Silk turned to Yarblek, who had been listening to the conversation intently with a worried frown. "Are you in any kind of trouble in Drasnia at the moment?" he asked.

"Not that I know of."

"All right," Silk continued. "There's a fur dealer in Boktor. Geldahar's his name."

"Fat man? Sort of cross-eyed?" Yarblek asked.

"That's him. Why don't you take a shipment of furs and go to Boktor? While you're trying to sell Geldahar the furs, tell him that the salmon run is late this year."

"I'm sure he'll be fascinated to hear that."

"It's a code-word," Silk explained with exaggerated patience. "As soon as you say that, he'll see to it that you get into the palace to see Queen Porenn."

"I've heard that she's a lovely woman," Yarblek said, "but that's a long trip just to see a pretty girl. I can probably find a pretty girl just down the hall."

"You're missing the point, Yarblek," Silk told him. "Porenn is Rhodar's queen, and he trusts her even more than he used to trust me. She'll know that I sent you, and she'll pass anything you tell her on to my uncle. Rhodar will be reading Drosta's message three days after you ride into Boktor. I guarantee it."

"You'd let a woman know about all this?" Drosta objected violently. "Kheldar, you're insane. The only woman safe with a secret is one who's had her tongue cut out."

Silk shook his head firmly. "Porenn's in control of Drasnian intelligence right now, Drosta. She already knows most of the secrets in the world. You're never going to get an emissary through an Alorn army to Rhodar, so forget that. There'll be Chereks with him, and they'll kill any Angarak on sight. If you want to communicate with Rhodar, you're going to have to use Drasnian intelligence as an intermediary, and that means going through Porenn."

Drosta looked dubious. "Maybe," he concluded after a moment's thought. "I'll try anything at this point - but why should Yarblek get involved? Why can't you carry my message to the Drasnian queen?"

Silk looked a trifle pained. "That wouldn't be a good idea at all, I'm afraid," he replied. "Porenn was rather central to my difficulties with my uncle. I'm definitely unwelcome at the palace just now."

One of King Drosta's shaggy eyebrows shot up. "So that's the way it is." He laughed. "Your reputation's well-earned, I see." He turned to Yarblek. "It's up to you, then. Make the necessary arrangements for the trip to Boktor."

"You already owe me money, Drosta," Yarblek replied bluntly, "the reward for bringing in Kheldar, remember?"

Drosta shrugged. "Write it down someplace."

Yarblek shook his head stubbornly. "Not hardly. Let's keep your account current. You're known as a slow payer, once you've got what you want."

"Yarblek," Drosta said plaintively, "I'm your king."

Yarblek inclined his head somewhat mockingly. "I honor and respect your Majesty," he said, "but business is business, after all."