Zhaskur

Part Two: The Emir's Court

_ By Onyx Tao _

Copyright 2010

Released under the Creative Commons

Attribution-Noncommercial-ShareAlike License

[http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/](%5C)

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The Emir's guards - four hobgoblins in the E'mir's green livery - walked into the harem bathing chamber as if they had every right to be there, and I suppose they did. I was washing up after defeating the Emir's Armsmaster in a Russalkan-style duel in front of the Emir and the court. As I said, I'd won, but ... it had been pretty close. I'm as much a professional duelist as ... well, as anything else, and I just happened to know some tricks she hadn't.

The bathing chamber was huge, in part because it was meant for more persons than just the Incandescence Rwenthelethance, grandson of the Emir, and me. We were at a smaller pool, with very hot water. There was a much larger central pool - it was practically a small lake. It even had an island; an elaborate black-tiled fountain with green and blue fish spouting water out, onto the fountain and into the pool. Like most of the palace, the floor and walls were tiled in elaborate patterns; here, the room glittered with emerald and sapphire colors. The hot pool, though, was tiled in black and ruby - I say emerald, and sapphire, and ruby because the tiles aren't just_green_ and blue_and _red ... they have a sharp depth to them, like you can see into them. They may just be glass, but the effect is stunning. Some of them are actually lit, magically, which provides the light - blue light, green light, red light, it all washes together, and ... it's hard to describe. Obviously. It's not bright; the lighting is dim - no brighter than a night with a full moon. Zhaskur is a desert city, and its inhabitants prefer the cooler night.

I was in the bathing chamber because that morning I'd signed a magically binding contract with Rwenthelethance - Rwence for short - who was the Emir's grandson, and the senior (and only) member of her harem. Or, at least, the only member of her harem until I'd joined. I hadn't realized that signing would make me a member of the harem, and Rwence didn't think that the Emir would be interested in a mere human. Did I mention that Rwence and his grandmother are gnolls?

Did I mention that displays of violence - like, oh, dueling with an Armsmaster, to pick a not so random example, make gnolls lustful?

So after I'd beaten down the Emir's Armsmaster, in front of her, she'd gotten up and showed just how much better she was than I was. Never mind that she was fresh while I'd just had a long battle, or that she wasn't using Russalkan dueling swords, but the longer gnollish longswords, or that she was at least as good with her blades as I am with mine (and I'm really, really good), so ... it was a very short fight. Actually, it wasn't so much a fight as it was her herding me into a sideroom where she could have her way with me out of the immediate view of the court.

Which was a ... disconcerting experience, to put it mildly. It had nearly reduced Rwenthelethance to tears, afterwards, because he'd put me in that position, and I'd spent a fair amount of my much-needed bath - if you want to get sweaty and dirty, then go fight a duel and have sex immediately afterward - trying to reassure him that I was fine, the Emir hadn't hurt me (although that wasn't entirely true), and that I didn't want him to dismiss me, I would stay, and I was fine with staying.

And that was true; the money was an excellent reason to take this job in the first place, but the _other_reason was that the Emir's harem had to be one of the most secure and private places in Zhaskur, and the reason I'd come to Zhaskur in the first place was that a certain Duke in Russalka had placed a bounty on my head. Disappearing for a year (the term of my contract) behind the walls and no-nonsense hobgoblin guards of the Emir's harem seemed like a perfect way to avoid any inconvenient encounters with bounty hunters.

Or, at least it had seemed like a perfect way to avoid any such encounters. I hadn't factored in the sex drive of what I'd assumed to be an elderly gnoll female. I'd been thinking, I suppose, of one of those old dowager duchess types, tiny, dressed in black and veils and just a little creaky. After all, _Rwence_is tiny (he's smaller than I am), so his grandmother has to be even smaller, right? Well, after finding out that she'd slapped me down so easily earlier, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I was about as wrong as I've ever been about that.

So that's the short version of how I came to be in the harem's bathing chamber that morning, getting my second bath of the evening. The Emir was holding Evening Court that night, and I was supposed to be there, with Rwence, armed. So why were the Emir's personal guard barging into the harem? A thought occurred to me, and I reached for the sword I'd collected earlier - how, exactly, did I _know_these hobgoblins were from the Emir's guard? Anybody can put livery on. Although Rwence wasn't reacting, and his guards weren't, so ...

"The Incandescence requires your attendant, Incandescence." That took me a moment to parse, but both Rwence and his grandmother are addressed as Incandescence, so ...

"Why does the Emir want to see me?" I asked, getting up out of the water. I reached over for a robe, but the guard's hand stopped me.

"You may not do that, Luminance." Luminance?_How did _I get a title?

"I'm supposed to show up naked and dripping wet?"

"No, Luminance," the guard said. I suppose I was stuck with the title after all; nobody - especially Rwence - objected. "But the Incandescence commanded you to come as we found you." The guard paused. "We'll take a slightly longer route, and you'll be dry by the time you arrive, Luminance."

"Wait!" said Rwence. "He's _my_attendant." The silver-furred gnoll turned to me. "Don't worry."

"Your pardon, Incandescence, but the Emir commanded a private audience. Specifically."

"No," said Rwence, after a moment, firmly. "Inform my grandmother that I will, of course, be pleased to take his place."

"Rwence," I said, and the guards looked a little surprised. "It's fine. I'd be happy to see her."

"You don't understand," Rwence said. "She's ... going to loan you out."

I blinked. Rwence _hated_being loaned out to females, and if my earlier experience with the Emir was anything to go by, I could understand why. Still, she had asked for me, not Rwence, and ... I ... well. "That's fine, Rwence. I'll be fine."

He looked at me. He'd been shocked when the Emir had chased me into that side room earlier, and even more shocked when he discovered that she'd fucked me (and it was her fucking me and _not_the other way round). He shook his head. "No, Mark, I really, really don't ..."

"I'm not going to leave," I said. That, I thought, was his real fear. I'd just been talking with him for a little under a full day, and he didn't have ... anyone. There were people in his life, but nobody he could talk to, not as just a friend. I didn't kid myself that he thought of me that way, but he might, if I stayed around, and between the bounty on my head and the simple fact that Rwence was as wealthy as ... well, as an Emir's grandson, I suppose, I figured staying would be well worth my time. I shot him a quick smile. "Besides, I'd like to talk to her."

Rwence glanced at the guards, back at me, and sighed. "I don't think you know what you're letting yourself in for. You don't have to do this, you're my attendant, so I can go instead. It's not as if she'd ... do anything to me."

I smiled. "Don't worry about it. If she'd wanted you, she would have asked for you, right?"

"I suppose ..."

"So, will I come back here, or meet you at the court?"

"I don't know," said Rwence. "Even if ... " he paused. "You have the right to see me, no matter what happens, so if she tries to send you away, you can demand to see me ... promise me you'll do that?"

"I promise," I said.

Rwence nodded. "Then I'll know, if she says otherwise, she's lying."

I hadn't thought of that, but I nodded. "It will be fine," I said, with a little more confidence than I actually felt at this point. Why would the Emir want to see me? I shook myself off, and started to put on my sandals.

"No," the guard said again. "The Incandescence said ..."

"I'm not coming without sandals, I'm not walking on my bare feet," I said. "Period. She wants me naked, fine, I'll be naked. But not barefoot," I said, continuing to put them on.

"The Incandescence said ..." the guard started.

"And we don't want to keep her waiting, do we?" I asked, straightening up. "Let's go."

"But ..."

"Let's go," I repeated. "Ladies," I said to the guards, and after a moment of indecision they simply formed a square around me, and we left. Rwence watched me, looking ... I'm not sure; I can't read gnolls well, but I didn't think it was any kind of happy expression.

After about a couple of minutes I was regretting that I'd only insisted on the sandals; if they hadn't made a fuss about the sandals I should have been able to get the robe without causing an uproar. Still, the air was still warm from the oppressive heat of the day, and the guards were taking a path up and around the huge windows, so it grew warmer, and dryer. It couldn't have happened back in Russalka, but by the time we drew into a smaller corridor where the tiles changed from noon-sky-blue to midnight-black, I had dried completely. And, from the additional guards posted at the entrance and the far end, this had to lead to the Emir herself.

It did; a heavy stone door at the end was opened, and I walked into a surprisingly small octagonal room. Four of the walls had mirrors; and three of the others had doors. The fourth, to my right, had a marble sink and a confusion of gold plated - or at least I assumed it was gold-plated - plumbing.

The Emir herself was seated in the middle of the room, on a slightly raised chair, half-dressed as two of her attendants worked on her. A smaller gnoll, who I assumed was male, was making tiny braids in pelt; her left arm and leg had been finished, and he was working on her right arm. A man - a human - was kneeling below the dais, doing something to her feet. The gnoll was wearing light green silks; the human was naked, except for something thin and black tied around his thigh; I couldn't quite see what it was.

Although I'd just fought her - well, been slapped silly by her, really - and then she'd taken me, I hadn't really gotten a chance to look at her. I had focused on her during the duel, but I wasn't really_looking_ at her; all I remembered from that was her gaze, focused on me just like I had focused on her. The Emir was ... smaller than I'd expected, I suppose. She'd been so fast and so strong that I suppose I was expecting her to be ... bigger, at least, but she couldn't have been much more than seven feet tall. Muscular - and I could remember the feel of her against me, hard muscle without any give in it - but not musclebound. She was thicker - I'm not sure if that's the right word - than Rwence; he was slim, lithe, and ... the Emir was solid, even reclining on the cream-colored leather chair.

She glanced at me as we came through the door, and she moved her head - slowly, so as not to interrupt the gnoll working on her fur. "Better than I thought," she said. "The scars ... well, they are not so unpleasant ... they add some character," she said, thoughtfully. "Amb, please take your guard and leave."

"Incandescence, that is ..."

"Yes, I know. Obey."

"Yes, Incandescence," the hobgoblin said, and they withdrew, leaving us alone with the two attendants.

"Neither of these will - can - discuss what they hear," the Emir said, calmly. "So this is private. As private as things ever get, anyway. So it seems you remain in Rwenthelethance's service."

"Yes," I said.

"And you propose to remain so?"

"I'm not sure I have any choice," I said.

"Oh? So the boy paid you up front, did he?"

"Yes," I said.

"But he'd let you out of the contract if you wanted," the Emir said. "I'm sure he's even said so."

"True," I said. "But it would seem wrong to keep the money," I said, "and I like money."

"Mmmm," the Emir said. "And you'd feel like you'd have to give it back?"

This was dangerous ground. I didn't feel that way, but I also didn't want to say so. Also, I didn't like standing in front of her naked. "I presume your court is starting soon."

"Just as soon as Larm here finishes," the Emir said, cocking her head, and another grin - almost a leer - appeared. "Feeling underdressed?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Well, let's see what we can do about that ..." the Emir said silkily. "Darren, go back to your quarters and bring ... something concealing, I think. In silver and violet. And a leash. And ... a color. The silver one, with the spikes." She flexed her leg. " Now."

