"I fear I may need to tender my resignation, your Lordship."

Roquan looked up from the accounting parchment he was perusing and stared in confusion at his Healer. "Is this a joke, Vanlo?"

Vanlo straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "I wish it were. However, I feel that events of late have convinced me that I am aging past the point of usefulness to this Manor. If you wish, I can suggest a few colleagues from the Healer Guild that would serve as a suitable ..."

"Stop."

Vanlo fell silent, giving his Overlord an even look.

Roquan threw down his quill and leaned back in his chair. "Vanlo ... what are you talking about? You look as fit as you did a moon ago. Or a year ago, for that matter."

"Good of you to say, your Lordship. However, it is not my body that matters in my profession, but my mind, and I fear it is no longer sound."

"That's ridiculous."

Vanlo allowed himself a small smile. "As always, your Lordship, your faith in me in certain matters exceeds that of my own. But the truth remains, my mind is not what it was, and it can get only worse from here."

Roquan folded his arms. "And how did you come to this conclusion?"

"Simply this: you have had the Portal serviced, have you not?"

"Yes. And?"

Vanlo sensed the impatience in the Overlord's voice. "I should not, therefore, be having any further incidents of sensing Portal energies."

"And I seem to recall that you did not."

"Yes, your Lordship, until yesterday."

Roquan rose to his feet. "You sensed it again?" he asked in an urgent voice.

"Yes, I have, and stronger than I had before, which can only mean that I am ..."

"How close to the Manor do you think it was?"

Vanlo paused and looked at the Overlord with a small, humorless grin.

"Well? How close?"

"We do not appear to be on the same parchment of the scroll, your Lordship," Vanlo said patiently. "Allow me to be more direct: these sensations are clearly phantoms of my mind."

Roquan frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"It stands to reason, your Lordship. The idea that Portals are opening randomly about the countryside near the Manor makes no sense. Your Portal is clearly functioning properly. This can only mean that my mental faculties are failing. For magic-sensitives such as me, phantom sensations are an early sign of senility."

Roquan drew in a deep breath. "I don't accept that."

Vanlo gave another tiny smile. "Overlords can command many things. But ordering an aging and increasingly decrepit body to restore itself to the vigor of youth is beyond your capabilities, I am afraid. But the sentiment is appreciated."

"Vanlo, stop talking nonsense!" Roquan declared, stepping away from him. "I do not have time for this! The Merchant Clan will be here in days, and the Conclave on the heels of that. Do not burden me with this."

"It is hardly a choice for either you or me to make ..."

"Like hellfire it isn't. Resignation rejected. Get back to work."

Vanlo did not move.

Roquan turned around. "Well?"

For the first time since Roquan had known him, his Healer appeared at a loss for words, and his expression was anything other than calm. When he spoke, Roquan was taken aback by the emotion in his voice. "Your Lordship, I am ... quite honored and flattered ... that you believe my services of such value."

"You're the best Healer that this Manor ever had, Vanlo."

Vanlo took a deep breath. It was the first time the Overlord had ever so openly voiced his praise for him. Vanlo always knew tacitly that his work was appreciated, but it was out of character for the Overlord to pronounce it so clearly. Roquan had indeed undergone many changes since the first of many ills had descended upon him. It made Vanlo's decision all that harder.

"Vanlo, did you consider the possibility that you are sensing Portal energies because a Portal is indeed in use?"

Vanlo hesitated before answering. "Naturally, this crossed my mind, as it would be foolish of me not to consider all possibilities."

"I would prefer that one to the idea that you are losing your abilities."

"As would I, your Lordship."

Roquan stepped up to his Healer. "Then humor me, Vanlo. Entertain the notion again. How close would the Portal have been?"

Vanlo paused, taking another deep breath to clear his mind. "It is very hard to judge, even if my faculties ..."

"A rough estimate will suffice," Roquan cut in.

"Not very far. Most likely on this island."

Roquan's eyes became ice as they shifted away from his Healer. "And now what is the Emperor up to?"

