Commander Rol looked up from the map, incensed. He waved his hand over the large parchment, where the lands on the Imperial side of the line of battle were dotted with small red X's. "I want to know where in hellfire these saboteurs are coming from."

"They're not seriously hampering our efforts, Commander," said one of Rol's adjuncts. "We are still on course to break through the pass no later than the day after tomorrow."

"Only because I have been adjusting our battle plans almost candlemark-to-candlemark to counter it. I have had to reanchor the western flank of the assault three times now."

"It is playing some havoc with supply," said the second adjunct, giving a telling gaze to the first. "Damaged roads and burning fields are not conducive to moving goods."

"I am aware of this," said the first. "But I had assumed that it was under control."

"It is. Barely."

"If we achieve the breakthrough as I believe we will, it will be a moot point."

"Nevertheless, I am exhausted trying to match wits with an unseen assailant," Rol said. He gestured to the map. "There must be something that these maps are not showing us. Perhaps a second, smaller side pass, or some other hidden road over the mountains where they're coming from."

"I have already sent my assistant to gather more information for you," the first adjunct said. "He recalled seeing some historical documents among the ..."

There was a sudden shouted challenge by one of the soldiers outside the tent.

"Now what?" Rol said.

"It sounds like someone approaching the entrance of the base camp," said the second adjunct.

"Merchants sometimes approach wishing to trade," the first clarified. As he finished his statement, running feet were heard approaching the tent. "I believe my assistant is back."

A young man barely out of his teens rushed into the tent. He bowed his head respectfully to the Commander, then thrust the scrolls he held to the adjunct. "Jus' as ya ordered, mi'lord."

"Very good, thank you." He dismissed his assistant and brought the scrolls to the table. Outside, another guard shouted, this time more menacingly. Rol glanced up for a moment, but he was then distracted by the contents of the scroll after it was unrolled over the map. "That does look like Talrad Pass, though a rougher map," said the adjunct.

"Likely an old survey map," said Rol. "Nothing on this one leaps out at me. Let's try the next one." He let the first snap back into place and flattened the next before him. Rol frowned and pointed. "What are all those lines drawn through the pass? Hang on, they look like they're under the pass."

The adjunct examined the text in the corner of the parchment. "Mine shafts, it would appear."

"And those shafts are still around?"

"Yes, it's likely."

Rol sighed. "Oh, hellfire. I want a team of men to go out and find any entrances to these shafts on this side of the pass and seal them."

The adjunct looked up in surprise. "But Commander, that's close to the battle line, they'll be exposed."

"I'll take that chance. I want those shafts sealed! That is likely how these saboteurs are infiltrating into ..."

There was another shout outside, joined by several others. Metal slid against leather sheaths.

"What in blazing ...?" Rol muttered. He came out from around the table and barreled out of the tent. The adjuncts followed quickly behind.

Soldiers ran past on either side of the tent. A burly man stood between the two streams, shouting. "Secure the perimeter! Watch the ramparts!" He grabbed a soldier as he went by, stopping him. "You! Get some archers to the observation tower!"

The soldier nodded once and ran off.

"What's going on out here?" Commander Rol demanded,

The man turned. "Altercation at the entrance, Commander," he said respectfully. "Just some peasant rabble deciding to pick a fight with the guards. Likely no more than drunken sots, but I thought it wise not to take chances."

"Crossbower in the tree!" a soldier bellowed suddenly.

The burly man leapt at the Commander. He intended to knock Rol down, and use himself as a shield. He had barely executed it when something made a quavering sound right by his ear. By the time Rol was on the ground and the guard atop him, the shots from several archers had converged on the assailant. A robed and hooded man lurched and fell with a dull thud to the ground.

"Oh dear gods ..." one of the adjuncts croaked.

The guard rose. Beneath him lay Rol, an arrow pierced through his neck, his lifeblood a bright crimson pool on the ground.

The Cohort hung his head low, his hood covering his face. "It is with great sadness that I bring you this news, Wanderer. We have lost one of our own."

Jollis lifted his head. His jaw clenched. He let out a slow breath and clamped down hard on any overtly emotional response. This was not the time for it. "How did he die?"

The Cohort knew that Jollis was asking for something other than the physical method of death. "With great honor. He fulfilled his task, as distasteful as it was."

Jollis nodded once. "So the Commander of the Imperial legions is dead?"

"Yes. An adjunct will likely be named as his successor immediately. But it will cause some disarray among the Imperial forces for a day or two. Some time has been bought."

"With blood, apparently."

"Unfortunate, but true."

