Chapter 9

"Doran, I must protest this intrusion into my affairs," Roquan declared.

Overlord Doran D'jorus thumped his goblet to the table. A small eruption of wine splashed crimson down the sides. "Your affairs? What you are doing here, Roquan, will affect trade with all the Overlords, not just you. It's time you remembered that!"

"Is that why you are here when you could have accomplished this browbeating over Farview?"

"Well, you don't seem to listen very well over Farview, so I thought to remind you of your duty in person. And that blasted pearl barely works anymore!"

Roquan tried to have some sympathy for his friend. Like many others, recent times had taken a toll. Doran had always been a bit broad, but now he sported a belly as well. There were faint circles under his eyes, and his face was more haggard.

What had not diminished was his booming voice. Stress seemed to amplify it. He appeared incapable of speaking in anything less than a shout anymore.

"I consider this an intrusion, Doran, because you broke a rule of Overlord etiquette. You used my Portal device as a focus for your Portal without my prior consent."

"I could not risk you telling me 'no, ' Roquan. And to the hells with protocol!"

Roquan tilted his head very slightly. "Now that is something surprising coming from you."

Doran sighed and stepped up to Roquan. Roquan tensed in defense of another verbal assault, but was met with a more conversational tone instead. "You cannot afford to let this impasse continue. There's too much at stake."

"I know very well that trade with other Overlords is dependent upon..."

Doran shook his head. "It is not only that. If you don't seal this agreement soon, you risk losing your good reputation and standing among the other Overlords."

Roquan's chest swelled as if to shield him. "Is that a threat, Doran?"

"Oh yes, it is indeed. But not from me. It's Freya you need to worry about."

Roquan came very close to rolling his eyes for the first time since he could remember. He shook his head. "Of all the people I wish to think about the least, that is the name you bring up."

"You cannot ignore her, Roquan."

"And what has she said of late that I could possibly care about? I already know she hates me. I dismiss it, just as any other Overlord would. She is weak. She is unscrupulous."

"And she is bending the ear of a few Overlords now."

Roquan shifted his weight. Even his momentary silence seemed stark. "Explain yourself."

"Oh, did that finally get your attention, Roquan? I certainly hope it did!"

"Enough sparring. Out with it, Doran."

"You're right in that -- officially -- Freya is more or less ostracized from the rest of the Overlords much like Gronnus is. But she's let it out, Roquan. She's let the secret escape."

Roquan frowned. "You don't mean she told someone about Amanda's status?"

"She is telling anyone that will listen!" Doran cried, throwing up his hands. Roquan politely ignored the theatrics. "And they do listen to her, Roquan, even if they disregard it."

Roquan's face twisted in disgust. "You mean they look at her body, and the words happen to be there at the same time."

Doran swept his goblet in his hand, his glance lingering on the table. The drying wine-stain appeared as blood in the subdued light. "Call it what you will," he said as he turned to face his colleague. "The fact of the matter is, the words are heard, and they stick, and when you begin dragging your feet on this treaty..."

"I am not dragging my feet," Roquan protested.

"But that is the perception, and that is what counts."

Roquan's eyes burned. "This is ludicrous, Doran. She can make that accusation from now until the end of time, and it means nothing! Without proof, she cannot even hope to begin proceedings to depose me."

Doran took a sip of his wine, his eyes unwavering. "There is something else," he said in an unusually subdued voice as the goblet parted from his lips. "A new accusation."

Roquan folded his hands behind his back and drew his head up, as if daring Doran to continue.

"Wotan heard it first and fortunately had the good sense to Farview me and ask me my opinion on it. I told him that Freya was utterly mad to even conceive of such an idea, let alone accuse a fellow Overlord of it." He shook his finger. "I told him, 'Wotan, you listen to me! Perhaps she is telling you this because she thought of it herself and wants to keep suspicion away from her!'"

"Telling him what?" Roquan exploded.

Doran's gaze was hard steel. "That you used a slave as a spy to gain the upper hand on your dealings at the Conclave."

Roquan was silent, his face stony and unreadable.

"But we all know how foolish that would be, don't we?"

Roquan's lips drew thin. He turned away. "Do not start on that again."

"And why not? Did you not think this would come back to haunt you at some point? Did you..."

Roquan rounded on Doran. "I did what I did for the good of Oceanus! And I would do it again in a heartbeat. Do not debate this with me, Doran, you will get nowhere."

Doran's silence was as sharp as Roquan's voice. He finally drew in a breath and let it go as a sigh. He finished off the remaining wine in one go and set the empty goblet aside. "The days drag on, Roquan," he said in a far more contrite voice. "And on and on. Would that things had turned out differently..."

