The last quarter moon had convinced Lord Ambassador Mandas that the sole purpose of an architecture which advocated long, wide hallways festooned with statues of scowling royalty and state ministers of the past was to intimidate people like him as they scurried about their official business.

Mandas had become inured to most of them as he dashed from one high official to another to gather more information for the King on the impending crisis with Oceanus. He had been shocked to hear that Oceanus was demanding that the fleet crew be incarcerated. While the language of the demand flowed with the elegance of experienced diplomacy, there was no question that it was a demand, pure and simple.

Yet one hallway still induced a heart-pounding anxiety that would not abate until he was away with his title still intact. He paused just short of the guarded doors and tugged his tunic down to flatten any wrinkles. He swept his hand over his head to ensure that his hair was still smoothed down against his scalp. He tugged at the ends of his wiry mustache to ensure the hairs were still drawn together to thin points. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Lord Ambassador Mandas answering the summons of His Excellency the High Minister of State Erodon," Mandas said in a crisp voice.

"His Excellency is not in his office, my Lord," said one of the guards.

"Oh, bloody hellfire," Mandas muttered, his shoulders slumping as if deflated.

"He is in conference with His Majesty. You are to wait in his office until he returns."

The guard opened the doors. Mandas held himself erect as he stepped into the chamber.

Like the hallways, chambers for high officials were larger than they needed to be. A massive desk atop a low dais dominated the center. Thick columns marched about the circumference, each holding a single, ornamental torch that glowed with subdued heatless flames. A brighter oil lantern hung above the desk like a spotlight.

Mandas took his position as he would were the High Minister in attendance, about halfway between the door and the desk. A few moments later, he sidestepped several arm's length to the right as he remembered the proper protocol.

Mandas cast a wary glance towards the doors before he allowed himself a small sigh and a frown. Norlan was to blame for his predicament beyond just the loss of his influence among the High Lords. Mandas was sure that Norlan had done something to antagonize Oceanus when he made his deal for their slaves. Now Mandas was going to be tasked with picking up the pieces.

He heard hurried and heavy footsteps in the hall. Mandas swallowed and drew himself up straight as the doors opened and High Minister Erodon barreled into the chamber. He clutched several scrolls to his corpulent frame, scowling. Mandas' step to the side allowed Erodon to go past without having to come too close to his lesser.

Erodon stomped up the dais and threw the scrolls to the desk. He looked at Mandas and frowned. "And what in bloody blazes are you doing here, Mandas?"

Mandas' mouth worked for a few moments without any sound issuing forth. He took a quick breath and let it go in a gush of words, "You summoned me here, Your Excellency, and I came straight away from my conference with--"

Erodon waved a beefy hand and dropped into his chair. "I trust I do not need to explain to you the nature of the crisis. For if I do, I will tell His Majesty now to excuse you from further ambassadorial duties."

"Certainly not, Your Excellency!" Mandas declared, earning a piercing stare from Erodon. He cleared his throat. "What I mean, Your Excellency, is that it behooves me as His Majesty's Foreign Relations Advisor to remain abreast of all matters which may affect the disposition of--"

"Must you answer everything with a dissertation, Mandas?"

Mandas' jaw clenched. "No, Your Excellency."

Erodon uttered a windy sigh and laced his fingers together. "And allow me to deflate what is undoubtedly a rapidly swelling ego. You may wish to trot out this 'Foreign Relations Adviser' position as if it somehow put you in the line of succession to the Throne, but understand that there is no such position. His Majesty conjured it on the spot, and you will cease to speak or act as if you were a full Minister."

Mandas hid his chagrin "Yes, Your Excellency."

"It is one more insanity piled atop another! It has taken me the better part of the morning just to help His Majesty craft a response to the Oceanus Emperor."

Mandas once again steeled himself against reacting. He thought he should have been privy to that discussion. He wondered if his tasks that morning had been busywork intended to keep him from that conference. "What was His Majesty's response, Your Excellency?"

Erodon's fingers tightened. "We will accede to their demands," he said in a low voice.

Mandas blanched. "Your Excellency, is that not a breach of Urisi sovereignty?"

"And you would have us defy them, would you, Mandas?"

Mandas hesitated. Was this a test? Erodon was fond of asking such things just to trip up the ambassador. "Surely there would be a way to reach a middle ground. Or, failing that, a delay."

