by Mark Orr

Iron-shod hooves stepped carefully between corpses. Belicar rode into the clearing and stopped a dozen yards from the bandits. The highwaymen had the merchant's daughter stripped before one of them noticed that they had an audience.

The leader advanced toward the intruder a few steps and said, "Something we could help you with, friend?" One man held the frightened girl down while the other three underlings stood and placed hands lightly on sword hilts. Their crossbows were too far away to treat him as they had the caravan guards.

The barbarian spoke in a language none of the footpads knew.

The leader grinned. "Well, we'll just get on with our entertainment, if that's quite all right with you."

It was the scream of the man who was still with the girl that spun the leader around. Two of the others looked back. The third was too busy dying to worry about what was happening behind him.

An enormous wolf stood astride the girl, who had fainted. In its slathering jaws it held the throat of the late robber. As the stunned men watched, it twisted its head and tore the man's neck into a mass of gore.

Off to the side another wolf, the twin of the first, had rendered the unfortunate thief under it into a pile of bloody meat.

From a loop in the saddle the barbarian pulled a huge, long handled double-bitted battle-ax. He swung his right foot over the neck of the great gray horse and dropped lightly to the ground. The silvery chain armor with small plates artfully woven into its outer layer rustled metallically. He advanced toward the trembling leader.

The leader backed away. "Well, I suppose we've worn out our welcome here. We'll just be moving along now."

The barbarian made a soft sound by forcing air sharply through pursed lips. The great wolves spun and disappeared into the surrounding forest.

The three survivors carefully moved away from the mysterious barbarian and his great ax. The leader held up his hands. "Look, friend. You want her, take her. All this stuff, too. Just let us go, all right? We don't want no further trouble."

Sounds to either side and behind him of rushing bodies, short screams and the cracking of bones between sharp canine teeth told the leader that he was now alone. The wolves had slipped from the woods and disposed of the last of his men.

He fell to his knees and held up his hands. "Please. Don't feed me to them. Don't let those wolves have me." His face was wet with tears and sweat, and the sharp smell told of his having lost control of certain bodily functions.

"I won't let them kill you," said the barbarian.

As the barbarian tended a small fire, he heard a low growl from one of the wolves. He turned and saw the girl sitting up, hugging herself tightly in the cloak he had thrown over her. She stared at him, eyes wide.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

She glanced at the huge beasts.

"Neither will they. Come by the fire, if you like. I'll have some food ready soon."

"What happened to those men?"

"They're all gone."

"What if they come back?"

"Not from where they've gone. Nobody comes back from there."

She looked around the clearing. "What about my father?"

"We're alone here."
"Oh." She hesitated, then leaned over and vomited.

When she was done, the barbarian asked, "Feel better now?"

She wiped her mouth and nodded. Then she started to cry.

He ignored her until she stopped. "Ready to eat?"

She wiped her eyes on the cloak and nodded. She moved over by the fire and sat on a bench the barbarian had taken from the of the wagons.

"What's your name?" he asked as he handed her a joint of rabbit.

"Samara. I was traveling with my father and some friends to Optopolis."

"I'm Belicar. I'm going that way. Perhaps you'll be safer traveling with me."

"You have business in the city?"

"No, but it's as good a place to go to as any." He gestured at the wagons. "Your father was a trader?"

"Yes."

"Where from?"

"Canya. We left there a week ago."

Belicar finished his bit of rabbit and tossed the bones in front of the wolves. The bigger looked down at the bones but didn't touch them.

"Aren't they hungry?"

"They already ate."

Samara looked around. "What became of my father, my friends? You didn't feed them to the wolves, did you?"

"No. Scar and Maim dined well, but not on your father or friends. I put their bodies in the back of one of those wagons. We'll take them into town in the morning. Then we'll see about getting you back home to Canya."
"Not much use in that. There's no one left there I know or care about. Everything we own is in these wagons. My father sold everything else. He hoped to settle in Optopolis and find me a husband."

"Can't you find your own husband?"

"Father insisted on arranging a suitable marriage for me. He was always harping on me about hanging on for dear life to my virginity, so he could make the best possible match for me. Those men almost ruined me, but you stopped them. For all the good it does now." She started crying again.

He let her wind down, then said, "All this stuff is yours, now. Why can't you make your own arrangements?"

"I suppose I could, if I only knew how. Father always did everything for me. I'm not really sure what I should do now."

"Well, I have no more experience in these matters than you do. But perhaps we can find an honest man in the city to instruct us."

"An honest man in a city?"

