"Shedding one's skin is always a trying procedure," Ezahh agreed. "If you don't mind a bit of advice, Salmissra, you should probably make the humans stay away from you at those times."
"I need a few of them around me. If nothing else, it gives me someone to bite."
"Stick to mice," he advised. "They taste better, and at least they can be swallowed.”
“If I can persuade Sadi to return, it may just solve both our problems," she hissed dryly. "I'll have someone to run the palace without bothering me, and you'll get your little playmate back."
"Interesting notion, Salmissra." He looked around. "Is that human you sent out to fetch my mouse raising it from infancy?” be asked.
Yarblek and Vella slipped into Yar Nadrak late one snowy evening just before the gates were closed for the night. Vella had left her lavender satin gowns at Boktor and had reverted to her traditional tight leather garb. Because it was winter, she wore in addition a sable coat that would have cost a fortune in Tbl Honeth. "Why does this place always smell so bad?1' she asked her owner as they rode through snow-clogged streets toward the riverfront.
"Probably because Drosta let the contract for the sewer system out to one of his cousins." Yarblek shrugged, pulling the collar of his shabby felt coat up around his neck. "The citizens paid a great deal in taxes for the system, but Drosta's cousin turned out to be a better embezzler than he was an engineer. I think it runs in the family. Drosta even embezzles from his own treasury."
"Isn't that sort of absurd?" "We have an absurd sort of king, Vella." “ I thought the palace was over that way.” She pointed toward the center of town.
"Drosta won't be in the palace at this time of night," Yarblek told her. "He gets lonesome when the sun goes down, and he usually goes out looking for companionship." "He could be anywhere, then."
"I doubt it. There are only a few places in Yar Nadrak where he's welcome after dark. Our king isn't widely loved." Yarblek pointed up a littered alley. "Let's go this way. We'll stop by the office of our factor and get you some suitable clothing." "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" "Sable attracts attention in the part of town we're going to visit, Vella, and we're trying to be inconspicuous."
The office in Yar Nadrak of Silk and Yarblek's far-flung commercial empire was in a loft over a cavernous warehouse filled with bales of furs and deep-piled Mallorean carpets. The factor was a squinty-eyed Nadrak named Zelmit, who was probably almost as untrustworthy as he looked. Vella had never really liked him and she customarily loosened her daggers in their sheaths whenever she came into his presence, making very sure that he saw her doing so to be certain that there would be no misunderstandings. Technically, of course, Vella was one of Yarblek's possessions, and Zehnit had a reputation for making rather free with things that belonged to his employer.
"How's business?" Yarblek asked as he and Vella entered the cluttered little office.
"We're getting by," Zelmit said in a rasping voice.
"Specifics, Zelmit," Yarblek said brusquely. "Generalities make my teeth itch."
"We've found a way to bypass Boktor and evade Drasnian customs."
"That's useful."
"It takes a bit longer, but we can get our furs to Tol Honeth without paying Drasnian duties. Our profits in the fur market are up by sixty percent."
Yarblek beamed. "If Silk ever comes back through here, I don't think you really need to tell him about it," he cautioned. "Sometimes he breaks out in a rash of patriotism, and Porenn is his aunt, after all."
"I wasn't really thinking of telling him. We still have to carry the Mallorean carpets through Drasnia, though. The best market for those is still the great fair in central Arendia, and we can't pay anybody enough to get him to freight them across Ulgo-land." He frowned. "Someone's cutting the prices on us, though. Until we can find out what's going on, it might not be a bad idea to curtail our imports."
"Did you manage to sell off those gemstones I brought back from Mallorea?"
"Naturally. We smuggled them out and sold them here and there on our way south.”
"Good. It always depresses the market when you show up in one place with a bushel basket full of them. Do you know if Drosta's in the usual place tonight?"
Zelmit nodded. “He went there just before sundown.”
" Vella's going to need a sort of nondescript cloak," Yarblek said then.
Zelmit squinted at the girl.
