The next morning, they both braced themselves for awkward questions, challenges about their precipitous exit, but they encountered none, principally because the rest of the household slept late into the morning and emerged, when they finally emerged, in slight and fragile capacity. The day after the ball was as quiet in the manor as they had ever heard it. Most of the residents and proper guests took their repast in their quarters, with the curtains drawn, and went back to sleep that night without ever having seen the sun.

Josheb and Doris, realizing their window, spent the day out in pursuit of the mission, taking the car beyond the wall to the slums and remaining there until well after dark. As usual, Josheb did not engage with her contacts here, nor involve himself in her interviews. He kept his eyes on their surroundings, catalogued those who took notice or lingered nearby. Doris had built a working relationship with several powerful figures here, and she visited each in turn, ready with her list of questions that still needed answering. They observed a ritual for appeasing a god of provisions, attended a wedding of a pregnant girl to a young man in rags, and sought audience in a priest’s company with an underground lord who held sway over several quarters of the slum by the force of his strong men and their clubs and guns. They observed his comparative affluence, the ease with which he occupied his makeshift throne, and spoke to his lieutenants and his servants and the girls he kept for his pleasure. Doris offered no interference with any of it, and Josheb recognized in her a new degree of clinical detachment, a grim resolve to observe the dark and let it be.

On the following day, as the rest of the manor resumed living proper, Josheb prepared to drive Doris to the geriatric hospital and then to undertake his own, secret mission. The first thing he did was burn the letter. He memorized the address and instructions on it, and then he put a candle to it and put it in a tray, until it was gone to the last shred. Obliterated. Then he checked his bag, ensuring that his weapons were properly packed, along with his long coat and hood, and several tools which were useful for infiltrating. Mercenaries sometimes did such work. Never alone, as he was about to attempt, but in small teams sometimes when the mission was kidnap or murder, or to sneak into a gatehouse by means unavailable to the average conscript, so as to open the way for an invasion. Josheb remembered a few of those arts.

When all was ready, he left his room and went to fetch the Princess. He met Tess in the corridor on the servants’ floor, and while her maid’s uniform was in good order, she looked in her face drawn and weary. The ball had taken a toll on her, he surmised. Such revelry could be a shock to those not accustomed to it.

“Master,” she said as he approached.

“Tess.”

“You go out?”

“Yes.”

“With lady?”

“Yes. Do you need something?”

She lowered her gaze. “No,” she said.

Josheb nodded. “If you need anything, find me later.”

Tess nodded back, not meeting his eyes, and Josheb pressed on. Behind him, though, she said again, “Master…”

He stopped and looked back at her.

“I… need to talk to you. There is something.”

“It will have to wait, Tess. I will be back late tonight. Find me in the morning.”

Josheb saw her throat tighten, but again she nodded to him and bowed.

So he went, finding Doris ready at her door, and escorted her to the carriage they had been using since they had damaged Barad’s open coach. This closed carriage, one of several belonging to Lilani, had proved in some ways better for their mission. It offered more privacy, more anonymity, as they motored about.

It was a hospital in the Insubli which had her attention today. She explained to Josheb that the upper classes tended to care for their elderly at home, but the working class had fewer resources for that, so concentrated the care for theirs in communal facilities. Doris was bent this day on what she called a quest for figures, counting all of the residents of such a facility, noting their ages, their ailments, how long they had been in such care, and at what ages they died, insisting to him that she could divine from these sums, by some magic of numbers, greater wisdom about Mazastar’s people. All of this was of academic interest to Josheb, but they coordinated nonetheless because he had explained to her that he needed time, and she had proposed this as a way to spend all of the day and into the night at a hospital without drawing suspicion.

Once he had deposited her there, he went his way. That way took him back up one of the switching roads to the Heights, where he then parked the car and continued on foot, carrying his bag. He was dressed well, properly for a personal servant of one of the elite wealthy of the Heights on a professional errand. Josheb made a show of some shopping, and consulted with a few artisans, before taking lunch in a café near the place of his interest. From his table, thanks to the prevalence of modern glass windows in Mazastar, he could observe that place while he ate. He could see its people coming and going, note who were the working class of it, who were its administrators, and how the entry of each was vetted. Having taken the measure of its people, he could guess the extent of it, that it occupied not just the building he could see, but a greater space that must lie below, like the terminals and hangars of the airships, under the feet of the Heights, behind the bluff walls that separated the Upper Ward from the general city. Over it, behind it, near the Upper Ward’s outer wall, the two chimneys reached toward the clouds, emitting gray clouds of their own, and he suspected they were part of the underground complex, which indicated that it extended far back from its obvious entrances on the surface. This led him after lunch to spy out the surrounding areas for other paths of access, until he was creeping in the weed- and ivy-covered alleys near the outer wall, an untraveled recess similar to that near the Píes’ home where he and Doris had found the vestigial temple.

