The Seeress of Kell

speculatively at Queen Porenn. "Unless they've picked up something lately I haven't heard about yet," he added.
    "Would I keep secrets from you, Yarblek?" she asked with mock innocence.
    "Probably, yes. If you've got something, Porenn, share it with me. I don't want to make the trip for nothing, and Yar Nadrak's a miserable place in the winter."
    "Nothing yet," she replied seriously.
    Yarblek grunted. "I didn't think so. Drasnians look too much like Drasnians to be able to move around in Yar Nadrak without attracting attention." He glanced at Vella. "Well?" he asked.
    "Why not?" she agreed. "Don't take this personally, Porenn, but this project of yours—trying to turn me into a lady-is starting to distract me just a little. Would you believe mat yesterday I left my room with only one of my daggers? I think I need some fresh air and stale beer to clear my head.''
    Kheva's mother sighed. "Try not to forget everything I’ve taught you, Vella."
    "I have a very good memory, and I can tell the difference between Boktor and Yar Nadrak. Boktor smells better, for one thing."
    "How long will you be gone?" Porenn asked the rangy Yarblek.
    "A month or two, I'd imagine. I think we'll want to go to Yar Nadrak by a roundabout route. I don't want to announce to Drosta that I'm coming."
    "All right then," the queen agreed. Then she thought of something. "One last thing, Yarblek."
    "Yes?"
    "I'm very fond of Vella. Don't make the mistake of selling her while you're in Gar og Nadrak. I'd be very put out if you did that."
    "Who'd buy her?" Yarblek responded. Then he grinned and skipped out of the way as Vella automatically went for one of her daggers.
    Eternal Salmissra looked with some distaste at her current Chief Eunuch, Adiss. In addition to being incompetent, Adiss was slovenly. His iridescent robe was food-spotted, and his scalp and face were sparsely stubbled. He had never, she concluded, been more than an opportunist, and now that he had ascended to the position of Chief Eunuch and felt more or less secure there, he had given himself over to the grossest sorts of debauchery. He consumed staggering quantities of some of the most pernicious drugs available in Nyissa and frequently came into her presence with the vacant-eyed shamble of a sleepwalker. He bathed infrequently, and the combination of the climate of Sthiss Tbr and the various drugs he used gave his body a rank, almost rancid, odor. Since the Serpent Queen now sampled the air with her flickering tongue, she could not only smell him but also taste him.
    He groveled on the marble floor before the Dals, delivering a report on some unimportant matter in a whining, nasal voice. Unimportant matters filled the Chief Eunuch's days. He devoted himself to petty things, since significant things were beyond his capabilities. With the mindless concentration of a man with severely limited talents, he expanded the trivial out of all proportion and reported it as if it were of earthshaking importance. Most of the time, Salmissra suspected, he was blithely ignorant of the things that should really be receiving his full attention.
    "That will be all, Adiss," she told him in her sibilant whisper, her coils moving restlessly on her divanlike throne.
    "But, my Queen," he protested, the half-dozen or so drugs he had taken since breakfast making him brave, "this matter is of utmost urgency.''
    "To you, perhaps. I am indifferent to it. Hire an assassin to cut off the Satrap's head and have done with it."
    Adiss stared at her in consternation. "B-but, Eternal Salmissra," he squeaked in horror, "the Satrap is of vital importance to the security of the nation.''
    "The Satrap is a petty time-server who bribes you to keep himself in office. He serves no particular purpose. Remove him and bring me his head as proof of your absolute devotion and obedience."
    "H-his head?"
    "That's the part that has eyes in it, Adiss," she hissed sarcastically. "Don't make a mistake and bring me a foot instead. Now leave."
    He stumbled backward toward the door, genuflecting every step or two.
    "Oh, Adiss," she added, "don't ever enter the throne room again unless you've bathed."
    He gaped at her in stupid incomprehension.
    "You stink, Adiss. Your stench turns my stomach. Now get out of here."
    He fled.
    "Oh, my Sadi," she sighed half to herself, "where are you? Why have you deserted me?"
    Urgit, High King of Cthol Murgos, was wearing a blue doublet and hose, and he sat up straight on his garish throne in the Drojim