"Right away, your Majesty. Come along, Vella." Yarblek tugged on her chain and led her into the room.

Drosta lek Thun, King of Gar og Nadrak, lay half dressed on a rumpled bed. He was by far the ugliest man Vella had ever seen. Even the hunchbacked dwarf Beldin was handsome by comparison. He was scrawny and had bulging eyes. His face was pockmarked, and his beard scraggly. "You idiot!" he snapped at Yarblek. "Yar Nadrak is overrun with Mallorean agents. They know that you're Prince Kheldar's partner and that you practically live in Porenn's palace."

"Nobody saw me, Drosta," Yarblek said, "and even if they did, I’ve got a perfectly legitimate reason to be here.” He shook Vella's chain.

"Do you really want to sell her?" Drosta asked, eyeing the girl.

"Hardly, but we can tell anybody curious about it that we couldn't agree on a price."

"Why are you really here, then?"

"Porenn's a little curious about your activities. Javelin's got some spies in your palace, but you're sneaky enough to hide what you're doing from them. I thought I'd save some time and come right to the source."

"What makes you think I’ve been up to something?"

"You usually are."

Drosta laughed shrilly. "That's true, I suppose, but why should I tell you?"

"Because if you don't, I'll set up camp in the palace, and the Malloreans will think you're crossing them."

"That's blackmail, Yarblek," Drosta accused.

"Some people call it that, yes."

Drosta sighed. "All right, Yarblek," he said, "but this is for Porenn's ears only, and I don't want you and Silk taking advantage of it. I’ve been trying to mend my fences with Zakath. He was very angry when I switched sides at Thull Mardu. It's only a question of time until he subdues all of Cthol Murgos, and I don't want him to get the idea of coming north looking for me. I’ve been negotiating with Brador, the chief of his bureau of internal affairs, and we’ve almost reached an accommodation. I get to keep my skin if I allow Brador's agents to pass through Gar og Nadrak to infiltrate the west. Zakath's pragmatic enough to forgo the pleasure of having me skinned alive if I'm useful to him."

Yarblek looked at him skeptically. "All right, Drosta, what else? That's hardly enough to keep Zakath from peeling you like an apple."

"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, Yarblek."

"Give, Drosta. I don't want to have to spend the next month here in Yar Nadrak being conspicuous."

Drosta gave up. "I’ve cut the import duties on Mallorean carpets. Zakath needs tax revenue to continue the war in Cthol Murgos. If I cut those duties, Mallorean merchants can undersell you and Silk in the marketplaces to the west. The whole plan is to make myself so indispensable to his Imperial Majesty that he'll leave me alone."