He did not find what he hoped for, a good door forgotten, but he was not put out. The idea of going in by one of its main entrances did not intimidate him. He waited through evening, through the exodus of those who worked inside the facility, until their flow at the main entrance had slowed to a trickle and the peripheral doors had been closed and locked by the guards. When the sun was down, and there were good shadows between the streetlamps, then he approached one of those doors, drawing out his collection of skeleton keys. Mazastran locks would no doubt have the most intricate of ward patterns, but if they used any of the common formats, one of his skeleton keys should fit well enough. In the worst case, he had a file with him and would be able to trim the outer bit….

Josheb stared at the lock in front of him, with its strange, narrow, warped slot. He had never seen anything like it. He looked down at his useless key collection, then sighed and packed it away. So be it. He drew forth his pry-bar, stabbed it between the door and the jamb, and gave it a swift kick. After another minute of prying, he had the door open and was in. It was not elegant, but he could not afford to hesitate tonight. Doris would only be able to keep herself busy for another hour or two, he feared.

Knowing he had made some noise, Josheb pushed the door to and then fled into the interior of the building. He had been right: very quickly his way led to a downward staircase and to levels beneath the Heights. Josheb worked his way down, and he found the corridors and staircases abandoned. Electric lights hummed at the joints between the walls and the low ceiling, and the air was heavy, cool, and damp. The first doors he found, on the first level below the street, opened to what seemed to be changing rooms, lined floor, walls, and ceiling with porcelain tiles. They had on one end metal cabinets, each with a hook from which hung a white apron—waxed canvas, he noted, as he examined one—and on the other end dripping shower heads on the walls and drains in the floors. The cabinets contained, as best he could tell, each a few personal odds and ends belonging to individuals who worked here.

On the second floor downward, his discoveries became more interesting. He opened a door into a black space and noted immediately that it was larger, more echoing. It also smelled strongly of chemicals that stung his nose.  After listening for several minutes for any sound of movement and hearing only the telltale scuttle of rats and the dripping of water, he used a flint to light a small hooded lantern. (He thought about the magic torch-rod which Doris had demonstrated to the Council. What a boon that would have been.) His light he shone into the space: It was wide and sprawling as he had suspected. Like the kitchens and messes under the Píe manor, it had a sepulchral feel, thanks to its low, looming ceiling. Here, though, as in the changing rooms above, the walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in slick, hard tiles. By his light, he saw that the chamber was filled with long tables covered in strange alchemical equipment. Glass beakers and tubes, metal stills, pipes, and bowls. Ovens and stoves, also, and sinks, hoses, nozzles, and drains. Here every station seemed to be unique, and there were devices and implements which he could not even classify, mechanical things the function of which he could not guess. He looked through it for a while, but there was little wisdom to be gleaned here. It was unintelligible to him.

Another of these large chambers, while still mysterious, seemed more regular to his eye. It contained several identical trains of equipment, pipes running from metal tanks, through stills and boilers, and then into larger tanks with more copper pipes from the ceiling to the floor, and then to large enclosed vats. Where the previous room seemed to be configured for various alchemical explorations, this chamber seemed to be arranged for production, according to some established formula. Confirming this theory, he found nearby a storeroom containing rack upon rack of glass jars, empty, clean, and ready for use.

He continued on, and found another staircase going down. As he entered it, his ear detected a faint sound of people speaking, but it did not sound as though there were many. He crept down the staircase, silent on soft leather boots, and found a long, lit corridor. At the end of it stood two figures resting and conversing. In the same glance, he noted a doorway along one side of the corridor not far away. Josheb retreated up, crouched down until he could just see the feet of the two men, and waited. After a while, they turned away from him. He took his chance, descending to the corridor, walking to the door, and going through it before the two men glanced his way again. Very quietly, he closed the door behind himself.

Josheb turned, beheld, and felt his legs weaken under him.

It was a long time before he moved again. What drove him up was the sound of more voices in the corridor on the other side of the door behind him. They had an aspect of authority, speaking of something urgent, and he knew some Faenish by now. He could recognize words like “door” and “broken.” Josheb realized that he could not stay here, and he could not go back. He had to find another way out, so he gathered his senses and pressed on, moving through the charnel chamber until he found another door.

