For that matter, to my surprise, I saw that not all of those nearby were members of the “Nomort” caste. I had figured this to be a stronghold of the bloodsucking undead, since the transformed Gala Morell came from here, on her mission to dine upon me. Likewise I had seen many other undead creatures emerge from the pyramid, crossing the night propelled by song. Only, now that I was in the citadel’s heart, I saw that it drew a far more eclectic assembly. For example, a dozen shaggy members of the lycan order stomped past as I watched – a cluster of muscular and be-fanged bipeds leaving puffs of drifting fur in their wake. Several of them wore pullover shirts, emblazoned with local lettering that my eye-nanos translated:

Wolf-ware!

Party Animal

My Kid Ate Your Honor Student

…and…

Looking for Loose Ghouls

Another Lycan, this one blatantly female, seemed on the verge of bursting out of a gothic-black, pushup style garment that proclaimed the word Booters… perhaps because of her hip-high leather footwear. Or maybe the whip she carried at her narrow waist, caressing the ebony-handle with the silky fur of the back of one pawhand. The male lycans, in contrast, pounded along, heavily laden with whole-butchered animal carcasses and kegs of skunky beer.

“Damn corpie strike,” one of them muttered as I stepped out of the way, trying to keep from trembling. “I didn’t pay forty cormans a night to carry my own furshlugginer luggage.”

And there were others crisscrossing the great atrium. For example, a covey of short-limbed figures stomped by, laden in chainmail and bearing double-sided axes. These refused to give ground to a pair of willowy types, with flaxen hair and albino features – pointy-of-ear and smug of expression. I hadn’t seen variety like this since my last visit to an Alliance headquarters planet.

Most surprising were all the Standards – normal humanoids of both sexes, sometimes accompanied by children – who crossed the busy expanse pulling wheeled suitcases, while gawking at lavish neon displays.

Is this a… truce zone?

Casino Evil flashed one large banner above a broad entrance, accompanied by a glittering animation – a neon monkey covered both eyes, then peeked out from behind one hand, repeating the sly motion, over and over again. Underneath his swishing tail, a rotating marquee touted several entertainments.

The headline act – Pomp & Cirque Du Stance! – apparently featured scantily clad acrobats, holding each other in rigid poses. Reviewer comments deemed this “The Greatest Show Unearthed.”

Below the headliner, in smaller letters, another flashing sign blared:

Also Appearing! Erica Tile performs her arousing Rigor-More Tease!

And, in still-smaller type at the bottom…

Returning from their Millennium Tour…

Penn & Teller.

I let out a sigh of realization.

Of course. Casinos. Gambling.