Amanda had waited for the hammer to fall for several days now, first for her behavior while entertaining the Minor Lord, and again for acting in a most inappropriate manner with Ambassador Mandas (for she did not believe Mandas' word that he would say nothing to Norlan). As she tossed in her sleeping niche, slumber more elusive as the candlemarks crawled past, she wondered if perhaps it already had.

Norlan had ignored her in the days following the visit by the Minor Lord. Halno used her every morning as he always did, and she was assigned to entertain the serving staff afterward, and doled out to the occasional dignitary in the evenings. Her womanhood was never unsealed enough to allow her pleasure, or her nipples were teased until she strained at the edge of an orgasm which never came.

Amanda turned over on her back and suppressed a groan. Her pussy was swollen from snippets of erotic thoughts that flitted through her head when her mind was not focused on something else. She had been fed so much of the arousal-inducing drug that she feared it had left her in a state of permanent low-level sexual heat.

She lay a finger against her sealed slit. It came back slick with moisture.

Amanda sighed and closed her eyes, despite how useless the gesture was for obtaining any more sleep. When her mind did not flirt with sexual matters, her thoughts came back to her encounter with Mandas, which dredged up thoughts of Oceanus she wanted to keep buried. She believed pining for a life she could no longer have would shatter what little emotional stability she had gained. Yet the memories persisted, and with them came questions.

Just how did the Inonni do it? How did they open their Portals to so many places at once and conquer a nation virtually overnight? Who held the focusing pearls for them? And what of Roquan's last task to her, which was to find correlations in the slave manifest for another Overlord who had sold all his slaves to the Inonni?

She remembered the manifest had shown the Overlord had gained slaves from nearly every other Overlord. She knew the Inonni had opened Portals to every Overlord Manor. With her limited understanding of Portal mechanics, she could not connect the two as anything more than coincidence.

When she had been brought to see Roquan one last time, Roquan's quarters had been immolated, but neither Roquan nor his guards had shown any sign of being burned. She had assumed the Inonni had torched it as a symbol of their conquest of the Manor. The invasion had taken the Manors first, and only then did they move on to the Noble Lords. This had made no sense to Amanda, as she believed logic dictated the Nobility -- the actual ruling class -- should be taken first.

A fantastic thought came to her: what if Roquan had burned down his quarters to prevent the Inonni from gaining his records? But, again, why? What was the connection between that and the Inonni conquest?

Amanda turned on her side, clamping her thighs closed over her wanting pussy. She clenched her teeth to suppress a curse. She loathed Mandas for forcing her to spin in the same circles of useless thought which had plagued her first quarter moon away from Oceanus.

She lifted her head when she heard the clank of the door to the slave quarters. She already had her feet to the floor and was standing up as a servant entered the chamber and bellowed, "All slaves awaken and present!"

Amanda stood by her niche and spread her feet apart, then clasped her hands behind her head and thrust out her chest. The lead servant approached the nearest of Norlan's slaves in apparent inspection as other servants carried trays laden with fresh fruits and bread. Amanda had her doubts the servant was "inspecting" anything; it was just one of the many excuses they used to take advantage of the slaves.

Amanda was not exempt. He cast a lascivious gaze at her breasts, then fondled them in his rough fingers until she let out a small moan. He moved a finger in a circle, and she turned around. He squeezed her ass cheeks and gave each one a single stinging slap. By the time he was done with her, she was panting softly, and her sex seal ran slick with her moisture.

Only when the servant had finished his morning abuse of the slaves were they allowed to join each other at the table. Amanda forced herself to eat despite her lack of appetite. Even the distraction of an aching pussy and the smell of freshly baked bread was not enough to pull her back to the present.

Amanda flinched when she felt a light touch on her arm.

"Is something the matter?" asked Larra, feigning a look of concern.

"No," Amanda said, and crammed another bite of bread into her mouth.

"You should talk about it if something is bothering you."

Amanda kept her eyes on the meal. You're not my Trainer, you're not even my superior, not really, Amanda thought the words she wished she could say. I don't have to do a damn thing you say.

"I understand Master Norlan is upset with you."

Amanda swallowed her bite of bread without chewing it thoroughly. It lodged in her throat, and she coughed through a second attempt to swallow it. She clenched her teeth and kept her eyes averted. Stop trying to bait me!

"Brooding over it will only make matters worse, and he will sell you off before your time. Or send you back to the Slavemasters. Or maybe he'll decide he doesn't like an undraughted slave after all."