It took a while for him to find a way that did not take him toward people. Eventually he discovered, in a dark and little-used portion of the facility, a ladder, probably meant for evacuation only in an emergency. It was a long climb, three stories up, and at the top he found a hatch locked from the inside. He was able to force the lock with some effort and open the hatch, and that admitted him into some sort of catacomb or sewer. Shining about with his light, he saw a metal grate nearby. Josheb dragged himself up through the hatch, lowered it silently, and went to the grate. It was another portal, a gate, hinged on one side and locked with a padlock. Ivy covered it, and but he reached through the bars and pulled the ivy aside, and he could smell fresh air and hear the sounds of the outdoors. Again, he forced the lock as quietly as he could and let himself out, slipping through the vines as best he could without disturbing them. Here, at last, he found himself in a back alley of the Heights, near the outer wall and the chimneys. He had escaped.

Josheb was grim as he drove to collect Doris. He had never felt such a blackness in his heart. Everything he knew about the world was true, and everything Doris feared did not begin to capture the truth. He did not want to show her this, but he knew he must, and that she had to see it with her own eyes.

At the hospital, he found her in heated conversation with the physician, Yodwi. “…you don’t understand,” she was saying, with some passion. “There are—You don’t understand what’s in it, because you can’t see.”

“What’s in it, then?”

Josheb put his head in the door and caught her eye, but then retreated and stood outside in the hallway to wait while she finished her work.

“They’re… It’s hard to explain. Small, very small things, broken, that can cause problems. We call them prions, but you don’t have a word. You can’t see them with a microscope, but—”

“My lady, this benefits are known. The work has been done. You can’t tell us that we have not observed what we have observed.”

“I understand you’ve observed benefits! But long term—”

“My lady, please! This is a dangerous line of inquiry, and it is unfounded. There no—absolutely no—concerns about this. We would know. And saying there are will cause needless chaos—not to mention harm.”

“But—”

“The conversation is finished.”

When she came out, he fell in beside her but said nothing as they walked back to the car, and she said nothing either. He could tell she was fuming, but the matter was well beyond his learning, so he had nothing to contribute. Only once they were on their way home, she driving and he riding beside her, did she look over at him and ask, “What did you find?”

For a while, he did not answer. She drove, watching the road but glancing at him while he decided what to say. Finally, he replied, “You will see it. Not now. I had to break a door. There will be too much activity tonight. We need to go and wait a while.”

“Okay.”

“And that with the doctor?”

“A problem. I can’t convince them of what they don’t want to see.”

“Naturally, Mistress.”

She smirked. “And I’m not expert enough in this field to explain it. Medicine and… Eh! I don’t have the words in these languages. But it’s not my specialty.”

“You do very well, Mistress. If they won’t listen, you can’t take that blame on yourself.”

“I know. But…” She sighed. “I know.” For a little while she was silent, and then she said, “You’re not taking their tonic, are you?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Good. Don’t.”

They reached the manor without incident, and without any further discussion, for which he was thankful. She did not further press him on what he had found, and he was not yet ready to describe it. He returned Doris to her chamber unseen and then retired to his, and there he sat in the dark, by the window, staring out, unable to sleep, thinking of the gods. Here was a city of people who had forgotten the gods, he thought, and yet they served still, fed the appetites of the insatiable ancient principalities. Fed them as no worshippers before.

The next morning, there came knocking at his door a servant girl, not one of Lilani’s but one of Doris’s, saying, “Lady Doris requires you, sir. She says to say she is going out and you are needed.”

“Understood,” he replied. “Thank you.” As soon as the girl departed and he had closed the door, he sought out the magic speaking box which Doris had given him and found it in his coat, which he had cast aside carelessly the night before. On the surface of it were written several new messages from her, telling him, “We need to talk,” and, “We will go somewhere discreet,” and “Are you receiving this?” Josheb cursed his thoughtlessness and raced to dress himself again. He had not bathed since their outing, and he and his clothes still smelled of chemicals. The odor made him feel sick. Those garments could not go to the maids for laundering, so he tucked them away and donned a fresh uniform suitable for another day out. How much, he wondered, had he spent on clothing since he had come to this city, just to look the part for his lady?

As he was on his way to Doris’s chamber, Tess caught him in the corridor again. She was stalking him. “Master…” she said.

