The Prince sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments. He could see why Kilthanis had earned a reputation as an effective advocate before the High Court. He made some excellent points. In truth, Tyrol L’nian would be quite safe in allying himself with Kilthanis. As had been pointed out, neither the Imperial garrison in the inner city nor the griffin cavalry posed any threat to his position. Once he had the people on his side, he would be nearly invincible. Even if the Emperor were to try invading, Thax Urdu would remain inviolate for decades.

Kilthanis paused before answering. This was it. This was the moment he had been driving toward for the last several weeks. If he opened his mouth and suggested what was on the tip of his tongue, he would be proving the Emperor right. He would be a traitor to the Empire. Or would he? Wasn’t it the Emperor’s own actions that had driven him to this? His stubborn refusal to acknowledge the words of the Court and the will of the people?

Prince Tyrol sat his throne and stared down at this man, this living legend, who had invaded his court. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. Kilthanis had tried to antagonize him, to take the conversational upper hand, but had handled it well when Tyrol had responded in kind. Now, he seemed to be offering some sort of olive branch.

Kilthanis found the guard’s estimate of the wait to have overshot the mark by at least ten minutes. He had barely had time to settle himself in a chair in the salon when a minor functionary appeared and asked him to accompany the man to the throne room. Apparently the Prince was anxious to meet him.

Prince Tyrol L’nian was a man who didn’t enjoy his life. One would think that a man who ran a large and fairly independent kingdom within a large empire would have few worries and all the luxuries he could imagine. But sadly, Prince Tyrol had the misfortune to be descended from men who had secured his crown through treachery.

The guard who had escorted them from the inner city gate stopped before the doors of the palace. He turned to Erith. “I’m afraid you can go no farther, sir. The security of the palace mandates that only those with appointments may see the Prince.” He turned to give Kilthanis an appraising eye. “But I think they will make an exception for you.”

It was a quiet ride to the palace in the center of the city as Erith chewed over what Kilthanis had told him. Kilthanis was unsure what this man was thinking, but he imagined that Gilead would find himself divested of his interests in Et’alash quicker than he had anticipated. Another reason for the silence was the presence of the gate guard, who had insisted on accompanying Kilthanis to meet the Prince. Apparently, Erith had been correct in his assessment.

Kilthanis clung nervously to the large saddle horn as the beast bent each of its four knees, lowering itself to the ground. He slid gingerly to the ground, following Erith’s example. He patted the beast lightly on its flanks, before turning to face the gate, Erith standing at his side.

Kilthanis did his best not to gawk like some country yokel. He was a well-travelled man, a member of the aristocracy and a world-class attorney. But the sights of Thax Urdu were unlike any city he had ever seen. His mind cast about for an appropriate comparison, but it was coming up blank. Finally, it latched onto something.

Kilthanis would have stopped and stared, his mouth agape, but the large beast beneath him kept going. Indeed, it seemed to pick up its pace a bit as it sensed the journey was at an end and that both rest and safety awaited it on the far side of the walls. The walls themselves were massive. They must stretch up thirty feet into the air and Kilthanis couldn’t really estimate how thick they were from his vantage point.