Frialla lay quivering upon the soft furs in the subdued light, her breath a heavy pant against the gentle quiet. Soft moans and whimpers escaped her parted lips.

Her head lay cradled in the lap of another naked slave girl. Frialla had asked what was going to happen to her, but she had received no reply. Then the girl had applied a strange, oily salve to Frialla's nipples. That was when the strange but pleasant sensations suffused her body.

The girl touched Frialla's slick nipples, massaging and tweaking the now hardened flesh. An odd heat gathered in her loins. The more it grew, the more sluggish became her thoughts.

And now her nether regions exuded a hot moisture of its own. She parted her legs in a vain effort to relieve the pressure. Her hairless sex glistened in the subdued light of the oil lamp. She felt an ache, both pleasant and needful. The emotions that drowned out coherent thought were both exciting and confusing.

She wanted to beg, but she was not sure for what to beg. Her body needed something, but she was not sure what.

Another came to her, approaching the edge of the bed by her feet. Frialla uttered a small gasp, and her eyes widened at the sight. It was a man, naked and displaying a part of himself that she had never seen before in this state.

Frialla shivered and let out a husky moan as he spread her knees. Her breath quickened, her eyes riveted on his engorged manhood. She drew in another gasp as he descended on her exposed and helpless sex.

Frialla let out a lusty cry as he parted her folds and slid inside her. It met no resistance, as Evella had painlessly removed the young woman's virgin barrier. All it met was a slick, tight tunnel, and the now escalating moans of Frialla's pleasure.

Frialla realized now that this is what she needed. It was as essential as breathing. Even as the thrusts of the engorged manhood in her virgin sex satisfied her need now, she already looked forward to it again.

For such wonderful pleasure, she would do whatever was asked of her.

The Maiden Elder stared at the Overlord.

"Is there a problem?" Freya asked, her lips curled into a small smile.

"Begging your pardon, my Lady," began Mianna in an uneasy voice. "But ... did you say ten?"

"Yes, ten. You will provide me with ten more maidens from your village, and I wish them to be sent to the Manor in no more than three days."

Mianna swallowed. "My Lady, are you really in that much need of assistance with your gardens? Surely you would want to call the Growers Guild if ..."

"I know what my Manor needs, Mianna, and it will be best accomplished if you provide me with ten more girls."

"I just don't know if I could send ... if I could spare that many."

Freya folded her arms, her eyes cool. "Are you refusing a direct request from your Overlord?"

Mianna's eyes widened. "No, my Lady!"

"I remind you that it is I that provided your village with the lands around the Manor. That you reap most of the profit from what you grow on that land."

"I-I understand this, my Lady, but ..."

"Or is it that you consider the claims of the Manor to some of the fruits of your labor to be such an overwhelming burden that you refuse to give more when it is needed?"

Mianna looked scandalized. "My village has been utterly loyal to you, my Lady! We would never take your generosity for granted."

"Then prove you are still loyal by acquiescing to this request. Your village has risen to the challenge in the past. Why do you refuse to do so now?"

"I do not refuse!" Mianna cried in a shaky voice. She paused and continued with forced calm, "I do not refuse. It is simply an unusual request."

"But it is well-considered. And I trust you believe I know what is needed to run a Manor properly."

"Of course, my Lady."

"Then I see no reason for further debate on the matter."

Mianna let out a small, exasperated sigh. "I will ... I will send you ten more girls."

Freya smiled. "Very good. Now, I have business to attend to."

"My Lady, just one more thing, please," Mianna implored.

Freya looked bored. "Very well, but make it quick."

"May I see Fina? I wish to see how she is doing. She was a little anxious about coming here, and ..."

"You need not worry any longer. She is acclimating very well. And ..." One corner of her mouth rose. "... she is a bit busy at the moment."

Mianna's face fell. She knew she should not mistrust the Overlord. She had no business questioning those above her. But it had worried her that of the girls she had seen working the gardens, all were Freya's slaves. She had not spotted Fina among them.

"I have no more time for discussion, as I must pay someone a visit. She is quite adamant about contacting me it seems," Freya said with a secretive little smile.

This drew only a confused look from Mianna.

"Three days, Mianna," Freya said, showing the Maiden Elder to the door. "No more. I have a lot of work for them to do."