"Your Lordship?"

"It stands to reason, Vanlo. He is attempting to disrupt this Conclave."

Vanlo stroked his beard. "Forgive me, but is that not a rather large conclusion to jump to on scant evidence?"

"Z'haas is not a stupid man. He knows of the Conclave. We are fools if we believe that the Emperor will sit idly by as plans are drawn up against him."

"That may be true, your Lordship, but ..."

"Nothing else makes sense! He is the only one with the resources to open Portals of that nature on demand. He has already shown a willingness to bastardize the slave trade. I would not put it past him to bastardize this as well."

"That would imply that we have another Imperial agent on the island focusing the Portal energies with an appropriately enchanted pearl," Vanlo pointed out. "And yet, what would this accomplish?"

Roquan raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Consider: A Portal could not be used to bring an agent to the island, for it requires a pearl as a focus, lest he risk being dropped in open ocean, in a tree, or some other dangerous place. Thus the agent would need to be here already. In which case, what is the point of opening the Portal?"

"To send something back," the Overlord said darkly.

"Then the Manor is safe. The wards in place will alert you if someone brings a pearl onto the premises imbued with such magic. Thus, again, we are left with the original question of why open such a Portal in the first place? There is no logical reason for it. You see, your Lordship, I have already thought of these ideas. You see why I rejected them, and came to the conclusion that I did about my mind."

Roquan sighed deeply. He still refused to accept it. He felt Vanlo was too important a part of this Manor to give up without a fight. Even if that fight was with Vanlo himself.

"Vanlo, I was quite serious when I stated that my time is limited. I cannot afford to take time to review suitable candidates for your replacement. Surely, even if your mind is deteriorating, it cannot be doing so at such a pace that you cannot execute your duties until the Conclave is over."

Vanlo considered this thoughtfully before he spoke again. "And, naturally, you will not use that time to convince me to change my mind about resigning."

Roquan allowed himself a small smile. "Of course not, Vanlo."

Vanlo grinned. "You are a horrible liar, your Lordship."

A small smile came to Sirinna's lips as she watched her Trainee from a short distance away. She held the girl's cuffs and chain in her hands, having left Amanda unfettered for this session. She also left her with no specific commands or tasks, and simply sent her into a bevy of other slaves that Sirinna had gathered. It was up to Amanda to find ways to please them.

To Sirinna's satisfaction, Amanda was doing quite well. To her surprise, the girl appeared to be enjoying it as well.

Amanda was on all fours. Her body rocked back and forth as one of the male slaves took her from behind. He gripped her hips fast in his strong hands, moving her at his own desired pace and rhythm. Amanda simply gave into it, panting through her nose as her mouth slid up and down a second slave's cock. Under her, a female slave let her fingers gently stroke Amanda's womanhood as her sex moved back and forth over the slave's hand.

As Sirinna watched, another female slave poured cool water over Amanda's back and head. Other slaves similarly attended to the males. Amanda moaned in relief. It would have been unbearably hot that afternoon without this bit of occasional refreshment. The coolness of the water made her nipples harden and rise. The female slave under her took advantage of it, tugging at them with her fingers.

"Mmmrrgh..." Amanda moaned in earnest, her breath growing shorter as she slowly rose.

Behind her, the slave let his breath go as a deep sigh. His body tensed as he stepped up the pace, until he was pounding into her. Amanda's head bobbed up and down on the other slave's cock in a frenzy at her rising excitement.

"Easy, Amanda," Sirinna said. "Not too fast. Don't let it run away with you."

Amanda closed her eyes and struggled to rein herself in. She still could not believe she had reached this point. While she still did not crave sex as the other slaves did, once she was able to get herself motivated and get into it, she was better able to just lose herself to it. It was the easiest way to cope and to perform as a slave was expected to perform,

The slave behind her groaned in earnest and tilted his head back as he came. He slammed himself forward, and let himself pulse hard inside her. The slave under her stroked her clitoris faster and faster, and it was everything she could do to keep herself focused.