“I can’t, now, Tess. Our Mistress requires me immediately.” He left her there in the hallway, staring after him, and he saw her tears. Something had happened to her, he felt certain. As soon as he could, he would address it. Tonight, while Doris was at supper with the family. “Tonight at supper, Tess,” he said as he parted from her. “Tonight.”

He reached Doris’s chamber, and when he knocked, she opened the door for him almost immediately. She was already ready to go out. “I wondered if something had happened to the speaking box,” she said.

“No, Mistress, it is my own fault. I set it aside last night without thinking.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, cutting with her hand. “Nothing to worry about. I want to go out, though. Too many questions, here, and I need to know what you saw.” She took up her bag and her hooded coat as she spoke, and started past him out the door.

“Mistress… if you will allow it, I think it is best that I show you.”

Doris slowed, looked back at him, and then glanced up and down the hallway. “That bad?” she asked him.

“Yes, it’s bad.”

For several seconds she stood in thought, and inwardly he thanked her for that, for giving him her consideration. However, she then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I understand, and I appreciate, but I need to know what’s going on. Forgive me, Josh, for calling it a game, but I can’t play. I need to do this right. Come with me. We will go to a quiet place without ears, and we will talk.”

Josheb bowed and obeyed. Doris led, and he followed her out, taking her handbag for her, as was their custom now. To reach the carriage barn by the main stair, though, they had to pass through the foyer, and as they did, they encountered several of the residents and proper guests. Groga and Rorish were there, and Myram, and Lilani.

“Oh, hello!” said Lilani to them, raising her hand. “Going out again?”

“Yes. More to study, as always,” replied Doris, feigning graciousness.

“Of course, of course. I’ve missed you since the party, though. Dinner tonight?”

“Of course, Lily. With the family?”

“Quite so,” said Myram.

“Sir Josheb, you should come, too,” added Lilani. “We’ve not had you at our table in some time. I consider that a failing on my part.”

“If my lady will have it,” replied Josheb, eyeing Lilani. She had something in her mind, but she was beyond his power to read. Too much a sorceress. He glanced at Rorish and saw that the young captain was staring daggers at him.

“Of course,” said Doris. “We will both be there.”

“Wonderful!” said Lilani. “Off you go, then. I don’t mean to make you late for your work.”

Doris curtseyed, and Josheb bowed, and they made their escape to the carriage barn where the fine Lauburnum carriages were stored. Josheb noted that he would have to get word to Tess, when he could.

They drove out, making a few turns to show a false direction, and then at Doris’s request they parked in an out-of-the-way place and walked into the back alleys together, Josheb’s eye ever over their shoulders for a tail but finding none. Eventually, they came to the little temple that had become their private sanctuary.

While Josheb continued to watch their path of approach for another minute, Doris found the bench where they had sat before and cleared herself a space on it. Josheb satisfied himself that no one was interested to follow their progress, and then at last he turned to her.

“Is Barad’s car still out behind us?” she asked.

“It is.”

“Hm,” she said. She took a deep breath and then looked up at him. “So, tell me.”

Josheb turned, seated himself beside her on the ancient stone bench, and then related to her the important elements of his observations. Doris’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth.

“Is this… true?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

For a while she was quiet. Finally, she said, “I need to talk to Mori.”

“Is that wise, Mistress?”

“I don’t know. But I have to give her a choice.”

Josheb nodded. “Whatever you require, Mistress.”

Doris took a little while longer to gather her thoughts, and then she asked, “Does the car still run? The one here?”

“It does, Mistress.”

“Keep it ready. In case we need it.”

He stared at her. “Yes, Mistress. I think that’s wise,” he answered, and he could not restrain a small smile.

Doris tilted her head, and then she blushed and said, “You’ve already thought of it, haven’t you.” She looked away. “You’ve been arranging to keep it here. Delaying.”

“Only in the past few days, since this business with the Saboteurs. You are thinking like a mercenary, Mistress.”

That made her smile, but the business at hand was too grim for the levity to last. “We need to go,” she said. “I need to go back to the hospitals today for more figures.”

“I don’t understand these figures, Mistress. You mean numbers? How does this serve our mission?”

“I will tell you, Josh, but you may not understand. Even so, you must trust me that it’s important.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Doris took a moment to gather her thoughts, and then she said, “This place has medicines that the rest of the world does not have. But how do we know if they work?”

“I suppose take it, and see if it cures the disease, Mistress.”

“If only it was that simple. What medicine do you take for a head-cold, Josh?”

“Salted goat’s-root tea.”

“Does it work? Does it cure the disease?”