Erodon's busy eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat. "Astonishing. One would be led to believe that you can actually think and reason properly."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Mandas said in a flat voice.

"We have agreed to hold the fleet in port and refuse them general liberty until representatives of the Oceanus government arrive to deal with the situation."

"But how is that going to help, Your Excellency, when they can arrive by Portal to--"

"Ah, that's better. You once more live down to my expectations and all is right with my world-view again."

Mandas said nothing. Any request for clarification would just be thrown back at him.

"We have informed Oceanus that we would have no available Portal for them due to extensive maintenance. They will have to come by ship. This will delay their arrival for at least two moons, possibly three, given the unfavorable spring weather."

"Surely they did not believe that we coincidentally had all our Portals down."

"Of course they did not believe it!" Erodon said. "What nation would believe such a story? But they accepted it as we had hoped they would."

Mandas understood. If the High Minister did not intimidate him so, he would have reached that conclusion himself. It was all part of the political game. It told him also that Oceanus was not interested in provoking a conflict. They would believe it to be only a test that the new regime in Oceanus would continue to foster a good relationship with the Urisi.

"His Majesty wanted this delay for a reason, and that, sadly, is where you come in."

Mandas stiffened. "Yes, I have been gathering information as he had requested, Your Excellency, and I am ready to compile a report for His Majesty's perusal."

Erodon rolled his eyes. "It should be obvious even to someone as simple as you that there is something more to this rogue fleet than we are being told. Something about it is of vital importance to Oceanus. His Majesty wants to know exactly what that is."

Several questions popped into Mandas' head, and Erodon glared at him as if daring him to give them voice. One was why the Urisi would want to know what was so important about the fleet, but the answer was obvious: His Majesty wanted political leverage against the new regime. "Your Excellency, if I may ask, do we know if the Oceanus delegates will arrive in a single ship, or in multiple ships?"

Erodon frowned. "What difference does that make?"

"Because, Your Excellency, I see three possibilities here."

Erodon's eyebrows rose. "Three? Are you quite sure you learned the rudiments of math during your upbringing?"

Mandas was undeterred. He was too proud for having the flash of inspiration. Despite what Norlan must tell others about him, Mandas was good at piecing together the clues. "One: Oceanus simply wants to arrest the crew and return them to their homeland for formal trial. Two: the fleet has valuable goods that Oceanus wishes to liberate from them before they let us deal with the crew as we see fit."

Erodon nodded. "Yes, yes, and what is this magical third option you supposedly see?"

"That they wish only one man from among the crews of the ships."

Erodon paused, his teeth grinding as if he were searching for some way to ridicule Mandas' theory and coming up empty.

"You see the obvious implication of this, Your Excellency. If they come in only one ship, then they expect to--"

"Yes, yes! I am not stupid, Mandas." Erodon let out a windy sigh. "I do not know the answer to your question. If the answer makes it to my ears or my desk, I will pass it along to you."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," said Mandas, letting his lips curl into a small, satisfied smile. "Is there anything else you need to convey to me?"

Erodon scowled. "Yes. You will not be working alone."

The corners of Mandas' mouth twitched.

Erodon spoke his next words through clenched teeth. "I am forced to ... I must insist that you work with Lord Ambassador Norlan."

Mandas gaped at the High Minister. "I-I'm sorry, Your Excellency, I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Erodon slapped his hands against the desk. Mandas flinched and almost drew back a step. "I do not like this either!" Erodon thundered. "But the High Lords are insistent and will not stop giving His Majesty grief over it. His Majesty will also feel grief over any refusal on your part, and when the King gets grief, I get grief. Thus your refusal to work with Norlan will ultimately mean grief for me. And you don't want that, do you, Mandas?"

"No, Your Excellency, most certainly not!" Mandas said. He was well aware that the High Minister could make Mandas' life far more miserable than the King ever could.

"One more thing, Mandas," said Erodon. "His Majesty will not tolerate anything that gives the slightest leverage to the High Lords. You are not to allow Norlan to make any deals that will richify the High Lords, either in platinum or influence."

Mandas hesitated. The High Minister had asked him the equivalent of preventing the sun from setting that evening.

"Do I make myself clear, Mandas?"