"I've heard that's the rule in Optopolis, rather than the exception."

"So they say, but I've been around my father enough when he was negotiating deals to suspect anyone, especially those who speak the loudest of their honesty."

"A sensible precaution," he said.

She stared at him. "I've never seen armor like that."

He fingered the hauberk. "You've never seen chain mail before?"

"Many times. But not like that. It's not iron, is it?"

"No. It's called Isenstaal, a metal forged by the Elves of the far north, who labor in the caverns under the Spine of the World."

"There are Elves in the Ice Lands?"
"You'll find Elves everywhere, if you know how to look."

She reached over and fingered the links. "They're so delicate, and it doesn't look like it weighs anything."

"It doesn't, but it will stop any blade, and it keeps me cool in this Southern heat."

"Really?"

He nodded.

She sat back. "Heat? It's not hot at all. It's not even summer yet."

"It's hot enough."

She shrugged. "If you're not used to it, I suppose so. Does it keep you warm in your homeland."

"Yes, very."

"How?"

He touched the plates. "Something to do with these, I suspect. With the way they're arranged, or something."

She reached out again and stroked the flat metal. "Such a strange color, like the sky just after sunrise."

"Yes, before it hardens into the deep blue of day."

"Yes. Before that. How did you come by it?"

"I once did a favor for the king of the Ice Elves. I saved his daughter from an Isenvurm."

"What's that?"

"An ice dragon. It had her in its cave. I killed it and took her home. Her father gave me this as a reward."

"You make it a habit to rescue damsels in distress?"

He smiled. "That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?"

"And do you always expect a reward?"
"No, but it's a pleasant surprise when it happens."

Samara sat back and picked up one of the rabbit bones. She drew aimlessly in the dirt with it. "Tell me something, Belicar."

"What"

"Why did you stop those men?"

"I didn't care for the odds. Seemed a little one sided to me."

"Violated your sense of fair play?"

"Yes."

"So, once they were gone, why didn't you...um..."

"Why didn't I take advantage of the situation? "

"Yes."

"I don't believe in that sort of thing. Among my people, rape is a heinous sin."

She smiled at him. "I'm very glad to hear that." She stood and let the cloak slip from her shoulders.

Belicar stared at her nakedness. "What are you doing?"

"Offering to give you what you declined to take forcibly."

"What about your precious virginity?"

"It seems to me that a maidenhead no longer carries any advantage. Finding a husband on that basis is just selling it to the highest bidder. Since I am now a woman of means," she waved at the cluster of merchandise laden wagons, "I have something else to barter. No need to save it now."

"I see your point. What makes you think I'm a good prospect for your first man?"

"I've met much worse. You saved my life."

"Don't confuse gratitude with love, Samara."
She knelt beside him. "That's not what I meant. You're more man than anyone I've ever known. Six men couldn't protect me from those bandits. You saved me in moments. I'd say you were a pretty good prospect."

Belicar grinned. "It is hard to argue with logic like that."

In the morning, Belicar drove one wagon, the gray stallion tied behind. Samara drove another, with the lead horse of the third tethered to her tailgate. One of the wolves prowled the trail ahead, the other behind, each crisscrossing the road, snuffling at the air, the packed earth, the woods around them. They reached Optopolis by noon.

Belicar stepped down to consult with one of the sentries guarding the city gates. The guard walked around the wagons, peering under canvas coverings. He stared at the bodies.

"The bandits killed six men, and you killed them all after the fact?"

Belicar nodded. "The lady will confirm my story."

Samara nodded. "They ambushed us. I was the only survivor."

"How did you get to the slayers of six men, and walk away without a scar?"

Belicar grinned. "I ambushed them."

Samara agreed that was what happened. The guard waved down the street. "You'll find an undertaker four blocks down, on the right. Lichman. He should give you a group rate."

"Kind of him. Where should we go with all these trade goods?"

"Are you claiming them as salvage?"

Belicar jerked his head towards Samara. "They belong to her, now. She has the right of disposal."

"The Mercantile Guild will decide that. If her bona fides are in order, they'll help her sell them, and get the best price possible. Mercantile Hall isn't far from the mortuary. Lichman will show you the way."

Belicar nodded and waved at Samara to follow him. The caravan made its way down the crowded avenue and stopped before Lichman's Mortuary. Belicar stepped down and walked back to where she waited. "We're here."

Samara stared at the sign over the door. "I've never dealt with an undertaker before."

