! Yes, I understand! Oh gods ..."

Freya let go. Evella fell back on her feet and dropped her face into her hands. Tears dripped from between her fingers to the floor.

"I don't see what is so hard about this!" Freya shouted. "It is a simple formula. It blocks memories and enhances sex drive. It's only limitation is that it has to be given to someone during Portal-shock. Why is that so gods-damned hard to fix?"

Evella cringed. "I d-don't know ..."

She truly was at a loss. She was sure that the latest combination of chemicals would do it. Yet still the ingredients refused to interact properly. She knew she was missing something, but she had no idea what.

Freya stared at her Healer and attempted to calm herself. In a more restrained but no less angry voice, she barked, "Get to your feet, you look pathetic."

Evella rose shakily to her feet. She sniffled a few times and wiped at her eyes and nose.

"I have enough problems, Evella, I don't need any more delays in my plans. It is bad enough that I cannot get the other Overlords to stop treating Roquan as a damned messiah. Even with the Urisi negotiations stalled, they will not listen! They refuse to believe anything that will take that infernal Overlord off the pedestal they have placed him upon, and all because of one stupid speech at a Conclave!"

Evella winced as the Overlord's voice rose to a shout again, though she managed not to cringe this time. This was not the first time Freya had vented about her failed dealings.

What the Healer had gleaned was that Freya was attempting to disparage a fellow Overlord for some past indiscretions concerning one of his slaves. She did not understand what the actual issue was, as she did not understand the details of the Oceanus slave trade. She remembered only what had been covered in her general studies classes at the Healer Guild.

"Do not fail me, Evella. The consequences are more far-reaching than your own petty little career."

"I-I'll try my best, my Lady."

Freya's lips curled into an evil smile. "Mistress."

Evella blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"That is your title for me from now on. Mistress."

Evella's eyes became saucers. "B-but ... you said ... you said I had a chance to ..."

"You are not my slave. Yet. But I did say I would remove dignities from you if you continued to fail. So you address me as if you were a slave. Is that clear?"

"Yes, M-Mistress."

Freya nodded and started out of the office.

Evella's eyes suddenly widened, and she ran after her Overlord. "Wait! Wait, please!"

Freya stopped and whirled about. "Wait what?"

Evella looked at the Overlord in confusion for a moment. "I-I mean ... please, wait, Mistress."

"Better. What is it?"

"You ... you said something before. About the Draught blocking memories."

Freya sighed impatiently. "Yes, what about it?"

"I thought the Draught erased memories, not blocked them."

"Blocked, erased, what difference does it make, Evella? It gets rid of them, that's all I know. Now, do you have anything else, or are you through wasting my time?"

"No, Mistress, that's all."

Freya glared and left.

Evella stood in thought. She looked back to the apparatus.

That couldn't be it, could it? She was told the Draught erased memories from the mind. But what if it blocked them instead? That was a completely different mechanism. If it were true, it meant that a whole slew of mind-altering herbs worked in a manner that was totally different from what accepted wisdom dictated.

And it would mean that her approach had indeed been completely wrong from the start.

Evella rushed back to her apparatus. She shut off all the valves and began the task of emptying and cleaning it. She had a new experiment to start.

Q'ixanna shot out of his seat. "Absolutely not!"

Q'yros sighed. Arguing his case before the Guildmaster had been as pointless an exercise as he had feared. He placed his tired hands over the top of his staff. "May I ask your reasoning behind denying my request, Guildmaster?" said the Mage with exaggerated politeness.

"You know very well the reason why. You hope to warn the Overlords!"

"Now, why would I want do a silly thing like that?"

"Do not play games with me, Q'yros."

"Then do not act the fool with me! I have shown you the Mage Oath and the seal upon the parchment! You have sensed the magic yourself. I cannot do even the tiniest action or speak a single word that would be construed as purposely undermining your position."

Inspired, the Guildmaster shot an accusing finger at the Mage. "Yes, that's it! Purposely! That is what has been bothering me about this Oath of yours!"

Q'yros stared at Q'ixanna as if truly believing the man to be mad.

"That is your loophole, Q'yros. You have tied it to your intentions. You have said nothing about unintentional actions."

Q'yros' look changed to one of confusion.

The Guildmaster made an impatient noise. "And now you play dumb. Fine, I will play along with this. Now, you claim you need to measure the residual energies of this new Portal that has opened. How do you intend to get there?"

