"Doran, I must protest this intrusion into my affairs," Roquan declared.

Overlord Doran D'jorus thumped his goblet to the table. A small eruption of wine splashed crimson down the sides. "Your affairs? What you are doing here, Roquan, will affect trade with all the Overlords, not just you. It's time you remembered that!"

"Is that why you are here when you could have accomplished this browbeating over Farview?"

"Well, you don't seem to listen very well over Farview, so I thought to remind you of your duty in person. And that blasted pearl barely works anymore!"

Roquan tried to have some sympathy for his friend. Like many others, recent times had taken a toll. Doran had always been a bit broad, but now he sported a belly as well. There were faint circles under his eyes, and his face was more haggard.

What had not diminished was his booming voice. Stress seemed to amplify it. He appeared incapable of speaking in anything less than a shout anymore.

"I consider this an intrusion, Doran, because you broke a rule of Overlord etiquette. You used my Portal device as a focus for your Portal without my prior consent."

"I could not risk you telling me 'no,' Roquan. And to the hells with protocol!"

Roquan tilted his head very slightly. "Now that is something surprising coming from you."

Doran sighed and stepped up to Roquan. Roquan tensed in defense of another verbal assault, but was met with a more conversational tone instead. "You cannot afford to let this impasse continue. There's too much at stake."

"I know very well that trade with other Overlords is dependent upon ..."

Doran shook his head. "It is not only that. If you don't seal this agreement soon, you risk losing your good reputation and standing among the other Overlords."

Roquan's chest swelled as if to shield him. "Is that a threat, Doran?"

"Oh yes, it is indeed. But not from me. It's Freya you need to worry about."

Roquan came very close to rolling his eyes for the first time since he could remember. He shook his head. "Of all the people I wish to think about the least, that is the name you bring up."

"You cannot ignore her, Roquan."

"And what has she said of late that I could possibly care about? I already know she hates me. I dismiss it, just as any other Overlord would. She is weak. She is unscrupulous."

"And she is bending the ear of a few Overlords now."

Roquan shifted his weight. Even his momentary silence seemed stark. "Explain yourself."

"Oh, did that finally get your attention, Roquan? I certainly hope it did!"

"Enough sparring. Out with it, Doran."

"You're right in that -- officially -- Freya is more or less ostracized from the rest of the Overlords much like Gronnus is. But she's let it out, Roquan. She's let the secret escape."

Roquan frowned. "You don't mean she told someone about Amanda's status?"

"She is telling anyone that will listen!" Doran cried, throwing up his hands. Roquan politely ignored the theatrics. "And they do listen to her, Roquan, even if they disregard it."

Roquan's face twisted in disgust. "You mean they look at her body, and the words happen to be there at the same time."

Doran swept his goblet in his hand, his glance lingering on the table. The drying wine-stain appeared as blood in the subdued light. "Call it what you will," he said as he turned to face his colleague. "The fact of the matter is, the words are heard, and they stick, and when you begin dragging your feet on this treaty ..."

"I am not dragging my feet," Roquan protested.

"But that is the perception, and that is what counts."

Roquan's eyes burned. "This is ludicrous, Doran. She can make that accusation from now until the end of time, and it means nothing! Without proof, she cannot even hope to begin proceedings to depose me."

Doran took a sip of his wine, his eyes unwavering. "There is something else," he said in an unusually subdued voice as the goblet parted from his lips. "A new accusation."

Roquan folded his hands behind his back and drew his head up, as if daring Doran to continue.

"Wotan heard it first and fortunately had the good sense to Farview me and ask me my opinion on it. I told him that Freya was utterly mad to even conceive of such an idea, let alone accuse a fellow Overlord of it." He shook his finger. "I told him, 'Wotan, you listen to me! Perhaps she is telling you this because she thought of it herself and wants to keep suspicion away from her!'"

"Telling him what?" Roquan exploded.

Doran's gaze was hard steel. "That you used a slave as a spy to gain the upper hand on your dealings at the Conclave."

Roquan was silent, his face stony and unreadable.

"But we all know how foolish that would be, don't we?"

Roquan's lips drew thin. He turned away. "Do not start on that again."

"And why not? Did you not think this would come back to haunt you at some point? Did you ..."

Roquan rounded on Doran. "I did what I did for the good of Oceanus! And I would do it again in a heartbeat. Do not debate this with me, Doran, you will get nowhere."

Doran's silence was as sharp as Roquan's voice. He finally drew in a breath and let it go as a sigh. He finished off the remaining wine in one go and set the empty goblet aside. "The days drag on, Roquan," he said in a far more contrite voice. "And on and on. Would that things had turned out differently ..."