"You've never had everyone you knew and loved massacred before. Relax, I'll talk with him." He blew air softly between pursed lips. One of the wolves emerged from underneath the lead wagon. Samara jumped.

"I though they stayed behind, in the woods."

"Compared to cities, forests are havens of peacefulness and calm. I'd feel safer out there without the lads than in town with them. We'll be back."

"Where's the other one?"

"Maim will stay out here with you. Scar should be enough to convince Lichman to give you that group rate the guard mentioned."

"Speaking of the guard, he was very polite, didn't you think?"

Belicar shrugged. "Why shouldn't he be?"

"City guards are never that pleasant. And did you notice the bright green stone imbedded in his forehead?"

"Yes, I did." He looked at the people around them on the street. "Everyone has one."

"I wonder what it means?"

"So do I. Maybe it's to remind them to watch their manners."

Samara smiled. "Silly." She looked around. "And it's so clean here. I've never seen a city with such well-kept streets and buildings. Have you?"
"I haven't spent much time in cities. We can puzzle this out later. Wait here." He and the wolf went inside.

Samara leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of the beast beneath the wagon before her. The sun was directly overhead, however, and she saw nothing in the shadows.

Several large, dour-faced men emerged to unload the bodies. Samara looked away and stifled a sob as her father's corpse was carried inside. A small man, white haired and gray-faced, came outside with Belicar and Scar, and spoke a few words of consolation to her before examining the goods in the remaining wagons. Like his assistants, he had a green gem in his forehead.

"Yes, you should get a good price for these things, milady. More than enough to cover my fee."

"Vastly more, don't you think?" Belicar asked.

"Oh, indeed. I would say the lady should have more than enough to set herself up in fine style." Lichman eyed the wolf. "In fact, my fee will barely make a dent in what you should realize from the Trade Council."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Belicar said. "When might we expect the funerals to be?"

"A few days. I'll have to make arrangements with a temple for such a large number. It will be complicated."

"The temple fees will be included in your price, yes?" Belicar asked. Scar glared at the mortician.

"Oh, absolutely. All part of the package deal. Is there any particular religion you wish to handle this? We have all the major sects represented here in Optopolis."

"We follow the Path of Threnar," Samara said.

"Fine, fine. Khosk is a good man, and very sympathetic toward the bereaved. I expect he will expedite scheduling the services to suit whatever Milady desires."

"I want this over with as soon as possible," Samara said.

"Come back when you get finished at Mercantile Hall. I should have some news for you by then." Lichman told Belicar where to find the building and left them to escort the bodies inside.

The mortician's men returned and another pair of corpses disappeared into the mortuary. On their last trip out, they paused, with two bodies still in the wagon. Belicar watched them as they ceased their labors and moved towards the street.

"Why have they stopped?" Samara asked.

"Let's see for ourselves." He took her arm and turned her to the broad boulevard. Scar and Maim watched from underneath the wagon. From their right, an honor guard of the City Garrison preceded an open carriage. Around them, the citizens of Optopolis bowed.

"Must be someone important," Samara said.

"Looks that way." Belicar didn't bow as the carriage drew even with their position. Samara started to, but straightened when it was obvious Belicar had no intention of showing obeisance. From the carriage, cold eyes the same icy blue as Belicar's hauberk glared at him, then shifted to Samara. The eyes raked her up and down, and then the carriage was gone.

Samara clung to Belicar's arm and shivered. He glanced down at her. "What?"

"That woman."

"Yes, very beautiful."

"No, evil. I felt it. I saw it in her eyes."

"Really? That's the impression I got from the man. I only noticed that she was beautiful."

"There was a man?"

He smiled down at her. "Strange that you only noticed the woman, while I concentrated on the man. Especially since we both know in which direction our interests lie."

She smiled back, mischief in her eyes. "Some people have more than one interest, you know."

"So I've heard. Did you notice their gemstones?"

"No. Just her eyes. Why?"

"They didn't have any." Belicar turned to the mortician's assistant beside them. The young man had not yet straightened his bent spine.

"Who was that?"

The face turned up from its contemplation of the cobbles. "Milord and Milady Mondigreen, Duke and Duchess of Optopolis," he whispered.

"They're gone. Why don't you stand up?"

A slender hand fluttered over the stone above his eyebrows. "I value my license too greatly. Until I am told otherwise, I will show my reverence for my rulers. Please, leave me alone." He lowered his head again as if examining the pavement for flaws.

They looked around. No one stood straight. From behind, Scar and Maim growled softly.

"How very peculiar," Samara said.