Evella hugged her arms around herself, pacing before the glowing blue pearl. Her Healer robe billowed about her bare feet and clung to her lithe frame. She stopped pacing when the slide of cloth across bare skin reminded her of her predicament.

Freya had restored only part of her dignity. She had been allowed her robes but not her undergarments. It was enough, however, so that she could be presentable for this Farview.

"Out of supplies again, Evella? Tsk tsk."

Evella gasped and spun around. Her hands shook as they scrabbled for the folds of her robe when they parted. Freya looked on in amusement.

"Y-yes, Mistress, I was c-clean out of Keldarra," stammered Evella. "That's all."

"Really? Just supplies? Why do I not believe you?" Freya's lips curled. "I accept the summons."

Evella whipped her head around and shivered in cold shock. Now there were two Freya's in the room. The real one still stood near the door to her office, while an exact replica shimmered over the Farviewing pearl.

Freya casually strolled across the room, swinging her hips nonchalantly. The image did the same, except it did not move from its position. Freya waved her hand over the pearl. The doppleganger winked out.

She picked up the pearl. "If you were really asking for more supplies, you would have used your pearl linked to the items merchant," said Freya. "Instead, you chose to use this other pearl, the one that I substituted."

Evella's eyes shimmered guiltily.

Freya's smile faded quickly. "So who was yours really bound to, Evella? It wouldn't happen to be one of the Healer Guild Elders, would it?"

Evella said nothing. She stared at the betraying pearl and trembled.

"You wouldn't, by any chance, be getting ideas into your head about telling someone back there what you've been doing?"

Evella's lifted her frightened gaze to Freya. "Mistress ... that ... that young woman you brought to me. She wasn't an offworlder. She was Narlassi."

A cold smile warped Freya's lips.

"You gave that Draught to a Narlassi. You're ... y-you're not supposed to do that. Narlassi have not enslaved each other since ..."

"Let me make this very clear to you, Evella," said Freya. "You will mention nothing of this if you wish to keep your freedom. And your memories."

Evella gave Freya a horrified look. She stumbled back until she fetched up against the table. "You c-can't ... y-you couldn't use that on ..."

"And why not? I have the formula now. You're no longer that useful to me. And you'd never see it coming. I could put it in your fruit juice, or your food. Or perhaps give it to you in tiny amounts so you can feel every little bit of memory leaving your head."

Evella's heart pounded. Tears blurred her vision. "P-please, don't do that to me."

"Hand me your robe, Evella."

Evella stared. "But ... you said I could ..."

"I have to leave the Manor for the day and will not be back before evening. I do not trust you not to run away. You will turn over your robe to me now and you will get it back when I return. Now do not make me ask you again."

Evella sniffled and wiped a tear from her cheek. Flushing with shame, she slipped off the robe and handed it to the Overlord.

"I will also take all your Farviewing pearls. And if you are contacted by the Guild Hall, you will tell them nothing. I will find out of you do." Freya grinned wickedly. "But I won't tell you if I do. Instead, you'll just wake up one morning wondering why you cannot remember what happened the day before. And then the week before. And then the moon before ..."

"I'll do as you say!" Evella wailed. "I promise!"

Freya smiled. "Good girl."

Evella shivered violently.

Jollis remained as still as a statue as he sat upon the bed. Even his chest barely rose with his breath, and his eyes remained fixed. He gaze came to a sharp focus upon what should now be little more than an archaic relic of the past.

And yet the pearl sat in a place of honor. It lay upon a tiny bed of velvet in a corner of his desk, enshrined there like a museum piece, to be seen but not touched. It was wrong. Once it was no longer needed, it should have been destroyed. Or, better, the binding magic upon it dispelled by a competent Mage so that it may be reused. Instead, it continued to lie where it was, within arm's reach, yet unattainable.

There came a soft knock at the door. Jollis slowly closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Come."

A Cohort entered the Wanderer's quarters. "I beg forgiveness for interrupting your meditation, Master."

Jollis opened his eyes. His gaze narrowed briefly before he turned his head. "My meditation was already disrupted, and not by you. What is it?"

"I bring news."

Jollis could tell by his tone that it was not good. He tried to keep the tiredness from his voice. "Very well. Speak."