"But they did not. It's useless to lament what might have been. This was started by the Emperor and it needs to end with his removal from the throne. That is all that matters."

"You cannot ignore this. Freya figured it out. Eventually she may get the other Overlords to figure it out as well. This is a game to her, Roquan, and she has all her pieces moving into play. You have the one piece that can checkmate her, and he's sitting in one of your guest quarters right now."

Roquan's eyes grew dark. "To be perfectly frank, Doran, I am ready to believe that Freya does not play the game, she simply rewrites the rules to suit her."

Doran was about to reply when he paused and looked into Roquan's face. His own drew into a faint frown. "Do you know something I do not?"

"I am not even sure it means anything, at least not in relation to this. It is something my Healer conveyed to me. He informed me that the Healer Guild is concerned about Freya. She has been ordering great quantities of Draught ingredients. At the same time, her Healer has been ordering many restricted and unusual mind-altering herbs and chemicals."

"To what end?"

"The Guild is not forthcoming with exact details, other than to say that the combination could potentially change some basic properties of the Draught."

"Surely this is a coincidence. No Overlord in his right mind would reveal the formula to the Draught to anyone outside of another Overlord. Not even to a Healer."

Roquan remained silent.

Doran's eyes narrowed. "Not even you would be so foolish!" he boomed.

Roquan again remained silent.

"Blazing hellfire," Doran muttered, turning away. He picked up the empty goblet. "Where's the gods-damned wine?"

"I will explain the circumstances to you later. Suffice it to say that I already trust Vanlo with my life, therefore I trust him to keep the secret of the formula. Really, Doran, surely you know that the High Elders of the Healer Guild know the formula as well?"

"That is not the point! But I am weary of sparring with you, and it doesn't change the original question. What possible alteration to the Draught could she want to make that is so radical as to require all that additional herbage and a Healer's expertise?"

"Vanlo may be able to piece together what Freya is attempting to do as his own research is furthered."

Doran considered and shook his head. "I am not going to concern myself with this. This is a distraction. We need to get you past this impasse with the Urisi. That is what you should focus on!"

"Are you here to take over negotiations?" Roquan asked in an icy voice.

"Certainly not! You would not allow it even if I had tried. I will simply help facilitate the meetings. This is largely to keep you focused on what matters and not on petty details."

"The welfare of my slaves is not ..."

Doran raised a hand to silence his friend. "Appearances, Roquan! I have planted the story among the other Overlords that you invited me here."

Roquan looked aghast, and then furious. "Really, Doran! That is the second time you have assumed or falsified my actions to others!"

"It is for the best!" Doran shouted. "They will see it as you having the wisdom to know you need help, and it will make them adopt a wait-and-see attitude for a little longer. It will hinder Freya for a short while. Once you sign that treaty, she will be powerless again, even if I have to go to each Overlord personally and make a glowing speech on your behalf!"

Roquan stared. "You would do that for me? Still?"

"That is your problem in a nutshell. You refuse to see yourself as the leader that the others see you as."

"Overlords have no leader," said Roquan flatly. "I have lost count of how many times I have had to repeat that."

"Hah! Proof! Yes, we don't have a fancy throne, or a place of power, or even an official title, but there is always someone considered a leader. And you have been that leader since the Conclave."

In truth, Roquan had seen this as well. He did not like it. He still maintained he wanted nothing more than be an Overlord doing what he did best. Leadership did not become him. The responsibility was not something he desired.

"And what does that make Freya?" Roquan asked, his tone dangerously close to amusement.

"The rebel faction. Don't let her incite a revolt."

"I will endeavor not to. But I cannot compromise on my principles either."

"And I suspect Norlan will not either. But perhaps I can provide an incentive."

Roquan frowned. "You intend to bribe him?"

"Nonsense! It is simply another means of trade. Another item to include in your offer. He has to answer to a Council of Lords back home. Very rich and luxury-minded people. Perhaps they can be persuaded to accept your terms if we offer an appropriate substitute."

Roquan looked on his friend no longer with anger but appreciation. He clasped Doran's shoulder. "Thank you, Doran. You have helped me more times than I can count."

"Or I just like a good deal, eh?" Doran laughed. "Now, let's summon Norlan and get down to business ..."

Amanda padded softly into the back office, a small cloth herb bag in her hand. She approached Vanlo cautiously, the old Healer's attention riveted on realigning the condenser coil of his apparatus.

She approached the table nearly on tip-toes, though her bare feet insured a quiet approach anyway. She glanced curiously at the three other bags already on the table, their drawstrings open, crystallized contents sparking in the morning light. Her eyes flicked over them as she set the bag down.

"Do you think you can identify them, my dear?"