The human scuttled - that was the only word for it - out one of the doors. I did see that he had a thin loop of black cord around his left thigh. She watched him go, and then turned back to me. "Justice is a difficult thing, Mark - that is your name, yes?"

"Yes," I said.

She grinned again, and I had the feeling that she knew more than she was saying. "As I was saying, justice ... can be tricky. I'm sure you've heard of my disapproval of pirates."

"I have," I said, although I was completely baffled as to what relevance it had. "Piracy is punished with death."

"Ah," she said. "Sometimes."

"When you catch them," I offered.

She grinned again. "When they are not me," she said. The smile vanished. "Mark, Zhaskur stands on the only navigable sea route between Russalka and Vulpa. I take one-tenth of everything passing either way. Now, my dear boy, _that's_piracy." She smiled again. "But it's piracy that takes no lives, and is ... an acceptable business cost to the traders. They don't like it. They don't have to, as long as they pay me. And I won't tolerate any competition, Mark. Do you understand?"

"I've never heard a ruler admit to being a ... pirate."

"Did you mean to say thief?" the Emir said.

"I suppose I could have," I said.

She shrugged. "It's true enough, so ... yes. You can look at it that way." She paused. "You might _also_look at it in that I provide a service - safe passage through the Zhaskur straits - to the best of my ability to do so, and that I charge a fee for it. A straightforward business transaction. If a merchant wants to take his goods overland ... _I_don't stop him."

"There are no overland routes."

"There are several." the Emir said, thoughtfully. "None of them are safe. I'd advise anyone trying one of them to bring an army." She smiled again. "It's ever so much safer to travel by sea. Certain Russalkan lord have been ... advising me that my fees are simply too high. Did you know that, Mark?"

"No," I said.

"Mmmm," she said. "Maybe not, maybe not. Actually, the Vulpa Ministry of Trade has been complaining, too. Zhaskur is, after all, a tiny city compared to Vulpa, or, the Middle Kingdom, or Nippon, or even Cineria."

"I've never heard of Nippon or Cineria," I said.

"Just a few short months ago, an assassin arrives from Cineria, although ... he was hired by the Vulpa Ministry of Social Cohesion," the Emir said dryly. "My own network of spies ... alerted me. I'm afraid he came to a bad end, Mark." She sat up as the gnoll finished braiding her arm, and moved on to her leg. "Or should I say, Black Mark."

"Only if you wanted to hire me," I said, "and ... I'm on a long-term contract at the moment. Yes, I'm the Black Mark. But I'm not here for any job, more ..." I thought about it. "A miscalculation."

"So my spies tell me," the Emir said. "A matter of a bounty, and a very angry son."

"My employer misled me," I said. "And stiffed me."

The Emir grinned again. "I always get payment in advance, Mark. And I pay in advance, too. Who hired you to come here?"

"Incandescence, I swear to you - and I will put it into one of Rwence's contracts if you like - that I was trying to get out of Russalka. Roderigo Borigonos - if you know who that is -"

"I do," the Emir said.

"Roddy offered me a job if I came out to Vulpa," I said. "And that's where I was going. I wouldn't have even stopped here if the ship hadn't been impounded."

"Which ship?"

"The_Paxson's Pledge_," I said.

"That was impounded almost three weeks ago," the Emir said. "Plenty of time for you to find yourself passage to Vulpa. Try again."

"No, I ..." I paused. "I didn't have any money with me when ... I had to leave Russalka. Like I said, my employer misled me. So I was working passage."

"So?"

"All I got was double my wages, but my wages were low - ten stars, because what I was really getting was passage," I explained. "Twenty stars were considered a fifth tradebar, and I couldn't book passage on that. And there's not a great call for inexperienced sailors in your port."

The Emir was silent, considering. "Passage to whatever city Roderigo is in - is worth, what, a half-tradebar?"

"Ranapur. I couldn't find anyone willing to take me for less than a third-tradebar," I said. "And most wanted just under a half-tradebar. I was looking for a ship to take me on as a sailor, but ..."

"Interesting," the Emir said. "That's a sad story."

"I've been having a string of bad luck."

"No," said the Emir. "The confiscation laws count _passage_as part of your wages. You should have gotten ... let's see, a tradebar for passage and another fifth for the wages. More or less. So, I'm sorry, Mark, but ..."

"That's all I got!" I said.

The Emir paused. "That's all."

"Yes! If I'd gotten that - a full tradebar - I'd have been on my way to Ranapur weeks ago." I paused.

"So why don't you take your twelve tradebars, and get out of my city?"

I sighed. "Because I kind of like Rwenthelethance, and because I took the job, and ..." I stopped. "If you're going to have me killed, then yes, I'll leave. But I'm not here for any other reason."

"So you say."

"So I say."

The Emir just looked at me for a moment, and she seemed like she was about to say something, but the human came back in, a little out of breath, carrying something - it looked like a robe, silvery, with a soft violet shimmer, like a fine velvet, only the fabric itself was sheer. It didn't look like silk, but it did look like clothing, and that made me hopeful.

"Well," said the Emir. "I will look into your story, and if ... I say_if_ ... it turns out to be the truth, then ... then I will consider letting you stay. If it's not true ... and I waste my time finding out simply that you're an accomplished liar - because, frankly, you seem honest - then you had better already be _outside_my reach."

"It's true," I said.

"I have a long reach, Black Mark," the Emir said softly. "I think ... it may be true. You may have run into an incompetent or venal officer. And if that is the case, I want to know - I have very little tolerance for such things."

My disbelief must have shown on my face; because she laughed. "Oh yes, Black Mark. My city depends on trade - the flow of goods from Vulpa to Russalka, and vice versa. I _want_sailors to like my city; I _want_merchants to like Zhaskur. I want them to feel safe; to feel that, in Zhaskur, they need not fear for their goods or monies beyond what they have paid. The sailors - the taverns and brothels of the port are watched. Inspected. Reasonably priced. Not free, but reasonable. That's why the ports are patrolled so heavily. I want sailors to be as happy as the merchants. Because it makes me - and my city - rich." She paused.

"The bosun ... yes," I said, remembering how the sailors had looked forward to the port. "That's true. All of the sailors were pretty happy about getting here."

The Emir smiled. "Flattery. Well. You stick to this story of misplaced monies, then?"

"I do."

She nodded to the human. "Help him into those robes. He'll be accompanying me to Court."

Darren bowed to the Emir - resentfully - but I think she pretended not to notice. I got the feeling that not much got past her. When he handed the robe to me, I finally saw why he was wearing that cord. His shaft had been pierced; right at the head, with a golden ring, and the cord tied his manhood to his thigh. I wondered if the foreskin had already been gone, or if had been taken when he was was ringed - either way, that had to have hurt! At first I thought that his flesh was stretched out, but he was big, even when he was soft. No, not big - huge. If he got much bigger when he was hard ... he'd be like a horse.

I took the robe, and unfolded it. It was something similar to what I'd seen Rwence wearing the first time I met him. The first layer was a gauzy silk tunic and shorts that were almost invisible. Over that went a longer tunic and trousers of the shimmery violet-gray, and finally came the veils - two of them I didn't understand until Darren showed me how they tucked in around my hands. I could see easily, move easily - I could probably even fight in this loose costume, although I'd feel better if it had some armor. I tried not to stare at the piercing while I was getting the robes on, but it seemed ... strange. I mean, I'd heard of such things, but I'd never seen anyone with one.

The Emir seemed to pick up on my discomfort with appalling ease. I might not be familiar with a lot of gnoll expressions, but smirking amusement seemed pretty clear. She didn't say anything, at least not until I'd done everything but my right hand. "Hold on," she said, and produced a bright copper bracelet. "I'd like you to put this on."

"Over the ... what do you call this thing, anyway?"

"A body veil," the Emir said. "Under, put the bracelet under. The goal of the veil is to conceal and suggest. Wearing anything over the veil is gauche." She smirked. "Those who have the eyes to see will know what they know," and she tossed me the bracelet.

Tossed.

I suddenly realized what an utter idiot I'd been. I'd put these clothes on, of my own free will. I had intended to put them on. She'd had Darren hand them to me, and I'd been so damn eager to get _something_on that I'd just ... I'm not usually this stupid. Only, maybe the trap wasn't the clothes. Maybe. It would be harder to ... maybe, maybe, maybe ... I took the veil over my left hand off, and started to put the bracelet on. Was the Emir watching more closely? I couldn't tell.

I stopped, brought the bracelet up, and looked at it. Ornate gnollish script laced around it, and I felt a wave of relief. "What does it say?"

"Hmmm?"

"What does the bracelet say?"

The Emir's amused look vanished. "It says that the bearer will take no action to harm or hinder any, nor seek to leave her accustomed places, nor remove the token of enforced trust." The smile flickered over her face. "I was wondering if you'd just put it on ... I must admit, if you're the assassin, then I wish you had. If you are here as you say ... I'm glad you were quick enough to see the trap."

Not quite quick enough, I thought.

"How did you know the clothes were safe?" she asked, sounding no more than mildly interested.

I decided to be truthful. "It didn't even occur to me that they might be ... significant until you tossed me the bracelet," I said. "_Casual_doesn't ... seem to fit your style. It was out of place." After a moment, I added, "Incandescence."

She nodded. "Well. That was honest, Black Mark." Her eyes narrowed. "Put on the bracelet, and I will take it off when - if - I've confirmed your story."

"My problem is, I signed a contract to defend Rwenthelethance - and I can't do that as well with this on."

"No, I suppose not. But then again, for me to feel secure with you about _without_this precaution, I'm going to have to station quite a number of guards to watch you. Closely. In a cell. Assassins have ... unusual skills, and I have no way of knowing what yours are. And I daresay you'll be even less useful to Rwence that way."

"Isn't that coercion?"

"Yes, and a decent anatheurge could probably undo the bracelet's geas with that to go on," she said, "but such things take time. And I should know whether you're telling the truth - as my instinct tells me - or whether you're lying, as my head tells me, before that could happen."

"You think I'm lying?"

The Emir paused. "I am unsure, Black Mark. Your story has ... elements that are unusual, but ... credible. Had you researched a story to tell me, you would not have picked that one. Still, _any_coincidence that puts a known and skilled Russalkan assassin inside my walls and wards ..." she smiled again, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "Seems strangely convenient."

"May I ask why you're ... giving me even the tentative benefit of the doubt?"

"You may ask," she said. "But you'll have to puzzle it out for yourself. Darren!"

The human came to attention.

"Darren here was a pirate," the Emir said. "I'm occasionally troubled by the death sentence for piracy; it can be tragically unjust."

"It can?" Presumably this was relevant to why she was being forbearant, but ... I wasn't following it.

"Of course. What's the penalty for mutiny?"

"Hanging ..." I said.

"There you have it. And so a sailor hired unknowingly or unwillingly onto a pirateer - faces death for piracy, or death for mutiny. And that, Black Mark, is tragic."

"Darren was hired unknowingly."

"Yes," she said. "Although he distinguished himself by killing two of my marines in the boarding action. And so he became a slave, instead of meat." Another gnollish smile snuck on to her face, and turned into a leer. "And he's hung like a horse - he's freakishly large, even for a human."

