Mephis and Prothvar leaped toward the game board and smacked their heads together. Andulvar started to shake and held the arms of the chair as if they were the only things keeping him close to the ground.

Saetan felt sure that if he didn’t laugh soon his insides were going to be pulverized by the strain. “I think…he meant…that he would have liked…to have won by himself.”

Jaenelle considered this and shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

There was a muffled ack ack ack as Prothvar desperately tried to hold in the laughter, but the sound acted like a trigger and all four of them helplessly exploded.

Saetan’s body felt like jelly. He slid out of the chair, landed with a thump on the floor, pitched over on his side, and howled.

Jaenelle looked at them and smiled as if willing to join in if someone would explain the joke. After a minute, she got to her feet, smoothed down her dress with the quiet pride and dignity of a young Queen, stepped over Saetan’s legs, and headed for the door.

Saetan instantly sobered. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he said, “Witch-child? Where are you going?” The other three men stayed silent, waiting for an answer.

Jaenelle turned and looked down at Saetan. “I’m going to the bathroom and then I’m going to see if Mrs. Beale has anything to eat.” She walked to the door, stiff-legged. The last thing they heard her mutter before she closed the door on them was, “Males.”

There was a moment’s more silence before the laughter sputtered to life again, continuing until none of them could stand anymore.

“I’m glad I’m dead,” Andulvar said as he wiped at his eyes.

Saetan, lying on his back, tilted his head to look at his friend. “Why?”

“Because she’d be the death of me otherwise.”

“Ah, but Andulvar, what a glorious way to die.”

Andulvar sobered. “What are you going to do now? He went out of his way to tell you where he is. A challenge?”

Saetan slowly got to his feet, straightened his clothes, and smoothed back his hair. “Do you think he’s that careless?”

“Maybe that arrogant.”

Saetan thought it over and shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s arrogance, but it is a challenge.” He turned to face Andulvar. “To me. He may trust my intentions as little as I trust his. Perhaps we both need to trust…a little.”

“So what will you do?”

Saetan sighed. “Send my regards in return.”

2 / Terreille

As Greer looked out the embassy windows at the city called Beldon Mor, he heard the door quietly open and close. He probed the room behind him, expecting that some hand-wringing ambassador was waiting to tell him the meeting would be delayed. Instead he felt nothing but a slight chill. The fools who served here had a decent expense account. The least they could do was heat the rooms. Perhaps the little sniveler had entered, seen him, and scurried out without speaking.