"The Imperial agent continues to elude us, my Wanderer. The last sighting of him was more than two days ago. It is feared that we have lost him."

"Talrad Pass lies between him and Imperial territory. Attempt to intercept him there."

"We will, Wanderer, but that area is riddled with old mine tunnels. It is possible he may elude us still."

Jollis took in a deep breath and let it go, forcing himself to remain in a state of calm. "There is little damage he can do to us. No secrets were divulged in his presence. Killing him would have simply been a convenient delay before the Emperor attempted another strike against us. We will need to be more vigilant."

"I understand, Master," said the Cohort.

"Pursue the matter for no more than four more days. Then abandon the search. It is not worth our time and effort past that point." Jollis stood up. "What else?"

"A message from Overlord Freya. She wishes to know if you would be willing to accept Trainees."

Jollis frowned. "She is apparently hard of hearing. I specifically told her I wished slaves of experience."

"She claims she can get you twice as many slaves if ..."

"Trainees have zero experience. Twice zero is still zero. Did you remind her of this?"

"Indeed, Wanderer," the cohort said. "But she is very insistent. She claims this will be valuable experience for them. She claims that such things are done frequently in Oceanus. It is traditional."

"Training is her responsibility and not ours, and we are not required to follow Oceanus tradition."

"Agreed. But her tone suggests that she will make trouble in this deal if we do not acquiesce."

Jollis visibly tensed. As subtle as it would be to an outsider, to the Cohort it was quite surprising and troubling.

"Freya is becoming more troublesome than Gronnus," said Jollis acidly. "Very well. But inform her that she will provide these Trainees in addition to her quota of experienced slaves, and she will receive much less platinum for them."

"Understood, Master."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, unless there is something you wish me to do for you?"

Jollis looked thoughtful. He gazed upon the pearl and its place of false honor. He considered very hard. His eyes took on a pained look.

"Wanderer?"

Jollis let out his breath as a strained sigh and great regret. "Nothing. There is nothing you can do for me now."

The Cohort's gaze flicked curiously towards the desk, then back to his Master. He bowed his head respectfully and left.

And I fail again, thought Jollis with an equanimity that surprised himself. I do not yet have the resolve. I wonder if I ever will.

"Blazing hellfire, Roquan! Letting him have Amanda will only prove the point. You know she cannot act as a normal slave!"

"I know that, and I am not going to ask her to do so. I cannot hide that from him, Doran."

"You can refuse him. Don't let Amanda near him."

"And then word gets back to Freya, and she will make the other Overlords doubt my word even further. If she can get enough Overlords to wonder why I refused him access to Amanda, then they will begin to suspect."

"And how does giving Amanda to him help?"

"I am hoping that the Ambassador will keep his word. He will no longer bring up this point, and we will not need to worry about it getting back to the other Overlords."

The silver-haired Overlord Trennan D'vard was often known as the least political of all the Overlords. Thus it was with great pleasure that Freya watched the grave expression on the man's face as he watched the flickering images of Doran and Roquan hover above the glowing pearl in her hand.

Not that Freya would show this pleasure on her face. Instead, she wore a carefully crafted mask of concern and worry.

Trennan clasped his hands behind his lean frame, his hair glowing briefly in a shaft of afternoon sunlight from the skylight in his earth-toned quarters. His eyes took on a steely look as the record continued to its most damning part.

"The truth about Amanda will come out eventually, Doran. And if that is to be the case, I want to reveal it in my own way, and not at the dictates of circumstance, a political enemy, or a foreign power."

"And you would intend to tell them about using Amanda as a spy?"

"Perhaps. In due time. After the crisis is over. Well over."

"Stop," said Trennan.

Freya closed her fingers around the pearl like a spider ensnaring its prey. The images faded from sight.

Trennan took a step away from the spectacle, his back to Freya. His jaw tightened, his lips twisting into a frown that deeply lined his aging face. When he turned to face Freya, his eyes were resolute.

"Know this, Freya," Trennan said in a low voice. "I find the duplicity you committed in order to obtain this record to be utterly reprehensible and more becoming of corrupt Nobility than an Overlord."