Jollis would now feel more pressure to devise a solution to his dilemma. Now that it was stained with the blood of his own kind, he was bound by ancient codes of honor to make that death count for something, or equal of his own blood must be spilled in compensation.

In actuality, such a ritual was rarely practiced. The blood-relations of the lost Cohort would invariably release Jollis from the duty regardless of the outcome, if they believed that he acted honorably. Yet if Jollis failed, it would be so monumental that he could not accept such forgiveness. "What other news do you have for me?"

"A report from your Cohorts that spy upon the D'yros Manor. It appears that the Overlord was assisted in her quest to change the Draught by her Healer, but it is believed she was an unwilling participant and may yet be a prisoner of the Overlord."

Jollis looked thoughtful. "Explain."

"She is kept in a near state of undress, as if she were barely a step above a slave. A continuous trickle of Farview magic is detected from her quarters. It is believed that Overlord Freya is monitoring her."

Jollis let out a very small sigh of exasperation. His duty would have been easier to bear had the Healer been a willing participant. It still did not completely excuse her conduct, but he would have trouble carrying out his mission to still her memories.

He was not sure why he was having such difficulty. He felt no such hesitation when he had applied the potion to Vanlo to still his Portal sense. He did feel regret that it was necessary, but once he had chosen his course, he followed it without hesitation. "And what of her use of the Draught?"

"It continues to be used on Narlassi peasantry."

Jollis let himself feel anger. It helped lessen some of his reluctance. "I will need a means to infiltrate the Manor undetected."

"They will assist. It is relatively easy, as Manors tend not to have fences or other physical borders. The guards man only the obvious approaches by foot or wheel. But, Master, is there time for you to reach the Manor before the breakthrough at Talrad Pass?"

"I will risk a Portal. The Emperor cannot be provoked any more than he already is."

The Cohort nodded. "Agreed. When will you attempt it?"

"Tonight. I with to get this over with as quickly as possible."

"I will inform them at once."

Jollis nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"Nothing, Wanderer."

"You may go."

The Cohort bowed and left.

Jollis puzzled over how to accomplish his new task. It was yet another distraction. All his meditation had failed to produce a state of mind where enlightenment would come. He still saw himself doing nothing but returning to Inonnus in failure before the marching soldiers of the Imperial legions.

If he chose to return at all.

The door flew open and crashed against the wall with a rending echo down the long corridor. Lord General Rithas burst into the hall, his face red. "Blazing hellfire, Foron! I thought the purpose of a guard was to actually guard!"

His lead adjunct Foron Ve'jonna hurried alongside him, caught between needing to keep in step and wanting distance from the Lord General's fury. "A successor has already been named, my Lord. He has already taken command and the battle continues."

"A whole lot of good that will do me later!" His boots beat heavily against the stones. "Gods damn it. Of all the times to be recalled back to the Imperial Palace!"

"Everything is well under control at Talrad Pass."

"That is not what I meant," Rithas growled through clenched teeth.

Foron glanced around and tried to lean towards Rithas, difficult to do without bumping heads at the pace they were going. "That is still well within the works, my Lord. They are ready whenever you give the order."

"I know. But once the breakthrough was achieved at the pass, I wished him transfered to my command. Now I have no one as experienced as he was. This is going from one disaster to another. I cannot have those legions ..."

"My Lord, please!" the adjunct hissed, alarmed. "Not in the Palace!"

Rithas stopped dead in the hall. Foron walked past him a few steps before stopping as well. The Lord General sighed and wiped his face with his hand. "The Emperor is waiting in the situation room, isn't he?"

"Yes, my Lord. He is there with his Mage Q'holan."

Rithas frowned. "His Mage? Why?"

"I imagine Q'holan will be giving the Emperor more dire news concerning the Portals."

"Have there been more of them detected?"

"Yes, quite a few compared to the relative quiet we were seeing until now, and I suspect the Emperor will be demanding to know what you will do about them."

The Lord General snorted. "I'm doing exactly what he wanted me to do."

"Yes, but that is never enough for him."

"Oh, I intend to give him more."

Foron sighed. "But that is not exactly sanctioned, is it?" he asked in a near whisper.

"It will get the job done. That is all that will matter to the Emperor in the end."

Rithas continued along his way, though not as fast nor as angry. He took a few last calming breaths as he reached the door. The guards heaved it open to allow him to pass.

Emperor Z'haas glared from the great table in the center of the room. "About time you showed up."

"Apologies, my Emperor, but the war keeps me busy," said Rithas in a tired voice. "I hope to return to my command soon so I may better conduct it there."