Darren just stood there, saying nothing.

"One of my cousins bought him for me as a pet," the Emir said, and then, reacting to the surprise on my face, "I hardly handle such matters personally; he was captured, the judge enslaved him after hearing the evidence, my cousin wanted my ... favor in a ... small matter and pressed her case with a number of dainties, of which Darren was one." She grinned again, and I was beginning to wonder just what emotions might cause a gnoll to grin. "He was a very good pet at first."

"At first?"

"Yes," said the Emir. "But it turned out he was just planning to be very, very bad." That grin showed up again. "Weren't you, Darren?"

A single nod.

"It took Darren a while to learn how to be a good pet," the Emir said, and pointed silently at the collar he'd brought. The human fastened it around his neck as the Emir continued. "But he learned, and it only cost him his voice." The husky human connected the leash to the collar, and then knelt on the floor, offering the leash to the Emir. "I like to think that everyone can learn," the Emir went on, standing up, and held the leash taut.

"Learn? Didn't you tell me earlier that I was the first human you'd been with," I asked, gesturing at the standing man.

The Emir grinned. "You are. This," and she slipped a claw down to tiny knot, and pulled. The cord came loose, almost instantly, and I could see Darren grit his teeth as the Emir continued, "is a toy. See?" I watched as the shaft hardened, and - almost unbelievably - lengthened another four inches as the shaft itself swelled thicker; not bizarrely so, but ... still. And he was ... unusually long, more like a donkey. "Nothing more," she said, and that was almost regretful - I wondered if the Emir had intended to sound that way. Darren was clenching his fists at this point, but the Emir ignored him; that didn't seem wise to me, but ... I still didn't know what point she was trying to make. I was sure she had one, thought.

She used a finger to stroked down that length, and it jerked, up and down. By the time her finger reached the head there was a glistening clear pearl at the quivering tip - more, it was already forming a second bead around the rounded lower edge of the piercing. "A well trained toy," she said. "But not one I've bothered to play with for a while ..." she added, almost to herself. Darren's fists clenched harder, his knuckles turning white.

"That seems hard on him," I said.

The Emir shrugged, sat back down, and turned her attention back to me. "That's his problem. I gave him a choice of punishment. He chose this one." she said, "And are you going to put that on or not? My court is waiting for us."

"That is all it does, keep me from .. harming or hindering anyone, and within the ... I suppose that means with the harem."

"Within the palace," the Emir corrected. "Not just the harem. I know Rwence wants to take you outside ..." she paused at my look of surprise. "Of course I know about his excursions," she said, a hint of irritation in her growling voice. "Do give me some credit. I was concerned, obviously, but the boy is conducting himself discreetly, taking security with him ... I don't like it, but I doubt I could stop it without taking steps that would be ... worse than letting him roam. If your story is true, then you will be able to accompany him, once I've verified it."

"Or at the most four days," I said.

"Four days, yes, that should be sufficient," the Emir agreed. She'd agreed too easily, but ... realistically, I was unarmed in the middle what had to be one of the most secure complexes in Zhaskur which was chock-full of armed, alert hobgoblins and war-trained gnolls. The Emir had hinted, if that was the point to her talking about the human, that if I was telling the truth I'd be fine, and I was_telling the truth. And ... I had to consider just what might happen if I turned her down. If this was a magic like the contract, if it was something I had to accept without coercion ... I could easily imagine her ordering me imprisoned - or executed - if I refused. Did that possibility count as coercion? She hadn't said it, hadn't hinted at it ... but maybe that was her point, why she was toying with Darren in front of me. And maybe not. It looked like I was in deeper trouble than I'd thought - the only question was, was I in deeper _here than I'd been in Russalka?

I hate when things spiral out of control like that. "I accept this bracelet for four days, and no longer," I said, putting on, and then pulling the veil back over it.

The Emir nodded. "An excellent decision, Black Mark." She looked over at the naked Darren, whose entire body was now trembling. A thin glistening line led straight down from the gold ring to a tiny pool on the marble floor. "Kneel," she said, jerking the leash slightly, and the human dropped to both knees. She paused for a moment. "It's been a while since I released you, I think," she said.

Darren nodded jerkily.

"And it will be longer. Tie yourself back down and clean yourself."

Darren dropped his head again. He picked up the black silk cord, carefully wound it twice around the gold ring, and then tied himself tightly to his thigh. A tiny green towel of some fluffy fabric erased the immediate wet evidence, and he paused, until another jerk from the leash signaled that he could get back to his feet. He was still hard though, and I suspected he'd be dripping for quite some time.

"Marvelous," said the Emir, and her attention was on me again. "Court awaits us. Walk four steps behind me. There will, of course, be a guard between us, and one directly behind you. You'll sit to the left of Rwenthelethance, he has a little chair, you will sit on the floor beside him."

"Incandescence?" The other gnoll - I'd forgotten him, he was so quiet, finally spoke. "Do you want ..."

The Emir paused, and looked at me, as if she was weighing some decision. "Yes," she said. "Do it."' The small gnoll came up to me, and simply brushed his fingers across the veil, running them up and down for a moment. The Emir took a deep breath, and then let it out. "Excellent. Excellent." He bowed, low, and then retreated back behind the chair.

She gave the leash a short tug, and Darren followed her. Pet. I wondered where he'd sit.

The Emir's audience chamber was one of the larger rooms. A hundred - or more - gnolls were already in the room, and it fell very quiet as the Emir entered. Armed hobgoblins lined the walls, and I didn't doubt there were some archers hidden up in the high room. Rwenthelethance was already there, sitting in a high-backed massive stone chair to the side of the main dias; there was a smaller chair - something I actually would call a chair rather than a throne - sitting to his left, empty, and I walked quietly over to it. The Emir took her seat, and Darren lay down on the carpet in front of her - apparently he was a footrest. There wasn't any commotion from the assembled gnolls, so maybe this was normal.

One of the nice things about a full body veil is that you can talk very quietly without anyone knowing, so I could answer Rwence's quick whisper of "Is everything all right?"

"Maybe," I said. "Your grandmother's ..." I paused, looking for the right word, but nothing seemed to fit. "Not what I expected," I finished, but that just made me wonder what had I been expecting.

Court began, and Rwence's soft whispers explained what was happening. His aunt Trelmcaltanian - Trelm - served her mother as secretary, and would choose a waiting petitioner from the crowd, escort her up for a quiet conference. From what I could make out, they were small matters; granting licenses, permits, quarrels - the same trivial matters any ruler has to deal with. I tuned it out, and looked at the rest of the court. Small clusters of gnolls talked quietly as Trelm occasionally tapped one or the other for the Emir's attention. Other clusters watched carefully, gauging who was talking to the Emir, who had her interest, what was happening. It might not be obvious to just anyone, but it was clear to me that Emir had the court under her control. Now, whether that meant the major players in Zhaskur were here or not, I didn't know. If I was going to stay here - and I was thinking that I wanted to - I'd have to find out more. A lot more. It would be hard for a human to learn about gnoll politics, though.

Another short, covert conversation with Rwence showed me that he didn't know anything about them. Oh, he could identify them, and several had rather interesting bedroom peccadilloes, in a gruesome kind of way. There was a sharp divide, it seemed, between the world of male and female gnolls. But if I was going to keep Rwence safe, then ... I would need to find some way to bridge it.

"Rwence," I asked, as the Emir saw yet another gnoll - this one looking surprisingly angry.

"Mmm?"

"There was a gnoll - a male - with the Emir," I said quietly. "Not wearing these ... veils."

"Lowborn attendant, probably," said Rwence.

"Well, he ..." and I described what the Emir had him to me.

"Oh," said Rwence. "That explains it. I thought ... well, that makes more sense. Quiet, little, sandy ... blends into the background?"

"Yes," I said.

"Liarndesmandes," Rwence said. "He's a mirage smith. He's not very ..." Rwence paused. "I was about to say, good, but that's not right. He's very good, but he can't do anything big. Small things, though, he's most adept."

"What's that?"

"What?"

"A ... mirage smith."

"Oh. He makes things seem ... other than they are. It's not my kind of magic at all, it's deceptive, not revealing," Rwence said. "Still, I suppose it's useful. He did an amazing job on you."

"Me?"

"You look - and smell - like a gnoll," Rwence said. "I thought it was just the veils, but ... anyone looking at you will think I've acquired a attendant." He paused. "A gnoll attendant. I mean ..."

"I get it," I said, "that's fine. Smell? I smell like a gnoll?"

There was a longer pause. "Well, ... I thought maybe my grandmother had handed you something someone else had worn. Something ... strong enough to cover your scent. But ... now that I think about it, it does smell like you would, if you were a gnoll." I tried to figure out exactly what that meant, and then he added, "I don't know how to phrase it better. Liarn ... did an amazing job; I might not have noticed, if you hadn't pointed it out to me."

"These veils came from Darren. Her human."

"Oh," said Rwence, interestedly. "Is that his name?"

"You ... knew about him?"

"I knew she had him. She drags him out from time to time, usually when she's in a particularly bad mood," Rwence said. "I think she uses him as a warning." That made sense, he'd certainly been a warning to me. All I needed to do now was to figure out what I'd been warned about.

"What's an_anatheurge_?"

"Someone who takes magic apart," Rwence said. "If we need a ward removed, or," he paused, and started again, "or a contract broken, or if somebody got cut with a curseblade."

"A curse blade?"

"It makes cursed wounds," Rwence said. "They won't heal, not until the curse is undone. Don't you have things like that in Russalka?" We did, actually, although we called them dire. Possession of a dire weapon was illegal in almost every duchy, although the amount of illegal varied from a fine to confiscation to execution. I didn't use them, myself. They were expensive, it's easy to cut yourself (and doing that with a dire weapon is really bad) when you're sharpening or using a blade, and they don't give you any edge in a fight. Wounds are wounds, and dead is dead, and a dead opponent isn't going anywhere regardless of what caused the wounds.

"We do," I said. "I don't use them."

Maybe three or four interviews later, I finally asked Rwence how long this interview lasted.

"Until the Ambassadors comes up," Rwence said. "That's why we're here."

"What?"

"I have to witness the signing," Rwence explained. "Well, I don't_have_ to, but ... it makes the contract stronger."

"The one you were working on this morning?"

"Yes. It's a goblin-goblin agreement, about mining and territory rights ..." Rwence paused. "Dull. But important enough for them to hire me, and so important enough to be signed in front of my grandmother as a neutral party, and since my being here when they sign it makes it just a little more binding, then they want me here when it's signed. They're both convinced the other side is robbing them." A tiny little headshake. "Goblins," he said in an exasperated voice.

"They bother you?"

"No. They've already worked out the agreement with a legate." A slight pause. "Or more. Each ambassador insists on having a legate. So they work out the agreement, and then, once they've decided on the exact wording, I get two copies, one from each side, which have to be word-for-word identical, and then I draft an initial copy - two copies - and send them back. I get them back, with any last-minute changes, and then I do the final, binding contract. It takes weeks."

"Why do you do it, then?"

