text: Senti mused as the Heshian trireme, the *Centaur*, sped upon the waves. He was two days out from the city of Tesh, that denizen of lawlessness...no, wait, that wasn't fair. The council of traders that ran the city certainly had laws in place. They just weren't *Heshian* laws. Which galled, of course, as it had for the last century and more. Well, no more. Anatoli, King of Heshiot, had dispatched Senti to force the issue. Why His Majesty had decided now to upset the tenuous balance between Heshiot and Tesh, Senti didn't know. He did know that King Anatoli had issued an unprecedented total recall of all mercenaries, which would surely irritate Dilak, Emperor of Jihkama. Compared to the cost of raising, training, and feeding an army, paying the cost of mercenaries to do the same job was cheap. So why would King Anatoli choose *now* to antagonize both Tesh and Jihkama? Senti worried. *** Two days later, Senti stepped off the *Centaur* onto the quay wall and exchanged greetings with the council's unofficial ambassador, Marone - or at least, he tried to. "Good day, Marone. It is my hope that the sun shines on...your...um. Would you mind toning your glare down just a notch, if you please?" Marone was certainly not making any of this easy for Senti; but then, he didn't have to. Without a word, he turned and strode back to the city proper, leaving Senti and his small retinue to find their own way. Senti's teeth ground together...the man was exasperating. Half a dozen times he'd been sent here, and half a dozen times Marone's rudeness had cast a pall on the mission from the first moment. So far, he'd yet to hear a single word slip past Marone's lips. Senti steeled himself, raised his hand by his ear and flicked it sharply forward. His retinue set out towards the Three Swords, his home away from home for the next couple of months. *** Senti's trio of servants entered the Three Swords ahead of him, one holding the door open for him. His eyes darted here and there, checking the darkened corners out of long habit. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased momentarily, only to come back as he thought of his mission again. He watched idly as the innkeeper haggled with Karesh for rooms for the four. Finally, the two agreed and coins clinked as they changed hands. Karesh returned with a pair of keys and a grin. "Sair! Fortune smiles upon you this day! I have gotten your Excellency two rooms for two weeks at five silvers the night, supper included." Senti's eyes darkened as he glared at Karesh. "And what of our lodgings after that? You know as well as I that we are likely to be here long past that time." Karesh's eyes darted to the side, and he licked his lips. "Ah, that is an issue that I am hoping to solve before then. Understand, Sair, that good Bartolemew has already had his inn reserved for other parties beyond that. He does offer to speak to his wife's brother's cousin, who runs the Crook'd Cat, and see if he has space." "What!" Senti felt eyes all around glance his way, and he lowered his voice to a strident hiss. "That place is barely fit to house offal torn from sheep! I made the mistake of staying there my first time here, and my body itches yet after that stay. The only way that place could possibly be cleansed enough is by setting fire to it, *if* a flame can be found that would lower its standards enough to eat it!" Karesh leaned back, away from Senti's vehement outburst. "I see, Sair. My apologies. I will endeavor to find more...reputable lodgings. In the meantime, shall I have the others take your things upstairs?" Senti sighed and nodded, then sat and waved for a bottle of wine. The tart vintage rolled across his taste buds as he brooded over the upcoming meeting with the Council. Should he walk in like he owned the place? Or should he act as a mediator between aggrieved parties? The right tone, Senti knew, was vital. After a few moments, though, a persistent sound intruded upon his thoughts. Senti rose again, and peeked out the window. To his utter astonishment, he saw a pair of ships on fire, and a squad of men battling upon the docks! He threw open the door, his mission forgotten for the moment as he raced down to his ship. From this distance, it appeared that it was safe, but if the captain didn't cast off soon, his only mode of transportation out of the country would go up in flames. Senti's feet thudded upon the wood, warped by the sun, salt and wind, and worn smooth by thousands of feet over the years. He ducked and dodged through the edge of the melee, ignoring them except when they interrupted his path. He'd almost reached the brow of his ship when one warrior turned and, with a calculated thrust, slid his sword smoothly and effciiently through Senti's gut. As Senti dropped to his knees, his eyes wide in shock, he saw the first flames lick at the *Centaur*'s sails. Moments later, Marone knelt over his body. "Only business, my brother. Only business." Marone patted the corpse's stiffening shoulder, then rose, turned, and paced back to the council, leaving Senti's lifeless eyes open to stare at the fully engulfed *Centaur*.