"But they did not. It's useless to lament what might have been. This was started by the Emperor and it needs to end with his removal from the throne. That is all that matters."

"You cannot ignore this. Freya figured it out. Eventually she may get the other Overlords to figure it out as well. This is a game to her, Roquan, and she has all her pieces moving into play. You have the one piece that can checkmate her, and he's sitting in one of your guest quarters right now."

Roquan's eyes grew dark. "To be perfectly frank, Doran, I am ready to believe that Freya does not play the game, she simply rewrites the rules to suit her."

Doran was about to reply when he paused and looked into Roquan's face. His own drew into a faint frown. "Do you know something I do not?"

"I am not even sure it means anything, at least not in relation to this. It is something my Healer conveyed to me. He informed me that the Healer Guild is concerned about Freya. She has been ordering great quantities of Draught ingredients. At the same time, her Healer has been ordering many restricted and unusual mind-altering herbs and chemicals."

"To what end?"

"The Guild is not forthcoming with exact details, other than to say that the combination could potentially change some basic properties of the Draught."

"Surely this is a coincidence. No Overlord in his right mind would reveal the formula to the Draught to anyone outside of another Overlord. Not even to a Healer."

Roquan remained silent.

Doran's eyes narrowed. "Not even you would be so foolish!" he boomed.

Roquan again remained silent.

"Blazing hellfire," Doran muttered, turning away. He picked up the empty goblet. "Where's the gods-damned wine?"

"I will explain the circumstances to you later. Suffice it to say that I already trust Vanlo with my life, therefore I trust him to keep the secret of the formula. Really, Doran, surely you know that the High Elders of the Healer Guild know the formula as well?"

"That is not the point! But I am weary of sparring with you, and it doesn't change the original question. What possible alteration to the Draught could she want to make that is so radical as to require all that additional herbage and a Healer's expertise?"

"Vanlo may be able to piece together what Freya is attempting to do as his own research is furthered."

Doran considered and shook his head. "I am not going to concern myself with this. This is a distraction. We need to get you past this impasse with the Urisi. That is what you should focus on!"

"Are you here to take over negotiations?" Roquan asked in an icy voice.

"Certainly not! You would not allow it even if I had tried. I will simply help facilitate the meetings. This is largely to keep you focused on what matters and not on petty details."

"The welfare of my slaves is not..."

Doran raised a hand to silence his friend. "Appearances, Roquan! I have planted the story among the other Overlords that you invited me here."

Roquan looked aghast, and then furious. "Really, Doran! That is the second time you have assumed or falsified my actions to others!"

"It is for the best!" Doran shouted. "They will see it as you having the wisdom to know you need help, and it will make them adopt a wait-and-see attitude for a little longer. It will hinder Freya for a short while. Once you sign that treaty, she will be powerless again, even if I have to go to each Overlord personally and make a glowing speech on your behalf!"

Roquan stared. "You would do that for me? Still?"

"That is your problem in a nutshell. You refuse to see yourself as the leader that the others see you as."

"Overlords have no leader," said Roquan flatly. "I have lost count of how many times I have had to repeat that."

"Hah! Proof! Yes, we don't have a fancy throne, or a place of power, or even an official title, but there is always someone considered a leader. And you have been that leader since the Conclave."

In truth, Roquan had seen this as well. He did not like it. He still maintained he wanted nothing more than be an Overlord doing what he did best. Leadership did not become him. The responsibility was not something he desired.

"And what does that make Freya?" Roquan asked, his tone dangerously close to amusement.

"The rebel faction. Don't let her incite a revolt."

"I will endeavor not to. But I cannot compromise on my principles either."

"And I suspect Norlan will not either. But perhaps I can provide an incentive."

Roquan frowned. "You intend to bribe him?"

"Nonsense! It is simply another means of trade. Another item to include in your offer. He has to answer to a Council of Lords back home. Very rich and luxury-minded people. Perhaps they can be persuaded to accept your terms if we offer an appropriate substitute."

Roquan looked on his friend no longer with anger but appreciation. He clasped Doran's shoulder. "Thank you, Doran. You have helped me more times than I can count."

"Or I just like a good deal, eh?" Doran laughed. "Now, let's summon Norlan and get down to business..."

Amanda padded softly into the back office, a small cloth herb bag in her hand. She approached Vanlo cautiously, the old Healer's attention riveted on realigning the condenser coil of his apparatus.

She approached the table nearly on tip-toes, though her bare feet insured a quiet approach anyway. She glanced curiously at the three other bags already on the table, their drawstrings open, crystallized contents sparking in the morning light. Her eyes flicked over them as she set the bag down.

"Do you think you can identify them, my dear?"

Amanda flinched, startled. "Um, sorry, Master, what?"