Amanda flinched, startled. "Um, sorry, Master, what?"

Vanlo leaned back and turned his head, smiling. He accepted the bag from her. "Ah, thank you, my dear."

"That's the last of the Gersilla, Master," Amanda said. "Or at least that was all that was in the cabinets."

"There is some more in the storeroom, have Lanno show you where it is. But now you need to answer my question."

"I'm not sure I understood it, Master."

Vanlo turned back towards the apparatus. He took a pinch of the herb between his fingers and sprinkled it into a large flask. It frothed as it hit the surface of the liquid within. "The open bags of herbs on the table. Do you think you know what they are?"

Amanda's eyes glided across them. "Um ... the one on the left is Hersalla. The middle one is ... um ... Yttria?"

"Hmm. Go on."

She stared at the last one. She had to pick it up and hold it closer to her eyes. "Rallasan," she finally said.

Vanlo adjusted a valve, then turned fully in his chair towards her. She relinquished the bag when he reached for it. "Close. Torrasan. The two are very similar." He raised his voice. "Even Lanno has a hard time telling them apart."

"I do not!" came Lanno's indignant retort from treatment room.

Vanlo winked to Amanda as he put the bag down. Amanda covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You have picked up quite a bit of knowledge, my dear, in just the short time you've been here."

Amanda smiled. "Thank you, Master. I always did pick up things faster by just being exposed to them rather than actually studying."

"Indeed." He picked up an empty flask. The glass glowed like fine crystal. "Proof."

Amanda's smile widened. "You mean how I figured out how to get those last spots out, Master?"

"Yes. That was very clever of you. Did you know that the herb would do that before you tried it?"

Amanda shook her head. "I had asked Lanno what some of the herbs did. That particular one he said was used to clean deep wounds without irritating or causing more damage. I figured it might work to clean the flask without scratching the glass, since you had warned against using anything abrasive."

"You have a very keen mind, Amanda," said Vanlo as he put down the flask.

Amanda warmed to the praise, but it faded her eyes tracked the flask to the two more on the table. Two more contained failed formulae corrupted with tarry residue. "Looks like I have a few more to do," she said neutrally.

Vanlo stroked his beard. "Hmm. Quite."

Amanda tried to be delicate. "Still not working, Master?"

Vanlo contemplated his answer carefully. "It has been a challenge, yes. I am still working on it, of course."

"Are you any closer, Master?"

Vanlo heard the tiny quaver in Amanda's voice. He felt a pang of regret. He wished he had never let Amanda think there was any hope that the "cure" for the mental degradation could be used retroactively.

Vanlo let a small sigh escape. "I am compelled to be honest with you, Amanda. There is every possibility that I ultimately may not succeed."

Amanda's eyes widened, and her lips parted. She paused, closed her mouth, and drew herself up straight. She fought to keep her voice steady. "I understand, Master."

"But by no means is the end in sight. There are still avenues of research to pursue, and I shall continue."

Amanda nodded. "But ... if you can't do it, Master ... do you think Master Roquan will go on using the Draught despite the problem with it?"

Vanlo smiled faintly. "Your deeply philosophical questions sometimes leave me at a loss, my dear."

"Sorry, Master," said Amanda sheepishly.

"No need to be. It is a valid question. One that would concern me as well. I am afraid you would have to ask his Lordship."

Roquan was the last one she wanted to ask. She was afraid of his answer, and quite possibly her reaction to it as well.

"If I may be allowed to change the subject," said Vanlo. He stood up and placed a hand gently on Amanda's shoulder. "Would you be interested in expanding your duties here?"

"Expanding my duties? In what way?"

"Would you like to learn how to perform simple treatments on the other slaves?"

"You mean, actual Healer duties?"

"Yes, exactly that. Under proper supervision, of course. I trust you get along with Lanno well enough?"

Amanda nodded absently, still stunned.

"Then he can be your teacher."

"Not you, Master?"

Vanlo smiled. "I am a terrible teacher, my dear."

"I don't think so," Amanda immediately piped. "I've already learned a lot from you."

"That was not teaching. That was simply me providing an environment for you to learn and keeping out of the way. And I have some self-interest at stake. I do not wish to tarnish your image of me as the kindly old man."

Amanda giggled.

"Now, before I ... oh!"

Vanlo was suddenly on the other end of an affectionate hug from Amanda that robbed him of the ability to move or speak.

"Thank you, Master," Amanda whispered.

Vanlo's mouth worked, but it took time for any words to come forth. "Ah ... well ... yes, ahem ... "

Amanda closed her eyes and enjoyed a secretive smile at his awkwardness. She drew back and was shocked to see him blushing. She nearly bit her tongue to suppress a giggle.