Freya's lips thinned, but she avoided outright bristling at his words. She had expected some backlash as to her methods. She inclined her head in respect. "I accept your censure on this matter, Trennan. But you can see why I felt the need for such extreme methods."

Trennan hesitated, then shook his head. His sigh betrayed both shock and contempt. "A Draughtless slave. Disgusting."

"And used to feed him information on private conversations that no slave has any business repeating. It goes against a most sacred Overlord tradition."

Trennan stiffened. "I do not need the likes of you to tell me what is right and what is wrong. I could go on about the methods you use that I find questionable. But now that you have proof behind the accusations I was so tired of hearing from you, now you force our hand."

"I could not let this go. I hope you understand that."

Trennan's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I am sure you have the good of the Overlords in the forefront of your mind."

Freya's eyes blazed. She flashed him a small smile in her next breath. "Very well. Let's drop the pretense. You know I do not care for Roquan. You know I would like to see him crushed. Hold me in as much contempt as you wish for that."

"I do not engage in petty political games."

"I know that. But this is not political. That's why I came to you. I knew that you of all people would see past the politics and understand how utterly barbaric Roquan's actions were."

Trennan frowned. "And this is the man we lauded at the Conclave!"

"And all to convince the Overlords to stand behind him and his war against the Emperor."

Like the other Overlords, the Emperor had lost favor with Trennan long before Roquan had called for the Conclave. He had understood and agreed with the arguments in favor of a change in regime. But that was when he thought it could be done in a coup, as it always had been. A protracted war was never considered.

Yet Trennan himself had supported the war. He had helped assuage the other Overlords' nerves. But that was when he felt it was a righteous cause shorn of any political trappings. It was simply the right thing to do.

"Perhaps this is not the only duplicity he has perpetrated," Freya suggested. "Perhaps he lied about some of the basic premises of his arguments in favor of deposing the Emperor."

"That is a rather serious accusation, Freya."

"Surely you must see that it is possible." She held up the pearl. "We have evidence that he is capable of great deception and self-righteousness. Hellfire, Trennan, part of his argument was the idea that the Emperor was trampling Overlord tradition!"

"The war cannot be stopped now."

"But the Overlords no longer need to support it on false pretenses."

"We don't know that yet."

Freya stepped forward. "Then we must find out. Call for another Conclave, this one to consider the matter of deposing Roquan. Then everything will come out. And if it is true that this war is built upon a foundation of lies, perhaps we can cut our losses and seek a rapprochement with the Emperor."

The lines on Trennan's face hardened. "And if the Nobility foolishly continue the war and lose? What then? You know the Emperor's attitude towards the slave trade, Freya! Either he will punish the Nobility by banning it, or he will destroy the Nobility and hence our customer base!"

"Not if we find other markets."

Trennan narrowed his eyes. "Other markets? The Urisi, you mean?"

"And why not? Roquan negotiating a treaty for that very purpose."

Trennan scowled. "And you do not consider the Urisi methods to be ... no, of course not. Forgive me, I forgot to whom I was speaking." He turned away, unable to disguise his contempt.

Freya smiled to Trennan's back. "And if I found another market? One far more lucrative and profitable?"

Trennan turned. "With whom?"

Freya paused. "Let me keep that information to myself for the moment."

"More petty political games."

"It is simply that I cannot commit to it yet. I am not asking for a favor in return. If we seek markets outside Oceanus, the Emperor will have less cause to restrict the slave trade. Especially when platinum pours into his coffers from new taxes and duties. And if the Nobility win the war ..." Freya smiled. "Then we have doubled our fortunes."

Trennan was silent for a long moment. "We cannot do anything while this treaty with the Urisi is unfinished. As much as it pains me, Roquan must be allowed to continue."

Freya nodded. "Oh, I agree, Trennan. It will give us the platinum we need to remain afloat. Then we can address this matter."

Trennan raised a finger in admonishment. "Do not get the wrong idea. We are not allies. When I pursue this with the other Overlords, your role will be restricted to providing your evidence and nothing more. You will not use this as a means to expand your influence. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely, Trennan," said Freya. "That was the furthest thing from my mind."

The wind whipped strands of hair before Lord Duric's watchful eyes. He did not bother to brush them away. His cloak whipped against the railing at the edge of the high terrace. The chilly, dank air tasted of brine. High, thin clouds enfeebled the late afternoon sun.