"Mmmrr ... mrrruuuhh!"

Amanda's closed her eyes tightly and nearly fell forward as her pussy throbbed. She remembered herself when the cock in her mouth suddenly shoved far into her, almost making her gag. She pulled back quickly, her body shaking as she orgasmed. She was still cumming even after the slave behind her withdrew, some of his seed trickling down the inside of one of her thighs.

Sirinna smiled despite the bit of clumsiness on the part of her Trainee. Now the girl's sensuality was really shining through.

Amanda sensed the change in the slave in front of her even before he started to groan loudly. She reached up and grabbed the base of his cock with her hand and pumped her mouth furiously on his shaft. He uttered several loud moans in a row before his cock erupted in her mouth. Amanda moaned as she was finally let down from her orgasm, and she could concentrate again on the finale. She drew herself closer to him and slowed her movements as he softened in her mouth. She milked a last few drops from him with her tongue, even bringing a small gasp from him and one more weak pulse from his cock.

Amanda let him fall from his lips and swallowed. Her eyes dropped as she panted, her body momentarily weak.

"That was very good, Amanda," Sirinna said as she rushed to her Trainee's side, placing a hand over one of the girl's shoulders. "You've really learned a lot in a short amount of time."

Amanda was still catching her breath. "Oh my ... th-thank you, mistress."

Sirinna smiled. "Are you all right?"

Amanda swallowed and nodded. "Yes ... it was just ... a little intense." She paused, and then slowly rose to her feet. A slave handed her a goblet of water, half of which she drank down greedily, the other half she upended over her head. "And it's hot. The water helped, though."

"Master Roquan always makes sure his slaves don't overheat in the summer."

"Good. It must get really hot here in July ... um, I mean, in midsummer." Amanda looked down at her arm, and then glanced over at the rest of her body. "Mistress, can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"I only just realized this. I've been out in the tropical sun for some time. How come I'm not tan? Or you or any of the other slaves for that matter?"

"Clients tend to prefer fair-skinned slaves. So there's something added to the food here that keeps us that way."

Amanda nodded. She was almost disappointed. She had wondered what she might look like with an even, all-body tan.

Her musings were interrupted when Sirinna reattached her chain to the collar. "Turn around," her mistress ordered.

Amanda blinked in surprise as she complied. "We're done already, mistress?"

"Yes, we're heading back to my quarters now."

"Oh." She felt Sirinna draw the cuffs tight around her wrists. "Are we going to do something else back there?"

Sirinna hesitated just a moment. "Yes, we are, actually."

"What, mistress?"

"You'll have to wait until we get back." She closed the tiny padlocks on Amanda's restraints and picked up the chain. She gave it a firm snap, a little harder than she usually did.

The difference was not lost on Amanda, and she felt a twinge of anxiety that caused her to hesitate a moment before she fell into step ahead of her mistress for the walk back to their quarters.

"Um, mistress?" Amanda asked tentatively.

"Yes, Amanda?"

"I, um, I did do well today, didn't I?"

"Of course you did."

There was a subdued inflection to her mistress' voice.

"Are you sure of that?" Amanda persisted.

"There were a few things that could be improved, yes. We'll go over that during dinner."

Amanda nodded slowly. Her heart beat a little faster. Something was wrong, she could sense it. Sirinna never passed up a chance to critique her performance once they were away from the Circle, usually interspersed with copious praise for her efforts.

She preferred it that way. She did not want to think about it on her own for too long or too hard. Two months of her life spent in Narlass was still inadequate to throwing off Earthly cultural influence. Here, throwing herself into casual sex with people ten years her senior was training to be a slave; back on Earth, it was no better than being a slut.

It was hard for her, sometimes, to see the difference.

She tried to tell herself that it was a different culture here, that what one world considered a detriment, the other considered an asset. She wondered if this was another advantage to being a slave without a past. That was a lot of mental baggage that would no longer get in the way. Yet she still shuddered at the thought of having her memories erased in that manner.