Vanlo looked on with forlorn kindness and and odd, shame-filled affection. He understood now. Amanda was the daughter he never had. For the first time in decades he wondered if he had missed something when he made his career his life.

Amanda caught the disturbed look in his eyes and saved him from the awkward moment. "I'll get with Lanno today, Master, and see what he can show me."

"Yes, very good," Vanlo said quickly. "I will need to tend to the next experiment and see if I can make some progress. Ah ... carry on."

Amanda dashed out.

Vanlo's smile faded. He sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumping like a marionette with its strings cut.

He turned his tired gaze towards the apparatus and let out a long sigh. His optimism had rapidly faded over the last quarter moon. He was exhausting all his options. The most promising chemicals had not worked. The correct reaction refused to catalyze. He had resorted to changing his refinement techniques, but this had only delayed the onset of the failure.

Vanlo leaned back in his seat and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed a new approach. Unfortunately, he had exhausted just about every one he could think of. Unless something came to light soon, his options would quickly become limited.

And then he had to disappoint not one but two people for whom he cared very much.

"Having a Farview linked directly to you? Really, Norlan, you have the breeding of a peasant."

Norlan folded his hands behind his back and smiled broadly. "And a good day to you as well, Mandas, my most esteemed colleague."

Mandas' sneer came over the Farview as easily as if it had been in person. "Surely you could have taken at least a Viewer along with you."

"This is far more efficient. And that is what I care about. Efficiency and expedition."

Mandas sniffed. "Considering that you are still stuck at an Oceanus Overlord Manor, I would say you lost out in the latter."

"And are you not still at the Emperor's Palace?"

"Not for much longer, and I will be quite happy to be gone from this place."

"Ah, so you have secured a treaty. Well done."

Mandas gave Norlan a withering look. "You must know I have done nothing of the sort, or you would not be offering your empty praise. I had a bigger mission here, and I have accomplished it."

"Have you at least avoided a state of war between Oceanus and Urisi?"

Mandas' face darkened. "Your humor, such that it is, eludes me."

Norlan grinned. He admitted that he enjoyed sparring with Mandas. He considered Mandas the epitome of everything he disliked about upper class society in Urisi. The irony was not lost on him that it was he that was in good standing with the High Lords and not Mandas.

"So, tell me, Norlan," said Mandas with a shark-like smile. "Have you managed to give away the Urisi Throne yet? Or perhaps a province or two?"

Norlan smiled tightly. "If you are asking, in your delightfully roundabout way, if I have made some concessions, then yes, I have done so."

"Oh, tsk-tsk, Norlan. I am sure the High Lords will not like that."

"I have yet to have a treaty rejected by them in the past ten years."

But the smile would not disappear from Mandas' face as much as Norlan wished it would. He knew as well as Mandas did that this was different. The situation was reversed. Normally it was the King that rejected his treaty and the Council that would back him. They were willing to force the Monarch into accepting concessions, and thus keep the balance of power.

This time, it was the Council itself that dictated the conditions. Norlan had very little leeway. He had already dropped one "non-negotiable" item, which was the outright ownership of slaves rather than the contracts. He was sure he would be reamed for that, but he hoped to stand on his previous reputation.

Unfortunately, favor at court tended to hinge not on what one does, but on what one has done recently.

"Is there some other reason you called, Mandas?" said Norlan, emulating Mandas' officious tone. "I will be meeting with the Overlord very soon."

"Yes, I felt it behooved me to convey to you some critical information I have discovered ..."

Mandas proceeded to tell Norlan the secret that Naima had conferred.

Norlan scratched his beard thoughtfully. Mandas made a disgusted noise. "Ugh, you even look like a peasant."

Norlan ignored the comment. "I have heard nothing of the sort from the Overlord, but then again, he is very much all-business around me."

"Indeed you won't, if what I suspect is true, that the Emperor is keeping this information to himself."

"Reason?"

"Because the Emperor of Oceanus is a loon, that is why."

Norlan's eyebrows rose. It was unusual to hear even Mandas speak so disparaging of a foreign leader, especially while still in his domain. "Has he tossed you out?"

"He wants to, but he'll stop just short of it. He's that desperate for a treaty with us, but some of his requirements are outrageous. I am merely being summoned home 'for consultation.' You can believe that I will do everything in my power to not be sent back."

Norlan considered carefully. Mandas rarely refused an assignment. He would show reluctance, but never outright avoidance. Things were going quite badly in Oceanus, far more than he had thought.

"You say the Emperor wishes to keep this business about foreign Portals in confidence?" asked Norlan. "Perhaps that has bargaining potential in my ..."