Despite the icy sting and sea tang of the air, he drew in a great breath, letting his chest swell with the pride he felt for the lines of men in the field below.

"And what thoughts cross your mind now, Lord Duric?"

Duric let out his breath and smiled. "The men are excited. I can sense it from here."

From his chair on the wide veranda of his summer home, Lord Tarras lifted his goblet to his lips and took a sip of his wine. "You read the will of men very well."

"But it stands to reason. They sense they're getting another chance. They were terribly disappointed when I ordered the retreat from the gates of the Imperial Palace last season."

"It was a wise decision."

Duric uttered a single bark of laughter and turned to face him. "And it was not mine."

Tarras shook his head and crossed one ankle over the other. "It was yours. The words of the young slave Amanda simply made the path clear. But you still had to choose that path."

Duric grinned and pushed himself away from the railing. "I like you, Tarras. You always make things seem so simple."

Tarras indulged himself in a long drink of his wine before setting the goblet aside. He folded his hands in his lap. "Everything is simple in retrospect, Lord Duric. Not so at the time. You had very weighty matters to consider."

Duric nodded once, his eyes growing cloudy. Tarras' own gaze misted as well as they engaged in a moment of shared grief.

"You know how to listen to others, Duric, no matter what their station," said Tarras. "You know good advice when you hear it. You know how to make important decisions. You know how to sense the hearts of men."

"Stop it."

Tarras regarded the younger Lord with equanimity.

"I know what you are trying to do."

Tarras smiled. "Good. I do hate being subtle."

Duric almost laughed. "But you continue to make a false comparison. Leading men of a province, or even an army, is one thing. To lead a nation ..."

" ... requires the exact same skills."

Duric shook his head. "Look at where we are, Tarras! I would never have thought to use your summer villa as a military base. I would have thought the idea insane until you explained about keeping the Emperor guessing about our next move."

"Ah, so you prove my point for me. You know how to take good advice and run with it."

Duric shook his head again. "You're mad, you really are."

Tarras stood and straightened his tunic. "Do you really want to know what eminently qualifies you to be Emperor, Duric?"

Duric did not reply. He folded his arms across his chest and turned towards the railing again.

"It is because you do not want the job. I am of the considered opinion that those who want it should likely not be given it."

"And you can honestly say that to me? Your own son wanted to be Emperor!" When he received no reply, he turned and saw the pained look in Tarras' eyes. "I am terribly sorry for that comment. Sometimes I forget ..."

Tarras held up a hand and shook his head. He had already resigned himself to it. Nearly every Lord had already forgotten that it had been Tarras' own son that had been executed after the failed coup against the Emperor. "Yes, the desire for power was there," said Tarras in a steady if flat voice. "I will not deny that, no matter how noble he claimed were his reasons. I feel he would have made a competent Emperor, but nothing more."

"As opposed to ...?"

"As opposed to a good Emperor, an innovative Emperor. As I believe you would be."

Duric sighed. "I wish I had your confidence."

Tarras smiled and clasped Duric's shoulder. "It is enough that others will have confidence in you. And yes, even Lord Uras, before you protest. Despite his bluster, he wants what is best for the Nobility, and he would come around very quickly and see the merits of a Z'garon on the throne."

Duric shuddered at the Imperial honorific, as if it were a curse.

"Duric, all the other Lords would give lip service to the idea of truly reuniting Oceanus. You would realize it. You would bring together the Noble Lords and the Overlords and the Imperium. You ..."

Duric gripped Tarras' hand and removed it from his shoulder. "Do not push me in this any longer, Tarras. No more. If I should ever decide to take the throne for myself, it will not be because you or anyone else pushed me into it. Do I make myself very clear?"

Tarras nodded once. "Indeed you do, Lord Duric. No further word will pass my lips on this matter."

Duric paused for a moment, then nodded once. "I need to meet with my staff. Good day to you."

"Good day to you as well," said Tarras as Duric stalked away.

Tarras looked out towards the field. His lips curled into a satisfied smile.

The western sky glowed in crimson embers. Long, thin clouds stretched like a single bloody slash across the heavens.