“I suppose I don’t know, Mistress. I take it, and I get better, so it must.”

“But you say you’re not sure. Maybe you would have healed without it. Indeed, I suspect you know you would survive most colds.”

“Of course.”

“Do you heal any faster with this tea? Does it seem to you that you do?”

“Sometimes.”

“But how can you know for sure? Maybe that was just a weaker disease.”

“Can’t know, Mistress. You just do what you can do.”

“Yes. But I can find out. I can take the number of people, the number of people who get sick, the number who take the tea, how long they have the disease, the number who don’t, how long they have the disease, and I can use this study of large numbers of people to learn the truth. With mathematics.”

“All right. I don’t know how you find your answer with mathematics, but I believe you, Mistress. Whatever you need, we will do.”

“You’re a loyal friend, Josh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mistress. I have a request, though.”

“Whatever you need, Josh.”

“I have been thinking about something I asked you, and I think… I think the world must be condemned. All of it. When you leave this land, this world, take me with you. Let me go back with you and live in your realm. Better to be the lowest slave there, I think, than to be a king in this world of evil.”

Doris shot to her feet as he spoke, and by the time he had finished, she had taken both of his hands in hers. “Oh, Josh!” she said. “Of course! You will be welcome there! And you won’t be a slave, I promise. You will have a good life.”

“It will be good enough to spend my remaining years far from all of this… death.”

She leaned over him, then, and planted a kiss on his forehead, and that made him choke a little.

“Come,” she said, righting herself. “Let’s get some work done before dinner.”

They did what she needed done, and were home in time to bathe and prepare for dinner. Of course she dined with their hosts regularly, but as Lilani had rightly pointed out, Josheb had not been invited back to that table in a couple of weeks, since the novelty of him had worn off. He had to find his fancies again and make sure he was properly attired and made up, in time to make the bell. He did well enough, arriving while the rest of the party were still standing about enjoying pre-prandial cocktails.

Small-talk was rendered until the serving of the meal, and then they took their seats. That was when Josheb began to suspect that someone at the table had an agenda, for a servant directed him to sit beside Lilani, and Rorish was on her other hand. Meanwhile, Doris was seated on the opposite side. Josheb watched Doris carefully as she lowered herself into her chair, watched her eyes dart, and was satisfied that she, too, suspected intention behind the arrangement. He wondered how they had seated her at meals between this one and the last time he was here. Was this a dramatic change for her?

The other change, Josheb noted immediately, was that there were fewer guests this evening, and they were all seated much nearer to the head of the table.

For a while, the conversation remained small, and Josheb sat mostly in silence, participating when he was called upon but otherwise focusing on his meal and waiting for Lilani to reveal her agenda. When it came, though, it came not from her but from Rorish. He said, “So, Lady Doris, I understand you did not enjoy Master Píe’s ball the other day. It was not to your tastes?”

“Not particularly,” said Doris. “In my culture, we do not celebrate in that fashion.”

“I’m sorry to hea—”

“I should add,” Doris continued, interrupting him, “that I do not mean any offense toward Master Píe or his house. I could not be more grateful for your hospitality,” she said directly to Lilani. “It was simply not the kind of celebration in which I can participate.”

“Of course, dear,” said Lilani. “May I ask what it was that disturbed you?”

Josheb saw Doris’s eyes glance at him fleetingly before looking down at her food. She wanted his help, his guidance, but she was on her own for this. She took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and dabbed her lips with her napkin, and then she answered, “It is part of my role, my mission, to remain detached, to observe each new people whom I encounter without judgement. I should not say a thing is good or bad, only that it is, and record it faithfully for my people. However, in some ways my culture is very different from yours, and some things which are normal to you are very shocking to my heart. Some things I cannot observe without hurt. When this happens, I ask your indulgence if I… go out from it. This of course is my private struggle, and I would never interfere with your practices.”

“I think there is some nobility in that,” said Commandant Groga, seated to Doris’s right. “But if that is the sentiment of your people, does it make sense? Is it not the responsibility of the wiser nation to bring civilization and wisdom to the lesser? We do this—judiciously, I admit, but we do it as we think wise, to bring light to the barbarian nations who still war and murder and make sacrifices to pagan gods. What good would it be to the world if we concealed our learning or hoarded it? And likewise your people—whom, to my knowledge, you still have not named—you have proved have wisdom and light which surpasses even ours. Yet your people do not share their wisdom? If you have it to offer, should you not?”