Amanda whipped her head around. "Shut up."

Dead silence suddenly descended upon the table. Amanda's eyes flicked over to the other slaves, who stared back with expressions which ranged from vapid confusion to vague shock. She turned her gaze back to Larra. Larra's eyes were dark and unreadable, but one corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Fine," Amanda hissed. "Now you have something to report. That's what you're always looking for anyway."

The latch of the chamber door clicked back, but Amanda did not turn her head towards it. Her gaze remained fixed on the sly smile curling Larra's lips.

Larra's hand shot up. Amanda raised her own to ward off a blow, only to hear a sharp slap without feeling any pain. She lowered her arms in time to see Larra fling herself from her chair with a loud cry, which tipped over and clattering to the stone floor.

Larra shot a hurt look at Amanda, and Amanda's eyes widened. Larra's cheek was red with the faint marks from Larra's own fingers.

Amanda was so shocked she did not hear the rumble of booted feet as they pounded through the chamber. Before she understood what was happening, a servant grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. Another yanked Larra from the floor.

"What in bloody hellfire is this?!" Halno bellowed as he faced the two slaves. The others had left the table and retreated a safe distance.

"Th-this slave doesn't know!" Larra cried, her eyes glistening. "This slave was trying to talk to the dark-haired slave, and she slapped this slave across the face!"

Amanda was too stunned to speak.

"Please, this slave did nothing wrong! This slave only wanted to befriend her. This slave only--"

"You liar!" Amanda shouted.

"--then she just slapped this slave for no reason!"

"I did not! Stop lying to them! I didn't touch--"

Amanda's cry became a scream as white hot pain slashed across her ass cheeks. She crumpled to the floor as the pain seared into her, as if a molten rod was burning and charring its way into her body. She clenched her teeth to suppress another scream, which emerged instead as a keening whimper.

Finally, the pain abated, and the ugly red mark across her tender flesh faded. Looming over her was the servant who had grabbed her, a punishment rod in his hand. Halno strode forward and yanked the rod from his hand. "And when did I appoint you to be in charge of slave discipline?"

"I'm sorry, Master Halno, but you heard her, she said a word forbidden to--"

"I have ears. I heard. Now stand aside, you dolt."

The rod cracked across the back of Amanda's thighs twice, then three times across the back of the calves. Red welts swelled and radiated agony through skin, muscle, and bone, before vanishing and removing all evidence of the abuse.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. The mantra repeated in Amanda's head between blows, even as tears leaked from around her closed eyes. Don't cry! No one will care! No one will want to comfort me! DON'T CRY! DON'T ...

At the last blow, Amanda went limp and sobbed, tears dripping and pooling in the grout between the stones of the floor.

Halno sighed and shook his head. He handed the rod back to the servant. "This will not be nearly enough. She has been a discipline problem since she arrived. I will tend to this matter myself."

He hauled Amanda to her feet. Amanda forced her body to respond, as much as she wanted to remain a rag doll and lay prostrate and defeated. She did not have that luxury. She wiped her eyes and bit her lip hard until the pain helped her refocus.

Halno gestured to another servant, and Amanda's wrists were yanked behind her back. A muscle twinged in her arm as it was stretched too hard, but she did not react; nothing could compare to what she had just experienced. Shackles snapped into place, tight and pinching. Halno attached a chain to her collar and yanked. Amanda stumbled forward, falling to one knee. Halno pulled on the chain until the collar choked off her breath, forcing her to rise to her feet coughing, her throat raw.

"So what are you going to do to her?" the servant asked in a voice that made Amanda's skin crawl.

"Nothing you can watch, if that is what you are implying. Begin preparing the other slaves and see if the one that was slapped needs attention."

Amanda kept her eyes averted. Self-pity was not allowed to her, but her emotions needed an outlet. She channeled it into anger instead. Not at Larra, as that was pointless, and not at Halno, as that would make things worse for her. She instead seethed at her fellow spineless slaves. All of them were looking directly at her and could have told them the truth. Had this been Roquan's Manor ...

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut against a threatened new flood of tears.

Halno started towards the chamber door. Amanda fell into step behind him and tried not to think about the shelves and shelves of rods, crops, restraints, and gags which festooned Halno's quarters.

As they entered the hallway, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head in time to see a maid duck into a side corridor. In her moment of distraction, she failed to notice Halno had stopped, and she gasped when his face suddenly loomed not a hand's breadth from hers.