"As crystal, Your Excellency."

To this end, Mandas had no idea how to proceed. If the ships indeed held treasure, or even if they carried no more than critical information, he would be hard-pressed to prevent the High Lords from copping a deal through Norlan.

For once, Norlan could ride the coattails of his own reputation. Mandas had no such luxury.

"Then do grant me some mercy, and remove yourself from my presence until you have something concrete to report." Erodon waved a hand at Mandas, and from that point on, the ambassador no longer existed. The High Minister opened a scroll and twirled his quill as he contemplated the words he read.

Mandas withheld his sigh until he was out of the chamber and the doors had closed behind him. He trudged down the hallway, shoulders slumped. He had thought his worst nightmare would be the loss of his title after a meeting with the High Minister. It would have been preferred over a forced partnership with Norlan.

It got worse as he entered the anteroom at the other end of the hall and stopped just past the threshold, his eyes narrowing to beads. "And just what in hellfire are you doing here, Norlan?"

Norlan sat in an overstuffed chair across the small, round chamber that was often used as a lounge for waiting dignitaries. He seemed to ignore Mandas' question as he rang a small bell perched atop one of the hand-rests. A servant entered, carrying a gleaming gold platter with several crystal goblets filled with pale red wine.

Mandas' jaw tightened as Norlan plucked a goblet from the tray. The servant turned to him, but he shook his head. "You continue to play the part of the sophisticate, but we both know you are no better than a peasant."

Norlan took a slow sip of his wine. "Really, Mandas, you must get new material. The whole peasant insult is getting old. Besides, is that any way to talk to your partner?"

Mandas refused to be baited. Too many times he had let his hatred of this pretender get the better of him. Instead, he forced a tiny smile. "Oh, this must surely offend you, considering how incompetent you believe I am."

"I do admit," began Norlan as he stood. He took another sip of wine. "I am concerned you will slow me down."

Mandas bit back an automatic reply. He did not have the luxury of tossing insults, and then sulk when they bounced off that maddening armor of calm. Mandas instead considered and smiled. "Now who is the one with old insults? And this is not a partnership, Norlan, not in the slightest sense."

Norlan said nothing, lifting the goblet to his lips as he continued to regard Mandas with an even gaze.

"This is a competition, pure and simple," said Mandas.

Norlan lowered the goblet. "Oh? You believe you have something on which--"

"I feel that we need to be up-front about this," said Mandas, raising his voice. "Oh, I will work with you, as much as it will offend both our sensibilities, if for no other reason than it would be both our necks if we failed."

"Ah, yes, but failed at what?"

Mandas frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"What exactly are we to do, and what are the criteria for success? What if this is indeed just some internal Oceanus matter despite all the bluster?"

Mandas sneered. "You don't believe that for a moment. And neither do I."

Norlan flinched in an exaggerated movement. "Did you shock the High Minister as much as you did me just now with this startling display of competency?"

Mandas clenched his jaw until it ached. One hand curled into a fist, trembled, then released as a slow breath passed his lips. "A competition," Mandas repeated in a tense voice. "Neither of us can fail, but one us will end in higher esteem than the other."

"True. Though I daresay one of us has a head start."

"Amazing. You have all the appearance of having elevated yourself in social stature yet you continue to act the part of the pea ... the primitive. You have not even hosted--"

"A High Feast," said Norlan, and Mandas was treated to the first crack in Norlan's calm facade. "I am getting to that."

"Perhaps you are not so fond of the High Lords seeing that hovel you call a palace. Or those barely-trained bitches you call slaves."

Norlan had resumed drinking his wine as Mandas spoke and stopped only when Mandas stopped. "We will require a manifest."

Mandas blinked. "A what?"

"A manifest. Or have you not yet considered the possibilities concerning what secrets this fleet holds?"

"I have already considered that, you oaf," Mandas growled. "We will require one of both cargo and the crew."

Norlan hesitated. Mandas wanted to believe it was in genuine surprise. He already faced the prospect that this was going to be a net loss for him in the end. No matter how brightly he shone, no matter how much diplomatic prowess he displayed, he could hope only to keep himself from slipping any further. Norlan had only to maintain the status quo. Without a loss to Norlan's prestige, Mandas would get nowhere.