Vella opened her fur coat and put her hands on the hilts of her daggers. "Why don't you go ahead and try it now, Zelmit?" she said. "Let's get it over with."
"I wasn't really planning anything, Vella," he said innocently. "I was just sizing you up, that's all."
"I noticed," she said dryly. "Did that cut on your shoulder ever heal?"
"It aches a little in damp weather," he complained.
"You should have kept your hands to yourself."
"I think I’ve got an old cloak that'll fit you. It's a little shabby, though."
"So much the better," Yarblek said. "We're going to the One-Eyed Dog and we'd like to sort of blend in."
Vella removed her sable and laid it across a chair. "Don't lose track of this, Zelmit," she warned. "I'm fond of it, and I'm sure we'd both hate what would happen if it accidentally wound up on a caravan bound for Tol Honeth."
"You don't have to threaten him, Vella," Yarblek said mildly,
"That wasn't a threat, Yarblek," she retorted. "I just wanted to be sure that Zelmit and I understood each other."
"I'll get that cloak," Zelmit offered.
"Do that," she said.
The cloak was not so much shabby as it was tattered, and it smelled as if it had never been washed. Vella pulled it on over her shoulders with some reluctance.
"Put the hood up," Yarblek told her.
"I'll have to wash my hair if I do,"
"So?"
"Do you know how long it takes hair like mine to dry in the
wintertime?"
"Just do it, Vella. Why do you always argue with me?" "It's a matter of principle."
He sighed mournfully. "Take care of our horses," he told Zelmit. "We'll walkthe rest ofthe way." And then he led Vella out of the office. When they reached the street, he took a length of clinking chain with a leather collar on one end out of a side pocket of his overcoat. "Put this on," he told her.
"I haven't worn a chain or collar in years," she said.
"It's for your own protection, Vella," he said wearily. "We're going into a very rough part of town, and the One-Eyed Dog is the roughest place down there. If you're chained, nobody will bother you—unless he wants to fight with me. If you're loose, some ofthe men in the tavern might misunderstand."
"That's what my daggers are for, Yarblek."
"Please, Vella. Oddly enough, I sort of like you, and I don't want you getting hurt."
"Affection, Yarblek?" She laughed. "I thought the only thing you really liked was money."
"I'm not a complete scoundrel, Vella."
"You'll do until the real thing comes along," she said, fastening the collar around her neck. "As a matter of fact, I sort of like you, too."
His eyes widened, and he grinned.
"Not that much, though," she added.
The One-Eyed Dog was perhaps the foulest tavern Vella had ever entered and Vella had been in a large number of low dives and shabby taverns in her life. Since the age of twelve, she had always relied on her daggers to ward off unwanted attentions. Although she had seldom been obliged to kill anyone—except for a few enthusiasts—she had nonetheless established a reputation for being a girl no sensible man would attempt. Sometimes that rankled a bit, though, since there were tunes when Vella might have welcomed an attempt. A nick or two in some unimportant places upon an ardent admirer would sustain her honor, and then-—well, who knows?
"Don't drink any of the beer here," Yarblek cautioned as they entered. "The vat is open, and there are usually a few drowned rats floating around in it." He wrapped her chain around his hand.
"You’ve been spending too much time with Porenn," he said. "You're starting to get delicate."
"How would you like to have me gut you?" she offered.
"That's my girl." He grinned. "Let's go upstairs."
"What's up there?"
"The girls. Drosta doesn't come here for rat-flavored beer."
"That's disgusting, you know?"
"You've never met Drosta, have you? Disgusting only begins to describe him. He even turns my stomach."
"Are you planning to just walk in on him? Aren't you going to snoop around a bit first?"
“ You've been in Drasnia too long,” he replied as they started up the steps. "Drosta and I know each other. He knows better than to try to He to me. I'll get to the bottom of this right away, and then we can get out of this stinking town."
"I think you're starting to get delicate, as well."
There was a door at the end of the hall, and the pair of Nadrak soldiers standing at either side of it proclaimed by their presence that King Drosta lek Thun was inside.