"I did not expect to waste my valuable time with you," Halno said, his face twisted into a vile sneer. "I had hoped to be free of you today. You have most effectively foiled those plans. Therefore, I will draw my compensation from you. You have learned to take pain-to-pleasure. You will know only pain today. And I will recommend that Master Norlan leave you sealed for the next two seasons."

Amanda was too numb to react, either to him or in the confines of her own head, though her heart hammered as he led her down the corridor once more. Her feet felt like lead weights, and she stumbled with each vicious yank on the chain.

Amanda did not need to repeat the mantra any longer; she was beyond crying now. She hoped the numbness would stay. Or they would give her the Draught, and she could forget she ever knew of anyone named Sirinna or any place named Oceanus.

"Master 'alno! 'ere now, 'old up. Oi!"

Halno came to a stop with a sigh and slump of his shoulders. "What in hellfire is it now that cannot wait?" he said as he turned around. He looked past Amanda and frowned. "And what is it you want?"

Amanda turned her head and blinked out of her reverie of despair long enough to recognize Bessa as she bounded over to them. "Soirry t' bother yew, Master 'alno, but wot are yew doin' wi' Ama ... ah, the dark-'aired one 'ere?"

"And just what is that to you?"

Bessa put her hands on her hips. "Well, ain't Lord Norlan roundin' up all his slaves fer the crew o' the Oceanus fleet?"

"As if that is something you should concern yourself with."

"Sure in 'ellfire, it is, if I gotta help in cleanin' them up! An' this one's 'bout t' go missin', an' I ain't gonna be blamed fer it!"

Amanda stared. In all her emotional turmoil, she had all but forgotten Norlan would be offering his slaves to the fleet.

Halno sighed. "Then I absolve you. You will have one less slave to deal with. Satisfied?"

"Ain't me wot's gotta be sat'sfied. It's Lord Norlan."

Halno frowned. "I beg your pardon? What is this about?"

"Yew is goin' off wi' the slave 'e wants, is wot it's about! 'e asked fer 'er t' be included wi' the rest of 'em, is wot 'e did!"

"He would not have if he had witnessed what just happened in the slave quarters!"

"Well, 'e didn't, an' I ain't gonna be the one t' tell 'im."

"Bloody hellfire, I cannot Farview him now! I can only wait until he contacts me."

Bessa shrugged. "Beggin' yer pardon, Master 'alno, but that's yer funeral, not mine."

"This is ridiculous." He snapped the chain. Amanda wheezed as the collar briefly bit into her throat. She thought she saw Bessa wince. "I do not even know why I am arguing with a washing maid."

Halno started to walk away. Amanda side stepped after him, still looking back at Bessa. Bessa's mouth opened, her hands curling into fists as her face screwed up in frantic thought. "Um ... then check wi' Marris, an' 'e'll vouch fer it!"

Halno stopped.

"Or did yew ferget that this one's from Oceanus, an' that this fleet is from Oceanus? Don't yew think 'is Lordship would want a slave who can please 'em roight?"

Halno spun around. "All right, enough, enough! Just stop talking so I don't have to hear that atrocious assault to the Urisi language that is your speech." He looked down the corridor towards the slave quarters. "The others have already been taken to be prepared. I will have to take her myself. I do not have time for these useless diversions!"

So punishing me is not a useless diversion? came Amanda's acid thought.

Bessa paused, then took a deep breath and let it go. She held out her hand. "Then I'll take 'er."

Halno raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"'sroight, me. Wot, yew think I'm like those other silly cunts that think she's got something that's gonna rub off on me? Mebbe yew should remember that, that I know 'ow t' get the job done when--"

"All right, shut up." He thrust the end of the chain towards Bessa. "Take her. Just ... just don't talk."

Bessa paused, then grasped the chain in her hand. Halno spun on his heel and marched away. Bessa watched him go, then let out a tremulous sigh and fell against the wall, wiping her brow.

Amanda's eyes darted from the corridor to Bessa, as if unsure whether to believe what had just transpired. She glanced towards either end of the corridor before whispering to Bessa, "Did Master Norlan really ask for me?"

Bessa pushed herself away from the wall and pressed her finger to her lips. She gathered the chain fully in her hands and gestured for Amanda to follow. "I saw wot 'appened in there, luv. That Larra's been a bitch from the first day 'is Lordship got 'er. She's not Draughted, yew see. But if there was anyone who ever deserved it ... bloody 'ellfire, I should shush. I gotta get yew t' the others and get t' Marris in case 'alno really does check wi'--"

"So he didn't ask for me."