They entered Sirinna's quarters. Halfway across the room, Sirinna snapped her chain to bring her to a stop.

Amanda's heart pounded. She felt that if something was going to happen, it was now. She felt Sirinna remove her chain, and then waited for her restraints to be removed. Instead, she heard Sirinna move away from her.

"Mistress?"

When Sirinna did not answer after a few moments, Amanda turned around. She caught Sirinna just as she was straightening up after having fetched something from under her bed.

Amanda's breath caught in her throat when she saw Sirinna holding the paddle.

"I need you leave you restrained for a little while longer, Amanda," Sirinna said in a somber voice. "We have to take care of something first."

Amanda's mouth dropped open as she gave Sirinna a frightened look. "But ... but you said I did well today!"

"You did, love. Very well. This ..."

"Whatever I did, I won't do it again!" Amanda wailed. "Please, mistress!"

"Amanda."

The girl fell silent, her lower lip trembling.

"You've done nothing wrong. You're not being punished. This is something different."

"I don't understand, mistress."

"There's something we call the Traditional Twenty that ..."

Amanda gasped. "Oh God, not that!"

Sirinna paused. "You know about it?"

"Tanyee told me. I thought when you went this long without saying anything about it that you weren't going to do it at all ..."

"I have to, Amanda. I held off because I didn't think you could handle it earlier. I think you can now."

Amanda swallowed, her eyes flicking nervously to the paddle. "I don't get a say in this, do I?"

Sirinna shook her head slowly.

Amanda sighed despondently. "God, this is going to hurt," she whimpered.

"If the pain lingers too much afterward, Amanda, I will take you straight to Master Vanlo."

"What's the purpose behind this, anyway?

"It's just to show you what true punishment would be like. That's all."

From the look in Sirinna's eyes, Amanda could tell there was a little more to it than that. She had no idea what, so she held her tongue.

"Turn around," Sirinna ordered softly. "And bend over slightly."

Amanda wanted to be defiant. She wanted to give her mistress trouble over this. But ultimately, she didn't. She did not want to ruin everything she had gained up to this point. If she rebelled now, it would make everything she had been trying to do meaningless.

In other words, she had to show that she was a good slave.

Amanda swallowed, turned, and bent over.

"Now, just remain still, eyes forward and open."

Amanda had squeezed her eyes shut. She sighed and opened them again. There was a pause, and then a loud smack as the first stroke came down on her backside.

Amanda yelped and lurched forward. Sirinna grabbed her shoulder and held her still in time to deliver the next stroke. She smoothly continued into the next ones, never varying the rhythm. Each one was delivered skillfully and perfectly, each one a solid strike with the flat of the paddle on one of her ass cheeks, always the one opposite the one that was struck the stroke before.

With each came the same red flare of pain, a stinging that lasted just long enough until Sirinna returned to that cheek, until it became a steady, rising torment. As they approached the tenth stroke, Amanda began to tremble. She squeezed her legs together as her ass blushed brightly.

Past the tenth stroke, to first her surprise and then her embarrassment, heat flashed in her sex. The pain rose higher, and the ache in her pussy grew even as tears trickled from her eyes. At the fifteenth stroke, her tears flowed freely, and her pussy throbbed dully between her thighs.

Sirinna delivered the twentieth stroke and let go of Amanda's shoulder. Amanda sobbed softly but did not cry out. She refused to cry out. This would not break her. She would not let it.

And she categorically denied any connection between her paddling and the wetness in her pussy.

"Turn around, Amanda."

Amanda drew herself up, wincing as her tightening backside muscles intensified the lingering pain in her pink cheeks. She sniffed back tears, taking a few quick, deep breaths. As composed as she could possibly be, she turned around.

At once, Sirinna's gaze flicked down to Amanda's crotch, and then met the girl's gaze.

Amanda swallowed, quivering. "It's not that, right? It's ... it's not from the paddling."

"It's all right, Amanda," Sirinna said in a gentle voice.

"But it's not. It's not."

"It's perfectly normal to get a little excited over it."