"By one of our own Portals, of course. How else do you intend for me to get there in time to make a reading before the energies fade?"

The Guildmaster waved his hand dismissively. Q'yros fell silent, but gripped the staff like a vise. "And just how do you expect to target it?" Q'ixanna demanded.

"What does this have to do with anything, Guildmaster?"

"Answer my question! How will you target it?"

"As I have told you -- several times -- the Portal has occurred outside the Manor of Overlord Gronnus D'yoran. I need only have him agree to allow me to use his Portal device as a focus for ..."

"Ah-ha!"

Q'yros stared, perplexed.

"Do you expect me to believe that the presence of a Mage from the Guild claiming to need an energy reading from a spent Portal would not be viewed with some suspicion by ..."

Q'yros grunted and thumped his staff hard once. "Now who is taking who for a fool, Guildmaster? I have no intention of telling him about the Portal. I will simply make a vague claim about a magical anomaly. Gronnus is not one of your brighter Overlords, he will not question it further. Really, Guildmaster, your concern for secrecy is bordering on paranoia. I have no intention of letting any information slip. Do you really think I wish to initiate a panic among the others?"

Q'yros did not really think this would happen. He had better faith in the Overlords and the Noble Lords than that. But he knew that Q'ixanna didn't, so he hoped that it played well against the Guildmaster's prejudices.

Q'ixanna slowly sat down. "When we know the whole story, Q'yros, we will tell them," he said in a lower voice. "Not a moment sooner."

This was the first time the Guildmaster had conceded to cracking the secrecy at all. Q'yros nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes, of course. Once we have an answer, and know the exact threat ..."

"And how to counter it!"

The Mage paused but nodded again. "And how to counter it," he said in a strained voice. He was not at all convinced that they could ever counter something like this.

The Guildmaster looked up. "And until then, we cannot afford even the least risk that anything about this leaks out."

Q'yros' shoulders slumped. "So your answer is still 'no,'" he said tonelessly.

"It will have to be for now. If, perhaps, another Portal opens in a more auspicious place ..."

The Mage's jaw tightened. He lifted his staff to avoid the temptation of slamming it against the floor once more, this time with enough force to crack the floor and possibly some of the walls as well. "Yes, of course, I am sure that will happen in no time at all."

Despite the intense struggle to keep sarcasm out of his voice, the Mage found himself subjected to Q'ixanna's icy stare. Q'yros did not flinch, casting his own steady gaze back.

"Is there anything else?" It was more a challenge than a question.

"Nothing. Good day." Q'yros marched out.

In the hall, Uroddus adjusted his spectacles. "No luck, Master Q'yros?"

The Mage shook his head, not trusting himself to avoid blurting an expletive about the Guildmaster.

"Pity. Even the long-range observations showed some promise."

Q'yros made a face. "You cannot tell me that you actually spotted something in those vague readings."

"Where the human senses cannot find a pattern, the application of mathematics can."

Q'yros snorted in derision, but gave the Journeyman a look of mild interest.

Unperturbed, Uroddus plodded onward. "Patterns can be hidden in the noise. Mathematics can act as a mask, allowing us to mute the noise and see the pattern. It is similar to what I discovered with the artifacts: more psychic energy than can be accounted for by mere traversal of the Portal."

"And it is of human thought?"

"That, unfortunately, I cannot tell. The threshold of that knowledge is beyond the degree of mathematical precision we can achieve at the moment."

"Then we wait longer for one that is more ... palatable to the Guildmaster."

Uroddus nodded once. He glanced at the door to the Guildmaster's office. "Forgive me for saying so, Master Q'yros, but I do not think much of our present Guild leadership."

Q'yros merely draped his hands over the end of his staff.

Uroddus looked back at the Mage. "If you do not mind me saying so, Master, but many say you would be a better Guildmaster than he."

The Mage shook his head. "I am not interested."

"Surely you don't agree with his policies, either."

Q'yros's fingers curled. His jaw barely moved as he spoke. "I fully support the Guildmaster."

Uroddus raised an eyebrow, but appeared to accept it and nodded once. "Very well, Master, I shall return to my studies. Good day."

"Good day, Uroddus."

The two parted company.

Mandas left his quarters, earning the steely gaze of at least two guards. He gave them a tired and disinterested look. It was a far cry from the imperious mannerisms he had used on them at the start, an attitude that had been honed and perfected over the years to instill an innate sense of either inferiority or indignation upon those against whom it was wielded.