Bessa did not respond, but her eyes wavered.

Amanda's mouth fell open. She could only think what she dared not give voice to: Bessa LIED for me.

"Lord Norlan does want 'is slaves sent t' the docks over in Port 'eldon," Bessa said. "That's as true as I am standin' 'ere, even if 'e didn't ask f' yew in partic'lar. An' it's well over 'alf a day's travel, so sooner we get yew t' where yew gotta go, the better. Come along, luv."

Amanda nodded and stepped behind Bessa. She allowed herself a small smile. She had finally found an ally.

The ruined castle faced the sea, where the violent ocean currents hurled a tempest upon the cliff on which it sat. A perpetual roar of froth and mist rose even to the highest of the ramparts, where magic-induced breezes blew outward through the windows to keep the damp and the brine out of clothing and bedding.

The thick walls still bore the large cracks which had all but shattered the citadel's final defenses in the last days of the final uprising against the Urisi Mage-Kings, part of the larger worldwide conflict against the power of the Mages millennia before. Only a final truce had spared the castle complete destruction. It had been preserved in this state, at the precipice of final decay but never tumbling over it.

On the landward side, the castle bore a great gash of broken stone and splintered wood straight to the throne room, as if a huge dagger had pierced its heart. The great throne of the last of the Mage-Kings lay in heaps of broken and rusting metal atop a cracked dais. Like the rest, it remained as it had been, preserved as a monument to a past which should not be repeated.

Among the ruins of the courtyard, caravans laden with platinum and magical wares trundled forth towards the long, winding road away from the castle. The merchants at the head of these wheeled behemoths kept a steady and skilled hand upon the reins, leading their horses in an unerring, safe path towards the valley far below. The last caravan was slow to ready itself for transport, as several Mages still lingered, eying the remaining wares.

Finally the clan leader called out from near the middle of the convoy, and the last caravan was thrown together for transport at a speed which amazed the onlookers. The remaining Mages were about to turn away when a merchant ran up to them, brandishing a scroll tied with a dark blue ribbon.

A young Mage with cropped black hair turned towards the merchant, nonplussed when the scroll was slapped into his hands. The Mage appeared even more astonished at the merchant's animated speech. Unable to get in a word edgewise, the Mage held the scroll as if intending to give it back, but the merchant leapt onto the caravan as it shuddered into motion.

"I am not even sure our charter allows him to accept it!" the Mage shouted as a final protest, but a cloud of dust had risen in the wake of the grinding wheels of the caravan. He heaved a great sigh and stared at the scroll. "For the love of the gods ..."

Another passing Mage turned his gaze toward the first and raised an imperious eyebrow. He stepped forward and pointed at the scroll, his nose wrinkling as if he had suddenly smelled something rancid. "That seal cannot be from whom I think it is."

"From the Oceanus Mage Guild, yes," said the first in a worried tone.

"And are you actually going to give it to the Magistrate?"

"I have little choice in the matter!" He sighed. "He always blames me for any bad news he receives."

"Stop being overly dramatic, Illas. He is simply stressed with having to deal with the nonsensical rumors that have been flying about."

Illas, Fourth Advisor to the Urisi Mage Magistrate, looked at his peer in puzzlement. "What rumors?"

The other Mage rolled his eyes. "Surely you of all people would know--"

"Blast that, I am Fourth Advisor! I am not privy to such things. What of this?"

"Somehow there is this preposterous notion flying about that the recent conquerers of Oceanus are wielding some strange new form of Portal magic."

Illas looked down at the scroll and brightened. "Perhaps, then, this is a missive from the Oceanus Guildmaster dispelling such foolish notions. If anyone would know, it would be him."

"I somehow doubt it will be resolved that easily. But you'd best be getting it to the Magistrate."

"Yes, at once!" Illas dashed away.

The roiling sea could be heard even in the little room at the top of the tallest spire of the castle over the incessant scratch of quill across ancient parchment. A thin man with a drawn face and a graying goatee sat poised over the yellowed scroll which trailed off the great oak desk and across the stone floor.

The old Mage tapped the feather end of the quill against his chin before setting the writing tip to the parchment again. It scratched over the existing words, absorbing the ink as if it were new, leaving the parchment bare. He considered for a moment, then wrote new words to take their place.

He heard exactly three light raps against the thick metal door of his office. He appeared not to have heard, altering three more sentences on the scroll before finally announcing without looking up, "Enter if you absolutely must."