"Not for me!"

Sirinna stepped up to her. Amanda tried to back away, but Sirinna caught her arm and forced her to stand still. Amanda looked away.

"Love, look at me."

Amanda reluctantly turned her eyes to her lover. A tender gaze met it in return. Sirinna let go of Amanda's arm and caressed her cheek lightly. Amanda stared at Sirinna, confused. The next moment, Amanda's body jerked, and she uttered a short, desperate gasp. She held her breath, her eyes closing, and then let it go as a long, excited sigh.

Soft, wet sounds drifted to her from her pussy as Sirinna's fingers stroked her deeply. Despite the glowing pain in her backside, Amanda trembled with renewed desire. She spread her shaking legs apart, letting her lover slip two fingers into her tunnel.

"Oh God ..." Amanda breathed. "Ohhh ... Siri ... m-mistress ... "

Sirinna smiled and continued to work Amanda's pussy with her skilled fingers.

"I d-don't ... p-please tell me I don't ... g-get off on ... on ..."

"Punishment? No, not really, love. But just enjoy it for now. I'll explain it later."

Amanda moaned and leaned into Sirinna, panting hotly onto one of her breasts. She was rising, enough to make her forget the throbbing pain in her ass cheeks. Her need for release became too great for her worry over the cause. It did not matter to her anymore for the moment.

Sirinna sensed her lover's needs, and she did not dawdle. She pumped her fingers into Amanda's cunt with quick, hard strokes. Amanda's moans rose, her eyes closing as her muscles tensed.

"Ohhh ... ohhh! ... uhhhnn! Uhhh!"

Amanda came hard, hips bucking against Sirinna's hand, pain flaring anew in her buttocks, mixing with the pleasurable throbs of her orgasm. The juxtaposition was almost too much for her, and she whimpered in a strained voice. Sirinna steadied her with a hand to her arm, and eased off slowly, bringing her down smoothly.

"Oh God ... "Amanda moaned, and nearly collapsed into Sirinna. A few tears filled her eyes again, but stopped short of flowing down her cheeks.

Sirinna hugged her. "It's okay."

Amanda's voice was strained and desperate. "Why did I get excited? Why did that make me wet? That's not right, is it?!"

"Here, let's get these off you first." Sirinna quickly turned her around and removed the cuffs, careful to avoid touching Amanda's sore backside. "Now, Amanda, please, don't worry about this. Some slaves just react that way to punishment."

"But that means I like it, right?!"

"No, no, no. It doesn't mean that. Do you want to be paddled again right now?"

"No! I n-never want to see that paddle again!"

"Well, see? You don't crave punishment. But when you do get it, you get aroused."

Amanda sighed. She was having trouble seeing the difference, and the lingering pain was distracting her.

"Do you want the Healer to give you something for that, love?" Sirinna asked.

Amanda paused, and then shook her head. "No, not if it means having to go in restraints again."

Sirinna placed a hand on Amanda's shoulder and squeezed. "You don't have to worry about this, Amanda, until you're first contracted to a client."

"Huh?"

"Well, this sort of thing is sometimes valued by a client. Some like to administer light punishment like that just to make the slave aroused, so he can 'make it all better' by making her cum afterward."

"Like you just did with me?" Amanda demanded with an indignant edge to her voice.

"Careful, love."

Amanda forced herself to take a deep breath. No, she was not going to backslide. "Sorry, mistress," she said in a more contrite voice. "But now this means any client I go to will want to paddle me all the time!"

"No, just sometimes. And not as hard as I did, or as long. Just enough to trigger your response."

"But how will Master Roquan ever find out, if ... wait ... you're going to tell him, aren't you?"

Sirinna nodded. "I have to, love."

Amanda said nothing. Instead she delicately rubbed one of her ass cheeks, moaning at the pain that speared her. She felt no renewed surge of arousal, to her relief. So it wasn't the pain alone that did it. That was some small comfort to her.

"Just ... just don't you do it to me anymore, please, mistress," Amanda said in a low voice.

