"Sign what?" I was definitely beginning not to like him. He offered me a bland look.

"This waiver. It will grant the Margrave permission only to place Imgam's story in the national archives. My son, his heirs and assigns, will retain the rights to all proceeds, royalties, future income arising from the publication of his memoirs, allowing him rights to his own story, should he choose to publish further writing in the future." He whipped off a pageful of paragraphs and reached for another piece of parchment with an air of efficiency that gave me the uncomfortable feeling I was back with the minister who had made my life so miserable in the court of Possiltum with his regulations and rules.

I peered at the Klahd's face. "You aren't related to JR Grimble, are you?"

"Grimbles? They're uneducated trash," the Klahd said, sneering. He went on writing. "We Skivers have been students of law since the first written word!"

That I could well believe. I leaned forward.

"Look, we're not here to cheat your boy out of his future rights. All we want is to hear what he has to say. He can tell it again to anyone he wants, from now on until the end of time, for all we care. Come on, we don't have all day."

Feothor didn't even look up. The pencil point flew. "Just another few paragraphs."

"Dad!" Imgam protested. "When do I get to talk?"

"Almost finished," the Klahd said.

I was beginning to lose my temper. "This isn't the formula for cold fusion we're talking about here," I snarled. "The boy and I are just going to have a conversation. You can listen to the whole interview. I'm not trying to get him to betray state secrets."

"See here, Lord Wordsmith," Skiver said, pointing the pencil at me. I barely restrained myself from leaning forward and biting it off at the elbow. "I'm just trying to protect my child. You would do the same thing to safeguard your own offspring from having someone cheat him, wouldn't you?"

"Not to the extent of preventing him doing what he wants to do," I said. "All we want is enough for a simple article. Nothing fancy. In fact, it'll be shorter than what you've turned out already. Do you want me to go back to the Margrave and tell him you wouldn't let Imgam here give us the details he asked for?"

I glanced out of the window. On the lawn, the crowd was growing, as more ambitious parents turned up with their offspring. With my keen hearing, I could eavesdrop on their conversation, which amounted to a question as to why the entire athletics program of the local school wasn't going into the archives, winners AND losers, as befit their precious children's activities. And so on. I was beginning to regret my choice of approach. We might have to make a run for it, and soon.

"One more moment, my lord, one more moment. Hmmm, hm hm, hmmm."

Calypsa gave me a worried look. I signed to her not to worry. I didn't mind signing his waiver. It would have all the legal standing of anything else that was signed with a phony name by an extradimensional being wearing a disguise spell. I invited him to catch me later for breach of contract if he could. I fingered the D-hopper in my pocket.

"Look," I said, rising from my seat. "We came as we were instructed to do. We can't get you to tell us what you don't want to. We'll just have to go back to the castle and tell them we failed."

"Not completely," Tananda said, with a sweet smile, appearing at my side. She tipped me a small wink. "We won't have our story, but we will have an interesting tale to tell the Margrave. He will be most interested to hear about your lack of cooperation. We should go, Master Wordsmith."

"But how can you go until you hear my story?" the boy said, springing to his feet indignantly.

"How can you leave until you sign the contract?" Feothor asked.

"How can we go without the Cup?" Calypsa demanded, gawking at me.

The others all gawked at me, too. The Walt language isn't very much like Klahd, but they have some sounds in common, Unfortunately, 'cup' was one of them.

"Cup? What cup?" Feothor asked.

"Nothing," I said, grabbing the Walt by the arm and hauling her toward the door. Tananda was right behind me. "Miss Ermintrude just wants a cup of tea. That's all. We can't wait around for it. We'll have to get refreshments back at the Margravery. Thanks for your time. Too bad it didn't work out."

Imgam was much smarter than the average Klahd.

"Cup?" he exclaimed. He jumped up and ran out of the room. "It's gone! My trophy is gone!" He pointed a finger at Tananda. "She stole it!"

"Nonsense, kid," I said, yanking open the door. "You must have left it somewhere. Nice to meet you folks. Goodbye."

I attempted to step outside.

Unfortunately, when I opened the door, a do2en people fell in on top of me. The neighbors, who had been gathering in force, started protesting even before they managed to get back to their feet.

"My son is the best archer in town!"

"My daughter collects spiders! All kinds! You should write about her!"

"I need to talk to you about my twins." A crude hand drawing of two moppets with golden pigtails was shoved in my face. "Aren't they gorgeous?"

"Stop them!" Skiver yelled. "They're thieves!"

Looks of shock, disbelief, and outrage—in that order— came over the faces of the townsfolk. I started tossing Klahds over my shoulder in an attempt to get outside, to a place where I could employ the D-hopper, but there were just too many of them. A dozen or so stood or lay on each of my limbs to hold me down.

"Pay close attention, thief," a red-haired townsman said, glaring down at me as an equally roseate-polled younger male

went to work with a long strand of rope around my hands and feet. "My son won awards for knot tying."

I groaned and let my head fall back. I knew I should have stuck to my guns and kept out of this scavenger hunt.

THE MARGRAVE WAS typical of embedded public officials, in my experience. He wore an air of menace that went poorly with his unimpressive physique. Fiftyish, plump, black hair slicked back over an egg-shaped skull, he was shorter than an average Klahd. I could look him square in the eye as he went up and down the line, glaring at the three of us.

"This is an outrage," I said, jangling the manacles on my wrists so the rusty yard of chain rang..

I was keeping up an air of official grief to throw him off balance. The gyves were attached to irons around my ankles by links of sturdy chain with links as thick as my thumb. My leg irons were connected to Tanda's on my left and Calypsa's on my right. We had been hauled up by rings around our necks so I was perching on tiptoes. The whole contraption was fastened high on the stone wall behind us with a staple that could have held the entire text of the Tax Code. I was grateful that Tananda's disguise spell had held, or we'd probably have wound up tied neck to heels, if not worse. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, especially after we had been kicked and beaten by the crowd and dragged along the cobblestoned streets the entire four miles to the castle behind a pair of yoked pigs. My clothes were smeared with droppings, along with everything else that Merngeans threw out into the streets and hadn't washed away since the last rain. I could hardly stand my own smell. To add to the ambience, rats and bugs, most of them sizeable, were starting to crawl out of the walls, attracted by the scent of strangers.

"Release us. You have no idea whom you're dealing with." I use 'whom' when I'm really torqued.

"You are charged," he boomed, in an impressive-sounding voice, "of impersonating officials of the crown, theft, wasting time by deception, fraud, corruption of the young..."

"Of what?" I burst out, not believing my handsome, bat-wing ears.