"Yes. Let's get back the wagon. I want my axe."

"Why?"

"I always feel more comfortable with it in my hand, whenever things get odd." As he spoke, the crowd stirred and stood. The undertaker and his apprentices returned to their work, and in moments the last body was taken from the wagon.

"Yes, very odd," Belicar said. "Let's get your goods to the Mercantile Guild before it gets any stranger around here."

Belicar pulled up in front of Mercantile Hall and made arrangements for Samara's personal belongings to be put into one wagon, under which Scar and Maim were hiding. The other two were laden with the trade goods and driven around back for unloading and assessment. Belicar and Samara were ushered into the office of the Master of Trade by a clerk whose gemstone was rimmed in gold. Scar went in with them, while Maim remained under Samara's wagon.

"Who is the owner of these goods?" the Trade Master asked. His gem was even more ornate than his secretary's.

Belicar nodded at Samara. "The lady is."

"Then I will need to treat directly with her. Please wait outside, sir. With the dog." He glanced at Scar.

"I'd rather stay."

"That's not possible. We have very strict rules regarding the proper conduct of business here in Optopolis."

Belicar stood and glowered down at the Trade Master. "I'd rather stay."

Samara laid a hand on his arm. "I'll be fine."

Belicar scowled. "I don't like this."

"I assure you, sir," the Master of Trade said, "the lady will be treated fairly. There are matters of confidentiality to be considered."

"This doesn't smell right to me." Scar stood beside him, head and tail low, the beginnings of a growl pending in his thick chest. He made a soft noise and the wolf padded out into the corridor. He took up his axe. "I am responsible for her. Mistreat her, and my axe will speak for me."

"I'm sure it will, sir. Please, I mean the lady no harm. This is purely a formality. We will recall you once our business is concluded."

Belicar leaned over Samara. "Trust no one," he told her.

"I trust you, Belicar."

"Trusting a barbarian is wiser than trusting any civilized man. Watch your goods carefully. Never take the first offer."

The secretary held the door for him, and closed it firmly once Belicar was out of the office. The young man led the barbarian to a waiting area to the side of the building, a small park with comfortable seats and well-tended gardens. Around the street-side corner he could just see Samara's wagon. "You may wait here, sir. This may take some time. Could I bring you some refreshments?"

"No. Tell me, though. The gems you people wear. What do they mean?"

The secretary touched his stone. "These represent our license to do business in Optopolis. They are given to us as symbols of worthiness. We are obliged to maintain certain standards."

"Such as?"

"We must obey the laws, maintain our finances in good order, keep our city clean, display appropriate manners, things of this nature. It ensures that Optopolis remains a pleasant place in which to live and do business."

"Who gives these to you?"

"The Duke and Duchess have established the Office of Civic Pride to distribute these to all citizens and visitors. If you and the lady remain in Optopolis, you will be provided with them."

"Crogga deliver me from civilization." Belicar shook his head. In his lands, social mores were enforced by the surety of sudden death, not by some bureaucracy. "Why is yours different? No one else I've seen has a gold rim on theirs."

"Because trade is the lifeblood of our city, we of the Mercantile Guild are given special gemstones."

Belicar grunted. "So, what happens if you break one of your rules? What if you forget to sweep out your house one day, or curse an inconvenient stranger?"

"The green turns to red."

"That's a neat trick. How?"

The secretary shrugged. "I don't know. If that's all, sir, I'll be returning to my duties."

"One more thing: Suppose someone's gem turns red, what then?"

"Then that person is forbidden from doing business inside Optopolis. Rather, the other citizens are forbidden to do business with that individual. He is shunned. He cannot even purchase food, or remain in his lodgings. He will be obliged to leave the city, or die of starvation or exposure."

"What about newcomers? I have no stone."

"When the Trade Master concludes his business with the lady, you will each be provided with one. At that time, you will be allowed to purchase food and lodging."

"But not until then?"

"Not until then. I could bring you something now, if you wish." He eyed Scar. Maim was still out of sight under the wagon. "Something for your dog, perhaps? Some raw meat?"

Belicar gave the wolf a glance. "Yes, some raw meat for him. Nothing for me."

"Very good, sir. I'll make the arrangements." He turned to go back inside.

"Wait," Belicar said. The man stopped. "The children."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"I didn't see any children on our way here. Do you people not believe in them?"

"Of course. They are kept in schools around the city, where they are taught our ways."

"You mean, they learn to not make any noise or ask for sweets or say impolite things to strangers."

"Yes, that is what I mean."