"Yes, the crewmen as well, or had the great Norlan mind not pondered that yet?" Mandas said.

"It is an unlikely possibility. If that were the case, why such secrecy? Would it not be simpler to claim that the fleet played host to a criminal, then identify that man and request we keep him in custody? Certainly His Majesty would have been far more amenable to such a thing, and we would not be standing here under the pretense of cooperation."

Mandas smirked. "What's this? The great Norlan does not already have the answers?"

Norlan sighed. "Really, one would think that the last time you tried to best me would have taught you that the way to gain influence is to not be such a crashing bore. Good day to you."

Norlan turned and strode out of the room.

Mandas trembled with the effort to hold his tongue, but hold it he did until Norlan had disappeared down another passage. "You uncultured, hairy-faced cretin," Mandas muttered. "You uneducated, underhanded ..."

He trailed off and fell into the chair that Norlan had vacated. He slammed his fist against the hand-rest, dislodging the bell. It tinkled as it struck the floor, and the servant appeared at the entrance with his tray.

Mandas eyed the goblets of wine with a forlorn gaze, then waved the servant away.

Mandas was sure he was right. There was something of vital importance to this fleet that Oceanus wished to keep secret, so much so that they were willing to commit this insult to Urisi sovereignty.

Yet even if he were right, his moment would be a candle to Norlan's lighthouse beacon. Mandas corrected himself. This was still a competition, but not just one where Mandas had to win. In addition, Norlan had to lose.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. A plan had begun to take shape amongst his darker thoughts.

Amanda had been left with little to contemplate save her own escalating wet arousal as she knelt in the pleasure chamber waiting for her Master. She had been spared an excessive dose of the cherry-flavored arousal elixir that day, but her pussy oozed and buzzed with the constant, maddening stimulation from her nipples.

A servant had brought her to the chamber soon after the evening meal. He had arranged her, chaining each wrist to an ankle to prevent her from standing or touching herself, and unsealed her. After a crude fondling of her breasts to bring about her initial wetness, he had clipped to each of her stiffening nipples a thin chain ending in a tiny blue gemstone, similar to the ubiquitous blue pearl used in so many magic spells.

Amanda shuddered and uttered a low, quavering moan. Her pussy throbbed faintly with her heartbeat as a puff of air swirled around her breasts. The gemstones resonated with the flow, tiny vibrations quivering up the chains and into her nipples. Her sex steamed and swelled.

She closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths to clear her mind. Norlan would sometimes leave her in the pleasure chamber for a full candlemark -- or as near as she could figure with only her own perception as a time cue -- so that by the time he arrived, her thoughts and body were tuned to his sexual need and little else.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes. The chamber was round and windowless, the stone walls smooth and dyed in a faint pattern of earth tones. Four torches burned in heatless silence. No exit was apparent. The floor had vanished under many layers of thick furs. Air blew in gentle drafts through evenly-spaced gaps in the stone, as it did in many parts of the palace.

She had to remind herself it was still evening. It could be any time of the day or night here, or any season, or any weather. She wished Norlan would use her in his bed chamber. It had a wide, tall window that filled the chamber with soft, milky brilliance. She had glimpsed it once on a night of a full moon. The moon had cast a silvery glow that could be romantic in another context.

Roquan had been wrong. The Urisi were not as "crude" as he had suggested. They were sophisticated psychologists, their practices honed to the task of isolating a slave from everything save her duty, a complete depersonalization that made it very easy for the slave to consider herself nothing more than property.

Amanda spread her knees apart a little further. The gemstones swayed, and the chains tinkled as they buzzed like bees against her nipples. Amanda let her breath out as a quavering, husky moan as pleasure pulsed in her sex.

I'm still a person, Amanda thought, though it was soon lost in the rising tide of lust. She shivered, which jostled the gemstones again. She whimpered as her pussy strained for a moment before retreating from the edge.

The dull metallic thud of a latch being pulled back announced her Master's arrival. Amanda fought not to feel relief and anticipation and lost. Her hands clenched and unclenched as they tugged at their restraints. Her pussy swam in moist heat, begging for attention. It would have to wait, for her arrangement told her what Norlan wanted first.

