King of The Murgos

indicated the seedy clothing he wore.
    "I've been sort of wondering what you had in mind when you picked out your wardrobe," Durnik said.
    Silk gave him a sly wink.
    They rode up out of the ford and on into the Forest of Vordue with its neatly spaced trees and groomed undergrowth. They had gone no more than a league when they came to the whitewashed building that housed the customs station. One corner of the long, shed like structure showed signs of a recent fire, and the red-tile roof was badly soot-darkened at that end. A half-dozen slovenly soldiers of the customs service were huddled in the muddy yard about a small open fire, drinking cheap wine to ward off the chill. One of them, a stubble-faced man in a patched cloak and rusty breastplate, indolently rose, stepped into the middle of the road, and held up one beefy hand. "That's as far as you go," he declared. "Take your horses over there beside the building and open your packs for inspection."
    Silk pushed forward. "Of course, sergeant," he replied in an obsequious, fawning tone. "We have nothing to hide."
    "We'll decide that," the unshaven soldier said, swaying slightly as he barred their path.
    The customs agent emerged from the station with a blanket wrapped about his shoulders. It was the same stout man whom they had encountered years before when they had passed this way during their pursuit of Zedar and the stolen Orb. On their previous meeting, however, there had been a certain smug self-satisfaction about him. Now his florid face bore the discontented expression of a man who lives with the conviction that life has somehow cheated him. "What do you have to declare?" he demanded brusquely.
    "Nothing on this trip, I'm afraid, your Excellency," Silk answered in a whining voice. "We're just poor travelers on our way to Tol Honeth."
    The paunchy agent peered at the little man. "I think we've met before, haven't we? Aren't you Radek of Boktor?"
    "The same, your Excellency. You have an extremely good memory."
    "In my business, you have to. How did you do with your Sendarian woolens that time?"
    Silk's face grew melancholy. "Not nearly as well as I'd hoped. The weather broke before I got to Tol Honeth, so the price was less than half of what it should have been."
    "I'm sorry to hear that," the agent said perfunctorily. "Would you mind opening your packs?"
    "All we have is food and spare clothing." The little Drasnian was actually sniveling.
    "It's been my experience that people sometimes forget that they're carrying things of value. Open the packs, Radek."
    "Anything you say, Excellency." Silk clambered down from his horse and began unbuckling the straps on the packs.
    "I wish I did have things of value in here," he sighed tragically, "but that unfortunate venture in the wool market started a long decline for me, I'm afraid. I'm virtually out of business."
    The agent grunted and rummaged through their packs for several minutes, shivering all the while. Finally he turned back to Silk with a sour look. "It seems that you're telling the truth, Radek. I'm sorry I doubted you." He blew on his hands trying to warm them. "Times have been hard of late. Nothing's come through here in the last six months that was even worth a decent bribe."
    "I've heard that there's been some trouble down here in Tol Vordue," Silk whined as he buckled the packs shut again. I. "Something about a secession from the rest of Tolnedra."
    "The most idiotic thing in the history of the Empire," the agent exploded. "All the brains went out of the Vordue family after the Grand Duke Kador died. They should have known that fellow was an agent for a foreign power."
    "Which fellow was that?"
    "The one who claimed that he was an eastern merchant. He wormed his way into the confidence of the Vordues and puffed them up with flattery. By the time he was done, they actually believed that they were competent enough to run their own kingdom, independent of the rest of Tolnedra. But that Varana's a sly one, let me tell you. He struck a bargain with King Korodullin, and before long all of Vordue was crawling with Mimbrate knights stealing everything in sight." He pointed at the scorched corner of his station. "You see that? A platoon or so of them came by here and sacked the building. Then they set fire to the place."
    "Tragic," Silk commiserated with him. "Did anyone ever find out just who that so-called merchant was working for?"
    "Those idiots in Tol Vordue didn't, that's for certain, but I knew who he was