Sirinna smiled and stroked Amanda's hair. "If you keep doing as well as you have, love, I'll never have reason to punish you like that."

Amanda managed a faint smile in return.

The air was still hot and sodden even as the sun disappeared beneath the ocean to the west and was unlikely to give up its moisture anytime soon. Herdon wiped sweat from his brow as he shouldered his crossbow, having just passed guard duty to the evening shift. As he turned, his eyes gazed down the main road as it wound to the south. He could just make out the peasants' fields stretching out towards the Manor that lay at the southwest tip of the island.

Herdon would be glad when they made it to the D'ronstaq Manor two days hence. He could use a decent bath and good food, and once clean and well-fed, a nice, soft female body to see to his other needs. He would make sure to satisfy himself in the latter regard, for he knew it might be the last time he would enjoy Roquan's fine slaves.

As he reentered camp, his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Jollis entering Uridon's tent. His lips drew into a thin line, and his brows knitted together. His hand tightened reflexively on the hilt of the crossbow.

Herdon was sure the fellow would have been left behind at the last town. Uridon himself had begun to grow impatient waiting for the supposed merchant to come through on his promise of exotic goods. Not once in any of the towns through which they had passed had Herdon seen the man attempt to make contact with anyone.

And Herdon had kept very close tabs on the foreigner. He did not trust the man at all. Something about Jollis bothered him. All the man did was wander about the Clan, making small talk with the others. Yet no one else appeared to share Herdon's distrust. Jollis, with his pleasant voice and easy smile, exuded a charisma that made others speak easily in his presence.

Not that there were secrets to tell. Merchants were, by nature, a gossipy lot. Many towns relied on them for information. Real information, not what the Imperium or the local baron wanted people to know. Merchants were always swapping stories and speculation.

Yet Jollis acted like he did with his goods. Eager to take from others, but loathe to give back.

Herdon marched over to his father's tent. Perhaps Uridon had called the man out, and was about to put him out on the road back north. Yet when he pulled the flap aside and stepped inside, the smile on Jollis' face told him his hopes were largely dashed.

"This is quite astonishing, my dear fellow. Quite astonishing!"

Herdon jerked his head towards the deep voice with the rumbling cadence.

Uridon Ne'land, leader of the Land Clan of Merchants, turned from the smokeless torch by which he was examining several bright blue pearls in his hand. Herdon raised a single eyebrow at the intensity of his father's gaze as the older man picked up one of the pearls in his slender fingers.

"I hope you are pleased, Clan Leader," Jollis said respectfully, though the pride in his voice was apparent.

Herdon's hand clenched around the crossbow again.

Uridon lifted his eyes. "Pleased? It will be Roquan that will be pleased!" His head turned. "Herdon! Have a look at these."

Herdon inwardly sighed and stepped over to his father. He glanced briefly at the Wanderer with a sour look on his face before casting his eyes towards Uridon's palm. He did not have the magic sensitivity that his father had, so to him, he would not be able to make any sort of assessment on them. His father was no Mage, certainly, but it behooved at least some of the more senior members of the Clan to be able to sense magic, for it allowed them to do as Uridon apparently had done, which was validate that what he held in his hand was what they had been purported to be.

"I take it he has come through on his promise of the wards the Overlord wanted?" Herdon said tonelessly.

"Indeed he has! With these, I daresay Roquan will be able to weather all but the worst storm aimed directly at him."

"And just how did he come about these?"

Jollis smiled evenly. "As I said, I have foreign contacts."

"Really? Which town did you meet them in?"

"Herdon!" Uridon snapped.

Herdon made a face. "Apologies, father. It had been a long and very hot day."

Yes, there were not many secrets with merchants. But there were a few, and one of those was how a merchant procured his goods. It was a competitive advantage. Even independent merchants were allowed the privilege, so long as their means did not call down ill fortune upon the his host Clan.

It was also likely that Uridon was only seeing the money he would make from the transaction. Trivial details as to where the merchandise came from mattered not in light of that.

