"Haven't you told her yet?" Javelin mildly asked the queen.
"I'm saving it for her birthday."
"What's this?" Vella demanded.
"Be patient, dear," Porenn told her. "You'll find out 'about your title all in due time."
"I don't need a Drasnian title."
"Everybody needs a title, dear—even if it's only 'ma'am.' "
"Has she always been like this?" Vella bluntly asked the Chief of Drasnian Intelligence.
"She was a little more ingenuous when she still had her baby teeth," Javelin replied urbanely, "but she got to be more fun when she developed her fangs."
"Be nice, Khendon," Porenn told him. "How was Rak Urga?"
"Ugly—but then, most Murgo cities are."
"And how is King Urgit?"
"Newly married, your Majesty, and a little distracted by the novelty of it."
Porenn made a face. "I didn't send a gift," she fretted.
"I took the liberty of attending to that, your Majesty," Javelin said. "A rather nice silver service I picked up in Tol Honeth—at a bargain price, of course. I have this limited budget, you understand."
She gave him a long, unfriendly look.
"I left the bill with your chamberlain," he added with not even the faintest trace of embarrassment.
"How are the negotiations going?"
"Surprisingly well, my queen. The King of the Murgos seems not to have yet succumbed to the hereditary disorder of the House of Urga. He's very shrewd, actually."
"I somehow thought he might be," Porenn replied just a bit smugly.
"You're keeping secrets, Porenn," Javelin accused.
"Yes. Women do that from time to time. Are the Mallorean agents in the Drojim keeping abreast of things?"
"Oh, yes." Javelin smiled. "Sometimes we have to be a little obvious in order to make sure that they're getting the point, but they're more or less fully aware of the progress of the negotiations. We seem to be making them a bit apprehensive."
"You made good time on your return voyage."
Javelin shuddered slightly. "King Anheg put a ship at our disposal. Her captain is that pirate Greldik. I made the mistake of telling him I was in a hurry. The passage through the Bore was ghastly."
There was another polite knock on the door.
"Yes?" Porenn answered.
A servant opened the door. "The Nadrak Yarblek is here again, your Majesty," he reported.
"Show him in, please."
Yarblek had a tight look on his face that Vella recognized all too well. Her owner was in many respects a transparent man. He pulled off his shabby fur cap. "Good morning, Porenn," he said without ceremony, tossing the cap into a corner. "Have you got anything to drink? I’ve been in the saddle for five days and I'm perishing of thirst."
"Over there." Porenn pointed at a sideboard near the window.
Yarblek grunted, crossed the room, and filled a large goblet from a crystal decanter. He took a long drink. "Javelin,’' he said then, "have you got any people in Yar Nadrak?"
"A few," Javelin admitted cautiously.
"You'd better have them keep an eye on Drosta. He's up to something."
"He's always up to something."
"That's no lie, but this might be a little more serious. He's reopened lines of communication with Mal Zeth. He and Zakath haven't been on speaking terms since he changed sides at Thull Mardu, but now they're talking again. I don't like the smell of it."
"Are you sure? None of my people have reported it."
"They're probably in the palace, then. Drosta doesn't conduct serious business there. Have them go to a riverside tavern in the thieves' quarter. It's called the One-Eyed Dog. Drosta goes there to amuse himself. The emissary from Mal Zeth's been meeting with him in an upstairs room there— that's when Drosta can drag himself away from the girls."
"I'll put some people on it right away. Could you get any idea at all of what they're discussing?"
Yarblek shook his head and dropped wearily into a chair.
"Drosta's ordered his guards to keep me out of the place."
He looked at Vella. "You're looking a little pecky this morning," he observed. "Did you drink too much last night?"
"I almost never get drunk any more," she told him.
"I knew it was a mistake to leave you here in Boktor," he said glumly. "Porenn's a corrupting influence. Did you get over your irritation with me yet?"
"I suppose so. It's not really your fault that you're stupid."
"Thanks." He looked her up and down appraisingly. "I like the dress," he told her. "It makes you look more like a woman, for a change."
"Did you ever have any doubts, Yarblek?" she asked him archly.
Adiss, the Chief Eunuch in the palace of Eternal Salmissra, received the summons early that morning and he approached the throne room with fear and trembling. The queen had been in a peculiar mood of late, and Adiss painfully remembered the fate of his predecessor. He entered the dimly lit throne room and prostrated himself before the dais.
"The Chief Eunuch approaches the throne," the adoring chorus intoned in unison. Even though he himself had been until recently a member of that chorus, Adiss found their mouthing of the obvious irritating.
The queen dozed on her divan, her mottled coils moving restlessly with the dry hiss of scales rubbing against each other. She opened her soulless serpent's eyes and looked at him, her forked tongue flickering. "Well?" she said peevishly in the dusty whisper that always chilled his blood.
"Y-you summoned me, Divine Salmissra," he faltered.
"I'm aware of that, you idiot. Do not irritate me, Adiss. I'm on the verge of going into molt, and that always makes me short-tempered. I asked you to find out what the Alorns are up to. I am waiting for your report."
"I haven't been able to find out very much, my Queen."
"That is not the answer I wanted to hear, Adiss," she told him dangerously. "Is it possible that the duties of your office are beyond your capabilities?"
Adiss began to tremble violently. "I-I've sent for Droblek, your Majesty—the Drasnian Port Authority here in Sthiss Tor. I thought he might be able to shed some light on the situation."
"Perhaps so." Her tone was distant, and she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. "Summon the Tolnedran Ambassador as well. Whatever the Alorns are doing in Cthol Murgos also involves Varana."