The Lord General advanced towards the table, but Z'haas stepped directly in his path and stopped him.

"You will return when I am convinced you are doing everything possible to achieve victory, and not a moment before. The situation grows more grave by the moment, and I do not see any conclusive action being taken."

Rithas lifted his eyes and shot a withering look towards Mage Q'holan, who was standing off to the side. The Mage fidgeted a moment and was still. The Lord General looked back towards the Emperor. "I will admit to a few minor setbacks," said Rithas, feeling a twinge of guilt over classifying Rol's death as such. "But we are gaining ground and expect to break through in three days."

"Why must I wait that long? The enemy may be consolidating his power at the D'yoran Manor as we speak. My Mage informs me that Portals are opening up every day. Do you realize how many chances that is for the enemy to further his infiltration into Oceanus?"

"Nevertheless, my Emperor," said Rithas with forced calm. "Men and materials can be moved only so fast. We have advantage in numbers, but the enemy has advantage in terrain at the moment. We will win, but it will take three days."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. Finally he whirled on his heel and marched to the table. He gestured wildly at the map. "Why do you leave this other legion sitting ready for battle but idle? Why did he not join in the attack?"

Foron shot his Lord General a concerned look. Rithas caught it and raised a hand to settle him. "I had thought to use three, as that was what you had allotted me. But Talrad Pass is narrow. It is a tight squeeze for even two legions to operate effectively. A third would be a logistics nightmare."

Foron held his breath. Rithas was outright lying. To take a pass, the legions would not fight side by side regardless of how many there were. They would be forced to approach in a line, but with components arranged to take advantage of their position. But he was counting on Z'haas having too small a grasp on military matters to know the difference.

Indeed, the Emperor turned back to the map, his eyes flicking from the pass to the map scale legend, as if trying to do some sort of calculation in his head as to the correctness of the Lord General's assertion but coming up short.

Rithas walked up to the map, moving as confidently as he could. "Once I discovered I could not use the legion there, I left it in reserve to cover the the northern border, in case the enemy attempted a counterattack there to outflank us."

The Emperor stared at the map hard for a few long moments before finally nodding slowly. The adjunct looked visibly relieved. "Will the two be sufficient once you are past Talrad Pass?" the Emperor asked, his eyes never leaving the map.

"Certainly, my Emperor," said the Lord General. "There is no defensible terrain whatsoever between the pass and the Manor."

The Emperor again nodded. His gaze narrowed once more. His eyes shifted southward and focused on a fourth legion, the one sitting right behind the one he had just questioned.

Rithas saw where the Emperor's attention now lay and remained silent. He went over in his head the precautions he had taken to insure that the Emperor would not discover that he had mobilized that additional legion for war.

Finally, Z'haas turned from the map. "Very well, Lord General. I will trust your judgment."

Rithas heard the reluctance in the Emperor's voice. He bowed his head. "Thank you, my Emperor. I hope to continue to show myself worthy of that trust."

The Emperor seemed to scrutinize Rithas for a moment, then looked to his Mage. Q'holan stepped forward, and the two of them left the room.

Foron looked towards the door, and waited for it to close before he spoke. "My Lord, now that the Emperor is gone, I wish to express grave concerns about this plan. Latest intelligence reports that Duric's forces have advanced as far as Selemas. It will not be long before they are within striking distance of the Imperial territories. If they advance when you have both legions engaged in ..."

"Our remaining legions will be sufficient," said Rithas flatly.

"Begging my Lord's pardon, but I'm not sure that assessment is correct. Duric's army is more than twice the size it was when it last attempted an attack on the Palace."

"And we still outnumber them."

"But our supplies are limited. It will take time for the new treaty with the Uris to show any returns. If we run out of arrows, or parts for the catapults, or the like, we will be reduced to foot-soldiers only. That will greatly reduce our strength."

"I think you put too much expectation in the performance of Duric's troops. They have not seen serious warfare. And the Emperor assures me that we will have new supplies soon."

Foron sighed. "I hope you're right, Lord General."

Rithas smiled and clasped him on the shoulder. "Do not worry so much. Now, I need to return to my men. We should plan on departing shortly."

"Yes, my Lord, at once."

Rithas watched Foron go. He turned back to the map, placing his hands on the edge of the table.

He was becoming an accomplished liar, not only to the Emperor but to his own colleagues and subordinates. The truth was that the supply situation was dire. The assault on Talrad Pass has used more than originally planned, and he had already secretly hoarded some supplies for that fourth legion. The war would be won by whoever had the best supply line. For that reason, Rithas' special legion had to be self-sufficient for as long as it took to win.

