Kilthanis followed his guide, Davros, at a respectful distance. The man would speak over his shoulder, pointing out various sites around the city. Kilthanis found much of the information washing over him without being absorbed, as he craned his neck this way and that, looking around the strange city. Although he was not a military man, Kilthanis could tell this city was built for defense in a way that even Laris’s capital on Osh’riyo didn’t match.

Kilthanis stepped off the boat onto the docks at Thax Tarkas. It was the smoothest voyage he had yet taken aboard ship, almost as if the Gods themselves favored his journey. Of course, he realized, it was more likely that it was due to sailing the calmer northern seas. But these thoughts didn’t last long as he was enveloped by the strange life of the city.

Yokir sat in a café in the middle of Dhekar, about a half-mile from the Imperial palace. He had made contact with some of Laris’s factors in the city, establishing a legitimate reason to be there. At the third such stop, he had spoken a certain phrase and passed over a piece of paper and a large supply of silver. An hour later, he had arrived at this open air café and ordered some hot tea, and waited.

Another hour passed and a man had arrived and sat down at a table next to his. They sat with their backs to each other, not making any eye contact. Yokir set down his tea.

Yokir stepped off the boat in the city of Kimzin’s Lament. He had set sail shortly after seeing Kilthanis off on a ship for Thax Tarkas. Yokir hadn’t left Osh’riyo in quite a long time, his duties as seneschal for Laris keeping him home. He was often called upon to run the principality in Laris’s absence, such as when he was abroad on business of state. But for the current assignment, Laris had no one he could trust. Yokir carried no papers which could be intercepted, and he was not so well known that he would be recognized.

Kilthanis followed Yokir through the servants passages that riddled the walls of the palace of Osh’riyo. He was being taken to Laris’s private study, after explaining that it wouldn’t do to have Kilthanis seen in the halls of the palace. Of course, Yokir explained, Laris had nothing but sympathy for Kilthanis’s situation.

The solid planks of the quay that jutted out from the city of Kaldor Harbor felt good beneath Kilthanis’s feet. While the two day journey from Caranth had been smoother than his voyage on the Great Southern Ocean, he was quite firmly convinced that he was a landlubber. The only dismaying part about his arrival in Osh’riyo was that he knew he’d be leaving the island all too soon. That was the problem with islands, Kilthanis decided.

“Feathers and fur!” Yokir paused outside the door of Laris Rychart’s private study. The seneschal of Osh’ryio had been about to knock on his master’s door, but the loud oath that just burst through the solid wood planking gave him pause. Still, he was not paid for his timidity. He reached out and knocked.

“Enter!” The call was a roar. Yokir eased the door open and assumed his most inoffensive tone.

“Is there some problem, your Highness?”

There was a loud knock at the front door and Kelsey looked up in surprise. The servants came and went through their entrance and never knocked. The Imperial Guards prevented anyone else from approaching the front door. They conducted a semi-regular inspection of her quarters, both to make sure she was comfortable and to ensure that nothing untoward was occurring in the house. But by her reckoning, they were not due for another search for at least a day.

The Seneschal walked through the large, well appointed hallways of the Imperial Palace in Dhekar. He didn’t rush, but he was in something of a hurry. He had been summoned by his Imperial Majesty and for once, the Seneschal had no idea why. He was fairly sure it had something to do with the letter the Emperor had received from Allyson D’Inday, Chancellor of Reth’Methil. But as to what that letter contained, the Seneschal could only guess. And none of those guesses were likely to improve the Emperor’s mood.

“Kith! Come and speak with me.”

Kilthanis turned his head at the summons, and reigned in his horse. The animal slowed down and he dropped back until he was even with the small woman seated in the driver’s seat of a rickety, multi-colored wagon. It had been three days since he had hired himself to this caravan, and he had been called upon to speak with the matron who was in charge of it on several occasions.