He had grown weary of it. Just as the continued scrutiny of guard after guard as he trudged through the corridor seemed to weigh down his shoulders into an undignified slump. He understood perfectly now how they managed to keep order. Over time, the never-ending surveillance simply wore a person down.

Mandas considered skipping a morning meal. He had little appetite. This assignment was the most stressful of his career. He had negotiated in conditions of open war that were less nerve-wracking than this. But it was the only time he could enjoy (in a relative sense) a bit of solace without the Emperor.

Z'haas was hounding him to agree to the treaty. He would not budge on the merchant issue. Mandas had tried to stall by arguing over petty details in other parts of the treaty, but the Emperor was reaching the end of his patience.

Mandas entered the cafe and retreated to a small table in the corner. Several guards locked their eyes on him and would not turn away. He ordered some tea and a confection. That would have to tide him over, as the Emperor had called him into audience that morning. Mandas had the feeling that Z'haas was going to give him an ultimatum. He was not looking forward to that, or to the reaction of the High Minister.

Mandas turned his seat so he would not have to see the guards. A shadow passed by to the side. He assumed it was the server and simply gestured at a spot on the table.

When nothing happened, the Ambassador looked up and tried not to react in surprise when Nehmat dropped into the seat opposite him. "Ah ... good day to you again, Mandas. Nice ... nice to see you once more before your assignment here is over."

At that moment, the server did arrive, and Mandas used the excuse to look at the guards. As he suspected, at least one had moved closer so he could overhear.

"Yes, Nehmat, I would hate to have to leave without seeing you again," said Mandas smoothly. He smiled faintly. "Naturally, I wonder now if you know something I don't."

Nehmat looked genuinely perplexed. "Er ... what?"

"In that you already know that the Emperor will kick me out of the Palace and send me back to Urisi." The Ambassador winked.

Nehmat finally caught the meaning of the gesture after a tense pause. He let out a nervous, relieved sigh and tried to laugh. "Oh yes! I mean, no! I have no insights into that matter. Uh ... I-I am sure the Emperor values your visit."

Mandas smiled pleasantly at the lacking attempt to continue the thread of conversation. He thought it best to turn it to something else. It was obvious that the clerk was there to convey something, but he held out little hope that Nehmat would not blunder it.

"So what else brings you to meet with me, Nehmat? I am sure you are being kept quite busy these days," said Mandas.

"Ah, well ... um ... just that, uh, since I might not see you again before you leave, I, uh, wanted to ... t-to give you that cloth sample you wanted."

Mandas' goblet stopped halfway to his lips. He recovered nearly instantly, took a sip, and said, "A cloth sample? Refresh my memory, Nehmat, as I do not recall our previous ..."

"You were interest in a dress. Um ... for your wife."

Mandas did indeed have a wife, though mostly of convenience, like most high-born men at court. He had never procured dresses or any other finery for her. She did that herself out of their shared estate. "Ah, yes, now I remember."

"My wife is a bit of a seamstress, you will recall," Nehmat said. He seemed a bit more steady despite the lingering quaver in his voice. "She wanted to, ah, do something for you, so she offered to make a dress for you."

Mandas smiled pleasantly. "It is good to hear that she is still playing to that particular talent of hers. Yes, please, I would like see this sample."

Nehmat's lips twitched into a crooked smile. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded scrap of cloth. It was badly frayed around the edges. Small tears appeared as he unfolded it. Mandas doubted it could be made into attire of proper elegance befitting one of his social class, but he held his reaction.

"Um, h-here," said Nehmat, handing the cloth across the table. "It's, um, not much, and just a scrap, you understand."

Mandas took the cloth and held it up, turning it and appearing to assess it. "Hmm, yes ... I see ..." he mused, wondering if he should praise it or criticize it. He had no clue what Nehmat was up to. Was this some sort of code?

"Please, feel free to keep that. I think ... I don't think the guards will mind you keeping it."

Mandas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Nehmat clasped his hands together tightly before him to stop them from shaking. "Yes. Nothing wrong with you keeping that, is there? I mean ... you can ... you can hold that up against the Rules of Conduct any day of the season and there's no violation of the rules at all."

"I am sure there will be no trouble, Nehmat," the Ambassador said with appropriate disdain in his voice. "I will voice a protest directly to the Emperor if the guards deign to view something so innocent as a dire plot."