Or rather, for as long as it took to wrest the empire away from an incompetent madman.

A slender hand reached from the side of the corridor and snatched Uroddus' arm. He was pulled from the crowd of Apprentices and Journeymen and into a small, empty lecture chamber.

Uroddus clutched at his spectacles when they threatened to fall from his face, and it took him a moment to focus on his assailant. "Katla, what is it? I have to get to Master Q'yros now that I have finished my last morning ..."

"Quiet," Katla hissed. She glanced towards the hall and waited until the crowd had thinned before turning back to Uroddus. "You set us on the task of finding out why Q'yros will not move against the Guildmaster"

"Ah, yes. Have they come up with anything?"

"Yes. In terms of pure statistical results, two scenarios are at the top with probabilities within the margin of error of one another, so thus equally likely from a purely analytical standpoint. First, he does not trust that he will receive the needed support from the rest of the Guild Hall and thus would be forced to do it alone. This can only mean a Mage Duel between he and Q'ixanna, and he is too wary of his chances of success to attempt it."

Uroddus nodded slowly. "Yes, I can see that. And the second?"

"Second, he is under an Oath that prevents him from moving against the Guildmaster, likely under the penalty of death."

Uroddus' eyebrows rose in surprise. "Does anyone seriously perform that sort of magic anymore?"

Katla looked disgusted. "Yes, I know what you mean. Oaths are so crude. They assume the world is black and white, when ..."

"That is not what I mean. It is powerful Traditionalist magic, and ... hmm ..."

Katla nodded. "Now you come to the same conclusion we did, that Q'yros would be one of the few Mages powerful enough to forge such a thing and make it binding. Q'ixanna has that ability as well, but he is strictly forbidden from doing such by the Guild Charter. It would have to be Q'yros that instigated it."

Uroddus frowned. "For what purpose?"

"To secure the Guildmaster's cooperation in researching the foreign Portals. Perhaps he would not have released the artifacts for study otherwise. We know that Q'ixanna is very paranoid of moves against him. And we know that Q'yros had left the Guild Hall in the past to avoid further friction with the Guildmaster."

"Now, I did not know that."

"So the Guildmaster would feel threatened by Q'yros' presence back at the Guild Hall. He would cooperate only if the threat of Q'yros usurping his influence was negated."

"I see," said Uroddus He slipped off his spectacles and tapped them against his hand. "And to move against the Guildmaster would be to break the Oath and possibly forfeit his life."

Katla made a face. "Nothing short of that would satisfy Q'ixanna."

"Thus I would contend that this seems the more obvious choice."

"No, the two are equal statistically speaking. It has equal chance of that or his fear of a Mage Duel."

"You do not have all the data points, Katla," said Uroddus gently. "You do not know Q'yros as I do. He would not hesitate to enter a Mage Duel for a cause he believes in."

Katla looked dubious. "That is hardly quantifiable."

"Then I will provide you something that resulted from direct observation: his behavior in the meeting with the Guildmaster, when the request to contact the Overlords was denied."

Katla listened as Uroddus explained what had transpired. "Yes, I see now. That would raise the probability significantly above the margin of error. But be that as it may, Uroddus, that does not leave us with much."

"On the contrary, the second choice leaves open the possibility for action by us. We can be the ones to foment trouble against Guildmaster Q'ixanna."

Katla stared. "You cannot be serious."

"What other recourse do we have? It is not as if our peers do not harbor resentments against the Guildmaster Our fellow Empiricists would be happy to help."

"You would never get the Traditionalists to join us. And if we do it alone, it will look like we are attempting to take over."

Uroddus considered. "There is that."

"Give up this idea, please," Katla implored, touching his arm lightly. "You can only get hurt if you pursue it."

Uroddus paused and smiled very slightly at her. "That is hardly a quantifiable argument."

"Maybe some things aren't so quantifiable after all."

Uroddus hesitated, then lay his hand atop hers. She smiled as well.

"I am sorry, but I must go now," said Katla He reluctantly let go of her hand and felt it drop away. "We will talk later."

"One more moment, please. I need to call upon the others once more." Uroddus reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue pearl. "I need this delivered into the hands of Overlord Roquan D'ronstaq."

Katla raised an eyebrow as she took the pearl. "A Farviewing pearl?"

"Yes."

"Uroddus, the Guildmaster controls all access to couriers ..."

"Have them find a way around it."

"Hellfire, Uroddus, what did I just say about giving this up?"

"This is not an attempt to take over from the Guildmaster We are simply bypassing him."