Bolts clanked back by magical assist, and the door creaked open. Illas slipped inside, marched to the desk, took a deep breath, and presented the scroll with no further fanfare. "A message for the Magistrate."

Urisi Mage Magistrate Olloran stopped. He lifted his head and set down his quill, his thin eyebrows arching as he accepted the scroll. His frown deepened as he spied the Oceanus Mage Guild seal. "Who presented this to you?" Olloran demanded.

Illas stiffened. "It was delivered to me by the merchant clan which just departed, Magistrate."

Olloran stood as he snatched the scroll from Illas. He removed the seal with a flick of his forefinger and snapped out the scroll, a bit of magic passing through his bony fingers which forced the scroll to flatten straight like fresh parchment. His frown deepened to a scowl. "What is this rubbish, Illas?"

Illas folded his hands before him. "I am sorry if it is bad news, Magistrate, but--"

Olloran threw the parchment down to his desk, where it teetered near the edge. "This is a Mage Guild, not a bloody courier service!"

Illas watched as the parchment was caught in the ever-present breeze which kept the sea spray at bay and slipped towards the floor. Curiosity overcame fear, and he snatched it before it could fall to the floor. His eyes darted across the parchment, then widened. "Why does he ask this of you, Magistrate?"

"Because the new Oceanus Guildmaster presumes far too much!" Olloran thundered.

"If ... if I may be so bold, Magistrate, we could pass this along to His Majesty's court Mage."

"Do as you please, Illas. But you will immediately craft a response to the Oceanus Guildmaster where you will state we will accept no more such 'parcels' from him in the future. He will confine his missives to Mage business, and then only when absolutely necessary. Am I clear on this point?"

Illas clutched the parchment to his chest like a shield. "Most clear, Magistrate."

Olloran fell back into his chair, picked up his quill, and ceased to acknowledge that another living being shared the chamber with him.

Illas slunk out of the office, the door thudding shut behind him. He frowned and read the parchment again. Other than a minor inconvenience to relay the message, he could spot nothing untoward about it.

He glanced at the door and wondered exactly how bad were these rumors the Magistrate had been attempting to quell?

Gedric was a light sleeper. He often relied on the singing of the birds when near land or the splash of fish leaping from the water while at sea to stir him well before the crack of dawn. He was always the first at his post when there was trouble, earning him the nickname "hair-trigger" Gedric.

Thus he found it distressing when he rose at what was to him a late candlemark, fearing even the small span of days with no prospect for action in sight had dulled his senses. Such as it was that morning when the raucous cheers and shouts of his men awakened him well after the sun had cleared the eastern horizon.

Gedric leapt out of bed, and for a blissful moment, he imagined he would come topsides to see the men manning the Mage-guns, the Lord Admiral having ordered the fleet out to sea, and to blazing hellfire with the Urisi or Oceanus.

His hopes came to naught, but curiosity overcame disappointment. Men swarmed over the deck, hauling large wooden boxes from the top of the gangplank, watched over by the wary eyes of the Urisi guards.

By the time Gedric was presentable enough to stand before the crew, the first of the crates was ripped open. A sailor reached down and pulled out two large bottles of wine, which he raised over his head to another cheer from his fellow crewmen.

The First Mate turned his head towards Gedric, his eyes widening. He snapped to attention and bellowed, "Fleet Captain on deck!"

The celebration died immediately. The sailor holding the wine bottles dropped them back into the crate and straighted up.

"All right, at ease," declared Gedric. "But let's show a little more restraint, shall we?"

The sailor who had held the wine bottles gave Gedric a lopsided grin. "Sorry, Cap'n, but me and the men, we ain't seen good stuff like this since--"

Gedric raised a hand. "Understood. Carry on bringing the crates on board, but leave the rest sealed until we have a chance to inventory them and distribute them fairly. We will not start acting uncivilized."

"Especially before your host," came a voice from the top of the gangplank.

The First Mate mouthed a curse and surged forward. "Lord Ambassador on--"

"We can see for ourselves quite well, thank you," Gedric snapped. "Summon the Lord Admiral."

"Aye, Captain!"

Norlan offered a small smile. "I do not believe we have been introduced."

Gedric hesitated a moment before taking cautious steps towards the ambassador. "Fleet Captain Gedric V'riis. Do we have you to thank for this gift?"

"Indeed, yes. I expect it will serve as some comfort for the men."

Gedric folded his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. "It is a good start," Gedric said. His voice was polite but tense.

"And it is indeed a start."

"Can I take that to mean you will be offering more 'gifts?'"