Nehmat chuckled, but it was clear that he was quickly losing his already poor veneer of calm. He stood up awkwardly. "Um ... well .... I-I need to get to work. Lots to do. Good ... good to see you again, Mandas. Good day and safe trip."

"Good day, Nehmat."

The clerk fled. Mandas turned his head. Some of the guards followed with their eyes, but most were still watching Mandas.

Mandas stood and walked up to one of the guards. He brandished the cloth like a banner in his face.

The guard cast a cold look in return. "Yes, Ambassador?"

"Well, go on," Mandas said. "I know you are going to anyway."

"Going to what, my Lord?"

"Check this for contraband. For secret messages. For plots to foment against the Emperor written in invisible ink. For hidden spells and magicks. Or perhaps the Emperor decided to consider this particular color as evidence of treason. Or whatever else your paranoid little mind can come up with."

The guard's lips tightened, thinned, and twisted. He snatched the cloth from the Ambassador and did indeed examine it thoroughly. Mandas allowed himself an amused, mocking smile as it was held up. Dots of light played on the guard's face.

The guard let out an annoyed sigh and handed it back. "Carry on, my Lord."

"Oh, I am so happy that it meets with your approval. I will make sure that the Emperor knows you are keeping the Palace safe from subversive textiles."

Several Palace denizens in nearby tables snickered softly without looking up.

The guard's jaw clenched. "Carry on, my Lord."

Mandas tucked the fabric into his tunic and smiled before leaving.

The Ambassador had half-expected the guard to find something. Now he was left with a mystery. It was obvious that the cloth had something to do with the Rules of Conduct, but how?

He returned to his quarters, the one place he would have some privacy so long as he remained alone. He looked at the copy in his room where it hung near the fireplace. He scrutinized it, then looked at the cloth, then back to the parchment.

Hold that against the Rules of Conduct, he repeated in his head. Hold that against ... wait, he could not have meant that, could he?

It seemed an insane idea to him, but he tried it anyway. He stepped up to the parchment and held the cloth to it. To his surprise, despite the ragged edges, two diagonal corners matched almost perfectly with corners of the parchment. Words appeared through the tears.

Oh, now that is so anachronistic, it is almost laughable. But ... hmm ...

Mandas frowned. Each tear did not perfectly frame a single word. And the words that he did find made no sense no matter how he combined them.

He pulled the cloth back, paused, then flipped the cloth the other way and tried again. His eyes narrowed and his lips moved in a mumbling whisper as he tried out different combinations of words in his head. Finally he came up with the only thing that sounded coherent.

Visit the baths this evening.

Mandas pulled the cloth back from the parchment. So that was it. Nehmat wanted to set up a meeting at the Imperial hot baths. Did he think they could find privacy there? Mandas doubted it.

Nevertheless, it was the only message that made sense.

He wadded the cloth and tossed it into the embers of the fire. There was a wisp of smoke, and then a flash of flame as the cloth caught and was quickly consumed.

Mandas left his quarters and headed for the Imperial audience chamber.

"We are within sight of the Palace, my Emperor," said Rithas, holding his head high as he made his report. "As I had thought, this campaign did not take long."

Z'haas' Farview image shimmered in the bright sun, yet the face somehow managed to convey its dark outlook. "I had heard that there had been trouble in the valley, Lord General! Is this true?"

"They put up a good fight, but it was nothing that the good Commander V'klor could not handle."

Just out of sight of the Farview, Rol smiled, and he held himself a bit more erect.

"You told me you would overrun them! Did this not come to pass?"

Rithas held his temper. He had never said such a thing, not in so many words. He had implied that their attack would be overwhelming, which is not the same thing. "I had expected the enemy to fight a constant, withdrawing battle back to the Palace. Instead, they put everything into one stand, and exhausted themselves in the process. We have met little resistance since then."

"I hope so, Lord General, for your sake. I expect you to secure that province in another day."

Rol looked shocked, which became panic when he heard Rithas respond, "Of course, my Emperor, it will be done at once."

"So are you telling me you obliterated all the enemy forces?"

"Not quite, my Emperor. When it was clear that we had the upper hand, they finally chose a more intelligent course of action and retreated. They withdrew their remaining contingent and apparently evacuated the lands around the Palace."

"Where did they go? They did not head north, did they?"

Rol sighed in despair.

"No, my Emperor, it is more likely they went south to join Duric's armies."