A section of wall shimmered. An illusion dissolved and revealed a wooden door as it swung outward. Amanda was surprised to see it open on her left. She was sure she had been arranged facing the door, unless her lust had left her so disoriented that only sex mattered now.

Amanda lowered her eyes. She watched a pair of bare feet enter the chamber, sinking into the furs with each silent, purposeful step. The gold-trimmed edge of a deep blue robe swirled around two calves.

Her breath quickened. Each heartbeat pulsed in her sex and throbbed in her nipples. When his feet stopped before her, she heard his own steady, heavy breath. That was the extent of his acknowledgement of his own arousal.

"Your slave eagerly waits to be used for your pleasure, Master," Amanda said, her voice quaking.

Norlan did not move or respond. Amanda wondered if she had missed something, or if he were simply letting her grow even more aroused in order to push as much independent thought from her head as possible.

"Eyes forward."

Amanda raised her head. A tent in his robe greeted her, less than a hand-span from her mouth. Shadows passed over her as his hands undid the sash around his waist. She did not dare flick her gaze up to see them. Her gaze remained where he had wanted it. It was not for her to question or anticipate.

His robe parted. A tingle of excitement that was all her own flitted through her body and burned in her pussy as his swollen manhood bobbed before her face.

She wanted to glance at his legs, to see if she could read something in the little twitches of his muscles as he stood, anything that would give her a clue as to his feelings. The thought would not stay. She had descended too far into her own need; his cock meant relief for her.

Amanda remained still in the pause that followed. She was not allowed to initiate. He had to make his need known.

One of his hands descended and cupped the back of her head. She drew towards him perhaps a moment before he could pull her forward. Her mouth opened, and he slid past her willing lips. She shivered as she cradled his hard shaft against her tongue. She drew in the heady scent of his arousal, swelling her pussy with desire once more.

Amanda relished this moment, as it was something that Norlan had not taken from her. She still had her consummate skill. The movements were hers. The technique was hers. That they benefited him as well mattered little to her. His hand still moved against the back of her head, but it kept to her pace, a tacit acknowledgement that she knew how to please him better than he did.

His cock disappeared into her mouth, Amanda tilting her head slightly to accommodate his length. She paused, squeezing her tongue against him and dimpling her cheeks, cradling him in tight warmth. She clamped her lips around his girth and drew back slowly until only the head remained inside. Her tongue lashed out and teased the sensitive spot just behind it before drawing him in again.

As her head bobbed faster, the gems dangling from her nipples swayed. Each swing of the gemstones was like a stroke against her slick folds, her pleasure escalating until she was trembling with the effort to keep herself focused.

Her pussy strained, and her hands clenched and pulled at the chains. She shuddered as she crested, ragged pants puffing from her nose, muffled moans vibrating against his cock as it thrusted harder into her mouth. She heard a small, husky breath, the only overt sign that he was enjoying her ministrations.

Amanda shivered, her orgasm slow to wind down. The gemstones bounced against her breasts, and her pleasure began to rise once more. Yet the moment of relief allowed her to clear her head and ignore her need for a short while.

Her thoughts always returned to the same place. Memories of her slave training back in Oceanus played out with such vivid clarity that she could almost hear Sirinna standing nearby, offering encouragement and praise in her sweet, happy voice that had risen above Draught-induced obedience. Visions of Roquan's chambers would overlay her surroundings in her mind's eye, reminding her how seeing to her Overlord's pleasure had become a joy rather than simply a duty.

"Stop."

Amanda drew back and let his manhood pop from her mouth. It hovered before her eyes, pulsing with his rapid heartbeat, tingled purple and oozing at the tip. Above her, a ragged breath slowly returned to normal.

The memories were as much bane as boon. Amanda would not stop asking herself if Norlan were capable of any feelings towards his slaves. Or, contrary to his claims otherwise, she was still "special" to him in some way.

Norlan dropped into a crouch beside her, and Amanda was able to see his face. His mouth was level and unreadable, his eyes intense and purposeful as always. Faint lines were etched around both. More lines occasionally appeared alongside his neck, as if the muscles were tight.

His movements were hurried, as if he needed to be somewhere and this part was a formality. He guided Amanda onto her back without removing the chains, forcing her feet to her body and her knees spread. The chains were pulled taut and dug into her skin. He plucked the hanging gemstones from her nipples, a husky sigh escaping her lips as her pussy flared once more with burning need. Her pussy glistened between damp and helpless thighs.