Norlan's smile widened a touch, and Gedric knew his sentiment had been conveyed. The Ambassador glanced towards the crewmen, and a few who had been casting curious looks in their direction found something else to look at. Norlan strolled towards the stern of the ship, away from the crew, and gestured for Gedric to follow. Gedric did so with a stiff step, his brow furrowing. "We will share some of our slaves with the men come this evening."

"For all the men?"

"They will be assigned to you for as many evenings as required for all your men to partake of them. Some of these slaves will be my own. I do hope you and your Lord Admiral appreciate the gesture."

"And why would we not, Lord Ambassador?"

"I suppose that will remain to be seen come tomorrow morning. We estimate by that time, the ship carrying the Oceanus dignitaries will be halfway across the ocean. You have less time available to you now before our hand is forced."

"And why do you think this should matter to us, Lord Ambassador?" Gedric said in a raised voice. "You will ultimately decide our fate regardless if there is a single candlemark or a whole year available to us, token gestures of wine and slaves aside."

"And why do you assume you have no choice in that fate?"

Gedric let out a loud, windy sigh, drawing himself erect. "And you assume we have anything with which to bargain for that fate, other than perhaps some lessons to your sailors in--"

"That is quite enough, Fleet Captain!" boomed Vortas as he marched towards them.

Gedric's shoulders slumped slightly, though the expression on his face remained stony. "My apologies, my Lord," said Gedric in a calmer voice.

"See to your men, Captain!" Vortas snapped.

Gedric nodded once and turned away.

Vortas watched Gedric leave, turning to Norlan only when Gedric was out of earshot. "My heartfelt apologies, Lord Ambassador," said Vortas in a more contrite voice. "He does not speak for me or for the fleet."

"I would say that is up for debate," said Norlan. "Nevertheless, I will let it pass. I will repeat what I have told your rather passionate Fleet Captain. I have arranged for these crates of fine wine as well as slaves for your entertainment and companionship this evening."

"That is very generous of you, Lord Ambassador. We thank you."

"I will also tell you that representatives from your government are fast approaching across the sea. I have yet to hear anything which might convince us to grant some form of asylum in the Urisi Nation."

"And you hope these gifts will elicit something to that effect?"

"Need I state it that plainly? But it is good you understand."

Vortas paused. He looked towards the crew of the Blaze. "We offer you expertise."

Norlan raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing. He nodded for Vortas to continue.

"We cannot emphasize any further the potential danger presented by the new regime in Oceanus," said the Lord Admiral. "You have relied on the Oceanus navy for well over a century. You may not be able to rely on that any further. You would be better positioned if the Urisi navy were poised to--"

"Surely you do not advocate a war posture."

"A strong Urisi navy could prevent a war!" Vortas hissed.

"And your men would provide this? You would build the ships for us?"

"We would help train your crews. Please stop being deliberately obtuse, Lord Ambassador."

"I suppose if we had allowed your Fleet Captain to continue to speak, he would have detailed how deficient he believes our navy to be," said Norlan with a tight smile. "But I admire your honesty and will return the same. There is some merit to your argument, if we assume Oceanus does become a threat. It is no secret the Urisi Nation does not heavily invest in a large navy."

"Then you will take my proposal back to your King?"

"Certainly. But he will likely ask what else you offer."

"We have nothing else!" Vortas boomed. "You seek conspiracy where there is none to be had. We had hoped you would understand our cause and share in it."

Norlan turned his head and watched the Fleet Captain command his men. Vortas noticed the Ambassador's gaze and narrowed his own.

"Tell me, Lord Admiral, have you ever met a High Lord of Urisi?" Norlan asked.

Vortas hesitated in his reply. "I have not had the pleasure, no."

"Nor have I met a Noble Lord of Oceanus. But I suspect he would speak much like our High Lords." He glanced at Gedric again. "And much like your Fleet Captain."

Vortas said nothing, though his face twisted into a scowl.

Norlan smiled. "Good day to you, Lord Admiral."

"Incompetent fool!" Mandas bellowed at his Runner. He brandished a crumpled bit of parchment in the cringing man's face as they stood in a side corridor of the diplomatic wing of the Royal Palace. "And you thought this not important enough to wake me?!"

"You have strict orders not to be disturbed past the mid-evening candlemark, my Lord!" the Runner cried. "Very strict! Only messages from the High Minister of State or His Majesty have precedence to override--"

"And have you gleaned nothing of the criticality of this diplomatic mission on which I am -- supposedly! -- working with that insufferable lout Norlan?"

