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“
Sumto, my friend.” His voice was softer than you would guess from his size, though deep as a chasm.

“
Kerral,” the hug was entirely spontaneous. It's not my custom to be over-familiar or physical, especially with men, but it's hard not to love a man who has saved your life. “How are you here? I thought you had been exiled! Why didn't you write?”

He grinned at me as he grabbed me and held me at arm's length. “So I was, but I managed to redeem myself. And I did write, at least once, I'm sure.”

“
Sumto!” Sheo had caught up with me and I turned my face to him, smile still in place.

“
Sheo! Good to see you.” I paused for a beat and then let the day go for now. “Let's go for a drink.” Yelian Shen was right of course. Drink has ever been my downfall, the cause and solution to all my problems.

“
Good idea,” Kerral chipped in. “I'll buy.”

I heaved a mental sigh of relief at that, turned and gestured Meran to lead the way. “Find us an alehouse. The Damned Hangman is round the corner,” I reminded him.

#

“
I was lucky. Ran into a rogue sorcerer and broke his neck.”

It was only then that I noticed the red gem, glowing with that effervescent light that told of its origin, set in a gold ring on his finger. His hand was wrapped around a clay tankard of watered wine; anything smaller than a tankard would just look stupid in his big hand. Not that the stone would be any use to him until he learned to use it; almost all nobles knew some magic, but I guessed Kerral would be the type to put his money and energies elsewhere.

“
Is that it?" I couldn't help feeling his telling lacked polish.

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“
How did you find him?” Sheo said.

Kerral shrugged. “I wasn't looking. Just out at night and saw him. He was using the power to lure a girl. It was obvious.”

“
Not to mention base,” Sheo sounded genuinely offended.

I resisted the urge to shrug. Every noble-women in the city wears a charm that will protect her against such inimical magic. As for the commoners, well, who cares, frankly? I had to agree it was a pretty trivial use of magic, and a pretty stupid thing to die for.

“
How ugly was he?”

Kerral laughed. “That's the funniest thing; he wasn't, you know,” he inclined his head toward Meran who was sitting a few yards away at the door. He watched us to see I was not molested but was not close enough to be privy to our conversation, “really ugly. Just a kinda ordinary looking Gerrian, really.”

“
Retreni?”

Kerral looked puzzled. “Does it matter?”

“
Not really, just wondered.”

“
How would you know, anyway?”

I didn't feel it would help me at this point to ask if he had changed shape at all. Unlikely, as I'm sure Kerral would have mentioned it, as in “Strangled this shape shifting bastard,” for example. I thought it best to change the subject. “So you are a noble now! Congratulations, cousin!” Not all noblemen call each other that, but it's polite whether related or not.

“
To the new knight! Welcome to the order.” It was the law that a commoner be raised to Knight status for services to the city, and taking down a rogue sorcerer who had been using our magic definitely counted as a service to the city. Bad enough that our potential enemies had spirit magic without them having access to the power of the stones. The magic that we dug from the volcano gave us powers we most definitely did not want to share. To sell a stone to anyone not of our own nobility was a crime punishable by death. Sometimes, through various means, foreign individuals would get their hands on a stone. Sometimes they caused problems, but large and powerful stones were rarely taken from the city, and then only in the hands of experienced and knowledgeable sorcerers. Getting one of them meant getting by the sorcerer. It doesn't happen often.

We drank a toast to our new cousin.

“
Of course,” Kerral said, “I still need to make money, so I'm off to war!”

“
War?”

Sheo looked disgusted. “Yes, Sumto, war. With the Alendi.”

“
Oh.” It didn't seem like enough. “I've been busy.”

“
You've been drunk. The patron Orthand is taking his clientèle to war. Tulian too. I'm going, of course,” Sheo said.

Of course. He was a client of Tulian, of the right class and unable to give money instead of service. Being of a more illustrious family I was no-one's client. Technically I should be a patron and have clients of my own, but having successfully ducked military service I had not yet stepped foot on the lifelong Course of Honors, the political career that was my birthright and toward which my father's occasional stiff messages directed me. No one could make me do military service. I was a free born man of this city, my own master, and I owned no armor. My family occasionally had some delivered and I sold it. Weapons too.

“
You should come with us,” Kerral said.

I'd known he would say it.