"They pay well," said Rwence. "Very well. And it's a lot better for us - Zhaskur - if they're talking rather than fighting. Goblin wars disrupt our trade, water supply, food ... no, we need the goodwill ..." he paused. "No. We need their cooperation. Goblins don't have goodwill. I add a clause about their respecting our territorial borders, preserving our water supply, not interfering with our shipping ... not all at once, but one or two per contract. As the fee they pay to Zhaskur for our arbitration - it's phrased as respecting our neutrality."

"Are you? Neutral?"

There was a sound suspiciously like a chuckle. "Oh, yes. Scrupulously. We have contracts, with all eight clans who border our lands, guaranteeing our neutrality in any intra-goblin conflicts. Signed not only by my mother, but all my aunts and their daughters, and their daughters. And by me, and every mage other than the anatheurges."

I thought about that for a moment before I asked the obvious question

"An anatheurge signing it would weaken the contract," Rwence said. "Magic doesn't take hold on them very well. Magic attached to them tends to fray. Not a good thing." He sighed. "As soon as the Ambassadors sign, we can go." He paused. "Unless you want to stay for some reason."

"No," I said. "Not really. I do want to talk to you about something."

"Of course," Rwence said. "And we can have lunch." He paused. "And I can show you around the palace." That last, at least, sounded like fun. "Oh, finally."

I turned my head. A huge knot of hobgoblins - no, two groups, were coming in, from opposite sides of the room. And they ... they were surrounded by gnolls. Gnoll warriors, not hobgoblins. Because the hobgoblins ... were big. Bigger than the guards I'd seen around the palace, and more threatening. They weren't wearing silk tabards, but steel armor, and they had swords that looked more like a cleaver, a thick, straight blade thinning down to a fine edge. The end of the blade had a hook pointing back.

"The Emir allows them to come armed?"

Rwence sighed. "We're neutral. Our agreements say that our guards will neither attack nor protect the Ambassadors, so they provide their own security. Those same agreements keep their guards from attacking us, for any reason, to help or hinder, but ... my grandmother provides some additional guards. Gnolls, not hobgoblins, because the hobgoblins - are all oathed to the same neutrality. So they wouldn't be any help."

"Oh," I said. And then I saw my first goblin. They're small, about three feet high, and should have looked ludicrous in the middle of those seven-foot monsters they had with them, and nobody would mistake either one for human. His - her? - face was sallow green, smooth, with exaggerated features. A nose like a beak, a curved chin, a mouth larger than any human might have, filled with pointed teeth.

The ambassador on the left wore tunic and trousers that looked like woven steel; the ambassador on the right wore an elaborate robe that looked woven out of rubies and amethyst. Their guards were similarly decorated; the one with plain steel half-armor, the other with armor no less protective, but enameled and jeweled and decorated to the point where it was jewelry as well as armor.

"Steel is Urchoo, clan Urchoo. The other is clan Dlahnt," Rwence whispered, his lips barely moving. "They border each other as well as us." Both parties approached the Emir, seeming to ignore the other. The Emir greeted them - in goblin, I assume, because it wasn't gnoll. Goblin is a stuttering sharp language, and combined with the natural growling laugh of a gnoll, it sounded like the Emir was giggling through a mouthful of broken glass. Rwence listened, and he seemed to understand it. "Zel the Gatecrasher is Ambassador for Urchoo," Rwence said - not whispering, but speaking so low that I could barely hear. "And the other is Vellimeer Crimson. They're exchanging insults." He paused. "Maybe that's why Grandmother brought Darren out."

"What?"

"They can't accuse each of other of ... of ... they can't use any sex-related insults in front of the Emir when she's sitting there with her feet on the human. It might insult her, and they won't do that," Rwence explained. "So they can't use any of their prepared ..."

"They _prepare_insults?"

A chuckle from Rwence. "Yes. It would be insulting to treat the other party as if ... they weren't worth insulting." That made me snort. "So they're having to improvise," Rwence continued. "Hopefully that will move ... yes, Crimson is saying that he'll sign the agreement just to get away from the Urchoo smell."

"Good."

The heavy document Rwence had been working on this morning appeared, and was handed to Zel. Zel took out another set of papers, and began reading through it - comparing it, I realized. "How long ..."

"Both of them inspect it, agree that it's the right document, and ... Crimson got to examine it first, so the Gatecrasher signs first," Rwence said. "And then Crimson signs, and then _I_countersign it. And then it's out of our hands."

"What happens?" I asked, interested in spite of myself.

"Either Crimson or the Gatecrasher takes it back to his clan, and it's signed by all the master-Goblins. And then they pass it to the other, and it's signed by all the other clan's master-Goblins. And then - because they don't trust each other - they bring it back to us and Grandmother puts it into the archives. Each side has until the full moon wanes to get it signed by all the clan's master-Goblins, and if they don't all sign, the agreement is voided, and the clan who fails to get it signed owes a substantial penalty to the other - that's binding on Crimson and the Gatecrasher -and they owe me a penalty for wasting my time." Rwence sounded aggrieved. "They let a two-hundred page document lapse that way, and then I had to draw it up a second time. Ever since then, I've insisted on adding my own penalty clause."

"And they agree?"

"If they want me_to draw their contract," Rwence said. "If I do fifty pages a week, which is about as much as I _can do, that was two moons of effort - and it took me three moons, since I do occasionally do other things than draw. And I do _other_contracts and work. So it ended up taking me nearly three-quarters of a year to deal with that particular contract." Rwence paused. "Ah. The Gatecrasher is signing. Finally."

I looked back over at the Emir's throne. "In blood?"

"Goblins. Always_get goblin signatures in their freshly-drawn blood," Rwence said. "And notice that they are letting the _other party decide where to draw the blood from. And each party brings his own charcoal to mark where the cut is, and the other party chooses which guard will make the cut."

"Oh," I said. "Not very trusting, are they?"

"No," Rwence said. "Not trusting." There was an amused tone in his voice. "And in goblin culture, a bargain is a bargain, and no matter how you get taken - you deserve it for being taken in the first place. And everyone thinks worse of you, and better of the one who cheated you. Including you."

"That's ..."

"That's the way they think," Rwence said. "And don't ever_let them make you think otherwise. Goblins are your best friend, understanding, empathetic, they have just what you need - until you have them just where they want you." He was quiet. "Never, never, _never trust a goblin." The gnoll paused, thinking. "Or rather, always trust a goblin to cheat."

"So are they cheating you now?"

"They think so," Rwence said, very very quietly. "Hold on." He stood, and then calmly walked over to the group around the Emir; the gnoll guards parted for him (of course), and after a brief sharp goblin phrase, so did the huge hobgoblins (I found out later that these larger ones are bugbears, and goblins don't sell bugbears - just hobgoblins). I couldn't see what he did, but I could guess - he was signing the document. It only took a moment, and then he was walking back. He didn't sit back down, just kept walking past me with a quick aside of "Come."

On the whole, there had been an awful lot of people ordering me around today, and I was going to have to do something about that.

We arrived back at Rwence's balcony - where he'd been drawing this morning. The desk and the drying-stand from this morning were gone, replaced with a table, chairs and most welcome, food. The oppressive heat of the day had dissipated. The stones were still warm, and the air was still warm, but pleasantly so. I started forward, but a motion from one of the hobgoblins - Bream - stopped me. She faced Rwenthelethance, and spoke - in goblin, which I don't speak. Rwence glanced at me, and said, "No, I don't believe so. We should use ..."

She cut him off with more sharp consonants, although I have to say the language sounded better coming from her than it had from the Emir. Rwence's expression changed from mild to angry as she continued, though. Obviously they were talking about me - maybe some message from the Emir? Only that didn't make sense, and I wanted to talk to him about that anyway.

She finished, stopping abruptly, and Rwence was quiet for a moment. He looked at me, and then the table, and then, said, apologetically, "The meal is ... not as I had requested. It is not, in fact, fit for consumption."

"Why not?" I asked.

"An undercook decided to have a ... jest. At my expense," Rwence said, sounding upset. "A not-funny, insulting, and offensive jest." He turned back to Bream. "Hire a goblin, and have her skinned; the pelt will be her apology."

"The Emir will have to approve that, Incandescence."

Rwence bared his teeth in an expression that was only technically a smile. "I suspect she will decide hiring a goblin is wasted money."

"Yes, Incandescence," Bream said. "And the ... meal?"

"Remove it. Dispose of it. Properly. Have a moonset tea laid by the pool, we'll eat there. Now. Make sure the kitchen understands what I want. And what I don't want."

"Yes, Incandescence. Will there be anything else?"

"No," said Rwence, and then, "Yes. Find some Russalkan-style liquor." He looked at me questioningly.

"Brandy, or ouiskie," I said.

"I'll have ouzo," Rwence said. "We'll be by the pool."

"Yes, Incandescence," Bream bowed, and quickly left.

Rwence spared another angry glance at the table before he turned to me. "Mark, I apologize. Again. First this morning, and now ..." he shook his head. "This."

"It's fine," I said. "I want to ask you about this," and I pulled out the bracelet the Emir had given me. "I had a discussion with your grandmother, and ..."

"She distrusts you, obviously," Rwence said, inspecting the bracelet. "It's ... ah. Yes. I recognize this. It's not my work, but ... I can probably break it, I think, you put it on with some reservation?"

"I said I'd wear it for four days."

The silver gnoll nodded. "That sounds right. So I can take it off in four days."

"Not sooner?"

"Well," said Rwence. "Maybe. It would be easy in four days, that's just enforcing the intent of the contract. Before that, it would be breaking the contract. Which would be hard." He looked up, and then down. "Harder. Unlikely to be worth the effort, since my Grandmother would almost certainly do something drastic." He turned, and headed back towards the arch leading into the rock of the palace. "Have you seen the pool?"

"No," I said. "Unless that was where we came in last night. Is it bigger than the bathing chamber?"

"Yes, and this one's nicer," Rwence said. "Much nicer." The gnoll started walking. "It's pretty close, and a dip might be nice. Don't you think so?"

What I was thinking, at the moment, was more about the meal we were turning our back on, and why Rwence hadn't asked just why the Emir had thought it necessary to slap an enchanted manacle on me. Why, exactly, was Rwenthelethance so angry that he would ask his grandmother to skin_a cook? That seemed like overreaction, and I might not have known him long, but he didn't seem like the sort to overreact. And that lack of reaction to the manacle. Had he _expected that to happen? If so, then why? I mean, he couldn't have known I was an assassin - could he? Had he?

I thought about that as I followed Rwence through the stone tunnels, and down. He'd magicked that note to attract a swordsman - he said, but he could just as easily enchanted it to draw an assassin. Of course that would have significantly cut down the number applicants.

But I'd been the only applicant. At the time, I hadn't thought much about it. Yesterday, it had promised money - good money - and even better, a good hiding place. Had I been so eager that I'd neglected to look at the job carefully? It only took me a few steps to figure out the answer to that: yes. It's not as if I hadn't done that before - I was running _exactly_because of that - but somehow, it was easier to recognize that in hindsight. Unfortunately. I'd jumped, signed the paper, with nary a thought to what I was getting into. Although I had thought I'd be able to get out of it quickly enough ... and I really had an urge to read that thing through again.