"I-I'm sorry, my Lord, I didn't realize--"

Mandas threw the parchment in the Runner's face. "Imbecile. You should have caught on to Norlan's treachery. Oh, yes, he tells me of his intent to meet with the crew of the rogue fleet in the morning, but not until well towards the midnight candlemark when he knows I do not like to take messages. The bastard."

"I will know now to regard messages from Ambassador Norlan with the highest--"

"Shut up. The only reason I am not discharging you from my service is I would have to procure a new Farview pearl and give it directly to that uncultured idiot Norlan, whereupon he will find a reason to refuse to take it and keep sending his messages to you."

The Runner let out a shaky breath. "My Lord, i-if I may suggest something--"

"Only if it is to recommend someone far more competent than you."

"I ... uh ..."

Mandas rolled his eyes. "Very well. What is it?"

"Are not Lord Ambassadors required to Farview a report on their diplomatic discourse as soon as possible to their assigned clerk?"

"And you would suggest I attempt to obtain a report from his?" Mandas sneered.

The Runner opened his mouth to speak, but closed it in the wake of Mandas' dismissive tone.

Mandas now paused as well. Each Ambassador had an office at the Royal Palace and a clerk to whom they had bound a Farview pearl so they could make regular reports for both the Royal Archives and for review by the High Minister of State. All information the clerks received was kept in strict confidence to prevent High Lords from obtaining information which could be used to influence matters at court.

"Yes," Mandas finally said to his Runner's relief. "You are not so stupid after all, it would seem."

"Thank you, my Lord," said the Runner in a stiff voice.

Mandas glanced at one of the tall, narrow windows which lined that side of the corridor. The sun had cleared the horizon and lost some of its sunrise orange tint. "He has likely concluded his meeting with them, so he should be making a report shortly," Mandas mused. He turned back to his Runner. "Go away, and consider yourself lucky you still have your position."

The Runner fled.

Mandas found Norlan's office at the end of the wing, far removed from the rest of the Palace. A tiny smirk played on his lips. Despite the number of empty offices along this row, they had assigned him the one at the very end. Nothing was done without a reason. Erodon likely wanted to do everything he could to reduce Norlan's influence, even something so petty as forcing him to walk the extra distance to get to the rest of the Palace.

As he approached the door, he frowned when he heard Norlan's voice. His hand clenched into a fist as he resisted the urge to barge in and hurl accusations at his fellow Ambassador's Farview image.

He waited until the voice had ceased before he burst in, startling the clerk into mangling his final signature on the parchment he was preparing.

"My Lord, I'm sorry," said the clerk when he had recovered. "If you have an appointment to see Lord Norlan, he is away on--"

"I do not need an appointment, you idiot. I am Lord Ambassador Mandas."

The clerk narrowed his eyes. "Yes, of course, my Lord," he replied, his voice hesitant.

Mandas gestured towards the parchment. "Is that Norlan's latest report?"

The clerk blinked, then flipped the parchment over face-down. "Yes, my Lord, I was just about to make a copy for the High Minister of State and file this one in the archives."

"And you think I should not see it?"

The clerk paused. "I ... I am following proper protocol, my Lord."

Mandas frowned and held out his hand.

The clerk stared at it. His hands slid over the parchment, his fingers spreading as if shielding it. "My Lord?"

"Is everyone choosing to act incompetent today? Let me see Norlan's report."

"But ... proper protocol states I have to file this, then all requests for that information can be acquired by making a request through--"

"Norlan told you to keep information from me, did he not?"

The clerk paused. One foot slid back under his chair, and his fingers drummed against the parchment. "Lord Ambassador Norlan emphasized the importance of adhering strictly to protocol in this sensitive matter, my Lord. Surely the High Minister would expedite your request or share his copy with you."

"Yes, but not before I spend the better part of the morning getting on his schedule. I am supposed to be working with the great oaf Norlan, or did he conveniently forget to tell you that?"

The clerk looked nonplussed. "Be that as it may, my Lord, I--"

"Oh shut up." Mandas surged forward and shoved the clerk hard until the chair tipped back on its hind legs. The clerk yelped and grabbed the sides of the seat to steady it. By the time the chair thumped down on all four legs, the parchment was in Mandas' hands.

Mandas' eyes scanned the page, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Nothing. All this stupid secrecy for nothing." He threw the parchment at the clerk's face.