“Perhaps,” said Doris. “But that is not my mission. My role is to learn your ways, learn the shape of your civilization and your culture. Wiser men than I will decide with which kingdoms to make alliances and share knowledge. I am authorized only to offer a few tokens, as proof of my people’s learning.”

“You’ll pardon us if that answer, while reasonable, does not entirely satisfy,” replied Groga.

“But what has upset, dear friend?” asked Lilani. “Our ball is supposed to be a night of joy and revelry, and togetherness. It hurts my heart that you did not feel you could partake, that you were not one of us. My father has only ever wanted you to be welcome, and I likewise.”

“I know, Lily. And I feel welcome. I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t.”

“Then what was it? I must know.”

Doris pursed her lips. For a few long seconds she looked down at the table, with all its beautiful setting and succulent foods, and said nothing. Finally, she ventured, “In my culture, it is not common to see the sexual act on public display.” The others did not know her well, but Josheb did, and he could see her hesitating even as she said it, as if she was not convinced of her own truthfulness. He knew her to be sheltered, like a virgin priestess, yet she had hinted to him that her experience was not the general experience of her society. He wondered what nuance might be now on her mind.

“Is it not a natural part of the human experience?” asked Lilani. “Does your people find it evil, that they hide it in secret? How do they make new generations?”

“No, not at all!” said Doris. “We… Look, there is debate. No culture is unanimous on any subject. Some among my people are more strict than others. But we generally agree on some things. That it is an intimate and private matter, that it is part of a loving relationship and… I will say this, and I hope you will not take offense, but we—many of my people, I will say—believe that the act is cheapened when it is shared widely.”

“You speak as if a man’s seed, his lineage, can be cheapened,” replied Groga. “If a man makes many offspring, it does not detract from the inheritance of his elected heir. It only affirms his potency, and makes his inheritance more precious.”

“We—” Doris began to respond, but she stopped herself. She looked over at Groga and instead said, “Please, share with me. Does your culture generally regard the sexual act as a means of generating offspring?”

“The consequence of the act can’t be separated from it, of course, but I would not go so far. We recognize pleasure, and the joy of union, and practice the sharing of both.”

“And how do you view the sanctity of the woman?” Doris asked.

Josheb was observing Doris and Groga, not Lilani, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Lilani’s head come up. He glanced at her and saw her watching intently.

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Groga.

“The sanctity of the woman,” repeated Doris. “Her will, her free choice, in these matters? How do you ensure that her value as a person is preserved?”

“My lady, the value of a person lies in his—or her—ability and willingness to fulfill the role for which she was made. What value have I, if I am a poor soldier, a poor officer? What value the cobbler, if he cannot make a shoe? Our fullness comes from fulfilling what we are. So it is between man and woman. What could a woman desire other than what she naturally desires as a woman? What could satisfy her other than to receive what a woman is made to receive?”

“Do you make a point of asking?” said Doris.

Groga set his cup down rather forcefully. “No, I do not make a point of asking!” he snapped. “These questions do not need to be asked; the answers are known! Lady Doris—” And then Groga reverted to Faenish as his voice continued to rise. Josheb could not follow it; he caught only a few words. “…culture… natural forms… man’s claim… duty….”

“Zuyedt,” interjected the voice of Aiham Píe, harsh and final. All eyes turned to him. He continued in Eledrin. “Lady Doris is my guest, and royalty of her people. She will be treated gently at my table, Commandant.”

Groga closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and set his hand on the tabletop as he exhaled. “I apologize, my friend. I have sullied your company.”

“It is forgotten. Lady Doris,” said Aiham, “Please share the ideas of your people freely, here. You will not be so treated again.”

Doris nodded her head. “Many thanks, sir. I take no offense. I am grateful to the Commandant for his honesty.”

Aiham nodded in return.

“Sir Josheb, tell me:” said Lilani, resting her hand on his. “The Lady seems to find us barbaric, by the standards of her kingdom. How do you find us? What have you seen in the world, in the matter of sexual relations?”

Josheb hummed. “I am certain most here are familiar with Eledring. It is assumed that a man may take a woman if she is his slave or if she is of lower status and in his power. This, I’ve seen, is common to most realms through which I have traveled. They also worship the goddess Tunema, whose priestesses are sacred prostitutes in her name. I remember when the emperor decreed that every woman of status would spend one night per year in the brothels. She is not permitted to resist or deny any man on this night. It was said this was to make equality between the upper classes and the lower. I have not seen that exact thing done elsewhere, but I have seen its like. In the Eclemarid Kingdoms, they worship the goddess Yesine—I think she is Tunema by another name, but in their kingdoms, every woman is expected to serve one night as a temple prostitute on her twelfth birthday after her naming day. In all these lands you will also find festivals like the one we are here discussing—the Yesine call them ashanalia, if I remember—in which all women are, as we might say, fair game for all men until the night is done. It is never considered that a woman might deny a man. They would not imagine it.