"Absolutely not, Norlan. I tell you as a professional courtesy and nothing more. You will not use it to your advantage. You will generate more strife, and that will be seen as interference in Oceanus' internal affairs."

Norlan hated it when Mandas was correct about something.

Yet it was intriguing. It meant a third power was already fully in play. They were here, somewhere. There had to be an angle he could use.

"I believe we should end this, I hear the Overlord approaching," said Norlan. "Good day and good travels to you."

Mandas sniffed and said nothing before making a slashing gesture with his arm. His image faded as his Viewer dutifully terminated the Farview.

Norlan was quite pleased. He had been handed a gem worth far more than Mandas had realized.

Negotiating with a third power would be much more in line with his skills. The King had sent Mandas to uncover the presence of this meddling power. But if Norlan could not only unmask but tame that power and eliminate the threat to the Urisi Nation via a treaty, then it truly would be like the proverbial turning lead into platinum.

But the trick would be contacting that power, and he felt the Overlord was the key.

He straightened his tunic and prepared to give the Overlord a warm welcome when he arrived.

Amanda panted through parted lips, her eyes closed, one cheek pressed hard against the pillow that she gripped tightly in her arms. Her thighs quivered around her aching and helpless pussy, her folds swollen and glistening with her intense arousal. Her knees sank into the soft furs of the bed.

Behind her, Lanno slid his hand over one of her ass cheeks, while the other teased her wet slit with a single finger. Amanda shuddered and let out a ragged moan. His hand drew back and lightly slapped her rear, bringing first a tiny yelp and then another deep moan. Both cheeks were faintly pink.

Lanno felt a small twinge of guilt, even as he gave her another playful slap against her rear and listened to her whimper in still rising arousal. He had wheedled that little secret from her about how a light spanking made her moisture flow.

He couldn't quite think about her purely as a slave anymore. Nor could he think of her as a free Narlassi woman. Amanda occupied some vague state in between, and he was not sure how far he should push it.

But he did delight in teasing Amanda until she was so excited she trembled at his touch. She may not have the Draught and all its effects, but she was extremely passionate when she let herself be.

Lanno was simply afraid he would abuse it if given the chance.

He eased a finger into her tight tunnel. This elicited another whimper, and he sensed a greater desperation. She tried to move her hips back to impale her sex more fully on his digit, but she relented at the last moment. She wanted to at least play the part of the good little slave for him.

Lanno pulled back his hands. Amanda let out a slow, husky sigh. He shed his robe, his manhood standing out from his body like a thick pole. He took a deep breath and grasped Amanda's rear tightly in his fingers.

Amanda uttered a gasp, shuddered, then panted in anticipation.

He pressed himself lightly against her folds, as if daring her to move back onto it. She quivered as if tempted, but relented.

She's still playing the part, Lanno thought with both wonder and admiration. She's still trying to be the good slave for me. And she's doing it because she wants to do it.

Lanno swung his hips forward and let himself slide into her tunnel.

Amanda uttered a slow, quaking gasp. In the quiet, his manhood made a soft, wet sound as it disappeared into her. Lanno thought he heard a very faint "oh yeah" escape her lips when he was buried completely inside her. His lips twitched in amusement.

Amanda's body rocked gently as he began to thrust. Her eyes remained closed, her breasts dangling under her. The hard nubs of her nipples brushed against the furs, tingling pleasantly.

She was almost embarrassed at her own enjoyment. Her previous experience with Lanno had left her with the notion that this was a more demeaning position for sex. That had been handily dispelled.

Some of the slave veneer slipped. She rocked her hips with him, forcing his manhood into quick, hard plunges. She tightened her muscles just enough so she could feel each penetration. Even at this angle, the girth of his cock was such that she felt it against her womanhood with each thrust, her pleasure rising inexorably.

Lanno panted hard. His hands gripped her hips, his pace increasingly frantic. The slap of their bodies coming together was nearly as loud as their escalating moans. Amanda's fingers curled into the pillow, her forehead beaded with perspiration.

Amanda loved the sex. It was not an addiction or a duty. She had come to terms with that. Slavery had not so much bred the need in her as it had released her own sensual nature. She had an amusing thought. Would she have eventually discovered her own sexual being if she had stayed on Earth? Or would she have been forced to repress it?

But thoughts like this skirted too close to other, more unpleasant notions that had swirled in her head. She eased the tension on her muscles. Her pleasure soared, drowning out her ruminations.

Amanda did not hold herself back. She needed to feel the intensity. She let herself climax hard. Her cries were lost in Lanno's grunts.

Her orgasm played out, and there was not enough time to build towards another, but she didn't care. She smiled faintly into the pillow when Lanno let out a guttural groan, his fingers curling hard into her hips. She reveled in the fact that she was the source of his pleasure, that his orgasm was so good because of her.

