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[Thrax]

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Mauric looked at the note again, trying to convince himself that he had nothing to worry about. It had come, after all, from an ordinary courier, not by the hand of one of the town officials, least of all the Gaoler, Ivan, and besides all that, it looked like any ordinary letter. His move back to Papua with his family had gone smoothly; they had been welcomed back with open arms by their friends and neighbors. They had taken the "draught" to stave off the onset of symptoms of the poisoning of the water and found their home in order, except where a few rats had soiled the table and rugs. He had been offered, and had taken, his old job back at the mage shop and Elana had earned a job at the bakery. Now this.

The note instructed him to meet with the Archon, Lord Thrax, at noon at Pier 39, the large building near the wharf that housed supplies unloaded from trading ships, both imports and exports. It was ten minutes until noon and he did not want to be late... but he was, nevertheless, quite worried.

He still could not believe that the town officials had let him off the hook so easily, especially after all the noise he had made against them. He was not convinced entirely that his wife had not been kidnapped by them; she could only remember vague details about her capture and virtually nothing about the days in between that and her release. Why would they would go to such lengths to pursue him, terrorize them, and then let it go so easily? It didn't make any sense. Maybe this was the hour of reckoning?

Pier 39 was bustling with activity as it always was this time of day. Crates and barrels were being moved in and out by sweaty dock workers who were as scantily paid as they were clad. He pushed past several of them resting, sitting on their loads, chatting and making jokes, and entered the building. A woman looked up at him, recognized him and spoke impassively, "He is waiting for you upstairs."

Each step of the stairs felt like a walk to his doom, but he finally reached the top floor and looked over to where the Archon was sitting, alone, at a long table. He had just finished lunch and was removing the knapkin from his collar. Seeing him, Thrax waved him on. "Come Mauric! Sit and let's talk," he asked, his voice filled with an unusual, but not forced, friendliness.

He complied, removing his hat before seating himself at the table. "My Lord, you wished to see me?"

Thrax placed the knapkin on his plate. He was wearing what he usually wore, a black elvish robe, though, at the moment, the hood was thrown back. But the rustle of metal as he moved meant that he did wear some kind of armor beneath it. Mauric noticed the point and slant of the ears, and could now confirm that the Archon, indeed, had elvish blood in him. Thrax leaned back in the chair and smiled. "I am glad you've come. Are you and your family well?"

Mauric nodded. "Aye, Lord, we are." He fumbled for more words. "I want to thank you for..."

Thrax cut him off with a shake of his head and an upturned palm. "There is no need. I am just glad you are all safe. We were very worried about you and your family. I should ask your forgiveness for ever thinking you had done any harm to them; it was foolish of me. I can see how devoted you are to one another. I do not know what I was thinking. Can you forgive me?"

"My Lord... I... don't know what to say. I.. well... yes, of course. I forgive you."

"Very kind of you! Thank you. Now, you can show me the extent of your graciousness by allowing me to be gracious in return. I have a business proposal that I think will suit you nicely. Care to hear it?"

Mauric nodded, not quite sure what he was doing, but was willing to go along for now.

"You may have noticed warriors patrolling our streets, especially at night. These are soldiers sent from Zento, specifically Otori Yotogi Clan. They have been keeping us safe from saurian raids. We have not had an ophidian raid in several days because the raiding parties are not returning home or else they return with losses and empty handed. Lord Tai Kwan Leap is responsible for this. We are preparing a formal alliance which will include a trade agreement. I mean to ship him our best products, especially shipments of bananas, mangoes, and frog legs for which we are famous. I need someone to take charge of the trade operations, to serve as my director of trade. I have chosen you for that task."

"I am... overwhelmed by this offer, sire. Are you sure that..."

"It will pay very well. You will make fifty times what you are making at the mage shop, and that each week instead of each month. You will have an official title and residence as well. Does any of that help you to make up your mind about it?" He smiled.

His mind raced. The offer was extremely tempting. Fifty times what he earned now was an enormous sum of money; he and his family could live like royalty for the rest of their lives. Yet he could not entirely shake the warning in the back of his mind: something is not quite right here. "My Lord, the offer is very gracious, much more than I ever deserve, but, I must ask... why have you chosen me for this?"

"You are a wise man, Mauric! That is what I like about you, and why I offer you the job. You see, trustworthy people, like yourself, are rare. Poverty breeds greed, did you know that? Most thieves are people who come from poor backgrounds and towns which are, by nature, lower on the economic ladder, so to speak. You are one of those, not so poor, but humble, people who have risen above the temptation to steal to ensure your livelihood. That is one reason you took issue with, well, me, and the present government: you saw it invested by money-grubbing aristocrats who would do anything to consolidate their power base. Is this not true?"

"I would not put it that way, sire, but..."

"But yes.. yes. And you are correct! Power does corrupt many, and that is why any ruler or government worth its salt will surround itself with trustworthy people, who can fulfill demanding tasks responsibly, so that graft and corruption will not place a stranglehold on things. I admit, as a ruler, I am tempted toward greed as much as anyone. I need people of your lofty moral ideals to keep me, and those that serve me, on the right path. That way, should I be tempted to transgress, I know you would not fear to call my hand at it, and I would give you leave to do that anytime you saw it happening."

Mauric began stroking his beard. It induced a similar reflex in Thrax, but he stopped when his fingertips felt bare skin where his goatee used to be. "Might I think on this, sire? It is very generous, but I wish to confer with Elana, and sleep on it, if I may?"

"Of course, of course! Take a few days if you wish. The trade agreement is not yet complete. I would like to have an answer by the time it takes effect, in case you do not accept, I can find someone else."

"Then, by your leave, I will think on it and give you an answer within two days. Is that acceptable?"

Thrax nodded. "Certainly... oh, and give my best regards to your wife... and especially Luana. She has proved herself quite the student!"

Mauric stood and bowed. "I will. Thank you sire. Good day to you." He turned and exited.

"He is gone," Thrax said, apparently to himself, but then a form appeared out of the shadows of a corner of the room. Skurj came and stood beside his father. "Will he accept?" he asked.

"He will. No one could refuse the offer I made him. And then we will have him."