"No, it is quite all right, Clan Leader Uridon, I am not at all insulted by the question," said the Wanderer. He turned to Herdon, wearing that serene smile that Herdon had grown to hate. "I did not, indeed, meet them in town. I arranged a rendezvous outside camp one day. This is not unusual from where I come. I hope I did not break with custom."

"Not at all," Uridon said. He gave his son an icy look before turning back to Jollis and chuckling. "Better, perhaps, to keep your sources from other merchants' eyes, eh?"

"I am glad you understand."

"You would be most welcome to continue on with our Clan after our stay at the Manor."

Herdon frowned at this, but held his tongue.

"I am quite flattered, Clan Leader, but, alas, I must go my own way after the Manor. Which is why I wish to make one last deal with you over these pearls before that time."

Herdon's eyebrows rose. Even Uridon now looked a bit askance. "You did agree to give us a third of your profits, Jollis," he said, a warning tone in his voice. "I do not believe that is open to renegotiation."

Jollis flashed the Clan Leader a smile. "Ah, perhaps it would not be, if I wished to keep more of the money."

"I don't understand you."

"Quite simple. I wish you to keep all of the profits I make from these."

Herdon blinked.

"All?" Uridon said, his eyes wide in amazement. "Did I hear you right, Jollis? You wish to give me every bit of platinum you make on these?"

"Indeed, good Clan Leader, yes."

Herdon was growing very suspicious of this. Fortunately, Uridon was not the Clan Leader for being played the fool, either. "And just how much were you planning to ask of the Overlord?"

"No less than two thousand, Clan Leader."

Uridon gaped. "Two thousand? Hellfire, Jollis, the Ne'land Clan would be more than happy with a third of that! And you wish to give it all to me?"

"Not give," said the Wanderer. "Trade."

Uridon's eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"For your choice among Roquan's slaves."

Herdon rounded on Jollis. "And just how did you find out that Roquan had given him ..."

"Herdon!" Uridon hissed. He turned back to Jollis and laughed. "Are you quite serious?"

"Indeed, Clan Leader, I am quite serious."

"Are you that enamored of his slaves that you wish to give such a sum just for the privilege of having your choice of them?"

"As I have said, I am not native to these lands," Jollis said, his voice smooth and his manner one of ease and confidence. "I have heard many good things about his slaves. I wish to partake of this opportunity while I have it."

Uridon scratched at his chin thoughtfully.

Herdon fumed. Now he knew why so many of this man's questions of the other merchants focused around slaves and Overlords in general, and the D'ronstaq Manor in particular. That was likely also how he found out about the arrangement Roquan had made with Uridon. "Father, you cannot make such a trade!"

"And why not?" said the Clan Leader indignantly. "Mind your place, Herdon! You may be my son, but you are not master-level yet!"

"Mark my words, father. He will take the very choice you were to make."

"Ah, would that be the one named Sirinna?" asked Jollis.

Herdon fell silent, glaring at the man.

"I have heard many good things about her. Yes, this would likely be my choice."

Uridon laughed again. "In that case, Jollis, two thousand would indeed be a fair sum for her. She is Roquan's best." He closed his fingers around the pearls. "Deal."

Jollis gave a single, respectful bow of his head. "I am honored, Clan Leader. Thank you for making a very fair and profitable deal for the both of us."

Uridon grinned and tucked the pearls away on his person. "Where Sirinna is involved, I daresay there is some question as to who got the better end of the deal."

Jollis smiled kindly in return. "I bid you good night." He bowed his head once more and exited the tent.

Herdon frowned again as the tent flap fell back into place behind the merchant. "I cannot believe you made that deal with him, father."

"And why should this matter to you?"

"I think you should have questioned him more closely about his contacts."

Uridon sighed. "You still have not let go of your former life, have you?"

"And is that still such a sore spot with you?"