Katla frowned. "I still don't like it."

"I know. I am sorry, but the more I dwell Master Q'yros' theory concerning the slaves, the more I believe it bears investigating. Please, have them do this for me."

Katla sighed. "Very well." She slipped the pearl into a pocket. "But please be careful what you do. The Guildmaster's wrath can be terrible."

"I will do my best, as I always do."

Katla offered a small smile and left.

Uroddus hoped he was doing the right thing. He had made a rather large intuitive leap without the backing of a great deal of hard evidence, something generally inimical to an Empiricist.

He was working on the assumption that Q'yros had described his so-called alternate proposal over the Guildmaster's objections for his benefit. Q'yros could not come out and tell Uroddus to do this for him, for fear of violating the Oath, so he did it in this roundabout way. The only concern was whether Uroddus would unintentionally trigger the Oath. Was it subtle enough to disassociate his duplicity from Q'yros?

Uroddus felt uncomfortably like he was taking chances with the elder Mage's life.

Lord Tarras spent his evenings alone anymore. He sent away even his slaves, letting his trusted advisers make use of them instead. Too appreciative of his generosity, they never questioned their Lord's desire for seclusion after sunset.

The lamps in his den were turned down low. A fire crackled on the hearth. It would slowly burn down as the evening wore on. He would add no logs to it, and retire for the night when it was but glowing embers. His chair was turned halfway towards the fireplace, and halfway towards a curious arrangement.

A small, ornate wooden box sat upon an ornamental pedestal. A very faint aura of magic glowed around the box if one did not look at it directly. Here, he would sit every evening and sip the wine as he gazed at the box and imagine what might have been.

This particular evening, his solace was interrupted.

"I am sorry, my Lord, but he is not to be disturbed."

Tarras frowned and turned his head towards the door at the muffled protest.

"And I tell you I do not care for your orders! I am countermanding them!"

Tarras let out a small sigh. He took a deep drink of his wine. Lord Uras, you sometimes have the breeding of a disowned merchant, he thought sourly.

"My Lord, I am sorry, but you do not have authority here. Lord Tarras is ..."

"I do not need you to tell me the hierarchy around here! Now step out of the way, or I will see that your next position is cleaning out the stables for the couriers!"

Tarras set aside his goblet and strode to the door.

"My Lord, I implore you! Lord Tarras has strict orders that he is not to be disturbed after ..."

The door opened. Both Lord Uras and Tarras' adviser turned their heads in surprise.

"As it turns out, Lord Tarras is already disturbed now," said Tarras in irritation.

"Lord Tarras, I apologize profusely," said the adviser. "I should not have let Lord Uras ..."

"It is not your place to 'let me' do anything!" Lord Uras bellowed. "I have the right as ..."

"Lord Uras, let us assume that your point is taken and move on," said Tarras. "You obviously wanted to see me about something, so come in."

Uras pushed passed the indignant adviser. Tarras gave the man a sympathetic look before closing the door. "Might I offer you a drink?" Tarras asked as he stepped away from the door.

"What I really want to see is Lord Duric."

Tarras picked up his goblet and peered into it. "Lord Duric is away. He is returning to his army, which is where he should be in the first place."

"Oh, that figures, now, doesn't it?"

Tarras headed over to a cabinet and withdrew a wine gourd. "Figures, Lord Uras?"

"First he has me go off on this scheme of his, and then when I wish to complain to him about it, he is nowhere to be found. How convenient."

Tarras topped off his goblet. "Would this scheme you speak of be the request from Overlord Roquan?"

"What else would it be?"

"I do hope you will attend to it, despite your misgivings."

"I already have, gods damn it. Now the Appalanchian Lords think I am insane."

Tarras considered. "Is that truly any worse than any other things they may be thinking about you?"

"That is not the point. I ..." Uras paused and narrowed his eyes. "Now just what does that mean?"

"It means, Lord Uras, that your sense of humor needs serious work." Tarras fell heavily into his chair. "I will pass this along to Duric next time I speak to him. He will be pleased."

"Well, I'm not! Tell me again why we are doing these favors for the Overlords that so recently reneged on ..."

"We do not do this for the Overlords, we do it for Roquan, a friend of Duric. Think of it in those terms and perhaps it will be more palatable to you."

Uras paused, frowning. He threw up his hands dramatically. "I think I will have that drink," he muttered.

Tarras raised his free arm and pointed. "Help yourself."

Uras shook his head as he fetched a goblet and slammed it down on the small counter under the cabinet. "I do not even know why I bothered to do this for him. He told me about it as if he simply expected I would do it without objections, as if it were a given!"