Lanno slowed and withdrew. Amanda fell from his grasp and slowly collapsed onto her side, a long, low moan of contentment escaping her lips as she curled up in the furs like a sated cat.

Lanno gazed at Amanda in amazement as he caught his breath and fell on his back. Amanda opened her eyes and smiled. She rolled and draped her body across his. She tucked her head under his chin like she had done so many times with the Overlord. "I hope I pleased you, Master," she said in a content voice.

Lanno wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to him. "Very well, Amanda," he said, still breathless. "I wish I knew how you did it."

"Perhaps I am just that good, Master."

Lanno smirked. "Now I know why you do this with me."

Amanda lifted her head and looked at him curiously.

"I'm the only one that lets you get away with cheek like that."

Amanda grinned. "Really, Master? You could punish me if you like."

"Oh, you'd like me to do that, wouldn't you? I'll bet you'd suggest I spank you, right?"

"That is a standard punishment for a slave, Master."

"Uh-huh. And the fact that you just get wet when someone does that has nothing to do with it."

Amanda giggled. He grinned at her in return.

She had accepted even that. She remembered how distressed she had been to discover that spanking or light paddling aroused her. But this was different. She had allowed it rather than simply accepting it.

It was another degree of control over her sexuality that she had reclaimed.

"Do you desire any more from me this evening, Master?" Amanda asked.

Lanno smiled. "Just stay with me for a bit before you have to go back to Sirinna. Just snuggle up against me for awhile."

"Gladly, Master."

Ambassador Norlan accepted the elegant brass cup from Doran and stretched his legs before the fire in the hearth. Steam curled from the deep brown-gold beverage within, just barely visible in the flicking firelight. "Ah, thank you, Overlord. You are most kind to honor a Urisi tradition."

"It is the least I could do, Lord Ambassador," Doran said expansively as he took a seat between him and Roquan, a similar cup in his hand. "You have been so utterly patient to a fault. It behooves me -- behooves us, that is -- to offer such comfort to you."

Roquan let out a slow, tense sigh through his nose, his hands tightly knit before him. His cup sat untouched on the bricks of the hearth. "Had I known of the tradition of evening tea in the first place, I would most certainly had honored it."

"It was not your place to know, Overlord, and I would never impose," said Norlan smoothly. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. After a thoughtful moment, he turned to Doran. "This is quite unusual."

"I am sure it is not what you are used to, Ambassador," said Doran. "Oceanus Nobles are not big tea drinkers. I beg forgiveness if the quality is lacking."

"I did not say I found it unenjoyable. Merely different. Much like a lot of things in Oceanus."

Roquan's jaw tightened, but Doran chuckled. "Oh yes, I am sure you have found much that must make you scratch your head in wonder at how we do things here."

Norlan smiled. "Indeed. But I see it as opportunity."

Doran took a tiny sip of his tea. It was clear for just a brief moment that he was not big on tea, either. "And I do hope we presented you with plenty of that earlier."

"Oh, I would say so, yes. And I must admire your generosity. Clearly you care a great deal for seeing this treaty come to fruition."

"It is not as if I do not care to bring this about," Roquan snapped.

Doran turned to him, his eyes hard. "And no one here was thinking such a thing, Roquan. No one at all."

"In that case, I put it to the Ambassador. Is the offer generous enough?"

Doran shot Roquan an impatient look. Roquan gazed back, eyes cool and implacable.

Norlan unhurriedly took another sip of his tea. "That is something I cannot answer at the moment."

"And why not?"

"Roquan!" Doran hissed.

"It is a valid question, Doran. And I remind you that it was me to whom these negotiations had been entrusted."

"Roquan does have a point, Doran," said Norlan. "We are all eager to conclude this treaty. I ask for your indulgence for another few days. We will continue to work out the details of what has already been agreed upon, so the time will not be wasted. I would like to see some of the slaves you plan to trade with us."

"Of course, of course," Doran said quickly before Roquan could respond. "We understand perfectly, Lord Ambassador."

Roquan glared at Doran.

Norlan raised his cup. He flicked his eyes over his tea. "In fact, I would say that, from what I have heard, these negotiations are going much better than those with your Emperor."

"Ah, well, I am sure ..." Doran began.

Roquan leaned forward. "What have you learned, Ambassador?"

The eagerness was far too pronounced, Norlan mused. This Overlord was not at all skilled in diplomatic discourse. It is little wonder why Doran had come.

Norlan took a sip and lowered the cup. "The Emperor negotiates hard. Much as you do, Overlord. But he is a bit inflexible."

"That comes as no surprise whatsoever. He ceased being flexible a long time ago."