"Rwence?"

"We're almost there," he said. "In fact, we _are_here." He gestured at the archway, leading to a small platform and beyond that I could see the moonlit sea, far below. I was too far back to see lower Zhaskur, of course, but I was certain this would be another stunning view of the Emir's port. Was it just for the view? Was it to emphasize the stranglehold on trade that Zhaskur and its Emir had? Both?

Rwence shivered, and I mistook the gesture, it wasn't that he was cold, he had somehow, in that quick shake, gotten out of the rest of his clothes and he started running toward the platform. "Rwence?" I asked, slightly alarmed. He sped up as he reached the edge. "RWENCE!"

He just sailed over the edge. I suppose I should have realized the hobs weren't reacting, but it wasn't until the splash a second later that I remembered he'd talked about a pool.

"It's great," Rwence's voice came back to me. "Perfect. Come on in!"

This time, I thought I'd look before I jumped, and I walked up on to the edge - what I had _thought_was the edge. There were steep, curved stairs winding down on the sides, and a ... pool, I suppose.

In Russalka, a_pool_ is somewhere by a river or a creek where the water slows down, maybe even stops, and either widens out or there's an area to the side. It's river water, a little muddy, cool in the summer and too cold to even consider going into in the winter, even if it's not frozen over. Or clear through. We have moats, which are huge muddy trenches dug around forts and castles, filled with unpleasant stagnant water whose general unwholesomeness is intended to be yet another deterrent to anyone taking the place by force.

What we do not have are pits dug into stone, lined with tile, and full of clear water, and even if we did have them, they wouldn't be thirty feet wide and forty feet long and I couldn't even begin to guess how deep; the floor looked slanted, so that it was deepest right under the edge where I was standing, and less deep towards the_real_ edge, out another fifty feet or so. Rwence was swimming - surprisingly well, I thought, although I don't know why I hadn't expected him to know how to swim. Well, I did: he's a noble (and in my experience nobles rarely have any kind of practical skill set beyond the purely martial), and he's confined - more or less - to the Emir's palace. Who would have expected the Emir's palace to have a ... pool? Even the huge water-bath had only been a couple of feet deep; good for relaxing and cooling down, but totally unsuited to swimming.

Rwenthelethance, I suppose, who was even now reaching the far end, pulling himself up - no, turning himself around and kicking off the edge back towards this side. I watched for another moment, and then turned. One of the hobgoblins - Thod, I recognized her after a moment - had already picked up and draped his clothes over her arm. I had a moment where I thought that it must be nice to have a pack of magically bound guards around you at all times to take care of these little details, and then I realized I'd been seeing the downsides to that all day. Night. For some reason, Thod had come up next to me, and was just standing there, about a step behind me, to my right.

Maybe it was all that assassin work, or just hanging out in the wrong bars, but I really don't like someone standing there. I turned to face her.

She stepped aside, as if she had been in my way, quickly. I turned again, and this time, she paused, and looked a little confused. "You were standing behind me. I'm ... it feels a little strange to have someone there."

"I was waiting to take your clothes," she said.

"I'm wearing them."

"If you had decided to join the Incandescence," she said. "In the water."

I glanced down, where Rwence was just reaching this side, and he rolled up and over and then was off again. "Does he do this ... much?"

"Fifty laps, on the days if he isn't working with swords," Thad said.

"I see. Did the Emir or ... anybody, tell him about the conversation I had with the Emir?"

Thad hesitated only for a moment. "No, Luminance."

"What was wrong with the meal." It was a demand, not a question.

I had to give Thad this, she didn't pretend to misunderstand or stall. "Luminance, the Incandescence clearly did not want to tell you; so implicitly, I am commanded not to speak. But your question is an implicit command to speak. In this situation, I must obey the Incandescence."

"But if I ordered you to tell me?"

"An explicit command would overrule the Incandescence's implicit one, yes."

"Tell me."

"Yes, Luminance. Undercook Mandallazaor twisted the Incandescence's command to provide human food. Instead of providing food for a human, that is, to your taste and appreciation, the Undercook chose to cook a human."

My stomach twisted. "Is that common?"

Thad looked confused. "Deliberate misconstruction of the Incandescence's command, or cooking humans?"

"Both."

"No, Luminance. Such insubordination is unheard of, but the Incandescence rarely commands non-hobgoblins. We would never do such a thing. I have never heard of some underling daring to do this to the Emir. The consumption of humans, or vulpa, or wolven, or non-gnolls, or even gnolls, for that matter, is ... a practice the current and past Emirs have frowned upon. It is from a much older tradition, and only those who would ... contest the Emir's will would do such a thing. And usually at as great a remove as possible; the Incandescence does not suffer her desires to be thwarted."

I thought about that for a moment. "Gnolls eat each other?"

Thad shifted her shoulders uncertainly. "I have heard of such things, but they are uncommon. Rare. Scandalous."

"And the matter of a human?"

"Also scandalous ... if less so. Some more conservative elements might even ... privately approve."

"Then why would the undercook do that?"

"Politics."

"Politics," I echoed, looking back down at the pool, and Rwence, still swimming. "I think I'm going to have to learn a lot about gnoll politics."

"Yes, Luminance."

"What do you know about them?"

Thad looked surprised. "Little, Luminance. Only what we are told by the Emir's spymaster."

I blinked. And smiled. That ... that could be _exactly_what I needed. "I think I want to arrange a talk with this spymaster."

"Yes, Luminance. I will have a message sent."

I looked down, and ... the water did look pretty inviting. "Here," I said, and stripped out of the veil, and took a leap in.

As it turns out, the water was perfect.

I was even getting used to gnollish tea; it was refreshing after the swim. One of the hobgoblins - Bream - was carefully brushing Rwenthelethance dry. I waited until Rwence was about half-way done before I brought up the bracelet.

"Well, it's only for four days."

"Four days, and if she decides I'm telling the truth."

"Aren't you?"

"Yes, but ... what if she decides I'm not?"

Rwence gave that strange gnollish laugh. "She'll see it my way. Don't worry. She's very reasonable when it comes to ruling Zhaskur."

"She did seem ... pretty reasonable," I said. "I'd have had me locked up."

"Really?" Rwence sounded interested. "What did you do?"

"I ... I'm not just a mercenary. I'm known in Russalka as the Black Mark. I'm a bounty hunter. For the guilds. Sometimes a noble. I track down ... offenders."

Rwence didn't say anything, but his eyes got bigger.

"And I make sure they're not going to offend anyone anymore. The reason I'm here is, well, I took a bad contract. And now there's a price on my head."

"I want to hear everything," Rwence said, sounding impressed. "That sounds so exciting!"

"Uh, no, it's ... more like ..."

"Yes?" said Rwence.

I looked at him, and he did look interested. More than interested; enthralled. And then I thought about living in Zhaskur, in the Emir's harem, occasionally getting the rare treat of sneaking out to go to a teashop surrounded by a troop of hobgoblin guards. Or the excitement I'd had this morning, trying - and failing - to fend off an aroused gnoll female. Even if it _had_been the Emir herself. I sighed. "Sure, Rwence."

I suppose it _did_sound exciting. It had been pretty grubby at the time, but ... somehow, in the moonlight and with the cool broth that gnolls call tea, and then real tea - the vulpa kind, made from leaves and hot water - and honeycakes from the port below, it did seem exciting. Rwence listened to the whole thing, asking questions here and there. He didn't know anything about snow, or what it was like. How do you explain _snow_to someone who has never even seen ice? He knew what it was, but ... the idea that anywhere could be so cold as to be covered in tiny little bits of ice just seemed to amaze him. Between that, and the story about how I'd tracked a bandit down into an ice cave only to lose him to another bounty hunter, well, it gave us something to talk about while we were drinking ouzo and ouiskie. It turns out Rwenthelethance had never had ouiskie; it, like the honeycakes, had come from the port. The ouzo got here much earlier - and I'd never had ouzo. It's ... it's more flavorful then ouiskie, much. On the whole, I prefer ouiskie's subtlety.

But ouzo is certainly just as strong as ouiskie, and I think both of were a little under the influence as we we went back into the palace. Well, a lot under the influence. I mean, I wouldn't usually, but I_was_ wearing that stupid bracelet, so it's not as if I could fight anyway. And Rwence was drinking, and ... no, I was drinking. I knew I was going to get staggeringly drunk somewhere around the fifth drink, and I knew Rwence was, too. We were both stumbling when we got down the stairs, into yet another tiny sleeping chamber, and even getting Rwence's robe off would have been difficult if Dalt (the guard on duty) hadn't stepped in to steady him. I notice that Dalt didn't offer to help me, but ... then, maybe she didn't think I needed any help. I've had some practice in concealing just how drunk I am. Not that I didn't_look_ drunk, I'm sure I did, but I've had practice walking, talking, and even getting into bed while completely inebriated.

In any case, we managed to get to bed without any serious complications. Rwenthelethance snuggled up to me in a sort of half-sleepy, drunken way, turning on his side and spooning into me. "I'm really sorry about last evening," he said. "I really, really, really didn't think my grandmother would ... although I suppose I should have known. She's pretty awful to her human." He was quiet for a moment. "Darren. She's pretty awful to Darren," he repeated. I recognized drunken insistence when I heard it. "But she doesn't fuck him," Rwence added. "I don't think ... didn't think she did. Does." Another half-pause, and then, "Did."

"It's not ..." a problem, I was was going to say. Maybe it was the ouiskie that supplied the words, "... your fault." Technically, I suppose it was, but ... I didn't blame him.

"It was! I made a mess of it." Rwence said, miserably. "Everything. It was ... and then it ... it ... it wasn't supposed to be like that!"

"What wasn't?"

"Everything!" said Rwence, shuddering. "The contract. I shouldn't have tricked you like that. But I'm so used to dealing with goblins."

"What does that ..."

"Everything! If you don't cheat them they don't respect you ..." said Rwence, rolling away from me. "Even some gnolls_are like that. I was expecting a gnoll! Or ... a free hobgoblin! Or ... or ... I wasn't expecting _you. I should have redrawn it."

"Now hold on," I said. "_I_signed it, didn't I?"

"But I tricked you," Rwence said. "I'm sorry."

"I signed it," I repeated. "You warned me. It's fine."

"But I tricked you," Rwence repeated. He actually said it again before it wandered through my also-drunk brain that he was at that repeating things stage of being drunk.

Ha! Only ... what came next? "You tricked me," I said solemnly, or at least as solemnly as I could, lying naked on my side.

"I'm sorry!" said Rwence. "I messed it all up ..." and then he actually started crying.

"Rwence!" I reached over, and pulled him over to me. I was surprised - although I'm not sure why - that he was so light. "It's fine!"

"But you won't like me ..." Rwence said.

"I like you fine." I hugged him, and ran my hand through the fine hair of his pelt. "I like you fine. Better than I like your grandmother, in fact." Now, that was the truth. For one thing, even with Rwence on top of me, I could breathe.

"Really? But ... I didn't think you liked her," Rwence said.

