"I'm sure you didn't," I said, sympathetically.

"It was just so hurtful, all the things he said. He accused me of sitting around all day eating Cake! Now, look at me," she said, displaying her svelte figure with indignant pride. "Do I look like I do nothing but eat Cake?"

"Cake?" I asked. "What kind of cake?"

"Not cake, Cake."

Even I could hear the capital C in Cake. I guessed it was a local delicacy. "And then what?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, and then he condemned me to death," Hermalaya added.

"He did WHAT?" I jumped out of my seat.

Hermalaya waved a hand. "Oh, yes, and he said he didn't have a choice about that, either? For the good of the kingdom I had to go into exile? If I could just return freely anytime I felt like it, then anything he tried to do to bring Foxe-Swampburg back into prosperity could just be undone. So I and anyone who was caught with me back in my very own homeland was subject to a death sentence. He sent all of my pages and my ladies-in-waiting home to their mamas. He didn't give me more than an hour to get my bags packed? Then he had a whole troop of guards escort me over the border? They weren't any help at all. I've never seen such discourtesy. I had to hike all the way to the next town before I could get a ride to the archduke who lives next door. He's a nice fellow. He had his royal wizard transport me here. He said you folks were the best there was at solving problems. So, here I am, all alone in this world."

I pounded my fist into my palm. "Well, we're going to help you."

Hermalaya fluttered her long eyelashes at me. "I'd be so grateful?"

"Seems to me we have three problems," Nunzio said, ticking them off on his fingers. "One: you've got a usurper who took over and has at least some popular support because royalty's generally carried forward by inertia. It has to take something drastic before the people want to throw them out, so some of 'em aren't gonna want her back. Second: you've got the money angle. Foxe-Swampburg is in the hole. Putting Princess Hermalaya back isn't gonna solve that. You're just changing a finance guy for a figure-head, one who by her own admission has no talent for fund-raising. The prime minister is going to be in a better position to pay our fee than she is. The kingdom might need him more than they need her." "True," I groaned. "Third?"

"Third is lack of interest from anyone to step in and help. Foxe-Swampburg's just a backwater. To be honest, Boss, deposed royalty is a dime a silver coin. We've had plenty of tin-pot kings come knocking on the door looking for help. What she needs are powerful allies to lean on Matfany to bring her back. I think the kingdom's creditors would be the best prospects, but I wouldn't sneeze at influential monarchs who have an army at hand, but what's their motivation? You can't get people to listen without a more interesting story of some kind. Something that sets them apart from all the other hereditary officeholders whose constituency tossed them out. You need an angle that sets her apart."

An angle. I eyed Hermalaya. She was all graceful curves and big sad eyes. Nunzio was right. I'd had my share of former monarchs, oligarchs, and despots come to my new office who wanted me to put them back where they belonged. I had been grateful to say that that wasn't what I did. I did not send them to M.Y.T.H., Inc. By the same token, I would probably have sent Hermalaya away if Bunny had not assigned her to me.

"Tell me about the Cake you're supposed to have been eating," I asked, desperate to change tack. "How is that different from the fluffy stuff with frosting?"

"You're a Klahd," she said, but it wasn't with the usual scorn. "You don't know anything about the Way of Cake.

It's a holy ceremony in Reynardo, with many centuries of history behind it. I have been a practitioner since I was a little kit. My mommy had me initiated. Why, I've been serving Cake since I could only handle Cupcakes. The Way has made my life so much better than it would have been. I find peace and fulfillment in the ceremony."

"Really?" I asked. I had the beginning of an idea. If I knew something about the culture, I could formulate a way to help her. "May I... experience the Way of Cake?

"If you have any reason to think it will help me to regain my throne," Hermalaya said. She sounded doubtful.

"What do you need, your highness?" Nunzio asked, "We can get almost anything right here in the Bazaar."

"Why, thank you," she said, favoring him with a delightful smile that made me wish I had been the recipient instead. "I'll make you a list. Has anyone got a little old piece of parchment?"

"Swamp Foxes pride ourselves on existing with just any kind of resources we can turn up, sir," Matfany said. He was a decent-looking specimen. He had the long nose of every Swamp Fox I'd ever run into, which, counting him, was two. His black coat was wavy, except for the pelt on his chest and the tuft between his tall, triangular ears, which were tightly curled, and he had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his long nose. He had the sardonic look of a standup comedian, but the eyes were sincere and very serious. That kind of expression always made me nervous. It usually meant a fanatic of some kind.

"We do with what we've got, or we do without. That is the way of the Swamp Fox, from time immemorial. But we haven't got, sir. That's our problem. I am having to recreate a government out of a sea of neglect, is what I am doing. To put a sadly blunt comment upon it, out of my usually polite way of putting things, you understand? But we are broke as a shattered vase, sir."

I stood up from my chair. "Too bad. We don't take

charity cases very often, pal, and we're full up on our quota for the month." Matfany stood up, a bemused look on his face.

"Sir, I don't understand."

"I have to explain 'no' to you?"

"Aahz!" Tananda fired off a warning shot. "What did we just finish discussing?"

I knew. I sat back and signaled for him to do the same. I had agreed to take the next case to come through the door and make more money than Skeeve could, no matter what it was. I sighed and poured myself a half bucket of single malt, drained it, and refilled it.

"All right, tell me all about it."

The sincere eyes fixed on mine, and he hooked a thumb beneath the suspender holding up his trousers, took a deep breath, and began.

"Well, sir, you may have visited Foxe-Swampburg in the past. The thing is that it looks like a pretty nice place, and it is, only I have to tell you that underneath what is a very handsome and appealing exterior are problems that would just curl your hair, sir, if you had hair, that was. No offense intended to people with scales. It's just an expression. Now, I have had the enormous responsibility ..."

"Of course I could do better than the kid!" I had reasoned, once Tanda and I were alone in my private office. "I just didn't want him to feel bad."

"Not bad after you just tore strips out of him for walking out on us?" Tananda had countered.

"And how did you feel when he walked out?" I asked.

"Pretty awful. But I made up with him. You haven't."

I had to admit she was right. The one time he came to find me, I'd been pretty glad to see him, but he had a ridiculous job on tap for which he wanted my help. I turned him down flat because he should have turned it down. And the fact was he came out of it without a bent copper coin. Oh, maybe they gave him the D-hopper, which was currently in my right-hand pants pocket, but so what? A Klahd was only asking for trouble getting involved with ten Pervect females.6 But Skeeve never listened to what I said. And he never came back to find me again. Hell with it.