Lar, of course, was wearing his red velvet coat and fancy hat; he was fine.

Several of the torches on the street corners were beginning to gutter and die; the shops were almost all dark, while many of the rooms upstairs showed lights. The lesser moon shone brightly pink among the stars overhead; the greater moon was not visible.

"Will you be able to find the right shop tomorrow, if Hagai follows me?" Emmis asked as the pair turned the corner onto Arena Street.

"I think so," Lar replied. "Left from Arena onto Wizard Street, then it's on the right. Kolar the Sage."

Emmis nodded. "This hum Vond heard – it has something to do with his magic? Or with his empire?"

"Don't ask," Lar said.

Emmis frowned. "If it's such a secret, why did you bring me along?"

"In case I needed advice. I'm a stranger here, remember?"

"Do you really have a grandson named Kelder?"

"Not that I know of, named Kelder or anything else."

"You just wanted to know whether there was some reason warlocks don't go to Vond?"

"Yes."

"You're lucky that warlocks can't tell lies from truth the way witches can."

"Yes, I am."

"So do you think that's all it is? That the Small Kingdoms killed their warlocks on the Night of Madness?"

Lar turned up an empty palm. "It might be. I don't really remember any such killings in Semma, but I did hear about some in Ksinallion, and maybe elsewhere."

"Semma never had any warlocks? No one was affected?"

"A few people disappeared on the Night of Madness, just as they did everywhere," Lar said. "But I never heard of any warlocks after that, until Vond came." He glanced at Emmis. "Do you remember the Night of Madness?"

Emmis snorted. "I was still in my mother's womb. No, I don't remember it."

"Ah, you're younger than I thought."

"So you're here to find out about this hum, and why warlocks haven't been fleeing into your empire to escape the Calling – why did that need an ambassador, instead of a trader?"

"Because I'm also here to make an alliance with the overlords, if I can," Lar said. "That's not just for show."

Emmis nodded.

"Is Ethsharitic really the empire's official language?" he asked. If it was, he thought, it was odd how many holes there were in Lar's vocabulary.

"Well, officially, yes. It was Vond's native tongue, and he didn't want to bother learning any others, and after all, we had seventeen or eighteen languages to deal with. In practice, Semmat and Ksinallionese and Trader's Tongue are probably used more."

"I see." That did explain the matter. "That should make it easier to deal with the overlord, I suppose."

"I suppose," Lar said.

They walked on without further conversation. Emmis glanced up at the lesser moon as it sank behind the rooftops, then lowered his gaze and hunched his shoulders against the north wind.

Emmis slept late, and barely had time to make a trip to Cut Street Market to stock the pantry before he had to head for the plaza to find the palace guard he had spoken to.

He wasn't entirely sure that Cut Street was the closest market square; he did not know his way around Allston yet. He did, however, know where it was, and what he could expect to find there. That was enough to send him hurrying across the New City, his purse at the ready.

He got several sacks of provender back to the kitchen on Through Street, but had no time to do more than set them on the shelves before hurrying to the Palace. He had eaten a few tidbits at the market, but not had a proper breakfast, so he was hungry, but he tried not to think about that as he trotted down Arena Street.

The outer guards let him pass, and the guard at the door waved. "There you are!" he said, as he began fumbling under his breastplate.

"Here I am," Emmis agreed, as he came to a halt.

"Here," the guard said, handing him a folded parchment.

Emmis accepted it, and looked it over.

It was large and stiff, folded and sealed with red wax. Ornately-drawn runes on one side read, "To his Excellency the Ambassador Plenipotentiary of the Vondish Empire."

"What is it?" Emmis asked.

"I don't know," the guard said. "I asked the captain who you needed to talk to, and he said he didn't know but would find out, and this morning he told me to expect a paper, and an hour later a messenger gave me that, said it was from Lord Ildirin, the overlord's uncle."

"The overlord has an uncle?"

Emmis regretted the words as soon as they left his lips; he remembered watching the funeral rites when the old overlord, Azrad VI, had died, five years before, and he remembered asking his mother who those old people standing around the pyre were, and being told that some of them were Azrad's brothers and sisters. She hadn't known which was which, or any of their names except Lady Imra, and Emmis hadn't been close enough to really see their faces in any case, but she had been quite sure they were the dead man's siblings.

Which meant, of course, that they would be the present overlord's aunts and uncles.

The guard did not seem troubled by Emmis's apparent ignorance, though. "Two of them, actually," he said. "Lord Clurim and Lord Ildirin. There used to be a third, Lord Karannin, but he died eight or nine years ago, before the overlord's father."

"So is this Lord Ildirin in charge of ambassadors, then?"

"As I understand it, old Lord Ildirin is in charge of whatever he wants to be in charge of that no one else is handling. I think the captain called him a minister without portfolio, whatever that means."

Emmis looked down at the parchment.

He had no idea what it said, but if it came from the overlord's own uncle then it deserved respect. He peered at the wax seal, which was stamped with the three ships at anchor that were sometimes used to represent the city, encircled by what were probably intended to be bay leaves. There were no runes, no name.

Still, it looked very official.

"Did he say anything?" Emmis asked.

"Just to give you that when you came back."

Emmis still hesitated. He was tempted to open the parchment right then and there, but it wasn't addressed to him, it was addressed to Lar. He would deliver it to the ambassador still sealed.

"Thank you," he said, and turned away.

Back at the house he looked up and down the street, but saw no sign of Hagai or the other Lumethans. He was unsure what that meant. He took a final glance around before stepping inside, then closed the door carefully behind him.

He found Lar rummaging through the kitchen, putting some of Emmis's purchases in the cabinets and setting others aside to make lunch. He glanced up as the younger man entered.

"Do I have an appointment with the overlord?" he asked, as he set a loaf of bread on a cracked cutting board and looked around for a knife.

"I don't know," Emmis said. He held out the parchment. "This is for you."

Lar turned, paused, then accepted the document. "What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know," Emmis said again. "Lord Ildirin sent it in response to your request for an audience."

"Lord Ildirin? Not Lord Azrad?"

"Lord Ildirin is the overlord's uncle. He handles certain matters for Lord Azrad."

"Ah." Lar studied the inscription and the seal, then broke it open and unfolded the parchment.

Emmis stood and watched as the ambassador read. As he had told Kolar, Lar read Ethsharitic slowly; once or twice he seemed to stop completely, and his lips moved as he worked out a difficult word.

At last he finished and looked up at Emmis.

"Well," he said.

"Well, what?"

"Did anyone tell you what this is?"

"No," Emmis said, slightly annoyed, and wanting to tell his employer to get on with it.