Belicar shook his head. "I pity them. Children should be free to explore their world, to express themselves openly, to ask questions, to learn the ways of the tribe without crushing their spirits."

"When you have been among us for a while, you will understand." He turned to go.

"By Crogga's left ball, that's a lesson I can live without." Belicar sat down to wait.

Off to his right, Optopolitans moved back and forth on the main thoroughfare conducting their business in a calm, respectful manner. There was none of the chaos and noise he expected to find in so large a gathering of humanity.

He sneered, "Sheep, all of them, shepherded by little green gems implanted in their heads."

He twisted the haft of his axe in his huge hands. He would go mad if forced to live in this place. It would take more than a single polite city guard to imbed one of those damnable stones in his head. He wished Samara would finish her negotiations so they could leave Optopolis.

If, that is, Samara wished to leave. If she chose to stay, he would wish her well and move on. She was companionable, and he would miss her, but living with a rock in his flesh would be intolerable.

An hour passed, then another. The moonless sky darkened, traffic lightened, torches lit throughout the garden and on the boulevard, ignited of their own accord. No raw meat was brought. Scar stirred.

"Easy, boy. If that ninny doesn't want his gem to go red, he'll be along soon. Rudeness is against the rules, and lying about food is very rude."

But no one came with raw meat for the wolf, and Belicar grew hungry himself. He stood and hefted the axe.

"Let's see if the twit needs to be reminded of the social niceties." He stepped to the door through which he and the secretary had emerged and tried the knob. The door was locked.

Behind him, Scar growled. Belicar spun to find a scruffy man with a bright red gem.
"Food? Please?" the man begged.

"I have none."

"Nor a gemstone, I see. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for someone."

Belicar gestured at the man's chest. "What happened?"

"I struck a man who insulted my wife. My gem went red in an instant, although his did not."

"That doesn't seem right."

The man shrugged. "It happens, sometimes. I think maybe there is a randomness to the change. Some people are continually guilty of terrible crimes, but never have their stone go red."

"How do you survive? I saw no beggars in the streets before."

"Those of us who cannot live legally come out from beneath the city at night. We do what we can, steal or beg, but it's very hard. Especially on the children."

"The children aren't in their schools?"

"Not if their parents have red stones. They live with us, in the catacombs. They starve with us."

Belicar hefted his purse. "Do you want some money?"

"I have money, but no one will take it."

"Why don't you leave the city?"

"We are forbidden to. We are the examples the Duke sets the others to keep the others in line."

"Then I am sorry for you, but I have worries of my own." Belicar turned and pounded on the door.

"The Mercantile Guild closes at dusk. There's no one in there."

"My lady friend has been in there all afternoon. She didn't leave."

"She must have, somehow. It happens. People go into this building or that, and are never seen again. If anyone asks, their gemstone turns red, and they join us below. Most anyone."

"Where do these people go?"

The man shrugged. "No one knows. If I were to lose someone, though, I'd start looking at the palace."

"Why?"

"There are tales of the Duke and Duchess. Of their depravity and evil. It is said that they dine on the bodies of those who disappear."

Belicar mused. "I didn't much like the look of him today."

"You saw him?"

"And his wife, in a carriage."

"Not his wife. His sister. Was your lady friend with you when they passed?"

Belicar nodded.

"Then the palace is definitely where I would look for her. I wouldn't waste much time about it, either. She may already be in the stew pot. Or worse."

"Where do I find the palace?"

The man led him to the edge of the park and pointed up the road. "Go until you run out of cobblestones. It sits at the end of the street."

"I thank you." Belicar and the wolves set out.

"Good luck," the beggar called out after him. "Watch out for the Garrison. They'll be waiting for you."

"How will they know I'm coming?" Belicar asked. There was no answer. He turned around, but the man was gone.
Belicar's horse was still tethered to the wagon. He retrieved a large round shield from where it lay on the stallion's rump, gauntlets and a conical helm from the saddle bags.

He pulled the Isenstaal coif over his head and settled the helmet down onto it, strapped the shield to his left arm and hefted the long, broad axe in his gauntleted right hand.

He hissed and Maim emerged from under the wagon. The wolves preceded him down the boulevard, staying close to the shops on either side, crossing the road in front of him periodically.

They saw no one. The street was dark ahead, but as they passed each lamp post, the fire within the globe atop it flared into life, then faded as they reached the next one.

Belicar whistled softly. Scar and Maim extended their lead. As they did so, no lights came on ahead of the barbarian. He grinned. It was more strategically advantageous to have the wolves strike from darkness.

