Myth-Gotten Gains

The Margrave leveled a beady black eye on me. "The boy whom you tempted into surrendering his personal reminiscences."

"We didn't get a thing out of him, if you ask your eyewitnesses."

"You admit it!"

He spun on his heel and walked to the table where all the contents of our pockets, shoulder bags, boot tops, as well as the various unmentionable places where Tanda tended to conceal things. (Even though the muscular guardswoman had been pretty thorough in her search I was certain that there were still more weapons and tools hidden about Tanda's sumptuous person. She had been doing this a lot of years.)

"What is this?" the Margrave demanded, waving the D-hopper at me. I cringed inwardly, hoping he wouldn't drop it. The technology to build them had been long lost, and though sturdy enough to withstand dimensional travel, they got goofed up when they hit stone floors. I didn't want to lose it.

"Massage stick," I said. "Good for easing those tight muscles."

I leered, letting him think worse thoughts. He blanched and put it down hastily. I gri

"Why do you have this?" He held up Kelsa.

The crystal ball was empty, the beturbaned head nowhere in sight. We had instructed her over and over again not to talk to anyone but us. I was glad she had paid attention, because all we needed was her unfocused chatter to make matters worse.

"It's a family heirloom," I said. "I travel everywhere with it."

"Are you a witch?"

"Do I look like a witch?" I countered.

The Margrave sneered. "You look like a charlatan. Something is wrong with you. My soldiers say that your flesh feels coarser than it appears."

"Skin condition," I shrugged. "Had it since I was born. Are you going to prosecute me for that?"

"I intend to prosecute you for something," the Margrave said, lowering his eyebrows. I'm sure he'd made strong men cringe with that expression, but I'd had meaner teachers in Pervish primary school.

"It seems we got off on the wrong foot here, Lord Margrave," I said, my voice a low purr. "I told the Skivers that we had come from your castle, but it was a lie."

"You admit it!" Seemed to be his favorite phrase. I relaxed slightly.

"Sure I do. My true mission was a secret. I have been under scaled orders, until now. I have no choice but to reveal to you my actual purpose for being in Mernge."

"Well?" The Margrave looked suspicious but very curious as did Calypsa and Tanda behind him. I gave them a nod to assure them I had this whole thing under control. "What IS your mission?"

"Gathering information," I said.

"What kind of information? Surely not statistics on school athletics!"

"Kingdom security," I said, lowering my voice. "Sealed orders from Her Majesty." The Margrave had to lean closer to hear me, then jumped back in case I was going to take a swing at him. I almost wished I had been able to.

"The queen sent you?" he exclaimed. "Shh!" I looked at the guards in pretended alarm. "All right, the secret's out. You blew it. Just wait until I tell her."

"You're frauds. I don't suppose you even know the name of the duke of this province."

"Spruesel," I said at once. "That's his private name. His official name is Congreave, but his mom used to call him Spruey. He's a couple inches taller than you, brown hair receding around a widow's peak and squinty hazel eyes, and favors red fla

majesty, Queen Hemlock, he sent us to get the full story on the boy, Imgam."

The Margrave narrowed his eyes again. I had made him re-evaluate us, and he didn't like that.

The royals in this country had birth names, but took a new name when they ascended the throne. I happened to know because I'd had all the archives of the Possiltum court at my fingertips, which included information, maps and portraits from spies and cartographers visiting the neighboring countries, plus some very confidential data from diplomatic diaries.

When he was still prince of his country, before it had been absorbed by Possiltum, Congreave had proposed to Queen, then Princess, Hemlock more than once. She had never taken the proposals seriously, since she thought that Congreave's nickname and underwear were both hilarious. She probably wouldn't have been as thrilled if she knew the nicknames that her brother monarchs had for her.

I pressed my advantage, and shook my manacles.

"Now, look, Highboy, Duke Spruesel is not go

"It's Highperin," the Margrave said, automatically. He looked less certain than he had before, then he recovered himself. This was still his ball field, whatever kind of sneaky base-stealing I had just done. He came up, kicking aside a rat, and glared me straight in the eye. "You will call me Lord Margrave!"

I was casual. "Whatever you like. You can call me Lord Fistula."

"Never heard of you." He hoped I was lying. I smirked.

"The duke has. I am his good right hand."

"Not so good, if you are capable of starting a near riot through your ineptitude. The Skivers..."

"You oughta be proud of the Skivers," I interrupted him. "Holding up the honor of the province like that. They weren't willing to blab a syllable to a stranger without making sure it was going to hold the people, and hence, its ruler, in the best

possible light. I call that pretty impressive. Right off the bat, they were trying to do things right. I have to hand it to them. It's going to go in my report."

Highperin stroked his fat chin. "I see..."

I built on my theme. "His grace will be glad he sent us. I'll get it all down on parchment. Just as soon as you unclip the iron jewelry. It doesn't go with the rest of the outfit." I jingled my gyves again.

"Well, Fistula, if that IS your name, if the king is so impressed by security, then he will not be displeased with me."

I held out my wrists, but he waved them away.

"I'm not going to take you at your word. You will remain here, without food or drink, until my messenger gets back from the capital. That should take," he gazed at us, enjoying our dismay, "about three days. Each way. If you are whom you say you are, then I shall apologize and make amends for detaining the Duke's archivist and his minions. If not, then I shall devise a very public punishment for the three of you. I have plenty of scope for my imagination, as you can see." He waved a hand at the wall.

I had already been admiring Highperin's collection of nasty torture devices, most of which would delight a socially-deficient crowd like the one that had dragged us here through the streets. They were, one and all, the kind of objects capable of doing things to a body that you hope never happen to yours. Hovering beside them like museum docents eager to show off their display of impaled butterflies was a handful of professional torturers, complete with black hoods and oiled bodies naked to the waist.

Pervects could take a lot of punishment, but Trollops had less stamina than we did, and Walts were more fragile yet. A session with any of the devices would probably ensure that none of us would ever play the piano again. I vowed to the God of Second Chances if we got away unscathed I would start taking lessons immediately.

I glanced at Tananda to see if we had a hope of magikal escape. She gave a little shake of her head, and I realized that

she was stretched to the limit maintaining our disguise spells: I was afraid her powers were stretched as far as they'd go. She could do smallish spells, mostly co