"I don't. But I do like you."

Rwence gave a little giggle. "Good. I like you, too, Mark." He reached down, and his hand found my thigh. "I wasn't sure I would, but I do."

"You weren't?"

"Well," the gnoll said softly. "You seemed so ... femme, when we met. You've met my grandmother. They're _all_like that, all my aunts, and cousins ... and all the women from the other clans ..." he touched my shaft, and shifted himself up a bit to give himself better access. "And it's not that I hate them ..." he paused. "Yes it is. I hate them." He was quiet for a minute, and then sort of squeezed me, applying pressure from the base of my manhood to the the top, not rubbing, but ... it felt good. I spread my legs a little, just enough to let him know the touch was welcome.

"I hate the way they ... force themselves on you. Me," he corrected himself. "Horrible old hags. Vicious. There's this one who leaves me with bruises ..."

"They can do that?"

"They're not supposed to," Rwence sighed, keeping up the rhythmic movement. "And Dalt and Bream and all my guards are good ... but ..."

"Mmmm," I said, letting him know I appreciated it.

"But they can't protect me there," Rwence said, with a sigh. "I'm on my own." He stopped stroking me for a moment. "And they're just ... bigger than I am."

"There are some things you can do ..." I started.

Rwence just shook his head. "Fighting just makes it worse. Much worse. Didn't you see my grandmother?"

"Yes," I said, puzzled.

"She _liked_that you beat Grael. That was ... well. That's what made her so ..."

"Oh," I said.

"So if I _did_manage to push one of them off me ..."

"It would just make her ..." I paused. Gnoll is not my first tongue, and I'm not sure what the word for horny was.

Rwence gave me the word. "Horny. Like this." And he started stroking my now-hard shaft again.

"Woah," I said. "I thought I'd be too drunk."

Rwence ... giggled. It wasn't the sound a human would make, but it was a giggle nonetheless, and he redoubled his efforts. It felt ... really, really good. "I'm still pretty drunk," I said.

"S'fine," Rwence answered. "You're ... big. Not as big as a woman. Big in a good way," he said. "That's not coming out right."

"Well, just give it a minute, and it will come out fine," I said, and Rwence started giggling again. It wasn't that funny, really, but sometimes things are just that much funnier when you're buzzed, and I started laughing, too. But not giggling. Certainly not giggling. Absolutely not giggling.

Ah, hell, I was drunk. I was giggling, and we both ended up rolling around on the bed, trying to rub each off - and not being the first to come - and finally we sort of settled into a spooning position where Rwence cheated by blowing on my sac. More giggling ensued as Rwence caught my seed in his hand, and then his, as well, as I finished him off.

"It looks just the same," Rwence said, quietly, still silly-happy but a little more sober in the quiet afterlude of climax. "Running together, yours and mine ..."

"Yes," I said. "Do you have a towel or something?"

_That_caught his attention, and he looked up at me. "What?"

"For ..." I gestured, vaguely, to his hand.

"No!" he said, silly-drunk replaced with sober-drunk. "No ... that would be ... no." He looked up at Dalt, who had watched us wrestling and giggling and I felt ... had I forgotten her? I had, something I wouldn't do if I were sober, but I had.

"Dalt," Rwence called. "This is for you. We couldn't be safe, nor happy, nor anything without you ..."

"It's not necessary, Incandescence," Dalt said.

"I know," Rwence said. "That's what makes me so happy to offer it." Now I was puzzled. What?

The hobgoblin came over to where we were sitting on the bed, and paused, and looked at me. "May I?"

"You need ..." started Rwence.

"He has to agree."

"May she, Mark?" Rwence said.

"May she what? I don't ... I'm sorry, Rwence, I don't understand."

"They're neuter," Rwence said. "The only way they can have pleasure ... is if we offer it to them. We don't have to, and they don't have to accept, but ... we can offer."

"Sure," I said, still not quite understanding.

Dalt dropped to her knees, and bent over Rwence's hand, and I finally understood, remembering what Thod had said, earlier. Obviously this was something they didn't get often, and ...

Dalt was only crouched over him for a moment, but when she got up, Rwence's hands were empty, and there were tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Incandescence, Luminance."

"With all my heart, Dalt," Rwence said.

It probably sounds a little strange, but it seemed to mean something to Rwence, and it clearly meant a lot to Dalt. "And mine," I added. "I don't know you as well as Rwence does, not yet, but ... I would never begrudge your loyalty to him anything."

"Thank you, Luminance," she said, reverently.

"Thank you," Rwence whispered to me, as he pulled me back down, onto the bed. "It's ... well." He looked over at the softly glowing crystal on the wall. "Lux voy," he said, and the room plunged into the absolute darkness of a cave. It didn't take Rwence long to fall asleep, and I might have been asleep before he was.

I woke up, with an immediate need to take care of. In the absolute darkness of the room, that was hard to do, but I managed to get up without disturbing Rwence.

I heard, very softly, "Luminance?"

"I just need the pot," I said. "And ...

"Lux tizo," Dalt whispered, and the crystal glimmered faintly, painting the room in black shapes seen only to the sides. "Is that enough?"

"I suppose," I said. "The pot ..."

Dalt moved it over for me, and I relieved myself of the inevitable result of a night of drinking. I let out a sigh of relief, and recovered the pot. "What's the hour," I asked quietly.

"Perhaps four hours to sunset," Dalt said.

"Huh," I said, settling back down on the bed. "When will Rwence wake up?"

"The Incandescence usually wakes up around sunset. Although that's when he's less ... intoxicated. Luminance."

"Yeah," I said. "About that. Do you have to call me that?"

"Yes," Dalt said.

"Because ... I think I'd prefer if you didn't."

"That is unfortunate, Luminance. I cannot address you with less than the respect you are due as Rwence's man-in-waiting. I apologize."

"Don't," I said. "I don't want you to get into trouble. Or is it one of those oath things?"

"It is one of those oath things, Luminance, yes," and Dalt sounded amused.

"Must be weird, growing up, knowing you're going to be oathbound like that ... or did you know?"

"Neither, Luminance."

"Really," I asked, becoming curious. "How did you grow up, then?"

"I did not. Hobgoblins aren't ... we are never children."

"You're kidding," I said.

"No," she said, stiffly. "I do not kid."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean it like that ... I meant, I don't see how that is possible."

"We are poured," she said.

"I have absolutely no idea what that means."

The dark shape that was Dalt shrugged. "I can tell you what I remember, and what I saw. I woke up, as I am now, in a bed of sand - a mold - with a goblin standing over me. I ..." she paused. "I'm not sure how to explain this. I didn't know everything I know now, but ... much seemed to come to me, after I got up, and the goblin cleaned the sand off of me. And inspected me. I was fortunate that the pour went well."

"Went well."

"Yes. I watched the goblin - he was a fleshcrafter of Dlahnt. I never learned his name ... after brushing me off, he simply ordered me to stand out of the way, so I watched him resculpt the sand in the imprint of a hobgoblin, and then pour melt into it, very slowly. The crafter forms the melt into what he desires, it's very hard, even for a master. Or so I am told. The next two pours went badly - he discarded them, and then poured Bream and Thod, and then the three of us were taken to the Emir, and oathed to her service."

"That day?"

"No, each pour takes hours of preparation, and hours to do. I think I was two or three before I was taken to the Emir. Days," Dalt added calmly. "The Emir prefers us ... as new as possible, so we may be instructed by gnolls and learn what we need to know."

"How old are you now?"

"I have been in the Emir's service for thirty-seven years," said Dalt. "As have Bream and Thod, and we have guarded the Incandescence since he was born."

"He's thirty-seven?"

"The Incandescence is twenty-six," Dalt said. "I am not sure when the other guards started, but more have been assigned as he grew older, and more were needed."

"So ... what is melt?"

"I do not know. It is made from flesh and other things ... it is a secret of the fleshcrafters, as is how to manipulate it. But it is the basis for all of their puppets."

"Puppets?"

"Goblins refer to us - we creations of their art of flesh - as meat puppets," Dalt said.

Meat puppets. I grimaced before I remembered that, unlike me, Dalt could see perfectly well in this half-light.

"So they just ... sold you to the Emir. Not even as a slave, as a ... a puppet?" I asked.

"Yes, but I am glad to be so sold. Goblins war among themselves, but goblins do not fight goblins - their puppets fight puppets," Dalt said. "A failed or dead puppet goes back into the melt. To the gnolls, we are simply slaves, and we do not have to fear the melt."

It took me a moment to understand that. "So a ..."

"A failed puppet goes back into the melt, so that the crafter can try again." I couldn't believe that Dalt was speaking so calmly. "I am glad I met my creator's expectations, even as I strive to meet those of the Incandescences."

"That's ... horrible," I said, and I have to admit I was a little upset. "Goblins just ... _pour_you? And then ... melt you down if ... if ... they feel like it?"

"Yes, but if the Emir had not ordered my creation, and then goblin had not created me," Dalt said, "then I would not exist. How, then should I question my existence?"

"I'll have to think about that," I said. "It doesn't sound ... it sounds pretty awful to me."

"It is not my place to question you, either, Luminance."

"Yeah ... so, if I can ask, I don't want to offend you or Rwence, but ... what happened, last night? With ..."

"With your gift of seed?"

"Yes," I said. "I ... think I need to understand that." As if I could understand any of this.

"As you say, Luminance. Hobgoblins are created male, female, herm, and neuter - but really, we are all neuter. Those of us who appear male, or female, or herm may act and feel and perform sexually - but we are not capable of reproduction."

"Mmm," I said, in response to her pause.

"Our masters, which is to say the gnolls, feel that a harem guard, or one who is to be a harem guard, should be neuter - apparently, this is traditional from before the gnolls met the goblins, and the founding of Zhaskur."

"Wait," I said. "Haven't the gnolls always been here?"

"No, Luminance. But if you wish the history of this place, you should ask the Incandescence. I know very little about it. This is the last-founded Emirate, the northermost reach of the gnolls, and the southernmost reach of the goblins, and that is ... all I know."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry. Please go on."

"As you wish, Luminance. As I said, we were taken to our new masters - gnolls - immediately. They did not want the goblins to train us, or teach us - they wished to do that themselves, so we would understand their society, and ..." she paused. "There is another reason, but I cannot do more than mention it. And part of that society is the bonding, male to female, male to male, and female to female, of sex. The first neuters could not partake, and that ..."

"Didn't you say that they - the gnolls, I mean - traditionally used eunuch in their harem?"

"Yes. And I don't know if or how they were part of that. For the last three hundred years, all harem guards have been neuter hobgoblins. They told the goblins that we fell short of their expectations, and explained what they needed ... and so we were given the ability to experience sex second-hand, if our owners wished it." The hobgoblin was quiet for a moment. "I'm glad we were. It is a great gift, and the Incandescence is generous to us."

What could you say to that? "Thank you for explaining," was really all I could come up with. Poured? _Poured?_That was just ...

"So you don't know much about goblins?"

"Some. I woke ... knowing how to speak goblin and gnollish, knowing the behavior required of me ... a lot, but no, not a lot about goblins. I was intended as a gnollish slave."