"It is funny you should be so suspicious of the foreigner, Herdon," Uridon said as he opened a canteen and poured out a liquor with a dark amber color into a small glass. He swirled the brandy around the glass for a few moments before taking a small sip. "I seem to recall much of the Clan clamoring for me to send you away when you came back."

"They stopped the first time I held off the brigands that threatened to raid our camp not a season later."

Uridon sank into a chair and stretched his legs. "Yes. Your training was good for something, I suppose."

Herdon took a deep breath and managed not to utter a hasty retort. He would not let his father bait him. Instead, he shouldered his crossbow higher, making it more prominent against his person. "I am aware that you believe I made the wrong decision. Will you dredge up your old arguments again?"

Uridon paused and took a long sip of his brandy that blazed a trail down to his stomach. "No, I suppose not. It simply grates on me that a merchant would choose to become so political."

Herdon laughed. "I was hardly a merchant at the time. And being a soldier hardly qualifies as political."

"No, you weren't a merchant. Just a foolish boy with odd ideas in his head."

Herdon did not respond. He did not want to spar with his father tonight, and especially not over this. He had told his father everything he would ever tell the man about his time in the military. It was all he dared tell anyone.

Uridon leaned back in his seat. "Quite a marksman they made of you."

"Yeah, I suppose. Glad you finally noticed."

Uridon smirked. "If I had not noticed, I would not have made you a guardsman for the Clan, now would I?"

"I suppose not."

Uridon considered his son for another moment. "Herdon, it's obvious you don't like this Jollis fellow. He states he will part ways at the Manor. Leave it be until then."

Herdon took a deep breath through his nose and let it go. "Yes, father."

"Feel free to avoid him during our stay at the Manor. I daresay it will be hectic enough catering to the Overlords during the Conclave."

Herdon nodded, and started out of the tent. He paused at the entrance and turned back. "May I ask you something?"

Uridon nodded.

"What do you make of this Conclave?"

Uridon's eyebrows rose. "Make? Why should I make anything of it?"

"Well, the stuff I've been hearing. That Roquan has something rather damning against the Emperor to lay before the others. That he wishes to stir up revolt. That ..."

Uridon sighed and shook his head. "And you say you are not political."

"I am merely curious! And I might remind you, father, merchants used to be highly political. A century ago, merchants could make or break a war. Or a peace. Or bring a mighty empire to its knees, or create an empire from a nameless duchy, all by how we choose to trade with them."

"And the Merchants' Guild stopped that for a reason! Do you truly wish to return to those days? You'd have more to worry about on guard duty than animals or brigands."

"I only wish to rekindle your interest in current affairs beyond what money or trade the information may bring."

"As a merchant, they can have little more meaning to me than that."

Herdon's eyes hardened. "Yes, I suppose they can't."

"What's more, Herdon, I have my own concerns, ones far more important than the Overlords' Conclave. Now, I bid you to leave me. This bickering is giving me a headache."

"Just one last thing, father."

Uridon rubbed his temples and nodded reluctantly.

"What if you heard of a plot against an Overlord? What then? What price that information?"

Uridon looked up. "Have you heard such a thing?"

Herdon remained silent for a long moment, studying his father, and seeing nothing more than the desire for what profit such information might bring. "No. I have heard nothing. As I said, I was merely curious. Good night, father."

Herdon quickly left.

The Wanderer stood in the shadows at the edge of the camp, and watched as Herdon marched from the Clan Leader's tent.

This man was going to be a problem; he could sense at least that much. For his plan to succeed, Jollis needed to remain close to the Overlord. He feared that this man might make that difficult, as suspicious as the man was.

Did Herdon sense the Wanderer's true intentions? Unlikely. Jollis found it worrisome that the man was even interested. A merchant, yet so unlike a merchant. Just like himself. The difference was, Jollis strove to fit in. Herdon did not.

At least his plans for the evenings were secure. The deal with Uridon had assured that. In some ways, this was even more critical than his task concerning the Overlord. Yet he could not help but wonder if the two were linked. He had a feeling they were.

Surely this was true, if the outworlder girl were truly as remarkable as he had been led to believe.

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