Something struck Amanda as amusing, and she had to clench her teeth to hold back any display of mirth. Perhaps it was the fact that he had left her restrained so that his cock could not be denied entrance, when all she would do were she free was spread her legs and accept him. Unless that somehow flew in the face of Urisi slave-owning sensibilities.

Norlan shed his robe and crawled over her. His hands alighted on her knees, and she spread them further apart before she felt him urging her to do the same. His body drew close to hers, and she uttered a soft moan of anticipation. His cock hung under him, pulsing and swollen, as much in need as her own sex.

He descended, his large frame weighted upon her, her breasts crushed to his chest, her nipples tingling and throbbing. He thrust past her labia and sank into her tunnel, eliciting a single gasp from Amanda she was filled with his thick girth. She tilted her head back and moaned, wishing he had removed the chains so she could raise her hips to his and bury him even deeper inside her willing and wet pussy.

But there would be none of that. A piece of property does not act on her own.

Amanda did not bother holding back her orgasms as she would in Oceanus. Sometimes she did it just to keep the proper muscles exercised, but ultimately it mattered not to the Urisi. She squirmed and squealed through her first climax, pussy throbbing and tightening until his muscles clenched with the effort to thrust into her.

Or perhaps that was another part of the system, Amanda mused. Letting the slave have climax after climax would make it more difficult to think, or condition her to expect such constant pleasure at her Master's intrusion.

Amanda gasped through her second rise, both cock and the rub of his chest against her nipples rocketing her towards another orgasm. She panted hard, trying to catch her breath against the constant sensual assault and the weight of his body. She heard a ragged pant by her ear, and his hips slammed against her in a frenzied (and, she dared to think, inelegant) effort to reach his own peak.

Amanda held back her third orgasm. She did not want to climax, then have him crest while she was still on her way to her fourth. He would seal away her unsatisfaction without a second thought when he was done.

Was it her imagination, or was he a bit less coordinated compared to last time?

It hampered her timing. She could only guess now when he was close. She rose too quickly, and holding herself at the straining edge was as torturous as it had been behind the seal. She let go at the first sign that he was about to climax, uttering a shrill cry that drowned out his own grunt as his cock throbbed.

His lingering thrusts became more irregular as he struggled through the intensity of his orgasm, his breath hot in Amanda's ear. He finally sank his remaining hardness into her and let the rest of his climax play out in her depths. Amanda's breath slowed as she wound down, and she tried to ignore the merciless tingles of pleasure from her nipples as his body remained pressed to hers.

Norlan rose with little ceremony, his softening manhood falling out of her sex. She took a deep breath as the buzzing in her nipples subsided. Her pussy had just settled into a post-coital ache when Norlan retrieved the vial of sealant from his robe. Amanda tensed her sexual muscles to prevent her from rising again as he slathered the sealant over her slit and labia. By the time he unlocked her chains, it had already hardened to a snug, rubber-like sheen.

Norlan bid her to rise to her feet and stared at her in silent evaluation. Amanda could only stare back until she realized that she was not supposed to meet his gaze in this manner, and dropped hers to the floor once more.

She heard a slow sigh. She was convinced now that Norlan was tense about something beyond whatever deficiencies he saw in her.

"I am tempted to withhold you from the High Feast," said Norlan. "Is it safe to assume you do not know what a High Feast is?"

"Yes, Master, your slave does not know of this," said Amanda.

"It is a gathering hosted by a high-born so that other high-borns may leech off the good hospitality of the host as they pretend to lavish praise upon him while seeking favors inexpertly hidden as business ventures."

Amanda hid her astonishment. Norlan had never confided any of his feelings to her since leaving Oceanus. The words were curt despite the diplomatic tone. She could say nothing in response despite her burning curiosity.

"Look up."

Amanda raised her head. Her dark eyes met his intense and troubled ones. This amazed her further, and it showed as a slight waver to her otherwise steady and submissive gaze.

"Do not believe for a moment that you will do anything more than what is expected of you. I repeat to you that this is not Oceanus, and you are nothing more than another one of my slaves."

"Yes, Master, your slave understands," Amanda said.