"Then what did the gnolls teach you?"

She was silent for a moment. "Life," she said finally. "How to use what I know, effectively. Pardon me, Luminance, but I do not think I may say more."

"No, you've ... given me a lot to think about. I suppose ... I didn't realize the ..." I thought for a moment. Zhaskur was on the north side of the straits. There were gnolls to the south? Where? As far as I knew - as far as anyone knew, gnolls controlled the_north_ desert. Only, Dalt had just said the goblins did ... so ...

"Why do the goblins allow the gnolls here in Zhaskur, then?"

"Allow?" asked Dalt. "They would not, if they could. They would keep Zhaskur and its control of the straits and its wealth all to themselves - if they could. But they cannot. It was the Emir's family that realized Zhaskur and its naval power. Gnollish power brings in the riches, and ... the goblins know they could not. They make poor sailors. If goblins controlled Zhaskur port, all they could do would be to gaze on the riches passing they by. This way, they at least ... get some. Nor could the goblins hold the port against the orcs. It is true that the goblins hold the deserts, but it is more true to say that they hold the underdesert. The orc-tribes that block the land-routes to the east travel the desert, too, and it is gnollish might that keeps ..." she paused. "Goblins do not face orcs in the daylight, or on the surface. Gnolls can, and do, but not goblins."

"I didn't know that."

"Orcs travel the desert with impunity. How they do, I do not know, but tribes raise armies and throw them against the Emir's holdings."

"But I thought the Emir used hobgoblin troops against them."

"Many, yes," Dalt said. "The bulk of the Emir's troops are hobgoblins."

"And they get the hobgoblins from goblins."

"Every one of us, yes."

"But the goblins can't defend themselves against the orcs?"

"Yes," said Dalt, with a satisfied tone. "That is entirely right."

"But ..."

"The goblins do not understand it either," Dalt said. "But the fact remains. Before the gnolls came to Zhaskur, the goblins could not hold the surface against the orcs, even with us. The gnolls can."

"How ..."

"That is ... something that the Emir does not wish the goblins to learn, and so I am forbidden to reveal it," Dalt said readily.

"Magic?"

"It is true that gnollish sand-mages can quiet the sandstorms of the orc shamans, but the sandstorms never truly threatened goblins, since they live under the sands. There may be some advantage to the gnolls there. And Emir depends on goblin fleshcrafting for healing."

"But it isn't the real reason."

"I cannot discuss it, Luminance, it is forbidden to me."

"Can Rwence discuss it?"

"I do not know, Luminance," Dalt demurred. "Forgive me."

"For what?" I asked. "You ... you're the way you are, regardless of how you came to be that way. You've been helpful." I smiled at her in the dim light. "Even if I don't ..."Don't what? "Understand it yet."

"Luminance?" Dalt asked, concerned. "I don't ... have I been ... can I explain something better?"

"It's my problem, not yours," I said. "Don't worry about it."

"Yes, Luminance."

"And ... how do you turn the lights off? Lux voy?"

"Yes, Luminance," Dalt said, with just a hint of amusement as the light flickered out, leaving the room in darkness again.

I must have fallen asleep again, because when I opened my eyes, the room was lit again, and both Dalt and Bream were standing there, calling us. "Luminance! Incandescence!"

"Yea - yes?" said Rwence, sleepily. "What is it? I wanted to sleep in tonight."

"The Emir is holding a sunset court, Incandescence. She wishes both of you to attend."

"Sunset ... what? Why?"

"I presume the matter of the undercook will be dealt with."

"Oh, yes," Rwence said. "Well. I have to be there. But Mark could sleep in."

"No," I said. "I'm happy to get up." I'd gone straight form sleep to wide awake. "What time is it?"

"An hour before sunset, Luminance," Bream said.

"Where's the court being held," Rwence said, urgently.

"The Dower Court."

"Oh, that's not so bad," Rwence said, relaxing a little.

"Why ... why is that not so bad?" I asked.

"The Dower Court has a harem balcony for us," Rwence said. "Much simpler. We don't have to go outside."

And it was. Tea - broth for Rwence, herbed water and cheese for me - and simple clothes were enough for us to take seats on a huge overstuffed couch with cushions. It was, technically, a balcony, although it overlooked the room itself only by about five feet. A sheet of gauze wavered between the balcony and the room, but I could see through it easily. The room beyond was larger, and still empty, but there was a dais and a chair - not as comfortable as our couch. Two gnolls entered, carrying small stools, glanced up at the balcony and then back down to where a hobgoblin in the violet-gray harem livery was standing, directly below us. They set the two stools down in front of the dais, and withdrew.

Rwence gestured, and a hobgoblin quietly brought us more tea - well, they brought Rwence tea. Me, they served basil-scented water. Gnollish cuisine, from what I've seen, is fairly strange, and not at all like ours. I'm just grateful that there are a few things that appeal to both human and gnoll. Rwence sipped his broth-tea, and shrugged. "We wait," he said.

"For what? I thought there was nothing this evening."

"A Sunset Court is for judgments of gnolls who have transgressed against their clan or against the well-being of Zhaskur," Rwence said. "Apparently my grandmother feels the need for a formal court. The undercook may have some clan connection, and her clan may have demand to speak. We'll see."

Ah. "What role do we play?"

"That depends," Rwence said. "Since the offense was committed against me, the Emir may give me the role of Judge. Or, if she decides to be Judge, then I am Last Speaker - that is, I comment last, before she decides."

"Who else is here?"

Rwence shrugged. "It's complicated; there will be an investigator - Truth, who will make a report to the Master of the Court. Justice and Mercy will then present their recommendations, and if there is anything in dispute, the Judge decides the issues. There won't be an official Legate, because Truth, Justice, and Mercy are all legates, and my grandmother knows the law herself, so ... she'll probably serve as Judge, Master of the Court, and Legate, but formally they're different. And there can be Interests - usually clan representatives, and sometimes witnesses, and ... it gets more and more complicated. Hopefully this morning will be simple."

Yes. Simple.

The first gnolls into the court stood directly by the stools. Two more hobgoblins came in, with another gnoll - the undercook, I supposed, in shiny silver chains. Another gnoll walked in, and kneeled before the dias. Two more entered, and stood by the wall.

The Emir just appeared on the dias. I'm not sure how she did it, but I didn't see her come in, just noticed her, standing there for a moment before she took her seat, and as she did, the kneeling gnoll stood. More hobgoblins - the Emir's guard - filed in as well. The Emir was dressed in midnight-black silk embroidered with amazingly realistic birds, and she wasted no time. "Vortaliamatha, please serve Justice," she said. "Gransmaliant, I ask for your Mercy in this proceeding. Rulthanazorn, I expect Truth in this proceeding. I will see to Law, Judgment, and the Court. And the Court recognizes Armklarion and Hashadasithi as having genuine Interests in the matter." She paused for a moment. "I declare the Court open. Are there any preliminary matters?" After a moment of silence, she nodded. "Excellent."

"The Truth of the matter, then, Rulth."

"Excellency. Mandallazaor, entrusted with the post of undercook, caused a male human awaiting execution to be transferred to the kitchens, where he was butchered, and she prepared a traditional enthatha. Mandallazaor says she was ordered to do so by Incandescence Rwenthelethance, who commanded a 'suitable human meal.' Unfortunately, the orders were not committed to paper, but transmitted verbally by the Incandescence's guard, who recalls the order as 'a meal suitable for humans.' The truth of the wording is in doubt."

"Mandallazaor reports that she was aware of the Emir's command against_enthatha_, but that since this was a harem meal, it was a harem matter, and so the Emir's command did not apply."

"That there was conveniently a human awaiting execution did not escape my notice. The paperwork surrounding his case was in error, and he had been awaiting a hearing for three weeks to determine if mercy was appropriate. The truth of this error is in doubt, but I was unable to determine if it were intentional, or who might have caused it. Many persons in a position of trust have access to those papers."

"Master," the gnoll behind the left stool said. "A point of justice." Rwence whispered that this was Vort.

"The point?"

"An investigation should match prisoners with paperwork, to see if others are in this ... accidental limbo. Or if there have been other ... irregularities."

"Grans?" the Emir asked.

"A most proper request. My only objection is that I did not make it first."

The Emir nodded. "Rulth, you are appointed to see to this.

"As the Court command," the gnoll said, bowing. "I did not trouble the Incandescence, as it was clear his intent was not to order any sort of human enthatha, but rather to provide food to the liking of his newly-hired attendant, who appears to be a human war-trained gladiator. Specifically, that he has hired a human is truth, that the human is competent with arms is truth, and that he is reported to be a gladiator is truth. It did not seem pertinent, so I did not trouble him to determine it."

"Mandallazaor was hired, Excellency, in part because of her experience with enthatha_in the court of Triskeem. I do not claim to be a competent judge of food preparation, but the _enthatha itself was presented attractively to my eye, and seemed appetizing. The Emir's senior chef, Quezurananial, judged it an exhibition of superior skill and expertise, craft she herself would have been satisfied with, and not unworthy of the Incandescence's table, had he in fact ordered it, which, I repeat, he did not. The undercook reports directly to Quezuranial, and she reports she was not consulted. However, Quez was not in the palace at the time. I cannot say if Mandallazaor attempted to find Quez or not; she reports that she did."

Rulth fell silent then, and the Emir spoke. "Without determining the matter of the mislaid papers, you thought this was ready for court?"

"Master. I did, because I do not believe the question of the papers can be clarified. There are too many ways for them to be altered, and appear as an accident. I do not think it was an accident, but there is no way to know what happened."

"You did not make inquiry of Incandescence Rwenthelethance. Explain."

"He did not directly command Mandallazaor, his guard did, and I made inquiry of her. His intent was clear to her, it is merely the wording that was in question, and it was not he who spoke to the Undercook."

"Very well. Vortaliamatha, please opine on the justice of the situation."

Another gnoll, dressed in black silk like the Emir's, only without the elaborate embroidery, crept into the room and took up a position by a door.

"The matter seems simple enough, Master," Vort continued, either not noticing or ignoring the entry. "The Undercook took it upon herself to ignore the Emir's command against enthatha. The only question is how severe the reprimand should be."

"She obeyed a command from the Incandescence," Gransmaliant, "concerning a meal for the harem, where the Emir's command is merely the Incandescence's guide. The harem is under the Incandescence's authority."

"The Undercook is hardly a member of the harem, and the preparation ... Rulth, am I correct in saying the preparation happened outside the harem, in the Emir's palace?"

"That is so," the gnoll said.

"It is a legate's nicety, that," said Gransmaliant. "But the undercook is hardly a legate, to make such niceties."

"Hardly a nicety when the undercook would have been and knew she was barred from the harem," Vort replied.

"Did she know that? She is from Triskeem, not Zhaskur."

"Irrelevant," said Vort. "Had she properly tried to enter the harem, she would have been barred. So she did not try."

"And yet the meal was destined for the harem, and the harem does not have its own kitchens."

"Pardon," said Rulth. "The harem does have its own kitchens, but they have been closed for years. I do not know if this was or was not known to Mandallazaor."