"How many so far?" Yarblek asked them as he and Vella stopped in front of the door.
"Three, isn't it?" one ofthe soldiers asked the other.
"I lost count." The other soldier shrugged. "They all look the same to me. Three or four. I forget."
"Is he busy right now?" Yarblek asked.
"He's resting."
"He must be getting old. He never used to have to rest after only three. Do you want to tell him I'm here? I've got a business proposition for him.” Yarblek suggestively shook Vella's chain.
One of the soldiers eyed Vella up and down. "She might be able to wake him up at that." He leered.
"And I can put him back to sleep just as fast," Vella said, opening her shabby cloak to reveal her daggers.
"You're one of those wild women from up in the forest, aren't you?" the other soldier asked. "We really shouldn't let you in there with him with those daggers."
"Would you like to try to take them away from me?"
"Not me, girl," he replied prudently.
"Good. Resharpening a dagger is very tedious, and I've been hitting bone a great deal lately,”
The other soldier opened the door. "It's that Yarblek fellow again, your Majesty," he said. "He's got a girl he wants to sell you."
"I just bought three," a shrill voice replied with an obscene giggle.
"Not like this one, your Majesty."
"It's so nice to be appreciated," Vella murmured.
The soldier grinned at her.
"Yarblek, get in here!" King Drosta's high-pitched voice commanded.
"Right away, your Majesty. Come along, Vella." Yarblek tugged on her chain and led her into the room.
Drosta lek Thun, King of Gar og Nadrak, lay half dressed on a rumpled bed. He was by far the ugliest man Vella had ever seen. Even the hunchbacked dwarf Beldin was handsome by comparison. He was scrawny and had bulging eyes. His face was pockmarked, and his beard scraggly. "You idiot!" he snapped at Yarblek. "Yar Nadrak is overrun with Mallorean agents. They know that you're Prince Kheldar's partner and that you practically live in Porenn's palace."
"Nobody saw me, Drosta," Yarblek said, "and even if they did, I’ve got a perfectly legitimate reason to be here.” He shook Vella's chain.
"Do you really want to sell her?" Drosta saki, eyeing the girl.
"Hardly, but we can tell anybody curious about it that we couldn't agree on a price."
"Why are you really here, then?"
"Porenn's a little curious about your activities. Javelin's got some spies in your palace, but you're sneaky enough to hide what you're doing from them. I thought I'd save some time and come right to the source."
"What makes you think I’ve been up to something?"
"You usually are."
Drosta laughed shrilly. "That's true, I suppose, but why should I tell you?"
"Because if you don't, I'll set up camp in the palace, and the Malloreans will think you're crossing them."
"That's blackmail, Yarblek," Drosta accused.
"Some people call it that, yes."
Drosta sighed. "All right, Yarblek," he said, "but this is for Porenn's ears only, and I don't want you and Silk taking advantage of it. I’ve been trying to mend my fences with Zakath. He was very angry when I switched sides at Thull Mardu. It's only a question of time until he subdues all of Cthol Murgos, and I don't want him to get the idea of coming north looking for me. I’ve been negotiating with Brador, the chief of his bureau of internal affairs, and weVe almost reached an accommodation. I get to keep my skin if I allow Brador's agents to pass through Gar og Nadrak to infiltrate the west. Zakath's pragmatic enough to forgo the pleasure of having me skinned alive if I'm useful to him."
Yarblek looked at him skeptically. "All right, Drosta, what else? That's hardly enough to keep Zakath from peeling you like an apple."
"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, Yarblek."
"Give, Drosta. I don't want to have to spend the next month here in Yar Nadrak being conspicuous."
Drosta gave up. "I've cut the import duties on Mallorean carpets. Zakath needs tax revenue to continue the war in Cthol Murgos. If I cut those duties, Mallorean merchants can undersell you and Silk in the marketplaces to the west. The whole plan is to make myself so indispensable to his Imperial Majesty that he'll leave me alone."
“I was wondering why our profits in carpets have been falling off," Yarblek mused. "That's all?" he asked.