A smile tugged at Tarras' lips. "Really?"

Wine splashed into the goblet. "Oh, yes. Insufferable little whelp! He throws his weight around now as if he were ... "

"Emperor?" Tarras suggested.

Uras frowned and shot a glare at his companion. "If that was another joke, I am not laughing."

"I did not intend it as such. It would seem to me, Lord Uras, that is it a hopeful sign."

"And just how do you figure on this leap of logic?"

"Duric spent much of his time denying that he should have the role. Now it appears that he is beginning to accept it. Giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed is part of the job."

Uras glowered. "He is not Emperor yet." He took a long drink of his wine and stepped over to Tarras' chair. "He should watch who is giving orders to!"

One corner of Tarras' mouth twitched upwards. "Perhaps it is you that should pay attention from whom you are taking orders."

Uras sighed and took another long drink. His eyes fell upon the pedestal and box as his lowered his goblet. "All I can say is that Duric best live up to the high expectations we are placing upon him. We can afford nothing less. I cannot go through something like this again, it will be the death of me."

"The crisis will end, one way or the other. With or without us. The latter is more likely."

Uras stepped forward curiously, looking over the box as he spoke. "Out with the old and in with the new, is it?" he declared loudly. He traced the ornate gold patterns along the sides of the box with his fingers, approaching the latch in the front. "Lord Duric needs to tread lightly. There will be many old men too attached to the way things were to accept being put out to pasture."

"That is simply too bad. The chance for unity among the Imperium, the Nobility, and the Overlords may never come along again. It must be seized now, even if that means leaving some behind. And I would appreciate it if you did not open that, Lord Uras. It will deactivate the preservative spell."

Uras frowned. "Preservative? Just what is this?"

Tarras took a sip of wine and contemplated. "A memory. A shrine. I am not sure what to call it, really."

"That tells me nothing."

"It is a box containing the last effects of Janna J'garon."

Uras' eyebrows rose. He snatched his hand away.

"The spell preserves them as they were soon after she ... died." Tarras swallowed. It was still difficult for him to say the word. "They will be forever pristine. Or at least for as long as I insist on keeping them around."

Uras stepped back from the pedestal. "My apologies, I had no idea," he began in a more contrite voice.

Tarras held up a hand. He paused as he regained his composure, his eyes glistening. He took one last deep breath and lowered his hand. "Forget it. Please."

Uras nodded quickly. "I am sorry I disturbed you this evening."

Tarras shook his head. "No, it is I that should be sorry. Sorry for letting myself wallow in remorse and self-pity. But at the moment it is all I have until this crisis is over. Then it will seem that her sacrifice meant something, and perhaps I can move on. Until then, her death was senseless, and I cannot come to grips with something that is senseless."

Uras let out a windy sigh and stepped over to Tarras, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, Lord Tarras, tell me that is not the true reason you wish Duric on the throne. I am sorry to ask this, but ..."

Tarras frowned for a moment, but recovered quickly. "It is a valid question. I cannot help but think that it will be some small measure of compensation for Duric as well. He gets to usurp his cousin's murderer. But no, Lord Uras, that is not my primary reason. I truly believe Lord Duric can usher in a new era for Oceanus. And that is what matters above all else."

Uras paused, as if taking time to parse everything he had heard. Finally he clasped Tarras' shoulder briefly and stepped away, draining the rest of his goblet in one go. "It is time for me to retire for the evening," he said in a subdued voice. "I will see you in the morning, Lord Tarras. Good day to you."

"Good day, Lord Uras," said Tarras, not moving from his chair.

Uras let himself out, closing the door behind him.

Freya let out a sultry sigh as she lay back on the furs, her breasts rolling. "Mmm, you do learn quickly, my dear," she breathed softly, spreading her thighs wider. Her hand reached down. "But I need just a bit more there ..."

Evella shivered as the Overlord's hand pressed into the back of her head and pushed her mouth more firmly against Freya's sex. A strained, uneven moan escaped through her nose. Her body trembled against the hands of the two Narlassi-bred slaves that tended to her. Fingers teased both her breasts and sex, sending her into a growing frenzy of forced lust.

And only teased. Evella was not to be rewarded with orgasm until she pleased her Overlord.

Evella's mind was in turmoil. Part of her was enjoying the sexual attention, but it was forced from her by the herbs. Most of her still rebelled against being used as a slave.

Freya began to pant. Evella took the cue and plunged her tongue deeper into her Overlord's folds. A momentary wave of revulsion rippled through her, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the raw lust induced by Freya's slaves.