"Thank you for the clarification," Grans said. "So it may have been she was properly following a lawful command."

"Dubious. And what of this misplaced human?"

"Clearly unjust, but there is nothing to suggest it is not an accident."

"Rulth clearly thought there was a great deal to suggest that it was not an accident. Merely because he could not assign responsibility does not mean it was an accident."

"It could not be determined," Gransmaliant said.

"It is remarkably convenient, and therefore extremely suspicious."

"Many things are, and innocent, at the same time."

"Rarely innocent. Why would the Incandescence desire a human enthatha just as rumor swells of his unusual new attendant?"

"For some matter of internal harem discipline. It is not Mandallazaor's place to question his judgment."

"No, but it is her place to be certain what is desired. Any request for clarification would have resulted in a ... a different outcome. And the command was dubious enough that we, who are expert on the law, discuss the proper answer. Such a command should have been confirmed, at a minimum."

"The command came directly from his guard, who is oathed to the Emir. Why would she question it?"

That seemed to pause Vort for a moment. "Because it reverses a long-standing policy that has had no exceptions."

"New to Zhaskur, she might not be aware of that. After all, did not Rulth say she was hired in part for her expertise in enthatha? Perhaps the Incandescences have decided to reverse the policy. Perhaps the policy is a guideline, observed primarily in the lapse."

"Perhaps that was a reason for her to seek guidance."

"Rulth says, and had no reason to doubt, she did. Quen was out of the palace."

"Yes ... Rulth, where was Quen?" asked Vort.

"Quen reports she was at her sister's house, in the port."

"You did not confirm that?" asked Vort.

"It did not seem pertinent, and another undercook - Uruzamyll - reported that Quen had told her of the visit two days ago, and that Quen often visits her sister, usually once or twice a week. And her sister occasionally visits her here. Since Uruz reported that the visit was planned before the Incandescence passed his order to his guard, it did not seem worth further investigation. I did not think that Quen or Uruz were in any sort of collaboration with this matter."

"No," broke in the Emir. "And rightly so. Vortaliamatha, is that all?"

"Yes, Master."

"Gransmaliant."

"Thank you, Master. The thing seems clear; an unfortunate set of factors, no more. A misunderstood message, an error in the prison, a newly hired cook eager to show off her expertise to the Incandescence ... unfortunate, most unfortunate, but hardly deliberate, and however terrible the result, there was no intent to offend the Incandescence, or defy the law."

"That is less than proved," said Vort.

"It seems the simplest case. Anything else requires complex schemes, foreknowledge of the Incandescence's order and ... frankly, surprising hireling. I do not think this set of circumstances could be anticipated, and some level of anticipation would be needed to make this an intentional, rather than unintentional, deed." Gransmaliant paused, glanced up at the balcony for a moment. "Everything is explained, and innocently."

"The violation of the Emir's edict is not pure innocence," Vort said.

"That is for the Court to determine. For myself, it seems innocent," Grans said.

"Grans?"

"That is all, Master."

"Hashadasithi, you declared an interest in this matter?"

"I thank the Master of the Court. I did. Her interests need no further representation." The Emir simply nodded. Rwence quietly explained to me that Hash represented the Emir herself.

"Armklarion," said the Emir. "I must admit I am surprised to see you take interest. On whose behalf are you here?"

"My clients wish to remain anonymous," the gnoll said.

"That does not lend weight to anything you have to say."

"I assure the Court that I represented that point to them. May I begin?"

"Do."

"My clients are concerned for our cultural heritage. The enthatha victory feast is ..."

"Stop," said the Emir. "The Court notes the ... historical ... functions, that have ... traditionally been associated with the torture and consumption of defeated foes. The Court points out that a criminal is not, in any sense, a defeated foe, and the Court will not hear anything further in that vein."

"Quite right, I appreciate the Court's granting my point." Armklarion said with a smile. "I move directly to the question of reenactment and celebration, for which ..."

"Enough," the Emir said, and even I heard the anger in her voice. "Legate Armklarion, this line of argument has been settled."

"My duty to my client ..."

"Has been duly fulfilled," the Emir said. "Do you wish to evince some other line of discussion?"

"Perhaps the Court would like to consider more explicitly the question of non-gnolls," Armklarion said. "They have no clan, and never before and in no other city do they have these ... remarkable legal protections."

"Continue," said the Emir.

"I thank the Court. Traditionally ..."

"No," the Emir broke in. "The Court is not interested in tradition. Laws and traditions change. That is, after all, the proper function of the Emir's edict. Therefore, move directly to how these ... protections, I think you called them, impinge on the clan or clans you represent."

Armklarion nodded. "I thank the Court for its direction. First, it is a matter of personal privilege. Consuming some upstart human has long been a right of every gnoll. That ..."

"Move on," the Emir directed. "Unless this is something beyond the argument advanced by Legate Krajalkurtna."

"It is her argument, entirely, and I thank the Court for noticing it?"

"The Court takes notice."

"Next, I draw the Court's attention to the realm of diplomacy, and relations with non-gnoll nations. Being eaten, after all, is a powerful disincentive to making war on our cities. I would point out that the ramifications extend beyond Zhaskur, and the argument that restricting _enthatha_benefits Zhaskur ... does not apply elsewhere."

"Noted," the Emir said. "Has Krajalkurtna written a position on this?"

"The Court's supposition is correct. Might I offer it to the Court?"

"Rulth, please accept them."

Armklarion handed a set of folded papers over to Rulth. Interestingly, Rulth took them over to one of the guards below our balcony, who walked out of the room. A few moments later, the hobgoblin came in, and presented them to Rwenthelethance, who paged through them quickly, and handed them back.

"What was that ..."

"They might have been some kind of calligramancy on them," Rwence said. "There isn't."

"Oh," I said.

"Don't laugh, it's been tried," Rwence said, as the hobgoblin reappeared in the court, and handed the papers back to Rulth, who took them to the Emir. Everyone was silent for about five minutes, as she read them, a page at a time, passing each page to Volt, who passed the page to Grans, who gave the paper back to Rulth. The Emir waited, surprisingly patiently, for Volt and then Grans to finish them.

"Anything?"

"These ... interesting arguments have no impact on the facts before the court," Volt said. "I would beg the Court to disregard them."

"I think they may shed some light on Mandallazaor's thoughts about the order and purpose, but ... I agree, they do not seem to otherwise intersect anything pertinent," Grans said.

"The Court can hardly object when both justice and mercy are in accord," the Emir said. "Armklarion, do you have anything further?"

"Only ... an observation of my own, in my duty as Legate appearing before the Court."

"Proceed."

"It seems to me that there is some ... suggestion of premeditation, and yet, that premeditation might not be on the part of Mandallazaor. Perhaps ... some intentional acts crossed with some of the unlikely and unforeseeable events mentioned by Rulth." Armklarion bowed apologetically to Gransmaliant. "I do not defend this interpretation. I merely put it to the Court's notice."

"The Court appreciates it," the Emir said. "It is an interesting suggestion, and entirely pertinent. Gransmaliant?"

"I confess it had not occurred to me, but I have no objection to it."

" Vortaliamatha?"

"I am considering it," the gnoll said. "It is not without some merit, but ... it seems even more unlikely than pure premeditation."

"Plans tangle," Gransmaliant said. "I rather like it, especially to the extent that some of the other evidence seems, how did you put it, convenient_and _suspicious."

"I see. Is there anything further? No? Then, Incandescence Rwenthelethance. You have already pronounced sentence; the Court would humbly ask if you have further light to shed."

"I withdraw my terms in favor of the Court's," Rwence said. "_Enthatha_is as repugnant to me as her Incandescence the Emir, and in no small part my anger was as much for the practice - repellent practice - as it was at the assumed insult offered to my attendant. I am content to accept the Court's discretion."

"The Court thanks the Incandescence, and accepts his charge," the Emir said. She looked at the undercook. "Mandallazaor. You have heard the deliberations, and you have been handed to the Court's discretion. The Court is prepared to hear you."

"I thank the Court," the gnoll finally said, sounding raspy. "It was never my intent to insult the Incandescence, only to honor him, in that I had thought he had ... might have ... taken notice of me. I was ... am wrong, and I beg for the Incandescence's forgiveness, and the Emir's, and the Court's. I ... I have ... I will return to Triskeem, if I may."

"I am prepared to judge this case," the Emir said. "Mandallazaor. Bad judgment is not a crime in and of itself, but it has led you into committing one. You will remain here, as an undercook, until it pleases the Emir to release you. Your wages will be be entailed until you have paid a ten-tradebar fine from them. You will take a vow never to prepare enthatha. And, the Emir permitting, you will take over cooking for the port prison. I warn you, this is the most lenient sentence I can impose. Do you agree to it?"

"I ... I will," the gnoll said, "but I do not understand why I am to be cooking for the port prison. I will accept the sentence," she added hurriedly, "I do accept it, and I thank you for your forbearance, but ... I do not understand that part of my punishment."

The Emir nodded. "No, I did not think you would, but perhaps it will come to you." She stood. "This matter is settled. Is there further business for the Court?"

"May it please the Court, a petitioner begs an audience with the Emir." the black-clad gnoll who had entered earlier said.

"Hardly a matter for a Sunset Court," the Emir said, with distinct disapproval. "Is there some reason to present her now?"

"I would beg the Court's indulgence." the gnoll said. "After all, the Emir may take a petition when acting in any role, and since the petitioner is human, and concerns human matters, I thought that perhaps a smaller Court might be a better venue for the matter. Ideal, even."

"How long might this matter require?"

"Perhaps a quarter-mark, although it is hard to know."

"It concerns?"

"A matter of human justice, but the petitioner is best suited to present it."

The Emir sat down again. "We declare the Court closed to new business, and will hear the petition," she said, with evident ill humor. "Although we remind the Legate that petitions are typically presented to our steward, and scheduled for appearance."

"I understand, and I thank the Incandescence for her indulgence." He turned, and opened the door. The woman who walked in was five foot seven, and whipcord thin. She wore fairly plain, worn leather clothes in their natural tones, and she had a belt that typically held twelve throwing daggers, although it was empty. I noticed the guards had either missed the darts that served as buttons on her tunic, as well as the apparently ornamental silk ribbon sewed along the seam. It was sewn with weak thread, and a good rip would detach it, along with the steel cord inside the ribbon. Her boots were new, and I wondered what surprises they contained and if the guards had found them. If they'd missed her strangling cord, I'd guess she still had her other surprises with her as well.

Her name was Arkadia, she had a three-foot scar running down her back and left leg. She was as good a bounty hunter as I was, although she was generally hired when a body was wanted, rather than removed, and I had a sinking feeling I knew what she was doing here in Zhaskur.

I had another surprise; I hadn't known she spoke Gnoll. "Thank you, Most Incandescent. I am here, seeking a fugitive who has passed through your city, a most dangerous assassin, called the Black Mark. He is wanted for the murder of His Royal Highness Price Cumberlake."

Rwence turned to me. "Oh, this isn't good."

"No," I said. "It's not."