Doran cast a stern look at Roquan. "I am sure the Ambassador does not want to hear such things. They have no interest in our affairs."

"Do not try to silence me, Doran, I will have none of it. I am not some babe-in-arms that you need to coddle." He turned to Norlan before his cohort could protest. "I must say I was a little dismayed to hear that the Urisi were treating with the Emperor as well."

Doran shook his head and subsided.

Norlan set down his cup. "It is a matter of policy, Overlord. We cannot take sides, so we attempt to trade with both equally and fairly. But where the Emperor appears to have trouble connecting with our Ambassador to his court, this would seem to leave you and the Overlords at an advantage by default."

Roquan looked somewhat mollified. "That is good to hear, at least."

Now Doran appeared interested as well. "Are you saying that Z'haas failed to make a deal with the Urisi on trade to help support them in the war?"

"That is exactly what I am saying."

Doran frowned. "He has no other sources of trade. Can he truly cut off his own nose to spite his face?"

"Have you known the Emperor to do anything rational, Doran, in the past two seasons?" Roquan asked. "This is yet more evidence of his instability."

"Or he has another market available to him," Norlan announced.

Both Overlords greeted the Ambassador's words with stony silence.

Norlan waited. Roquan broke the silence first, as was expected. "Impossible. The Noble Lords will not trade with him. I have been told that the Merchants' Guild has curtailed their business with him."

Doran looked surprised. "Indeed?"

"It was at Uridon's insistence. He apparently has more influence at the Guild Hall than he realized. He made them consider that the Emperor was behind those disappearances of high-profile merchants."

"Hmph! About time they got involved," Doran grumbled. He turned back to Norlan. "But really, Ambassador, where could he possibly obtain a new market?"

Norlan gave them a carefully crafted casual shrug and nonchalant look. "Perhaps from the west?"

Roquan frowned. "Impossible."

Doran shook his head. "Ridiculous!"

Norlan raised an eyebrow in mock-curiosity. "Oh?"

Doran opened his mouth, but closed it again when he realized he was falling into the same trap as Roquan, that of giving away too much information to a foreign power. But Roquan plowed on. "It is all things from the west that the Emperor fears."

Norlan nodded slowly, carefully judging the Overlord's reaction. "And you do not agree with this assessment?"

"I feel it is an excuse, a means of fearmongering. A convenient target."

Doran gave Roquan a meaningful look. Roquan ignored it. He had heard the argument before. Doran had once suggested that perhaps the Emperor did have some small reason to suspect the Far West, especially in light of Jollis. But Roquan would not hear of it. He did not consider the two things related at all.

Neither did Doran. Not quite. But he was more open-minded and cautious.

Norlan made a leap. "Have you had dealings to the west, Overlord?"

"Yes," Roquan replied before Doran could stop him. Doran uttered a long, windy sigh. "Oh stop it, Doran. Despite Jollis' transgressions, I was never cheated or shortchanged in my dealings with the Far West."

Now Norlan was excited. Roquan had let slip exactly what he wanted to know. The Overlord had dealt with the very power that so worried the Urisi King, and this Jollis fellow was the key to contacting them.

"I believe we have discussed the matter enough before the esteemed Ambassador!" Doran declared.

Norlan realized he was not going to get any more information from them that night. He stood up, which forestalled a retort from Roquan. "Gentlemen, I believe I will retire for the evening. I feel this has been a very productive day. The both of you have shown very good negotiation skills."

Both Doran and Roquan rose to their feet. "Thank you, Ambassador, you are most kind," said Doran.

Roquan frowned and stepped between Doran and the Ambassador. "I will arrange for you to see more of my slaves in the morning. I am sure you will be pleased."

"Ah, but I already am, just from the small sample you have provided for my pleasure. I will see you in the morning. Good day to you."

Doran and Roquan bid him good day. The moment the door closed, Doran frowned. "Now that was a fine display you put on for him, Roquan!"

Roquan's gaze was unyielding. "I am sure I do not know what you are talking about."

"You refused to follow my lead! You continued to spout off about ..."

"I was not under the impression that I needed to secure your permission to speak."

"That is not what I meant! I cannot imagine what the Ambassador will say to the Urisi about this."

"About what? Really, Doran, stop speaking in riddles."

"They would not be riddles to you if you understood anything about speaking with a foreign power."

Roquan frowned. "I was not aware that part of such discourse was to avoid speaking my mind or fail to tell the truth."

"There is such a thing as picking which truths you divulge!"

"I told him no secrets. I told him nothing he could not discover on his own. And I told him nothing that would weaken my position in these negotiations. Is that not what matters here? If anything, perhaps knowing that I have had dealings with another great power will imply that I I can take my business elsewhere."