“Among my own people, a woman is valued if she can give male offspring. A man may take concubines as he pleases from lower families, but he will have one wife among them. If she cannot give him sons, then the one who gives him a son becomes his wife, and the other is made a concubine.”

“I suppose it should go without asking,” said Doris, “but do I assume correctly that wives and concubines must honor the man’s sexual desires?”

“Of course, Mistress. It is a grave crime to disobey, in all the cultures I have seen. In another northern tribe with whom my people warred of old, the wife who fails to produce a son before her husband’s concubine does the same is killed, and the concubine raised to the place of wife.

“In the land of Dara, a man may have as many wives as his purse will allow, and it is their duty to satisfy their husband as he pleases, or face punishment from the gods. In the far south, among the Amuatu tribes and others, a young man takes his first wife by conquest. He chooses one whom he desires, and she is expected to fight him, and he to overpower her and couple with her against her will. By this he establishes his mastery. I may add that in some tribes of that area, it is also tradition that a young man, to be called a man, must hunt and kill at least a grown woman of a neighboring tribe as game.

“Among the Nelhtzatl, virgins are killed on altars to the gods. I have seen some ceremonies, though, in which the priests couple with the girl first, so that their seed is given to the gods’s fire with her body. Most of the men of the Nelhtzatl had many wives, and they are under the same duty as wives of any land.

“These are all I can remember on a moment, but I would say, in answer to the question, I do not find Mazastar much different from other nations in the matter of men and their claims on their women.”

“And do none of these cultures value virginity?” asked Doris.

“Among women? They certainly do. An untouched girl of ten or twelve years is prized as a wife, as long as she can produce an heir. And there are goddesses who accept only virgins as priestesses and oracles, or as sacrifices.”

“What about men? Is it valuable for a man to be a virgin?”

“I have never encountered such as thing, if it exists, Mistress. Why would the virginity of a man be valued? The virtue of a man is in his strength. How will you measure his strength if he is not free to impose himself on women and boys?”

“Boys?” asked Doris, her eyebrows going up.

“Yes, of course, Mistress. I can’t imagine you have traveled across Eledring and not observed the boys that men of status keep, there.”

“Well… we did not travel much amongst the upper classes of Eledring. I was aware, but I did not realize it was a widespread practice.”

Josheb wiped his mouth with his napkin and for a moment sought back through his memories. “I would say, amongst primitive tribes, it is less common. In Nelhtzatl, in the far north, in the Amuatu and Bosha, it is considered a, mm, a corruption. But in all wealthy kingdoms, it seems to me, keeping a boy or boys is a mark of riches and status, as they do here. In Dara, even small noblemen, who have barely a castle, pride themselves on having a boy or two.”

“Here?” asked Doris, surprised.

“Of course, Mistress.”

Doris glanced toward Aiham, the family patriarch, who eyed her cooly in return.

“I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense,” she said then, somewhat to Josheb’s surprise. “As a civilization advances so that its survival needs are no longer in question, it is a mark of prosperity to do that which has no purpose of survival. We would call it… what’s the word, in Eledrin? Something which stands out to the eye, to the observer.”

“Conspicuous.”

“Yes. Conspicuous consumption. Lavish celebrations, lavish court appointments. The arts. And sexual activity which does not produce offspring would fit in this category. Thank you, Josh. That was an expert survey.”

“Certainly, Mistress.”

“And what of your own culture, my lady?” asked Rorish.

“In my culture we have none of these things. A woman is measured equally with a man, and her will and free choice are always considered. Her right to decide what she will do and not do is always respected.”

“Pardon me,” said Commandant Groga, considerably more deferentially after his chastisement. “How do you mean ‘right’ in this context? Are you using the word as you intend?”

“I think so. You say a thing is ‘right’ if it is as it ought to be, yes?”

“Yes, just so.”

“We have a notion, in my country, that certain things it is right for any person to have. These are the person’s rights. As we regard women the equal of men, so we regard their rights as equal.”