Rithas emerged from his tent. His adjuncts gathered around the fire offered a bow of their heads. Rithas returned it and stepped to the perimeter, looking off towards the sunset. For the moment he seemed oblivious to anything else.

Behind him, Commander Rol glanced at his comrades. They nodded to him in encouragement. Rol took one last drink from his goblet and set it aside before walking up to his superior. "Lord General?"

"What is it, Commander?" Rithas said in a tired voice.

"The men under your command grow restless."

There was a long moment before Rithas responded. "Do they?"

"Yes. They train endlessly, yet do not move into battle. If it continues, they will lose their edge from sheer boredom."

Rithas sighed and turned around. "What is it you propose I do?"

"Is there any way we can begin some preparations for the incursion? Surely we can at least secure the forward area. That would not involve a very deep penetration to the northern territories."

Rithas looked at Rol in sympathy. The Commander had had a taste of success and wanted more. The statement about the men was likely correct, but Rithas knew it was enlightened self-interest that lay behind Rol's statements. "The Emperor's orders were very clear, Commander."

"I know. But ..." Rol let his words hang.

"But what, Commander?"

Rol frowned slightly and spoke in very low tones. "But you have already shown your willingness to tell lies to the Emperor. What is one more?"

Rithas gave him a sardonic smile. "Lying is one thing. Disobeying is quite another."

Rol looked crestfallen, but nodded. "Yes, Lord General, I suppose that is true."

"I do not like this any more than you do. I am ready to move forward. The longer we wait, the more time the north has a chance to see what we are doing, and for the south to move more forces to our border. Which reminds me, has anyone reported on the whereabouts of that contingent that escaped northward?"

"Only that they retreated through Talrad Pass. The lands beyond are outside of the planned invasion route."

Rithas nodded. "Which places them out of play for now. Good. They will likely be held in reserve to hold us at the mountains further north."

"Yes, it is indeed a good thing. Some of the troops in that contingent put up a good fight in the valley during our advance. They could give us trouble if they had good defensive terrain again."

"We will not give them that advantage, rest assured. Our invasion route is open land, which favors a broad advance."

"Now we just have to get the Emperor to give the word."

"He will in due time," Rithas said, although in reality he had no idea. The Emperor was not the only one to whom he was good at lying.

Mandas could truly state now that he hated his job.

He realized it that particular moment when, while standing before the Oceanus throne, he witnessed the man that played at Emperor approach with a distinct swagger and a look of smug satisfaction. Some truly appropriate and scathing epithets came to his mind, and he longed to give them voice, even as cloistered as they would be in diplomatic language.

The only thing that stopped him was the sad realization that it would go over Z'haas' head.

"I will mince no words with you, Mandas," said the hawk-nosed pretender, his hands clasped behind his back. "It is about time that the Urisi came to their senses."

Mandas offered a smile, but only to hide the way his teeth ground together until his jaw was sore. "I only do the bidding of His Majesty, Your Highness," he replied, voice polite but tense. He did not want to claim even a modicum of credit. It went against everything he knew as a diplomat.

The Emperor nodded. "In that case, you can inform His Majesty that Oceanus appreciates his recent display of wisdom in this matter. It is good to see a leader that is willing to adjust his thinking when a superior idea or solution is presented."

It took all of Mandas' control not to lash out at this remark. As it was, his face betrayed a brief burst of incredulity that was impossible to hide.

The Emperor narrowed his gaze. "Yes, Mandas?"

Mandas shook his head. "Apologies, Your Highness. My mind had wandered for a moment."

"Best you keep it here in the present. It is important that you assure me of Urisi intentions, and without the usual diplomatic double-talk."

Mandas already felt the bitter taste in his mouth before he spoke. "We agree to trade goods that may be used for war," he said in a halting tone. "We agree to make the attempt to have our merchant clans exclusively handle the goods between our respective nations."

Z'haas raised an eyebrow. "Make the attempt?"

Mandas had inserted that himself. He could not see himself promising something that he was not even sure could be delivered, no matter what the High Minister had insisted. "We do not exercise rigid control over the merchant clans. They are like your own, Your Highness. They operate under their own auspices."

