Sorceress of Darshiva

tea, thanks." She flung herself into a chair beside the blond queen's divan.
    "Don't flop, Vella," Porenn told her. "Ladies don't flop."
    "I'm not a lady."
    "Not yet, perhaps, but I'm working on it."
    "Why are you wasting your time on me, Porenn?"
    "Nothing worthwhile is ever a waste of time."
    "Me? Worthwhile?"
    "More than you could possibly know. You're early this morning. Is something troubling you?"
    "I haven't been able to sleep. I've been having the strangest dreams lately.''
    "Don't let dreams bother you, child. Dreams are sometimes the past, sometimes the future, but mostly they're only that—dreams."
    "Please don't call me 'child,' Porenn," Vella objected. "I think if we got right down to it, I'm almost as old as you are."
    "In years, perhaps, but years aren't the only way to measure time."
    There was a discreet rap at the door.
    "Yes?" Porenn replied.
    "It's me, your Majesty," a familiar voice said.
    "Come in, Margrave Khendon," the queen said.
    Javelin had not changed since Vella had last seen him. He was still bone-thin and aristocratic and had a sardonically amused twist to his lips. He wore, as was his custom, a pearl-gray doublet and tight-fitting black hose. His skinny shanks were not shown to any particular advantage by the latter. He bowed rather extravagantly.
    "Your Majesty," he greeted the queen, "and my Lady Vella."
    "Don't be insulting, Javelin," Vella retorted. "I don't have a title, so don't 'my Lady' me."
    "Haven't you told her yet?" Javelin mildly asked the queen.
    "I'm saving it for her birthday."
    "What's this?" Vella demanded.
    "Be patient, dear," Porenn told her. "You'll find out 'about your title all in due time."
    "I don't need a Drasnian title."
    "Everybody needs a title, dear—even if it's only 'ma'am.' "
    "Has she always been like this?" Vella bluntly asked the Chief of Drasnian Intelligence.
    "She was a little more ingenuous when she still had her baby teeth," Javelin replied urbanely, "but she got to be more fun when she developed her fangs."
    "Be nice, Khendon," Porenn told him. "How was Rak Urga?"
    "Ugly—but then, most Murgo cities are."
    "And how is King Urgit?"
    "Newly married, your Majesty, and a little distracted by the novelty of it."
    Porenn made a face. "I didn't send a gift," she fretted.
    "I took the liberty of attending to that, your Majesty," Javelin said. "A rather nice silver service I picked up in Tol Honeth—at a bargain price, of course. I have this limited budget, you understand."
    She gave him a long, unfriendly look.
    "I left the bill with your chamberlain," he added with not even the faintest trace of embarrassment.
    "How are the negotiations going?"
    "Surprisingly well, my queen. The King of the Murgos seems not to have yet succumbed to the hereditary disorder of the House of Urga. He's very shrewd, actually."
    "I somehow thought he might be," Porenn replied just a bit smugly.
    "You're keeping secrets, Porenn," Javelin accused.
    "Yes. Women do that from time to time. Are the Mallorean agents in the Drojim keeping abreast of things?"
    "Oh, yes." Javelin smiled. "Sometimes we have to be a little obvious in order to make sure that they're getting the point, but they're more or less fully aware of the progress of the negotiations. We seem to be making them a bit apprehensive."
    "You made good time on your return voyage."
    Javelin shuddered slightly. "King Anheg put a ship at our disposal. Her captain is that pirate Greldik. I made the mistake of telling him I was in a hurry. The passage through the Bore was ghastly."
    There was another polite knock on the door.
    "Yes?" Porenn answered.
    A servant opened the door. "The Nadrak Yarblek is here again, your Majesty," he reported.
    "Show him in, please."
    Yarblek had a tight look on his face that Vella recognized all too well. Her owner was in many respects a transparent man. He pulled off his shabby fur cap. "Good morning, Porenn," he said without ceremony, tossing the cap into a corner. "Have you got anything to drink? I’ve been in the saddle for five days and I'm perishing of thirst."
    "Over there." Porenn pointed at a sideboard near the window.
    Yarblek grunted, crossed the room, and filled a large goblet from a crystal decanter. He took a long drink. "Javelin,’' he said then, "have you got any people in Yar Nadrak?"
    "A few," Javelin admitted cautiously.
    "You'd better have them keep an eye on Drosta. He's up to something."
    "He's always up to something."
    "That's no lie, but this might be a little more