“How equal?” asked Lilani. “As a woman, I find it a cheerful notion, but how are women the equal of men? Are women in your land as strong as men? Do they not have a monthly cycle which affects them? Are they not given to emotion and mania as men are not? Are women in your land equal in wisdom to men?”

“In truth? Women in my country are as women are here. Smaller, weaker. Yes, we have a monthly cycle. We bleed, and it is miserable, and we become emotional—sometimes irrationally so, if we do not guard ourselves. But in wisdom? I would like to think we are men’s equals. But even if it were not so, it would not change the value or rights of a woman. As we do not measure the servant less than the master, so we do not measure a woman less than a man, regardless of the differences.”

“Then we share some similarity, there, even if the language differs,” said Groga. “We do not keep slaves. All in Mazastar are free to choose their lives and livelihoods.”

“And yet you speak of duty.”

“Well, of course,” said Groga. “Freedom to choose does not mean freedom from duty. A man’s or woman’s worth is still measured against his duty. What is anyone but what he or she does?”

“And a woman’s duty is to men.”

“It certainly is,” said Rorish. “My lady, you speak of value, but, if you will forgive me, it is an empty word as you use it. If a servant requires a master, or a woman requires a man, then what in them is this value which you say is equal? What are you measuring?”

“Their worth as human beings.”

“This is no answer, my lady,” Rorish replied immediately. “Perhaps you may assign them some value equally apportioned, but it does not exist in the world, in the forms or the substance of them.”

Doris frowned and was silent. Josheb waited for her to answer, and he felt a pang in his chest when he realized she would not, that she did not have an answer for him. He wanted her to win. He wanted her to be right.

“So a woman has a duty,” she said instead, “to her man, or to men generally at a ball, and in childbearing. Her worth is in the doing of her duty.”

“Yes.”

“To give herself, if that is required, and to bring forth the child, if she becomes pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“So where are the children?”

Josheb gritted his teeth. She had been doing well, he thought, but this was too far. This was too bold, too soon.

There was silence, and then Groga said, “What do you mean?”

“Where are the children? Where do the babies go?”

“If they are desired, they are raised, as in any land.”

“If they are not desired?”

“Then they are given purpose.”

“Given purpose.”

“Yes.”

“And whose decision is that?”

“It is made for the best of society, and the family.”

“That was not my question.”

“The men involved make the decision.”

“Not the woman?”

“No, of course not.”

Doris bowed her head. “I understand. I hope you will understand I am only a messenger, but this will be a source of difficulty between our nations. If a woman desires her child, she will be welcome in our kingdom, and she will have the opportunity to bring that child into the world and raise it up. And no one may order her otherwise.”

“And if she does not desire it? If the child would be a scandal or a deadly burden on her family? If it would be one too many, taking already precious food from the mouths of those already growing, or if its life would bring strife and even war over inheritance and birthrights? If she does not want it, how do you dispose of it? Toss it into a cesspool, or feed it to pigs?”

Again, Doris was silent, and again Josheb found himself disappointed. He wanted to know the answer. Or, more accurately, he wanted to believe that in her fairy kingdom, no child was ever exposed or sacrificed because no child was ever unwanted, no child ever such a burden on its family that its disposal was required.

Before she could find the words to respond, though, everyone’s attention was drawn to a distant sound, a woman’s voice wailing, faint through many walls and doors. It came from somewhere outside, almost certainly.

All diners looked to one another in wonder, and then Aiham Píe turned his eyes on the head waiter, who bowed and exited. Together the diners waited. Presently, they began to hear a commotion of discussion in the corridor, and then Adam the butler entered the dining hall, went directly to Aiham, and spoke into his ear. He nodded.

“An accident among the serving staff,” he explained to the assembly in Faenish. Josheb understood him well enough. “Nothing to worry about.”

Doris pushed herself back from the table and stood.

“My lady?” asked Groga, but Josheb did not ask. He just stood with her and followed her as she proceeded out of the dining hall. They found servants in the corridor discussing now in hushed tones, and Josheb approached them.

“Which way?” he ordered. A couple of the ladies pointed. Josheb led the way, now, with Doris in tow, and followed the clues to the front door and out. There a crowd was already gathered, and Josheb pushed through it, making a path for his client and mistress.

The last bystanders parted, and Josheb and Doris together beheld the girl broken over the stones, blue dress glittering and white feathers shining in the floodlights and decorative lights of the garden. Josheb felt as if something vital had been ripped out of his gut.

“Who is it?” breathed Doris. She looked up at him and saw the expression on his face. “Josh, who is it?” she asked again, her voice turning desperate.