Far down the avenue, spires and turrets rose over the cityscape, blocking out the eastern stars. No lights were visible within, only the sequential pools of illumination that marked his passing. He shifted his grasp on the axe, moving his hand slightly closer to the head, and began to trot. He passed through an open gate set in a man-high wall, no guards visible.

It occurred to Belicar he was racing into a trap, but his blood was flowing warmly in his veins, the heat of his mounting battle rage bringing a soft, blue glow to the Isenstaal hauberk.

He didn't hear the monstrous wolves glide smoothly over the wall as if it were a fallen twig, but he knew they had done so. He ran down the long flagstone path to the tall doors of the palace, axe raised and held back, ready to shatter the iron bound oak.

As he neared the palace, his stride lengthened, and a grumble sparked into life deep in his throat. The grumble grew to a growl, then to a roar as the barbaric warrior stormed the portal. A slice of light appeared in the crack between the slabs of wood. At last! thought Belicar. Surely this must be the Garrison, come to protect their loathsome Duke from the one-man horde.

Belicar's mouth watered at the prospect of slaying whomever stood between him and the girl, be it a single champion or a squadron, a company, even a battalion of soldiers.

When he saw who emerged from the ornate building, however, he pulled up short. His boots slid the last couple of yards that separated him from the slim blonde woman who smiled at him from the doorway. He stared down at her over the rim of the shield, whose boss just touched the silk covering her right breast.

"We've been waiting for you," Lady Mondigreen said. She turned and beckoned for him to follow her inside. "Bring your friends."

"My friends?" He lowered the axe and stepped onto the marble floor of the foyer.

"The wolves. Scar and Maim, aren't those their names?" She glanced back at him, the eyes that had seemed so evil to Samara that afternoon sparkling with amusement.

"Where are the guards?"

"Asleep, most of them. They're just for show anyway, or to fight off the occasional invaders who come down from the north. Within Optopolis, there's little call for their services. We have almost no civil unrest here."

"So I've heard. Who's 'we'?"

"We?"

"You said, 'We've been waiting for you'."

She laughed. "Oh, yes. My brother, the Duke, and our mage."

Belicar stopped. "Your mage?"

"Of course. How else could we run this city so efficiently without the assistance of a mage?"

He glanced left and right as they walked up a grand staircase and down one corridor after another. "What sort of mage does a city require?"

"Oh, a very versatile one. He has skills in all the disciplines: Fire, water, stone, metal, animal, plant, air. He keeps the walls strong, and the river clean, and the crops plentiful."

"And controls the citizens by the use of those gemstones."

She laughed again. "Yes, those, too. A very effective tool."

"A very cruel one."

She paused at a door. "Would it not be crueler to have our people worried about being assaulted, or robbed, or murdered?"

"If they are worried, they can act to protect themselves. They can take up arms." He hefted his axe. "They can fight back. That is the way of men. Your way is the way of livestock."

She laughed. "How droll. You really are a savage, aren't you?"

"I can be very savage, in defense of myself or my tribe."

"Or your woman?"

"If need be."

"Well, we like our ways."

"Mine is better."

"For you, perhaps. We prefer to think of it as more civilized this way."

"Your system may be civilized, but is not infallible."

She let a hint of a frown creep over her perfect face. "That is why you are here. Well, not you, particularly. The girl you were kind enough to bring to us."

"Samara? Where is she?"
Lady Mondigreen opened the door. "Right through here. Come."

Inside was a long hall, filled with young men and women bent over small altars and braziers and bowls of various liquids. Some stared deep into water or fire or oil or what looked like blood. Some examined the entrails of small sacrificial animals, or ashes or leaves tossed into the air and allowed to fall before them. A few rolled bones of various shapes and sizes and read the results. Throughout the room came the mutterings of divining or scrying spells.

Only one noticed the intruders, a sharp-faced young man. He stood over a bowl of quicksilver.

"He's watching us," Lady Mondigreen said.

"So I see," Belicar responded.

"No, I mean in the quicksilver. He is the one assigned to observe this section of the palace and relay the information to Dennaro."

"Who?"

"Our mage, you silly man." She laughed.

"So, that's how he knows whose gemstone to change to red. That's how he knew we were coming into Optopolis."

"Yes, although he knew you would come here before you did. Another set of apprentice mages is responsible for exerting influence outside the city. They, um, convinced Samara's father to leave Canya and bring her here. They arranged for the highwaymen to waylay the caravan where you would be passing."