Rol stared. It was as if he were listening to Rithas talk about some other campaign instead of the one about to be concluded.

Z'haas narrowed his eyes. "You are sure of this?"

"Positive, my Emperor," said Rithas firmly, his gaze unwavering.

Z'haas nodded slowly. "You must not let any of their remaining forces make it to the north, Lord General, or you can forget about your Northern Excursion. I will not put our defenses at undue risk."

"Understood, my Emperor."

"Is there anything else you wish to report?"

"None at the moment."

"Then I have other matters to attend to."

The Emperor waved a hand, and his image faded from sight.

Rol stepped forward. "With all due respect, Lord General, I cannot possibly take the Palace in only a day! The men are exhausted from the battle in the valley, and we have supplies still catching up with ..."

Rithas held up a hand to silence the Commander. "Will three days suffice?"

Rol stared, confused. "Well ... yes, that is far more reasonable, Lord General."

"Then that is what you will take to get the task done."

Rol tilted his head. "You lied to the Emperor."

One corner of Rithas's mouth rose. "Did I?"

"Yes. You told him we would need only a day when you clearly knew we needed three. You told them the remnants moved south. I was sure I sent you the report from the scouts that clearly showed them moving north."

Rithas nodded. "You have caught me. I did indeed lie. Shall I Farview the Emperor so you may report me?"

The Commander looked aghast. "What? No! I have no intention of ... of reporting you as you put it."

"And why is that?"

"Because I believe you are a good Lord General, and it makes no sense to get you in trouble."

"What you saw, Commander, is what a good Lord General will do when the situation demands. What does it matter if we take the Palace in three days rather than one? What does it matter if a tiny contingent of troops moves north rather than south?"

"Well ... if you mean from a strictly practical perspective, they don't matter. This province is ours no matter what happens now, and the defenses of the north will not be seriously augmented by these new troops."

"Exactly. But the Emperor does not understand these things, and may make rash decisions based on his limited knowledge."

The Commander's eyes widened. He was stunned to hear such openly insulting statements about the Emperor. But Rithas was his Lord General, and he was fiercely loyal to the man. Rithas had the foresight to see that the battle in the valley was winnable despite some early losses, when he refused to heed Rol's call for sending him another Imperial Legion.

"Commander, I am convinced that a strike to the north will bring this war to a quicker end," said Rithas. "I must preserve that plan and head off any wavering from the Emperor."

Rol wanted to ask "is it not his right to waver if he wishes it," but he refrained and nodded again instead. The taste of real battle had whetted his appetite for more.

"Now, have your men set up some quarters for me, and have it away from the bustle of the main camp, in case the Emperor calls on me again before the Palace is secured."

"At once, Lord General."

Rithas allowed himself a smile as he watched the Commander order men about. He was fitting more comfortably into his role now. With his first serious campaign nearly under his belt, he was looking further afield, not only to the end of the war, but furthering his own growing ambitions.

"I can tell you most assuredly, Mandas, that such a provision will not be accepted," said the High Minister as he glowered over Farview. "So much so that I will not bother either the Council of Lords or His Majesty with such drivel. This is not even worthy of one of Norlan's outrageous treaty proposals."

Mandas had to avoid wincing when he heard the comparison. He would have much preferred a more direct reprimand.

It was fortunate that he had something of an audience, as it helped him keep his calm if not his confidence before the High Minister. Like any proper Urisi Lord, binding a Farviewing pearl to himself was too common for his tastes. Instead, he had a proper Viewer to conduct the Farview session for him, and a Runner to find him when he received one.

"But I have been given an ultimatum, Your Excellency," said Mandas. "The Emperor claims that if I will not agree to his treaty by morning, that I am no longer welcome at the Palace."

"And have you nothing else to show for your time there, Mandas?" said Erodon testily. "His Majesty receives more and more disturbing intelligence by the day. I am getting pressure from him for results!"

"I am about to meet someone now. That is, I believe that is the purpose of this meeting."

Erodon threw up his hands and uttered a dramatic sigh, turning away from the Farview for a moment. "Really, Mandas, you make me question the wisdom of His Majesty for sending you on this task, and I do not care to be forced into such disloyal thoughts."

It took a great deal of effort on Mandas' part not to panic. "Have you informed him of what I have already reported, Your Excellency?"

The Minister turned. "Oh, yes, I have, indeed. He said the same thing I told you when I first heard it. Where is the rest of it?"