"I swear it is, Yarblek."
"Youroaths tend to be a little worthless, my King."
Drosta had been looking at Vella appreciatively. "Are you absolutely positive you don't want to sell this girl?" he asked.
"You couldn't really afford me, your Majesty," Vella told him, "and sooner or later your appetite would get the better of you. I'd have to take steps at that point."
"You wouldn't actually draw a knife on your own king, would
you?"
"Try me."
"Oh, one other thing, Drosta," Yarblek added. "From now on, Silk and I will be paying the same import duties you're charging the Malloreans."
Drosta's eyes bulged even more. "That's out of the question!" he almost screamed. "What if Brador found out about it?"
"We'll just have to make sure he doesn't, then, won't we? That's my price for keeping my mouth shut. If you don't cut those fees, I'll just have to let it be known that you have. You'll stop being so indispensable to Zakath at that point, won't you?”
"You're robbing me, Yarblek."
"Business is business, Drosta," Yarblek said blandly.
King Anheg of Cherek had journeyed to Tol Honeth to confer with Emperor Varana. When he had been admitted to the imperial apartments, he got right to the point. "We've got a problem, Varana," he said.
"Oh?"
"You know my cousin, the Earl of Trellheim?"
"Barak? Of course."
"He hasn't been seen for quite sometime. He's off with that oversized ship of his and he's got some friends with him."
"It's a free ocean, I suppose. Who are these friends?"
"Cho-Hag's son Hettar, that Mimbrate Mandorallen, and Lelldorin the Asturian. He also has his own son Unrak along and the Ulgo fanatic Relg."
Varana frowned. "That's a dangerous group," he noted.
"I couldn't agree more. It's sort of like a natural disaster looking for a place to happen."
"Any ideas about what they're doing?"
"If I knew which way they're going, I could make a few guesses."
There was a polite tap on the door. "There's a Cherek out here, your Imperial Majesty,” one of the guards outside the door announced. “He's a sailor, I think, and he says he needs to talk with King Anheg."
"Send him in," the emperor instructed.
It was Greldik, and he was slightly drunk. “I think I’ve solved your problem, Anheg. After I dropped you off o
n that pier, I wandered around on the docks for a while to see what kind of information I could pick up."
"In taverns, I see."
"You don't find sailors in tearooms. Anyway, I came across the captain of a Tolnedran merchantman. He'd picked up a cargo of Mallorean goods, and he was coming south across the Sea of the East toward the southern end of Cthol Murgos."
"That's very interesting, but I don't quite see the point."
"He saw a ship, and when I described Seabird to him, he agreed that it had been the ship he saw.”
"That's a start, anyway. Where's Barak going?"
"Where else? MaUorea, of course."
After about a week's voyage, the Seabird made port at Dal Zerba on the southwest coast of the Mallorean continent. Barak asked a few questions and then led his friends to the offices of Silk's factor in the port city.
The factor was a very thin man, not so much undernourished as he was emaciated.
"We're trying to locate Prince Kheldar," Barak rumbled to him. "It's a matter of some urgency, and we'd appreciate any information you might be able to give us as to his whereabouts."
The factor frowned. "The last I heard was that he was in Melcene on the other side of the continent, but that was over a month ago, and Prince Kheldar moves around a great deal."
"That's Silk, all right," Hettar murmured.
"Do you have any guesses about where he might have gone from Melcene?" Barak asked.
"This office is fairly new," the factor said, "and I'm sort of at the tail end of the route of any couriers." He made a sour face. "The factor up at Dal Finda was a bit put out when Kheldar and Yarblek set up this office. I guess he felt that I might be in competition with him. Sometimes he forgets to pass things on to me. His office has been well established for some time, so the couriers always stop there. If anybody in this part of Dalasia knows anything abut Kheldar's location, he would."
"All right. Where's Dal Finda, then?"
"Upriver about forty leagues."
"Thanks for the help, friend. Do you happen to have a map of this part of Mallorea?”
"I believe I could find one for you, yes."
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