Doran looked aghast. "And just how would you expect to conduct such business with the Far West when the Emperor ...?"

Roquan raised a hand and urged Doran into silence. "You will note that I did not share with the Ambassador any information about restricted western trade. So in his mind, the Urisi have competition. That may prompt him into acquiescing on the final points of contention and accepting your counteroffer."

Doran had no ready response.

"Surely you do not want me to give in on the issue over the sex seals? Can you imagine your own slaves with such a thing pasted to their bodies?"

Doran frowned. "No. I despise that disgusting thing."

"Then let this play out. I am certain I can get him to concede the point, now that you have sweetened the deal."

"You had better be right about this! We cannot afford to let this fall through!"

"It will not. I will make it work. One way or the other."

The door closed to Lanno's hut, and darkness swept in around Amanda.

No sooner than she looked up at the powdering of stars across the velvet heavens and took a step forward when the dark was dispelled by a flicker of magical flame. The glow washed out the dimmer stars. Amanda lowered her gaze with a small sigh and continued down the path.

The little torches dutifully lighted in sequence as she approached, darkening in her wake, providing her a moving bubble of faintly blue-silver illumination. The light seemed cold to her, and not just from the heatless nature of the torches.

The air was still and lifeless. The leaves of the trees hung motionless, as if frozen by the same intangible cold.

The pleasure of the moment, and the attention to Lanno, had both helped keep her other thoughts anchored in the recesses of her mind. Now they had slipped from their moorings to plague her once more.

She reached a juncture in the path and stopped.

She looked forward, towards her quarters. From the other direction, the soft, faint roar of the surf drifted easily to her in the stark stillness. Amanda started down the other path.

The roll of the sea against the shore rose, as if beckoning. As the path dropped more sharply downward, she left the ice-light behind. The glow became more feeble as her feet touched the sandy beach. Sea air enveloped her, moist and sharp, with the aroma of brine and foam.

Amanda looked around her. Rocks, trees, even the coastline as it wound away to the east all were not much more than silhouettes. Yet it was all familiar to her. This was where she had met Yarra, the Imperial spy that posed at the slave. This is where Yarra had told her that Overlord Rennis wanted to allow slaves to be more than just slaves. This is where Yarra had given her a false sense of hope that she could stay and be something more.

This is where Yarra had lied to her.

Behind her, the impotent guide lights darkened.

The darkness was not quite total. She looked up. The stars ran riot across the vault of the heavens, twinkling and teasing. A ragged, diffuse glow rambled through them at a shallow angle.

Amanda smiled. She had never seen the Milky Way before. Ironic that her first look was on an alien world.

Her smile faded. But it was not quite her Milky Way. It was someone else's. This wasn't just a different world but another universe. Her connection to her home -- her former home -- was much more tenuous that she had realized.

Amanda lowered herself to the ground. She listened to the gentle ebb and flow of the waves. She looked up again. She remembered trying to take up stargazing on Earth, but she never lived in a place where civilization didn't drown out the heavenly symphony.

In the final attempt, her foster father tried to help. But he couldn't answer any of her questions about the stars. Not their names, or their nature. Exposing his lack of knowledge had embarrassed the poor man.

Amanda's heart lurched. In that moment, nothing else mattered to her. Not Sirinna, not Jollis, not Lanno, not Roquan. It was a terrible revelation that she could forget about them, if only for a moment. It was like she suddenly didn't know what she really wanted, as if everything she had built were sitting on loose sand, ready to collapse at any moment.

She shivered in the darkness. Such an epiphany was not unusual for a teenage girl on Earth. Just another part of growing up. But to have it here, someplace else, someplace that seemed again so alien to her, made it impossible for her to put it into context.

She looked up again. The stars blurred as her eyes grew liquid. She missed her foster father, and desperately wanted to know if he were okay.

Amanda took a deep breath and let it go as a ragged sigh. She sniffled once and wiped her eyes. She forced herself to rise to her feet.

She understood what was wrong now. She had let herself feel like a fifteen year old Earth girl. They were allowed to be scared. They were allowed to have no idea what they wanted from life. They were allowed to fumble, to fall, to learn as you go. They were allowed to be hurt, to experience pain, to grow stronger from it.

She was not as mature as she thought she was. She was only playing at it. Yet she allowed herself to reap the rewards. She allowed herself to enjoy sex, the ultimate reward of an adult. So she had no excuse to retreat from it now. She could not go back. She had to keep playing the role that she -- and no one else -- had made for herself.

That was the price she would have to pay for wanting to grow up so fast.

Amanda cautiously made her way back to the path until the torches showed her the way.

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