"Why me?"

"Dennaro needed the robbers to eliminate her father and friends, but they couldn't be trusted not to violate her. He needs a virgin for his purposes. He knew your people have taboos against that sort of behavior, so it followed she would be more likely to reach Optopolis intact if it was you who brought her here, rather than the brigands."

"How does he know I didn't anyway?"
She pointed to a young girl standing over a brazier, searching the coals for information. "If you had, Brania would have let him know."

The girl heard her mistress' voice. The soft eyes stared at them, and she blushed. Lady Mondigreen ignored her and passed through the hall to another large door. She opened it, and as they stepped through a booming voice said, "Welcome, barbarian! Come in, you and your beasts!"

Across the room he saw the Duke standing beside a tall man in robes, with a broad hat on his large head. Thick, black hair, carefully coifed and perfumed, curled from under the brim. He was clean-shaven, and looked as young as the acolytes in the previous room.

"You're a mage?" Belicar asked.

"Don't I look like one?" Dennaro replied.

Belicar shrugged. "What do you want of Samara, and of me?"

"Of you? Nothing but an appreciative audience."

He gestured to the left and right of Belicar and the wolves. "As you see, not all the Garrison sleeps. Please, do not provoke them. They are experts at death."

Around them, crossbows pointed in their direction. Lady Mondigreen stepped away from Belicar to join her brother. She kissed his cheek. "I think we may begin."

The Duke nodded and glanced at Dennaro. "Excellent!" the mage of the city declared. "Bring in the Conduit!" he shouted, then he looked at Belicar. "Now, you will see what it is we require of the lovely Samara."

An old woman was led into the room, white hair trailing on the floor behind her, wrinkled skin drooping down over a costume that resembled one that might be worn by a street dancer. It was much too young for so wizened a hag. An immense jewel the color of fresh blood nested in her saggy navel.

"Lunilla, you have served us well these five years. Your term is up. Go, and live the life you might have, had your services not been required."
The Duke laughed, a cruel barking noise. Belicar glared at him.

Lunilla stared up at Dennaro. "The life I might have had?" she croaked. "You stole that life from me when you inflicted this damnable thing on me. How can I have a life, when you have stolen my youth?"

"We are all obliged to make sacrifices, Lunilla." Dennaro reached forth and plucked the jewel from her belly button. He lifted it high. "The Umbilicus Urbano - the Navel of the City. It is through this that I control the information that makes running Optopolis possible. Wondrous, no?"

Belicar pointed at Lunilla with his chin. "And what of her?"

"The Umbilicus requires a virginal maiden to act as host. She is the conduit through which information flows to me from those young fools outside, and orders go from me out to them and thence to wherever it needs to be. Without a conduit, the whole system fails.

"Lunihla lasted longer than most, but the toll this form of magic takes on even a young, healthy subject has made her useless to me, now. She is burned out like a guttering torch. I knew this was imminent, so I cast my net wide for a suitable substitute."

"And found Samara. What is it about her that makes her suitable?"

"Virgins are very rare these days, so that was one factor. More important, she has latent magical powers herself. She might make a gifted mage someday, with the proper training."

"Which she won't get."

Dennaro smiled sadly. "Alas, no. Her power will be consumed by the Umbilicus. A pity, but there's no help for it. The city must survive, even at the cost to the world of another mage."

"Who might also be a rival to yourself," Belicar said.

Dennaro smiled at him. "Trust a barbarian to not dissemble. True, my motives are not purely altruistic. I enjoy my work, and it would grieve me to lose my position in favor of a younger, and prettier, sorceress."

Lady Mondigreen smiled. "She is lovely. A pity she must remain celibate until she is old and gray, in a few years." She glanced at her brother. "You must be devastated."

The Duke grunted. "I'll get over my disappointment. Let's finish this so we can all go to bed. It's late."

"Not so late," Dennaro said. "Midnight does approach on stealthy feet, however, when the spells must be cast. Bring in the new conduit, and someone please remove this old crone."

A soldier took Lunilla away, and two more brought in Samara. She was dressed as her predecessor had been, her midsection exposed. The guards flanked her, holding her still while Dennaro approached with the crimson gem.

"I wouldn't," Belicar said.

Dennaro ignored him, rapt as he was in the mutterings of his spells of binding. The Duke said to the captain of the guard, "If he speaks again, kill him."

Belicar shrugged, and watched.

As a far off chime signaled the Witching Hour, the Umbilicus Urbano sank into Samara's navel. Dennaro stepped back, still speaking his magicks. He raised his hands and lifted his chin, ready to receive the flow of information from the acolytes.