The Emperor's face drew to a hard frown. Mandas stared impassively back. Both men knew that Z'haas could offer no protest. He could not insist that the Urisi exercise better control over their merchants, as he could not do so with those in Oceanus. No nation anywhere on Narlass could claim to control the merchants.

Z'haas turned away and stepped onto the dais containing his throne. "It is critically important that your merchants help seal this deal, Mandas. Trade works both ways. If you cannot get your goods to us, we cannot get ours to you."

Mandas wanted to laugh. It was an empty threat. The accepted goods hardly matched in value what the Urisi were offering. Add to that the exorbitant payment that the Urisi merchant clans would likely mandate for abiding by this insane scheme, and it was clear that the Urisi would be losing in this deal. This was a purely political move and nothing more.

Suddenly he envied Norlan. Compared to this, that man had a much more straightforward task.

"If there is nothing more, Your Highness, I will retire to my room for the evening."

Mandas did not wait to be dismissed. He headed immediately for the doors, anxious to rid himself of the Emperor's company.

"Just a moment, Mandas."

Mandas barely suppressed a sigh. He stopped and turned. His eyes rose to the throne, upon which the Emperor had seated himself.

"Is it not considered respectful to bow to the Sovereign before concluding an audience?"

A look of pure disgust very nearly made it to his whole face. He held it to his eyes. He was far enough from the throne in the dim chamber for it to escape Z'haas' notice. Mandas bowed stiffly.

Z'haas nodded once. "Do not forget again, Ambassador, or I fear I will need to report you to your superiors."

Mandas smiled at the thought of the High Minister's reaction to such a complaint. "Of course, Your Highness. It will not happen again."

"You may go."

"Thank you, Your Highness, you are most ... kind."

Mandas left the chamber. He truly hoped he could arrange to have the lovely Naima share his bath or his bed while he was there. It would make his stay tolerable.

Q'yros did not feign patience well. He alternately tapped the point of his staff against the floor, or pointed it at the flames in his fireplace and made them swirl and dance at his command. When he once again heard that infernal scratch-scratch-scratch of quill upon parchment, he made them roar into nearly blinding brilliance, sending a wave of heat rolling over him and the Journeyman.

Watching Uroddus plod away at his figures was maddening. Nothing disturbed his concentration whatsoever. Q'yros even waved his staff and made a brief gale burst around the young man. It did little but ruffle the man's hair and curl his parchment for a moment. When Uroddus did look up from his figures, it was only to wave his hand and conjure up tiny balls of light that he manipulated in the air like an abacus.

Q'yros sighed, wishing some of his students had even half as much concentration in his class.

Finally, the quill stopped.

Q'yros turned towards Uroddus and leaned forward in his chair. The Journeyman slowly set down his quill, still staring at the figures on the parchment perched upon his platter.

"Most intriguing," was all the young man had to say.

"And just what does that mean?"

Uroddus' head snapped up, as if he had forgotten Q'yros was still in the room. "My apologies, Master Q'yros, for taking so long. I had to be sure."

"Fine, fine. Have you figured it out yet? I could not make any sense out of those readings I took for you."

Uroddus slipped off his spectacles. "I would not expect you to."

Q'yros raised an eyebrow.

"No insult intended, Master Q'yros. It is simply not your area of study. Anyway, after placing the readings into my calculations, it appears that I was correct. There is the clear signature of abstract human thought in the residual energies from that Portal. The only way it could be present is if it had been in the Portal matrix to begin with. It guided the focusing energies from the point of transmission."

"Meaning someone has figured out how to project Portals without the need of a focus at the location," Q'yros said in a flat voice. "How wonderful."

"The implications are extraordinary. It would make an excellent case for taking up the pursuit of Mind Magic again."

"I am not interesting in the academics!" Q'yros thundered as he bolted to his feet. "For once, get your head out of the clouds that all you Empiricists seem to be in!"

Uroddus hesitated, then put his glasses back on again. "With all due respect, Master Q'yros, I am being eminently practical. This information tells us what this foreign power has done. It does not tell us how. And if we expect to find ways to ward against these Portals, we need to know the how."

"You still believe we will not be able to ward against them?"

"Yes, I do. And there is something else you ought to know."

"Now what?"

Uroddus looked pensive. "You're not going to like it."

"I already like none of this! What is a little more to hate?"