Vanlo leaned back and turned his head, smiling. He accepted the bag from her. "Ah, thank you, my dear."

"That's the last of the Gersilla, Master," Amanda said. "Or at least that was all that was in the cabinets."

"There is some more in the storeroom, have Lanno show you where it is. But now you need to answer my question."

"I'm not sure I understood it, Master."

Vanlo turned back towards the apparatus. He took a pinch of the herb between his fingers and sprinkled it into a large flask. It frothed as it hit the surface of the liquid within. "The open bags of herbs on the table. Do you think you know what they are?"

Amanda's eyes glided across them. "Um ... the one on the left is Hersalla. The middle one is ... um ... Yttria?"

"Hmm. Go on."

She stared at the last one. She had to pick it up and hold it closer to her eyes. "Rallasan," she finally said.

Vanlo adjusted a valve, then turned fully in his chair towards her. She relinquished the bag when he reached for it. "Close. Torrasan. The two are very similar." He raised his voice. "Even Lanno has a hard time telling them apart."

"I do not!" came Lanno's indignant retort from treatment room.

Vanlo winked to Amanda as he put the bag down. Amanda covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You have picked up quite a bit of knowledge, my dear, in just the short time you've been here."

Amanda smiled. "Thank you, Master. I always did pick up things faster by just being exposed to them rather than actually studying."

"Indeed." He picked up an empty flask. The glass glowed like fine crystal. "Proof."

Amanda's smile widened. "You mean how I figured out how to get those last spots out, Master?"

"Yes. That was very clever of you. Did you know that the herb would do that before you tried it?"

Amanda shook her head. "I had asked Lanno what some of the herbs did. That particular one he said was used to clean deep wounds without irritating or causing more damage. I figured it might work to clean the flask without scratching the glass, since you had warned against using anything abrasive."

"You have a very keen mind, Amanda," said Vanlo as he put down the flask.

Amanda warmed to the praise, but it faded her eyes tracked the flask to the two more on the table. Two more contained failed formulae corrupted with tarry residue. "Looks like I have a few more to do," she said neutrally.

Vanlo stroked his beard. "Hmm. Quite."

Amanda tried to be delicate. "Still not working, Master?"

Vanlo contemplated his answer carefully. "It has been a challenge, yes. I am still working on it, of course."

"Are you any closer, Master?"

Vanlo heard the tiny quaver in Amanda's voice. He felt a pang of regret. He wished he had never let Amanda think there was any hope that the "cure" for the mental degradation could be used retroactively.

Vanlo let a small sigh escape. "I am compelled to be honest with you, Amanda. There is every possibility that I ultimately may not succeed."

Amanda's eyes widened, and her lips parted. She paused, closed her mouth, and drew herself up straight. She fought to keep her voice steady. "I understand, Master."

"But by no means is the end in sight. There are still avenues of research to pursue, and I shall continue."

Amanda nodded. "But ... if you can't do it, Master ... do you think Master Roquan will go on using the Draught despite the problem with it?"

Vanlo smiled faintly. "Your deeply philosophical questions sometimes leave me at a loss, my dear."

"Sorry, Master," said Amanda sheepishly.

"No need to be. It is a valid question. One that would concern me as well. I am afraid you would have to ask his Lordship."

Roquan was the last one she wanted to ask. She was afraid of his answer, and quite possibly her reaction to it as well.

"If I may be allowed to change the subject," said Vanlo. He stood up and placed a hand gently on Amanda's shoulder. "Would you be interested in expanding your duties here?"

"Expanding my duties? In what way?"

"Would you like to learn how to perform simple treatments on the other slaves?"

"You mean, actual Healer duties?"

"Yes, exactly that. Under proper supervision, of course. I trust you get along with Lanno well enough?"

Amanda nodded absently, still stunned.

"Then he can be your teacher."

"Not you, Master?"

Vanlo smiled. "I am a terrible teacher, my dear."

"I don't think so," Amanda immediately piped. "I've already learned a lot from you."

"That was not teaching. That was simply me providing an environment for you to learn and keeping out of the way. And I have some self-interest at stake. I do not wish to tarnish your image of me as the kindly old man."

Amanda giggled.

"Now, before I ... oh!"

Vanlo was suddenly on the other end of an affectionate hug from Amanda that robbed him of the ability to move or speak.

"Thank you, Master," Amanda whispered.

Vanlo's mouth worked, but it took time for any words to come forth. "Ah ... well ... yes, ahem..."

Amanda closed her eyes and enjoyed a secretive smile at his awkwardness. She drew back and was shocked to see him blushing. She nearly bit her tongue to suppress a giggle.