Her mind raced. She saw no means by which she could become privy to current events, let alone affect them in some way. Yet she could interpret his anxiety to mean that he thought that some means existed, and this was her warning.

She knew it was a stretch. Her own lingering need to be more than what Urisi society allowed could be causing her to see opportunity where none existed.

"I am not sure you do," said Norlan. "But you will act the part if you wish me to continue accommodating you."

Amanda did not let herself react to the threat. She would not call what he had done "accommodating" in the least. Accommodating would mean letting her hold the pearl in her hand instead of seeing it behind Mage-glass the few times he deigned to let her occupy the parlor. Accommodating her would mean allowing her the occasional communication with Sirinna. That would have made her time in Urisi more bearable.

But she still had the need to know that Sirinna was alive and well. She would do nothing to jeopardize that.

"Yes, Master, your slave understands," Amanda said in a lower voice. Her eyes returned to a genuine submissive state. She had little energy or will to resist him.

Norlan twirled a finger in a circle. Amanda turned her back to him. He pulled her wrists behind her and secured them with the set of shackles. He reattached her chain to her collar and gave it a sharper yank than usual. She spun around to face him.

"Know this, Amanda. If you fail me in any way, and I am forced to sell you, the pearl will not be part of the deal. It is as simple as that."

Before Amanda could react, he turned his back towards her and marched towards the exit of the chamber. She fell into step behind him.

She tried not to read too much into his statement. If she had, she would risk believing that he intended to keep her indefinitely. Urisi slaveowners rarely kept a slave longer than a year. The ultimate purpose of a slave was to be sold at a higher price than she was purchased. The longer a slave was kept, the more platinum was used in keeping her fed and sheltered, thus negating any potential profit.

She found herself longing for the slavery system of Oceanus.

Halfway around the world, it was already morning.

The rising sun was at Jollis' back as he finished breaking down his tiny camp, having fit everything he had taken on his journey into a single sack of woven hemp and bamboo. Orange sunlight glowed pale through the lingering fog, shadows chasing themselves along the narrow, rough trail that wound through stands of cherry trees resplendent in gorgeous spring bloom.

Jollis raised his eyes, smiling through the glistening mist that had settled on his round face. Through gaps in the fog rose the Holy Mountain, its once inscrutable sides now resolving themselves into the crags and cliffs that Jollis would need to conquer if he hoped to finish his Pilgrimage.

It had taken nearly a moon to come this far, and it would be another moon still before he reached the Prime Temple, the place where his people had first attained Enlightenment, where the Holy Order had been founded and from where they had dispensed their wisdom in the face of constant assault from those that would seek to continue the old ways of barbarism and bloodshed.

The real journey started here. Once he began the climb up the steep path before him, he was committed to finishing it. If he aborted his attempt, he would return home in disgrace, and he would be barred from attempting it again for another ten years. If he faltered, no rescue would come to him. It was as much a test of physical prowess as spiritual endurance, ensuring he was sound of both body and mind.

Now Jollis had to ask himself, as was required by tradition: was he ready for this step?

The fog continued to thin, driven by the early morning winds off the ocean far behind him to the east. This was an auspicious start. A wind at his back suggested that the gods supported his choice to perform this once in a lifetime trek.

He gazed upon the mountain, his eyes gliding up its sides to its lofty, snow-covered peak. Some, it was said, felt a sense of intimidation at this point. Jollis felt nothing but anticipation. His time in Oceanus had tested him, and he had passed the trial. He felt he had earned this Pilgrimage. It would complete him.

Yet as he took his first step, he faltered and spun around in shock as he heard someone call his name.

Jollis' eyes darted along the path that lay behind him, as if he expected one of the gods to materialize and pose the final question of his readiness. Only when his name was spoken again in his head did he realize it was a Farview summons.

Jollis cast his eyes towards the Holy Mountain, his gaze now as cloudy as the lingering morning fog. Had he begun his final journey, it would have been within his purview to ignore the summons. He could even now step across that invisible threshold and claim...

Jollis shook his head. He could not do that. The Pilgrimage could not be made based on even the tiniest lie. He dropped his bag to the ground and turned towards the cherry trees. "I accept the summons."

Jollis knew who it would be, as he was the only one that did not know of his plans. He bowed his head as the image of Master Kyllos appeared.