It did not come.

From the outer room, the acolytes screamed as the magical flow bounced off of the non-virginal conduit and rebounded onto them.

The braziers flared, searing the faces of the apprentices watching them, igniting the oils scanned by others.

The diviners' eyes and ears and minds were blasted by magical ricochets from bones and entrails and ashes.
Dennaro himself staggered. Blood flowed from own eyes and ears, and a thin liquid spilled from the crack in his skull. He screamed and crumpled to the ground.

"Told you," Belicar said as he struck out at the crossbowmen to his right. Scar and Maim rampaged through the stunned guards to the left, leaving throatless corpses in their wake.

The axe swung back and forth, cleaving limbs and torsos. A few bolts bounced from his shield and hauberk, but none penetrated to flesh. The Duke grabbed his sister and drew her away through a door behind them.

The building shivered with a masonic ague. The few surviving guards fled, leaving Belicar and the wolves covered in blood, none of it their own.

Samara stared around. "What?" she said. "What happened?" The Umbilicus Urbano fell from her stomach. Belicar scooped it up.

He took her arm and turned to the portal behind them. A slight figure came in from the outer room and pointed towards the egress the nobles had escaped though.

"That way. Come, I'll show you."

"Brania?" Belicar asked.

"Yes. Hurry!" She led them into a dusty hall. "This is the oldest part of the palace, the least affected by Dennaro's stone magic. It should hold up until we can get out. He wasn't very good at stone magic, and it's all coming undone."

"Wasn't very good at information magic, either," Belicar said as they ran down the corridor.

"That wasn't his fault. As the conduit grows weak, lapses in the scryings occur. That's why some citizens lost their license over minor offenses, while others kept theirs despite grievous crimes."

"And why Dennaro didn't know Samara was no longer a virgin."

"Is that what happened?" Samara was still dazed.

Brania shook her head. "No, that was my fault. I didn't pass that along. I wanted him to fail, which was exactly what happened."

"Why?" Samara asked.

Brania stared at her with moist eyes. "Lunilla was my sister. I hated him for what he did to her."

Belicar nodded. "I see. So, how did you avoid the backlash from the failed spells?"

"I stepped away from my station as soon as you entered the room. No one noticed. I hid until the others began to scream, then came to you. Here, this way."

They emerged into a courtyard. Behind them, the graceful palace wilted like an ornate candle allowed to sit in the sun.

Stone flowed down onto the grounds. Gargoyles and grotesques fell away from the battlements and plopped wetly onto the lawn. They raced for the gate that led to the main street.

Brania stopped there. "Hurry. Get your wagon and flee before the citizens realize that Optopolis is no longer controlled by the gems." Her own showed neither green nor red. It was a dull black.

"But my father..." Samara began.

"Let the dead bury the dead," Brania said. "You won't be safe here come sunrise. Optopolis will burn with a hundred years of repressed anger and hate."

"Dennaro was here that long?" Belicar asked. Brania nodded.

"Come with us," Samara said.

Brania shook her head. "No, this is my city. I am the last apprentice mage left alive in Optopolis. The Duke and Duchess will need me to restore order. Perhaps I can help to reshape it into something finer, more compassionate." She looked around. No street lamps lit themselves, and the buildings seemed shabbier already.

Samara kissed the girl's cheek. Belicar nodded to her, then took Samara's arm. They and the wolves raced back to the Mercantile Hall, which had grown a layer of grime.

Belicar tossed Samara onto the seat and followed with a bound. He jerked the traces and roared a command, and the horses pulled the wagon out onto the boulevard. His gray stallion followed, and they raced through the sagging city gate and out into the countryside.

They paused and glanced back. Scar and Maim ducked into the brush beside the road, searching for small game. The massive walls drooped under the fading stars.

"My father's goods are still in there," Samara said.

"I'm afraid so. Should we go back for them?"

"No. I never want to see or hear of Optopolis again."

"Perhaps this will make up for the loss." He handed her the Umbilicus Urbano. She examined it critically.

"I think it just might, at that. Where should we go to sell it?"

"What's the nearest trading post?"

She pointed back the way they came that morning. "Canya, I'm afraid."

"Are there any mages running that town?" Belicar asked, grinning.

"Not as far as I know," Samara replied. "But if there are, I don't think they'd be well advised to underestimate you."

"That would be a very bad idea." Belicar twitched the reins and whistled for his wolves.

***The End***

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