Mandas could play the duplicity game as well. In case the clerk would report this incident to Norlan, he wanted his erstwhile partner to think he had gleaned nothing. Instead, he had taken the possibility of the Fleet Captain's Noble heritage to be significant. But it also meant Norlan was on the verge of discovering a vital clue himself.

Mandas drew himself up, lifting his chin and peering down at the clerk with a supercilious gaze. "You can tell that fool Norlan I see right through this parchment-thin effort to cover up his own incompetence."

He whirled about and left the office, and nearly collided with a man in robes of deep blue.

"Terribly sorry, my Lord!" said the man, clutching a scroll to his chest.

Mandas' nose wrinkled at the man's tiny goatee but hid his disdain barely a breath later. He had recognized the man as the Royal Mage Hemdalla, currently in high favor with the King. "No harm done," said Mandas, his hand still on the handle of the door, which still stood ajar. His eyes flicked to the scroll, and he yanked the door closed.

"Ah, my Lord, I was about to go in there to--"

Mandas stepped forward, nudging the Mage back. "If I may ask, what is your business with Ambassador Norlan?"

"I have transcribed this scroll from the Mage Magistrate's office. It is a message directed to him."

"And why would Norlan be receiving messages from the Mage Guild?"

"It appears to be a message relayed from the Oceanus Mage Guild, my Lord."

"That makes even less sense."

"I am not sure I quite understand all the details, my Lord. It has something to do with a man Oceanus wants. Um, from a fleet, I think."

Mandas' eyes widened.

"I am sorry if that makes no sense, my Lord. I am not versed in current events."

"Quite all right," said Mandas, his lips curling into a wide smile. "It so happens your message is of vital importance in a volatile diplomatic crisis which both Norlan and I are tasked to defuse. We are quite grateful."

"Ah, wonderful!" said Hemdalla, returning the smile. "I am happy to have helped."

Mandas held out his hand. "You may give me the scroll and report your duty fulfilled."

Hemdalla glanced at the proffered hand. "Ah, well ... I was told this message is addressed specifically to Ambassador Norlan."

"Yes, of course, for that is the name with which Oceanus is most familiar from his past dealings with them. But, as I stated, both Norlan and I are working very closely on this matter."

"Ah, yes, but--"

"And Norlan is not here at the moment. Surely it would make sense to entrust it to someone who can act upon it immediately in the best interests of Royal Security?"

Hemdalla paused, then slowly nodded. "Yes, of course, that makes sense, my Lord."

Mandas snatched the scroll the moment Hemdalla began to offer it. "Very good. Now, go about your business, and it would be best that you keep any details of this message to yourself."

"Ah, of course, my Lord, of course. Good day to you!"

Mandas smiled and waited until Hemdalla was gone. He stepped away from Norlan's office and unrolled the scroll.

Greetings to the most honorable High Magistrate of the Urisi Mages from Guildmaster Uroddus Q'garra of the Oceanus Guild of Mages. I apologize that communication between our two great Guilds has lapsed for so long, and further humbly apologize that I must ask this favor of you.

I wish a message relayed to Lord Ambassador Norlan of the Urisi Royal Court. He is embroiled in a diplomatic crisis about which the Oceanus Mage Guild has come upon some potentially vital information. Please inform him the Oceanus government is looking for a man by the name of Gedric V'riis, likely an officer on board a "rogue fleet" which was taken into a Urisi port.

There is little more I can tell you other than we believe he is a key person who would allow the Oceanus Imperium to obtain the whereabouts of Tarras K'riis, a former Noble Lord and known member of a group resisting the current Oceanus regime.

It is of utmost importance this message be delivered into Ambassador Norlan's hands. I again apologize I must ask such a trivial task of the prestigious High Magistrate, but I feel this matter will have far-reaching effects for not just our respective governments, but our Guilds as well.

Mandas fled, rolling up the scroll and tucking it out of sight on his person. His mind raced. He had wanted a name, and now he had that and so much more. Yet why were the Oceanus Mages involved? And who in hellfire was Uroddus Q'garra? The last he had heard, the Oceanus Guildmaster was Wytho Q'ixanna. And what of this talk about resistance?

Mandas found his Viewer near his suite. "Get me a Portal. I need to be at Port Heldon before evening meal."

Feedback

Did you like this story? Hate it? Printed it and lined the birdcage with it?

Please take a moment to send me some comments about this story. Your comments may remain anonymous if you prefer, or you can include an email address in your comments if you wish a reply.

Since this is a multi-part story, you may wait until the last chapter to send feedback about the story as a whole if you wish.