"Ah, Jollis, it is good to see you again," said Kyllos.

The warmth of Kyllos' voice filled Jollis with renewed anticipation. Perhaps his Master had heard of his plans and had taken the chance that the Wanderer could be reached before he had passed the point of no return. It would be a pleasure to hear words of encouragement even if he did not need them.

Jollis raised his eyes. He noticed the haggard look to his Master's face, but it would not dampen his spirits. "Your presence is always a joy and inspiration, Master Kyllos. What may I do for you?"

Kyllos paused and tilted his head. "Are you outside?"

"Indeed I am," Jollis replied, his voice still joyous despite his initial assessment proven wrong. "I regret only that you cannot see it for yourself. The mild winter has yielded a wondrous spring bloom."

"I do not doubt that. But have you given up your morning devotions?"

Jollis understood the concern. Towards the tail end of his mission in Oceanus, Jollis had lost his way. While he was sure his Master knew he had regained his footing, Kyllos was in many ways like a second father to Jollis. He smiled. "Morning devotions are difficult to attend from a distance."

Kyllos looked alarmed, then dismayed. "My sincerest apologies, Jollis. I had no idea you were on Pilgrimage."

Jollis shook his head. "Apologies are unnecessary, Master. Please, tell me what you wish of me. I have yet to cross the threshold. I can turn back or be fetched."

"If I had only known--"

"It was I that did not inform you as I should." Jollis paused. "Or, perhaps, the gods had stayed my hand so that I may be available to you. Such is the way of the Wanderer."

Kyllos nodded in understanding. Jollis was named as he was for a reason. In ancient tradition, a Wanderer was an agent of the gods, to be directed as they saw fit. "I regret I must inform you that I need to call you to Oceanus again," said Kyllos.

"I understand," said Jollis, holding his smile steady.

"It pains me, as I know you have been away from home for so long."

"Again, Master, this is the way of the Wanderer. I am ready for whatever task you wish of me."

Kyllos explained about the rogue fleet, the man aboard it that they needed, and what had been done to secure him thus far. "I have been told that you hold a Farview pearl to a Urisi ambassador."

"Do you require my presence there for that, Master?"

Jollis realized his statement was presumptuous and regretted saying it as soon as it had passed his lips. His smile started to fade, and he would not look towards the Holy Mountain. He could not allow himself to be driven by ambition. Such a thing was not welcome at the Prime Temple.

Kyllos folded his hands before him, and now Jollis doubly regretted his statement. He had put his Master in a bind. Jollis would extricate his Master from it. "I am sure I can assist in any number of endeavors, Master."

Kyllos was thus spared the admission that the request was more an excuse to return Jollis to him more than anything else, though the guilt that he had just stopped his best Journeyman from take a crucial step in his spiritual development still weighed upon him. "Despite our best efforts, we are still troubled by a small band of former Overlords and Nobility that escaped capture due to the partial destruction of the D'ronstaq slave records."

"How do they remain a threat, Master Kyllos, if they no longer have title or power?"

"In part, it is cultural inertia. They are what the peasants are used to. Or perhaps inured to is a better term. But that is not all. They are led by a charismatic leader."

"Ah, I see. And you require the means to apprehend him. Is this my task, Master?"

"Not quite, but it is the one that brought you to mind. I fear we also face a more delicate situation with resistance from another group."

"Then the Oceanus Mage Guild still stands against the Inonni."

"They do, but quietly thus far. They neither submit nor subvert, which can only mean they are planning their next move." Kyllos nodded. "Yes, there is much you can do, Jollis."

Jollis smiled again. The sting of disappointment over his canceled Pilgrimage had eased. "If you would be so kind as to arrange for a Portal to pick me up, I would be honored to work under your auspices once more."

Kyllos let out a slow breath and slowly smiled as Jollis bowed his head. "I will do so immediately. I look forward to seeing you in person soon. May the gods smile upon your dedication."

Jollis lifted his head in time to see his Master fade and vanish.

A breeze blew strands of dark hair before his eyes. The wind had shifted, and now blew from the north. Another good sign. From the west, from his destination, and he might interpret that as being pushed back, as if he were unworthy. This wind bid him simply to change his course.

He would reach the Holy Mountain; he had merely to detour through Oceanus first.

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