Vanlo looked on with forlorn kindness and and odd, shame-filled affection. He understood now. Amanda was the daughter he never had. For the first time in decades he wondered if he had missed something when he made his career his life.

Amanda caught the disturbed look in his eyes and saved him from the awkward moment. "I'll get with Lanno today, Master, and see what he can show me."

"Yes, very good," Vanlo said quickly. "I will need to tend to the next experiment and see if I can make some progress. Ah ... carry on."

Amanda dashed out.

Vanlo's smile faded. He sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumping like a marionette with its strings cut.

He turned his tired gaze towards the apparatus and let out a long sigh. His optimism had rapidly faded over the last quarter moon. He was exhausting all his options. The most promising chemicals had not worked. The correct reaction refused to catalyze. He had resorted to changing his refinement techniques, but this had only delayed the onset of the failure.

Vanlo leaned back in his seat and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed a new approach. Unfortunately, he had exhausted just about every one he could think of. Unless something came to light soon, his options would quickly become limited.

And then he had to disappoint not one but two people for whom he cared very much.

"Having a Farview linked directly to you? Really, Norlan, you have the breeding of a peasant."

Norlan folded his hands behind his back and smiled broadly. "And a good day to you as well, Mandas, my most esteemed colleague."

Mandas' sneer came over the Farview as easily as if it had been in person. "Surely you could have taken at least a Viewer along with you."

"This is far more efficient. And that is what I care about. Efficiency and expedition."

Mandas sniffed. "Considering that you are still stuck at an Oceanus Overlord Manor, I would say you lost out in the latter."

"And are you not still at the Emperor's Palace?"

"Not for much longer, and I will be quite happy to be gone from this place."

"Ah, so you have secured a treaty. Well done."

Mandas gave Norlan a withering look. "You must know I have done nothing of the sort, or you would not be offering your empty praise. I had a bigger mission here, and I have accomplished it."

"Have you at least avoided a state of war between Oceanus and Urisi?"

Mandas' face darkened. "Your humor, such that it is, eludes me."

Norlan grinned. He admitted that he enjoyed sparring with Mandas. He considered Mandas the epitome of everything he disliked about upper class society in Urisi. The irony was not lost on him that it was he that was in good standing with the High Lords and not Mandas.

"So, tell me, Norlan," said Mandas with a shark-like smile. "Have you managed to give away the Urisi Throne yet? Or perhaps a province or two?"

Norlan smiled tightly. "If you are asking, in your delightfully roundabout way, if I have made some concessions, then yes, I have done so."

"Oh, tsk-tsk, Norlan. I am sure the High Lords will not like that."

"I have yet to have a treaty rejected by them in the past ten years."

But the smile would not disappear from Mandas' face as much as Norlan wished it would. He knew as well as Mandas did that this was different. The situation was reversed. Normally it was the King that rejected his treaty and the Council that would back him. They were willing to force the Monarch into accepting concessions, and thus keep the balance of power.

This time, it was the Council itself that dictated the conditions. Norlan had very little leeway. He had already dropped one "non-negotiable" item, which was the outright ownership of slaves rather than the contracts. He was sure he would be reamed for that, but he hoped to stand on his previous reputation.

Unfortunately, favor at court tended to hinge not on what one does, but on what one has done recently.

"Is there some other reason you called, Mandas?" said Norlan, emulating Mandas' officious tone. "I will be meeting with the Overlord very soon."

"Yes, I felt it behooved me to convey to you some critical information I have discovered..."

Mandas proceeded to tell Norlan the secret that Naima had conferred.

Norlan scratched his beard thoughtfully. Mandas made a disgusted noise. "Ugh, you even look like a peasant."

Norlan ignored the comment. "I have heard nothing of the sort from the Overlord, but then again, he is very much all-business around me."

"Indeed you won't, if what I suspect is true, that the Emperor is keeping this information to himself."

"Reason?"

"Because the Emperor of Oceanus is a loon, that is why."

Norlan's eyebrows rose. It was unusual to hear even Mandas speak so disparaging of a foreign leader, especially while still in his domain. "Has he tossed you out?"

"He wants to, but he'll stop just short of it. He's that desperate for a treaty with us, but some of his requirements are outrageous. I am merely being summoned home 'for consultation.' You can believe that I will do everything in my power to not be sent back."

Norlan considered carefully. Mandas rarely refused an assignment. He would show reluctance, but never outright avoidance. Things were going quite badly in Oceanus, far more than he had thought.

"You say the Emperor wishes to keep this business about foreign Portals in confidence?" asked Norlan. "Perhaps that has bargaining potential in my..."

"Absolutely not, Norlan. I tell you as a professional courtesy and nothing more. You will not use it to your advantage. You will generate more strife, and that will be seen as interference in Oceanus' internal affairs."