It's because we've failed to conquer any other folk, Hecar thought. There, in the form of an ugly, weak thing with the mind of an infant, stands the sum total of our national ambition for conquest.

The gully dwarf was not even a slave actually taken in war, Galump's people had no real home, not even much in the way of leadership or combat skills. Hecar could picture in his mind what had probably happened. Someone had likely spotted one of the tribes wandering through the hills and sent a small force to round them up with nets. Catching a gully dwarf was easier than catching a legless rabbit. They generally froze in terror at the sight of a minotaur on horseback.

It was amazing that someone had managed to teach them how to pick up trash in so careful and thorough a manner. Hecar suspected that the gully dwarf's training had included torture of some sort.

With great effort, he tore himself from the familiar area he had so often frequented and headed deeper into the city. The streets were wide and the buildings tall, something that made him feel uncomfortable after so long in the woodlands. Hecar already found himself longing for the soft earth beneath his feet and the sweet, clean air that he had not breathed since coming within a day's journey of the overcrowded capital. He was welcomed not only by the smell of the sea, which, as a veteran sailor, he appreciated, but also a rancid odor prevalent in most minotaur cities, and especially so here.

Hecar's path took him closer to the docks, where the scent of the sea was stronger. The minotaur sniffed, recalling adventures from his younger days when he had sailed off on his first major expedition aboard the Gladiator. There were times he wished he had remained with the ship after his first two years, but if he had, he would have gone down with Master Ganth's vessel during the veteran captain's special mission for the empire. No one had seen or heard of the ship again, save for a few loose articles found by another vessel. For more reasons than one, Hecar missed Master Ganth. The captain had been a good teacher and a prime exponent of minotaur honor and strength. As a member of the same clan house as his first captain, Hecar always felt proud to recall that he had served with the stalwart minotaur.

All memory of his sailing days faded abruptly as he drank in the sight before him. It was not by chance that he had journeyed near the docks. Some of the news he and his companions had picked up from minotaurs who had recently departed Nethosak concerned a new fleet being built. What those newcomers had failed to emphasize was just how great a fleet had already been completed.

There were ships and ships and ships. All of them were obviously new, the oldest little more than three years. In all his life, Hecar could not recall so many fighting vessels docked at the capital. Nethosak had always been the busiest port in either kingdom, but it was clear that most of the vessels here were moored for some grand strategy. They were being saved for what had to be a substantial sea assault.

While the effort it must have taken the empire to build so many ships in the past few years was both astonishing and admirable, the fact that so much work had gone on since his departure disturbed Hecar. There had been some build-up of forces in the first five years after the minotaurs escaped the servitude of the Dark Lady, but the incredible rate of the last three years spoke of obsession.

It's far too soon to be thinking of conquest, Hecar thought, shaking his head at the sight, far too soon. The empire will be heading for another downfall if this continues. "What mad fool has become emperor since I left? What're the priesthood and the Supreme Circle doing?"

His questions had been muttered quietly. When a voice behind him responded, it took the visiting minotaur by surprise.

"You should be careful what you ask around here, Boy."

The owner of the voice was a scarred, light brown-furred, weatherworn minotaur with only half a right arm. He carried a heavy sack in the other one and was obviously a dockworker. His snout was long and wrinkled.

"Lost the arm to a shark I killed after my ship went down, Boy," remarked the elder, noting Hecar's glance. "Ended up eating him instead of the other way around." The older minotaur chuckled, then grew serious. "Talking out loud's not good sometimes."

"Just mouthing a few harmless thoughts, Elder." Why was this other so concerned about what he had said?

"Suit yourself." The other peered at him. "Been away for a while have you? Far away?"

"Far enough."

"Come in on a ship?"

He had not, but for some reason Hecar decided to nod. "Long voyage."

"Was it? Probably you had better luck on your voyage than I had on my last, Boy… Which ship was that?"

"Gladiator," Hecar immediately replied, hoping his inquisitive companion did not know that the remains of that particular ship rotted away at the bottom of the sea. He shifted his weight, adding, "I've business to attend to. Elder. May your ancestors guide you."

"And may yours guide you, Boy."

The old minotaur seemed innocent enough, but Hecar did not relax his guard. He had the distinct notion that he had been questioned for some reason. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. He had, after all, spent several days of travel worrying about the rumors and rumblings of the minotaurs who had joined the settlement.

Yet, more than ever, Hecar was certain that something was different in the empire, something that had not yet come to fruition but which held the potential for disaster.

His quickened pace brought him to his destination sooner than he expected. The dwelling was of the modest type that a minotaur who had reached a respectable status would choose. Like most minotaur dwellings, it was little more than a cube-shaped structure, two stories tall and surrounded in front by a stone wall about three feet high. A wooden plaque bore the sign of that minotaur's clan house and his own personal marks.

Modest though it was, it was still more extravagant than the sort of dwellings lower-ranking minotaurs inhabited. Those dwellings, deeper in the core of the city and generally near the smaller arenas, were, more often than not, squat, single-room apartments of an unremarkable gray stone. They were stacked six high in some places, more than a dozen per floor, and were not as immaculate as the rest of the city. The inhabitants, usually striving to achieve better status, rarely considered those places permanent homes.

Hecar was glad that he had chosen to live in the barracks of the great clan house. In return for three years' guard service, he had been given a clean, small abode. Granted some of his bedmates had not been the friendliest of comrades, but he still considered those years better spent than if he had been forced to abide in squalor. Of course, many minotaurs had no choice.

The marks on the wall were the same ones that he recalled from when he had last visited. Hecar was pleased that the one he sought still lived here, but oddly disappointed at the same time. Surely Jopfer could have raised his status in three years. While more studious than some minotaurs, Jopfer de-Teskos, youngest son of the master of the Teskos clan, had been a favorite of one member of the Supreme Circle. In fact, when last they had talked, Jopfer had hinted that his master intended to groom him for a position as one of his senior aides.

By this time you'd think Jopfer would have risen to be one of the Eight, Hecar thought. Certainly if he knew anyone who fit the criteria for becoming one of the eight minotaurs overseeing the administration of the empire, it was old Jopfer. Yet an aide to a member of the circle would certainly not choose to reside in a place such as this. Such status demanded something larger and more impressive, nearer his master's quarters.