Sheo nodded enthusiastically. I had my cup to my face and was taking my time. They were both going to be disappointed, it was just a matter of how to say it without appearing spineless. Which I was, by the way. Have you seen what swords and axes, maces and spears do to a man? Well, neither have I, at least not that I remember well, and I have absolutely no desire to do so. I am fat and lazy and I like it, and anyone who doesn't can shove off, frankly. My family included. Uncles, cousins, the lot. But I didn't want to upset Kerral. He was my friend and had saved my life once. Sharp things, dark alley, bad people, I was drunk. “I'll see if I can get some armor.”

“
Good man!” Kerral said.

Sheo was smiling. “And see if you can get your father to give you that two hundred you owe me while you are at it.”

#

“
Not at home?” I was a little surprised. Mother never left the house. She was a good wife as these things are measured in the city and the home was her territory, supervising slaves and such, balancing the household budget and hopefully giving me three thousand of it without father knowing. “Where is she?”

The slave wasn't as deferential as I would like. He didn't actually try and stop me from entering, but I had the feeling that he wanted to. Damned impudent of him, if you want my opinion. If he were mine I'd slap him down a bit. Not that I'm a bully, you understand, but a slave has to know his place. Captured, born or self-sold, an air of deference to free men is the least they can offer for their food and board.

“
Your mother did not see fit to inform me, young Master.”

At least he knew who I was. I'd never seen him before. Father had many slaves and traded them as some men trade horses. Buy or breed, train and sell. Actually, he kept other slaves to do the actual training. It was a classic case of have money make money, and he never missed a trick, which is why his fortune continues to grow. Personally, I'd never had enough of the stuff to make more than a token stab at it, and I was never very lucky at games of chance.

“
When will she be back?”

“
I was not informed, young Master.”

I kept moving, forcing the ignorant swine to follow me while we talked. I was heading for the private areas of the house, which I of course knew well. “Anyone else home? Sisters and such?”

“
Lady Rhia is in the sewing room, I believe.”

“
Get some food in my slave.”

It was an order, and he couldn't refuse. One less mouth to feed for the day is one less mouth to feed. I'd get Rhia to have someone bring me something while I was visiting. The household was busy with slaves, whom I ignored as I made my way through the public areas and back to the sewing room where half a dozen women were doing woman things with cloth, my sister among them. She looked up and smiled as I greeted her.

“
Good morning, spinster.”

“
Hello, fat boy. And not for long, haven't you been told? I'm to be married.”

“
Commiserations,” I flopped down on a seat next to her and stretched out my legs. “Who's the unlucky fellow?”

“
Lucky. Think of my dowry!”

“
I do, with envy. Pity I don't get one.”

“
Men are supposed to make their own money, Sumto. It's Yuril Kelenthis Terian. He seems nice.”

I shrugged. I knew the family, of course. As old and powerful as our own. “I don't know if I remember him. How old is he?”

“
Forty this year. His first wife died. He wants another. Father arranged it.” She shrugged, accepting her fate. Not too horrible a fate, actually, when you consider that she would have control of her own dowry. Her husband could, in law, advise and request but not control her money. It belonged to her and her children, not to him.

“
Does all this give me a clue as to where Mother is?”

She raised an eyebrow archly. “You wanted something?”

Wrapping myself in dignity, I told her that I was merely paying my respects.

“
Instead of paying your debts?”

“
Any hope of some food?”

One of the household slaves was up and moving to the door before Rhia indicated that food should indeed be provided. I noticed that the slave was a pretty little thing with the long blond hair and the blue eyes so sought after by brothel owners and carnally minded patrons alike. I wondered if she were originally from the Gerrian tribes, and if so which one? If she could change shape, surely she would have turned into a bird and fled the city by now. Or would she? The life of a slave isn't so terrible; roof and food provided, duties usually not too arduous, especially if educated, quite a remarkable list of rights and protections under the law; a woman could bring a charge of rape against even the most powerful of patrons, for example, and be compensated. With a skill, a slave could earn and keep money of their own, sometimes enough to buy themselves free. A well educated person in dire straits sometimes sold themselves as the purchase price was theirs by law and could be invested; also a slave was no longer responsible for debts incurred while free. Only the most intractable slaves had a hard time of it, working the fields or worse, the mines. Of course, the downside to the whole thing was the simple lack of freedom to shape your own destiny, and I can quite see where, if a barbarian were captured in war and ripped from his home and society, he might take the whole thing badly.

“
If you go to the war, I'll take on your debts.”

“
What?”

She sighed, rather theatrically, I thought. “Sumto. You can't go on like this. Father will cut off your allowance soon enough, has threatened already to evict you, and will eventually disown you. You do know that don't you? He will do it. Don't think he won't.”