"Perhaps that is what I am about to receive, Your Excellency."

"Oh, bloody hellfire! Perhaps! Maybe! I believe! Give me facts and not opinions, Mandas. That is your directive."

Mandas' resolve was strained. If the High Minister was becoming this unglued, it meant that the pressure from the Throne was enormous indeed. It also meant the end of his own career as Ambassador if he failed.

"I will try, Your Excellency. But what if this proves to be a false lead and I have nothing more come tomorrow morning?"

The High Minister loomed in the Farview. "Then I suppose, Mandas, you ought to consider a career change. In another country!"

The Farview image winked out.

Mandas swallowed hard. "That is all," he snapped.

His Viewer bowed his head respectfully, pocketed the Farviewing pearl, and headed back to his own quarters.

Mandas glanced towards the window. Dusk had given way to twilight. The hot baths would be open by now.

He stepped towards his wardrobe and changed out of his clothes. He tended to avoid the baths, as much as it might have soothed his tension. The Imperial baths were communal, a throwback to a more egalitarian-minded ruler of Oceanus. He did not care to share the springs with the common rabble, even the somewhat elevated rabble of the Imperial Palace.

Mandas slipped on a long, flowing robe of soft, light fabric. He sashed it about his waist and proceeded from his room. As always, the eyes of the guards followed him.

The Ambassador turned down another corridor. Already he could hear the gentle gurgling of the springs and the murmur of conversation. Moisture wafted to him and left the air clammy.

A guard greeted him at the main entrance. "Lord Ambassador Mandas?"

Mandas hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Yes, I am he. Why?"

"Your private bath is ready, my Lord."

Mandas caught himself before he could look surprised.

"Room seven at the end of the hall. Your companion is waiting for you."

"My ... ah, yes. My companion. Thank you."

Mandas quickly stepped past the guard. So Nehmat had arranged for a private bath? That still would not work. He hoped the clerk knew what he was doing.

A hallway ran between two sets of archways. A guard was posted at each. Steam wafted from under the curtains drawn across the doorways, swirling in eddies along the ground and coating the stones with a sheen of moisture. A large, ornate numeral was posted above each arch.

Mandas strolled past the other rooms, attempting to look casual. As he passed each, he could hear distinct words of conversation through the translucent curtains. No, there was no privacy here at all. He could not imagine what Nehmat was thinking.

He stopped at seven, glanced warily at the guard, and stepped inside.

The chamber was circular with a vaulted ceiling. Save for the slim walkway around its circumference, much of the space was taken by a bowl-like depression carved into the marble. Ripples flowed across the surface of the pristine water. In the center, it bubbled and steamed, filling the air with a very faint odor of sulphur.

He caught movement to the side and turned his head just as someone rose from a bench a quarter of the way around the room. Mandas approached the figure, but slowed when he realized it was most definitely not Nehmat.

The slender young woman stepped towards him, bare feet silent against the stone. A hand held a long robe closed at the waist. With each step, a slim leg thrust between its folds. The edges of the robe parted occasionally, offering furtive glimpses of her delta.

Mandas' eyes widened. He was struck by how much the woman did look like Nehmat. The eyes were the same. The hair as well, though she wore hers longer and in waves. She was about the same height and build.

The young woman stopped before him, paused, then let her hand fall away. The robe opened. Her nipples were raised and hard.

"Ah ... I'm not sure you ... that is ..." Mandas stammered.

His voice trailed off when the young woman shrugged off her robe and let it fall to the floor. Her naked body glided towards him. "I am yours for this evening, Ambassador Mandas," she said in a soft, husky voice.

Mandas was sure there was a mistake. Yet as his eyes drifted over the slim body of the young maiden, he allayed his doubts. It was not uncommon for an Ambassador or other dignitary to be offered such pleasures during his stay, but he had not expected it from Oceanus, not with its current Emperor.

His body responded. The young woman's eyes flitted down. She draped her hand over the growing bulge in Mandas' robe. When he let his breath go as a pleased sigh, she reached between the folds of his robe and curled her fingers around his manhood.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Mandas finally managed to croak. His body trembled, as it had not been allowed such indulgence for nearly a season.

"I certainly hope you find it a pleasure, Lord Ambassador."

"You may call me Mandas, my dear."

The young woman smiled softly. "And I am Naima. Now ... shall we bathe?"

