"That is my mother's earring!" Nazeer exclaimed, loudly. "She gave the pair to my sister on her death bed."
"Your sister will bring a war, your grandeur." The voice speaking belonged to the vizier in the small court of the Palace of Bylos. He was an old man, bald and lame --leaning upon a staff too long for him. He bent down and spoke quietly.
The emir pursed his lips and settled into thought.
"You are a sheikh no longer, your grandeur. With the death of your Uncle you are rightful lord of Bylos and the Satrap of this province Bylilia. Your enmity with the Fwaz must be forgotten."
The emir shook his head. "They dealt with me falsely in the desert."
"The business in the desert must be forgotten! The gods have taken whom they would take for that sacrilege. That was yesterday. This is today and all of your tomorrows. You are now their lord and the Fwaz are the most powerful of your vassals."
"Then I should command them to forget their claim on my sister!"
"And how would you have dealt with your Uncle if he had demanded your flocks from you, or taken more than his share of your booty from raiding?"
Emir Nazeer grunted and took a bowl of steaming black wine from a servant girl.
"You would have become outlaw," the vizier intoned.
"And my Uncle would have pursued me!"
The vizier nodded. "And in so doing, he would have squandered men and resources and caused all of the tribes in and of Bylilia to take sides in the conflict. And whose side would most have chosen?"
"Mine!" the emir said.
"It is likely," the vizier agreed. "But not because you are well-thought of, but because among all the people of Ahm Dahla, a contract is a contract and they would have seen your uncle as wrong. They would back you, but only to oppose him and to uphold the Law Which Does Not Change."
The emir drank long from the bitter black bowl in his hands, wiped his lips unceremoniously and pulled his fingers through his thick, oiled beard, before staring at Brumbar, Snow and Rojer in turn.
"You men have brought me ill tidings," he said.
"We aren't happy to do it," Snow replied.
"Women are problems," Brumbar said. "Always."
The emir spoke again, "This 'slime passage' bothers me. Is it real?"
Rojer shrugged. "Probably. I never had a back door that wasn't a real mess to get into."
Snow asked, "What's under this palace?"
The vizier narrowed his eyes, "There is a wine cellar, a dungeon and a crypt. I can take you to them myself. There is no back door into the Palace of Bylos."
Brumbar spoke up, "The prince's sister thinks otherwise. She is willing to give her mother's prized earrings to bet that there is."
"By the gods," the emir swore. "I shall deal with my sister, but I charge you to find out what you can about this slime passage and I will give you a box of black sand to seal it."
"Black sand?" asked Snow.
"An explosive," the vizier explained. We use it to tunnel into the mountains or to lower the walls of cities.
"What's in it for us?" Rojer asked, suddenly. "I mean, we helped you once, but we were thinking about leaving."
"Some of us were thinking bout staying," said Snow. "I wonder if your vizier might show me some of his magical arts."
The emir laughed. "My vizier is a diviner, strictly speaking, but I keep him around for his wisdom, not his magical arts. But if you would have him share his parlor tricks and disappearing coins, so be it." He turned to Brumbar. "And you?"
"Doing right is my only reward," the paladin said.
"Aside from a chest of gold," Rojer quickly added. "For living expenses and incidentals."
The emir reached into his silk robe and drew forth a small brass coin. "We do not have gold in Bylos, but such as I have, I will pay you. This is a coin worth a bushel of grain. I will give you a chest of bushels."
Rojer smiled. "I'm sure it spends, nicely. We accept."
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