text: Ythac's court in Perstra was now a very large tent, on a very large and very muddy avenue. He, himself, sat on a dais which seemed to be made from boards resting on the raised stone flower planters that had once adorned the sidewalk. Llredh had had a similar dais, which was now a tumble of scattered planks and overturned planters. Which may have been the reason that Llredh was not there.
  
  "Ythac, the splendor of your throne room rivals all description," I told him.
  
  "I know, I know. The hovens of the old regime didn't get around to building proper state facilites. I tried using the Cauldron of Roses Havocs Arena. This is better," he said ruefully.
  
  "What was wrong with the stadium?"
  
  He drooped his ears. "Well, the smell, first of all. Hoven sweat, beer, and used beer. Not the atmosphere I wanted to present for my enlightened and dignified reign. And of course when I cancelled a havocs game, the hovens all rioted."
  
  "I suppose this is better. Anyhow, I'm here to see your Twelve Troubles get read. And make sure you don't kill Prof. Wulpmegarn."
  
  He breathed fire at me. "I am not going to kill anyone!" He wasn't very upset though, or he'd have breathed darkness.
  
  "Hey! I presume that hurt! Also you'd better be careful, or you'll burn your replacement temporary court down."
  
  He drooped. "I suppose I had better get some hovens on to building the permanent one. Out of stone and metal."
  
  "Shall I get you your helpful and nicely-warded professor now?"
  
  Ythac blinked at me. "He rode in on you? What are you anymore, a bodyguard and a taxi service for hovens?"
  
  "I carried him in a brass car that used to be part of the Wheel of Iron in a Dorday amusement park, I'll have you know. A spare one, to be sure, but I certainly hadn't paid for it." Which I had, as an easy way to not crush him.