"I have consulted with some of my colleagues. We believe that the reason Mind Magic was abandoned was because its success depends on the tenets of Empiricism, which, as you know, is traditionally rejected in Oceanus."

Q'yros frowned. "Now you are really reaching, Q'garra. I'll remind you that you are only a Journeyman, and many of your fellows are still Apprentices."

Uroddus appeared thoughtful again.

Q'yros surged forward. "I know that look! You have something else to say! Come out and say it, damn you!"

The Journeyman let out a slow breath. "Very well. I believe the reason I am 'only' a Journeyman, Master Q'yros, is because I have been held back. I can work magic as well, if not better than many of those that you teach."

Q'yros' eyebrows rose in surprise.

"It is true, I do not practice overt displays of magic, such as this ..."

He waved a hand lazily towards the fireplace. A tremendous roar startled Q'yros, a blast of furnace heat scorching the air from a blindingly bright fireplace. He lifted his staff to ward off the heat, but the flames retreated as quickly as they had surged.

"Or this ..."

Uroddus flicked a single finger. The flames curled into the shape of a nubile young woman, which performed a sensual dance among the logs before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

"Or this ..."

Q'yros gasped as a howling wind suddenly robbed him of breath, threatening to spin him in place. By the time he had thumped his staff to the ground with a bright flare of blue-white shielding, the wind died.

"But I am perfectly capable of them," concluded Uroddus, adjusting his glasses and regarding the elder Mage with a level gaze.

"Astounding," Q'yros murmured, his eyes wide in admiration.

Uroddus allowed himself a small smile. "Thank you, Master Q'yros."

"Q'garra, have you ever shown the other instructors your ability? Surely if they see this, they would ..."

"I have. They were not impressed. You probably know why."

Q'yros stared. His face twisted into a grimace. He clenched his teeth. "Q'ixanna. Damn you to the hells!"

"To be honest, Master Q'yros, I was not sure you would be impressed either, considering your attitude towards ..."

"To blazing hellfire with my attitude!" roared Q'yros. "I know good magic when I see it, regardless of the foolish beliefs of the one that wields it! If I had known you could do this, I would not have rode you so much about ..."

"But that's the point, Master Q'yros. That's why we all take pains not to practice such ostentatious displays of magic regularly. It marginalizes our true calling. I am not the only one of us who can wield such powerful magic. In fact, we believe it is because we can see the equations behind what we do that allows us to be so powerful."

Q'yros gripped his staff tightly. He was struggling to wrap his mind around the concept. "I am not so sure you can make that kind of assumption, Q'garra, but if your ilk can do what you have just done, it deserves serious study. The Guildmaster is a fool for ..."

Q'yros stopped. His knuckles turned white. His hand shook, and his heart pounded. His eyes were glazed.

Uroddus stepped forward. "Master Q'yros, are you all right?"

Q'yros slowly relaxed and waved a hand. "I am fine. It was nothing."

The Mage let out a long sigh. Perhaps Uroddus was already of a similar enough mindset as Q'yros that it would not trigger the oath. It was nothing more than a panic attack.

"The Guildmaster is a fool for ignoring it," said Q'yros in a more confident voice. "Unfortunately, there is little I can do to remediate the situation, as only he can grant Mastership."

Uroddus nodded in agreement, though it was clear that he was disappointed.

Q'yros looked at Uroddus. "But that does not mean I cannot treat you as a Master. And that is what I intend to do from here on. You have yet to convince me of all the merits of Empiricism, Q'garra, but I cannot deny the understanding it has brought so far. I will try to keep more of an open mind about it."

Uroddus' smile widened. He considered that to be a greater victory than recognition of his magical prowess.

"Now, let us figure out where to go from here."

"I take it we will not be informing the Guildmaster?"

Q'yros regarded him. "Do you object?"

Uroddus slowly shook his head. "Not at all, Master Q'yros."

"Good. Then we can actually get some work done."

Feedback

Did you like this story? Hate it? Printed it and lined the birdcage with it?

Please take a moment to send me some comments about this story. Your comments may remain anonymous if you prefer, or you can include an email address in your comments if you wish a reply.

Since this is a multi-part story, you may wait until the last chapter to send feedback about the story as a whole if you wish.