Before Mandas could reply, she pressed his manhood to his belly. Her fingertips lightly kneaded the underside as she drew close. He embraced her, letting out a ragged sigh into her ear. Her warm breasts settled delightfully into his chest.

Naima let herself be drawn to him, the flat of her palm pressed against his quivering manhood. She brushed her lips against his, then slid past his mouth and kissed him on the neck.

"Play along," she whispered. She gently pulled herself from the embrace. She gave his swollen flesh one last caress before she turned towards the water.

Mandas' heart thumped as he shed his robe, both in anticipation of the tryst and in contemplation of her words. So was this not just a pleasurable excursion? Naima's nubile body slid into the pool as he watched in lustful anticipation. Mandas believed he would have no trouble "playing along."

Mandas entered a little less delicately than she had, splashing water on her. She giggled and glided towards him. She nudged him against the sculpted side of the pool and touched her lips to his.

She slipped into his lap. Mandas drew in a single long breath as his manhood was touched first by slender fingers, and then by warm and inviting folds. He broke off the kiss with a low groan as he was immersed in velvety warmth.

Naima moaned with surprising ardor as her hips dropped. She lay in his lap, impaled on him, as if simply enjoying the fullness. Mandas' hands cupped her round breasts and kneaded them. Naima closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, panting quite obviously.

She lifted her hips, letting him slide back, then in again as she dropped. She barely disturbed the water as she rode.

Just outside the door, there was the scrape of boot on stone, then footsteps retreating into the distance. Naima glanced towards the door, then looked back at Mandas. "We can talk now, the guard is gone."

Mandas was too distracted by the pleasure to realize what she had said until another moment had passed. "Gone? Why did he leave?"

"The current Emperor is prudish," said Naima. "The Emperor hires the guards. Thus the guards reflect his attitude. They give privacy to intimacy."

Mandas nodded. He was panting lightly as Naima's pleasant movements continued. "Do we need to stop?"

Naima smiled faintly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Not really."

"Then I won't. But we keep it slow, so we're not too distracted."

"What is it you want of me? Did Nehmat send you?"

She nodded. "I am his sister. I ... help him gain favor at court to advance his career."

Mandas understood now. He had heard this was common among certain levels of Oceanus society. She used sex to help his brother climb the social ladder.

"The Emperor does not approve of such things, but he accepts it, since it would anger the court too much to outlaw it," Naima breathed. "He does not have quite the reach he thinks he does."

"You have a message from him? About what he talked to me about the other day?"

"One moment." Naima leaned back. She let her breath go in a slow sigh. "S-sorry. Getting there too fast."

Mandas nodded quickly. He was also rising, and her repositioning did not help matters. Remaining focused was difficult. He had had things confided to him after sex. This was the first time it had happened during sex.

"He spoke to you about Portals," Naima said breathlessly. "Another power is creating Portals into Oceanus at will. The Emperor's previous Mage, Q'yros, studied them. He seemed to think they were unusual. Perhaps more advanced. They may come from the Far West. That is the danger that makes the Emperor so paranoid."

Mandas shivered despite the heat of water and lust. It was as His Majesty had feared, that another nation was interfering in Oceanus affairs. But the Far West? Or rather, the Distant East to the Urisi, the land beyond the barbarians, as implacable as they were distant.

Naima closed her eyes and let out a low moan. Her pace quickened, sending out ripples into the water that competed with those from the springs. "I-I can't talk any further ... that's all I know ... oh gods ..."

Mandas tried to let himself be caught up in the moment of passion again. It was difficult, but he managed it. He grasped Naima's shoulders, helping her quicken the pace. He tilted his head back as he rose precipitously.

Naima let out a short, shrill cry. Mandas' fingers dug hard into her shoulders moments before he let go. She leaned into him, kissing him deeply as her hips rose and fell slowly to prolong both their orgasms as long as possible.

She broke off the kiss when their climaxes had faded. She smiled and slid from his lap. "I hope you will find that information useful, Mandas."

Mandas took a moment to catch his breath. "Please convey my thanks to Nehmat for the ... inventive way in which he chose to convey the information."

Naima nodded and climbed out of the water. Without another word, she dried herself off, robed, and left. It was not long afterward that footsteps approached as the guard took up his former position again.

Mandas let out a long sigh. He had managed to salvage his career, but he did not want to think how the High Minister -- or His Majesty -- would react to this dreadful news.

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