The Overlord's moans became gasps and then cries as she peaked. Her body shuddered once as she came. Evella remembered what the other slave had taught her and kept Freya's orgasm going as long as possible. Finally, Freya pushed her head away.

"Enough," Freya gasped, then took a few moments to catch her breath.

Evella moaned in desperation, writhing and squirming as the two slaves continued to squeeze her breasts and lightly stroke her slit.

Freya slowly sat up. She drew her feet up and tucked them under her. A smile curled her lips as she watched Evella's desperation for a few more moments before saying, "Make her cum."

The hand between Evella's legs sank deeper and stroked harder and faster. Evella clenched her hands into fists and looked almost ready to bolt despite her need. She closed her eyes tightly as if she were trying to block out the sensations radiating through her from her pussy. Evella whimpered, each time a bit more shrill than the last. Finally she let out a cry as she crested. She panted as her orgasm peaked, then slowly faded.

"That's all," Freya ordered. The two slaves withdrew their hands, stood up, and stepped back. Evella trembled, still panting lightly. "Stand up, Evella."

The Healer swallowed, then shakily rose to her feet. She looked at Freya with embarrassed, pleading eyes.

"You know, I rather liked that. Perhaps we will make this a regular evening ritual from now on."

Evella looked stricken, but said nothing.

"And do you consider that so bad that you'd rather I give you the Draught?"

The Healer's eyes shimmered in panic. "N-No, Mistress, please."

"Then I think you should be a little more gracious about it. But I suppose you will learn that in time. You may go."

"Thank you, Mistress," said in a hollow voice.

Evella turned away. She could not bring herself to look at the two slaves, ones that she helped create. She picked up her robe and slipped it on before heading out the door.

She made her way to the bridge before she had to stop and lean against one of the railings, shaking hard enough to rattle the posts. She let out a defeated sigh as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking up at the night sky and shivering at the sharp chill to the air.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away and forced herself to take a deep breath. She shook her head. She refused to cry. It would do her no good. It would not make Freya let her go, or get the taste of Freya's sex out of her mouth, or stop her from feeling aroused too easily.

She finally pushed herself away from the railing and staggered over the bridge. Her resolve was cracking. She sniffled and occasionally wiped at her eyes as she walked unsteadily down the path back to her quarters.

The path took a twist. The Overlord's quarters slipped out of view behind a copse of trees. Foliage rustled lightly in the breeze on either side of the narrow path.

Something leapt at her from the darkness of the gardens.

Evella barely had time to open her mouth and stare in surprise. There was not even time to gasp or show fear before strong arms wrapped around her body, fingers clamping like a vise over her mouth.

She was aware of leaves tickling her legs and twigs snapping violently as she was yanked through the bushes on the opposite side of the path. By the time fear could pulse through her veins and pound in her heart, she was pulled into a small depression on the other side of a thick log felled to serve as a bench in the nature path that led from the other side of the copse.

"Please forgive me for the rough manner in which I treat you," said a very calm and polite voice in her ear. "I wish you no harm. I merely wanted to avoid alerting your Overlord. I will let go of you. I wish only to help you get away from this place."

Whatever panic he had sparked was obscured by the sudden surge of hope. Was this someone sent to rescue her? Did Lanno have a hand in this, perhaps?

"But you must remain still and not run. And speak softly. We cannot let this get back to the Overlord. Do you understand?"

He loosened his grip on her mouth. Evella nodded.

"Very good. Now ..."

True to his word, the man withdrew his arms. Evella whirled around, suppressing the urge to bolt. She stared at her assailant, but it was hard to make out any details in the dark. "Who are you?" Evella demanded softly.

"My name is not important. As I said, I wish to help you escape and bring you to a place of safety. Then I will help provide passage to wherever in Oceanus you wish to go."

Evella's heart thumped in growing excitement. "Did someone send you? Someone I know? Please, tell me that, at least."

The figure paused. "Yes, I was sent."

"By who?"

"Someone that views Overlord Freya's actions as most distasteful, if not criminal. That is all I can tell you."

Evella was burning with curiosity, but she was more concerned with leaving the Manor. She thought it would take about two or three days for the remainder of the herbs to work their way out of her system and return her libido to normal. "All right. Do we go now? Can we get out of here tonight?"

"Yes. But I need you to do something for me first. Go to your office and fetch one of your preparations of the Draught."

Evella hesitated. Her stomach lurched. "Why ... why do you want that?"

"It will be evidence of the Overlord's wrongdoing."

