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Rest easy! There is work to do there.
And it is being done. Your cause prospers. But the Star Lords will not be baulked and they call upon
you for a higher service.
Pompino was goggling away at me and at the Gdoinye. He d been flung back here, just as I had been
flung back to the scenes of my labors for the Star Lords when I had taken myself off. He must be
annoyed; yet he could only goggle away at me as though staring at a demon from Cottmer s Caverns.
Tell me about Vallia, you bird of ill omen.
Why do you struggle against the Star Lords when they seek only your good? They have treated you
with great kindness and you repay them with abuse and you miscall me most devilishly. Yes, your Vallia
is safe as you left it. Nothing has gone wrong
Has anything gone right?
Of course. Do you think you are irreplaceable?
No.
Pompino put a hand to his eyes. He was swallowing nonstop.
Do the business here and ensure the safety of the lady Yasuri. The business of Mefto is yours alone.
The scarlet feathers riffled. People were walking past all the time and no one cast so much as a glance in
our direction. The Gdoinye lifted into the air. His wings beat strongly. As he had so often done he
squawked down at me most rudely. And then he screeched out: Dray Prescot, get onker, onker of
onkers.
Well, we shared that, at the least. We d established that kind of comradely insult between us, and I
pondered his words.
Pompino gathered himself together. He pulled the cape more tightly about himself. It was green, I
noticed, with yellow checkered borders. He stopped swallowing. He straightened his shoulders. The
Gdoinye lifted high, flirted a wing, swung away and vanished over the rooftops across the avenue.
The damned great fambly, I said.
Jak. Pompino stopped shaking. Jak to talk to the Gdoinye like that I ve never heard you
might have been I do not know... He shook his head, goggling at me. Then: But, Jak, he was talking
about someone called Prescot. It seems to me I have heard that name
Some other fellow, I said. More likely, two other fellows. And the Gdoinye and I have an
understanding. We rub along. But, one day, I ll singe his feathers for him, so help me Zair.
There, you see... Stupid intemperate boasting again.
We sauntered away and Pompino looked halfway respectable. He said, How did you come to be so
close when I was brought back?
Thank the Star Lords for that. I had no intention of walking this way; but I am here. And the cape; it is
not mine.
He shook his head and I marveled at how quickly he had once again reconciled himself to the Star
Lords demands.
This lady Yasuri, he said, pondering. What is so special about her that she is so cherished?
She may be an old biddy, but she s not too old to have children if she wills it.
I m not sure ?
I once rescued a young loving couple out on a spree and they had a child who overturned cities and
nations. He is dead now, thankfully, along with many others. How Gafard, the King s Striker, a Master
Jikaidast, would have joyed to be here! And how I would welcome him, by Zair!
When Pompino heard of the Sword Jikaida coming up with Mefto he put a lean finger up and rubbed his
foxy face. He looked wary.
I do not think this thing touches my honor.
Agreed.
He stamped his foot. You are infuriating! What in Panachreem ?
Look, Pompino; you must carry out the duties of a kregoinye and that does not include being chopped.
The Gdoinye gave me leave to deal with Mefto, if it is possible. That can only mean the Star Lords have
an eye in that direction. But your duty lies toward the lady Yasuri.
Duty to her! Ha!
She looks like a little wrinkled nut, true. But if she took off that stupid wig and let her hair loose, and
washed her face with cleansing cream, and wore shapely clothes, why, many a man would delight in
proving his duty to her.
With a nose and a tongue as sharp as hers?
They could both be blunted, given love.
Well, if that is what the Everoinye plan, we are in for a long and tedious wait!
So, half-cross and half-laughing, we strolled back to the Blue Rokveil.
As San Blarnoi says, observed Pompino as we went in to find Dav and ale. The heart leads where
the eyes follow.
The incoming caravan was due to arrive the day before the game and, expressing a wish to go down and
see the entrance, I was joined by Bevon and Pompino. The others all declined. I pressed Dav; but he
excused himself. He had a girl to attend to. Well, that was Dav Olmes for you, big and burly and fond of
ale and women and fighting. A combination of great worth on Kregen.
The scene when we arrived presented just such a spectacle of color and noise and confusion as delights
the heart. Many cities of Paz boast a Wayfarer s Drinnik, a wide expanse where the caravans form up or
disperse, and we stood under a black and white checkered awning and sipped ale as we watched. The
Quoffas rolled patiently along, the calsanys and unggars drew up in their long loaded strings, men
dismounted from totrixes and urvivels and zorcas, all thirsty, all glowing with their safe arrival. The
wagons rolled in. A group of Khibils dismounted from their freymuls, that pleasant riding animal that is
often called the poor man s zorca, a bright chocolate in color with vivid streaks of yellow beneath.
Willing, is a freymul, and as a mount serves well within his abilities. Pompino eyed the Khibils and then
strolled off to pick up what news there was. The dust rose and the glory of the suns shot through, turning
motes of gold spinning, streaming in the mingled lights of Zim and Genodras. I sipped ale and watched,
and at last saw a man I fancied might be useful.
He was apim, like me, limber and tough, and as he dismounted and gave his zorca a gentle pat I caught
the fiery wink of gold from the pakzhan at his throat. He was a hyr-paktun. His lance bore red and blue
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