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which was nearly empty except for them, and Pel addressed a few words in a quiet voice to one of the Guardsmen. This man, a tall Dragonlord with two shortswords, nodded and stepped over to the Captain’s door. More words were spoken quietly, then the Dragon nodded to Pel, who motioned his companions forward. Khaavren’s heart was pounding as they stepped toward the door, but he attempted to look as cool as Aerich, or, failing that, as haughty as Tazendra.
    However, before they reached the door, there was the sound of commotion behind them, and a cry of “Make way! Make way for Lord Shaltre. Make way!”
    Khaavren, whose keen eyes missed nothing, saw Aerich’s back tense as this name was pronounced, but the Lyorn coolly moved to the side when Pel, who was leading them, did so. Khaavren and Tazendra followed this lead, and as they did, two things happened. The first was that an old, powerfully built Dzurlord appeared from the door in front of Pel, walking quickly into the middle of the room. This was plainly the Captain. His eyes were fixed on the opposite door, so Khaavren looked there also. A man and a woman, both Dragonlords and both in Guardsmen’s cloaks, entered and stepped to the sides. Then another came through the door, dressed in the golden-brown and red of the House of the Lyorn, but wearing long, loose
breeches instead of a skirt, and no vambraces. Khaavren glanced quickly at Aerich, but the latter’s face showed no expression.
    The Lyorn noble and the Captain looked at each other, then nodded and the captain signaled that the other should enter his audience chamber. This chamber, we should note, was supplied with a hard oak door, on leather hinges, set into a wall of stone, so nothing said within could be heard from the antechamber, unless one pressed one’s ear directly to the door.
    Pel shrugged, as if to say, “Well, it may be a while then,” and walked casually over to the woman who had accompanied the Lyorn. As he did this, Khaavren leaned over and whispered to Aerich, “Who is he?”
    In a tone without inflection, Aerich said, “The Count of Shaltre, Marquis of Deepsprings, Baron of—”
    “Pardon me, good Aerich,” said Khaavren. “But you perceive that these names tell me nothing.”
    “Well, he is a chief advisor to His Imperial Majesty.”
    “Ah!”
    Then Khaavren noticed that Pel was in deep conversation with the woman who had escorted the Lyorn. She smiled and shook her head, and, from the back, Khaavren fancied he could see Pel smiling at her. After a moment, Pel shrugged and seated himself next to the door, and leaned back as if resting—with his head remarkably close to the door itself. Aerich and Khaavren exchanged a glance full of meaning.
    “Well?” said Tazendra to Khaavren.
    “Well?” said Khaavren. “I should think we could wait. What is your opinion, Aerich?”
    In answer, Aerich seated himself and said, “This appears to be a waiting room.”
    Khaavren nodded and also sat down, on a backless stone bench that caused him to wonder briefly who had done the labor of bringing it there, how many it had taken, and if they were well-paid for their trouble. Tazendra looked unhappy but also sat down. A moment later, Pel stretched lazily and leaned forward, and at just that moment the door opened and Count Shaltre emerged. His eyes flashed fire, but he said nothing. He collected the two Guards who had escorted him and departed.
    Tazendra said, “Well, should we—”
    “Hush,” said Aerich. Pel turned back to them and sat down next to Tazendra.
    “Well?” said Khaavren. “What did you learn?”
    “Learn?” said Pel, frowning. “Do you pretend I learned anything?”
    “I nearly think so,” said Khaavren. “Or, at any rate, I should think you were trying to.”
    “Not the least in the world, I assure you,” said Pel.
    Before Khaavren could answer, the Dragonlord who had been in the room said, “The Captain will see you now.” The four stood as one. Pel led
the way