Evella nodded once, but in truth, it did not make sense to her. How could that be any more evidence than her own words? Especially since she could still reproduce the formula herself?

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. I mean ... well ... I-I don't want anyone else getting this formula. It's bad what this Draught does now. I'm ashamed for ever doing it. I don't want it to ever be made again."

"Yes, I understand. You are most noble to desire that no one obtain this power. The knowledge will be suppressed. But we will still need a sample of that Draught. It will be disposed of when no longer needed."

Evella wrung her hands. "Please ... is there any way we can do this without ..."

"I am sorry, Evella. But I cannot be any more clear in this. I will take you away from this Manor and keep you safe from Freya. But you must do this for me first."

Evella's lip trembled. "A-all right. I'll do it."

"Your sacrifice will be noted. This is for a greater good, Healer Evella. And is that not what Healers are supposed to do?"

Evella nodded, but she could not meet the stranger's gaze any longer. She felt she had shamed her profession. She should have been stronger against the Overlord's threats from the start.

"Meet me back at this point in the path, and we will make our way out of the Manor through an old abandoned road near the freshwater springs."

Evella nodded again and picked her away out of the copse and back to the path.

The young Healer walked to her office. Her thoughts were in a tumult. She absolutely did not want this Draught to go beyond the Manor. Her only consolation was that the Overlord was greedy enough not to wish to share the formula with anyone. Yet now she was expected to hand over the Draught to a stranger for a promise of escape. She would have to travel with someone whose intentions she knew only by his words.

The one great fear she had was that the Draught would be fed to her without her knowledge. How would that be any better than walking alone on an abandoned road at night with a stranger holding the flask?

Evella walked into her office. Her eyes fell on the row of prepared Draughts. She padded across the room silently in her bare feet. Her hand gripped the neck of the nearest one. She hesitated for a long moment.

Evella let out a shuddering sigh and blinked back tears. "M-mistress, help me," she called out in a shaky voice. "A stranger wants me to give him the Draught. He wants to take it away from the Manor. The twisty path near the gardens from your quarters."

She took the flask, clinking it purposely against the next one so that it could be heard over the link. "Mistress, help me, please. The twisty path near the gardens from your quarters."

Evella wiped her eyes. She cursed herself for being a coward. Her voice quavered as she turned to leave. "T-Twisty path ... gardens ... p-please, help me ..."

Her heart thundered as she headed to her rendezvous. She stopped along the path just beside the copse of trees. "I-I have it," she called out softly.

"Very good," came the whispery voice from the trees. "Bring it here."

"I-I'm afraid of tripping on something in the dark. Please, come out here."

"I heard footsteps a short time ago near the bridge to ..."

"There's no one out here. No one at all. P-please."

A pause. "Very well."

A figure moved in the darkness. Evella drew a foot back, her eyes widening as if expecting a monster to leap at her. Instead, a slim young man with black hair appeared at the edge of the path.

"You have done well," said the Wanderer. "Now, if you would ..."

From the distance, booted feet beat against the ground. Evella's head whipped around towards the sound. Jollis lunged.

The Healer was caught off guard, but managed to twist herself around so that he caught only her empty arm. Jollis' other hand flicked out. Evella screamed and flung the flask as hard as she could just a heartbeat before the wrist was caught in the merchant's viselike grip.

The Wanderer had already sighed in resignation before the flask shattered against the trunk of a tree somewhere behind him.

Two guards came into view. One leveled a crossbow. Suddenly the pressure against Evella's wrists was gone, and she fell to the ground. It was as if her assailant had simply vanished from existence.

A bolt was loosed and impaled a tree. The dark figure had already disappeared into the garden. Evella shivered and lay crying on the ground.

Freya ran up. "You ... stay here ... and guard me ..." Freya panted to one of the guards. "You ... go track him down ... now!"

The second guard nodded and ran off. The first brandished his crossbow and stepped out a perimeter around the others.

Freya paused to catch her breath before helping Evella to her feet. "I'm impressed, Evella. That showed some loyalty to me. Or perhaps you're just getting used to the sex now?"

Evella swallowed and nearly glared at Freya. She would not answer the Overlord.

"You must be a bit overwrought. Very well. I'll return you to your quarters soon as the other guard returns." She frowned. "If I find out who was trying to steal the Draught from me ... if it was Gronnus, I swear I will kill him myself."

It had not occurred to Evella that this could be the true motive behind the incident. If that was the case, then word was already out about the Draught. She wondered if she had released a monster upon the world.

Now she wished the Draught had been used on her. It might be better if she never remembered the horrible thing she had done.

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