"Ah!" The stranger flung up a hand. "There! You see? You know your duties!"

The little knot of other laborers had reached them; the foreigner waved them past, toward the gangplank, where the sailors welcomed them aboard and began directing them. Brass-bound trunks and leather handbags were starting to appear on the dock, lined up beside the gangplank.

"No, sir," Emmis said. "I don't know."

The foreigner sighed. "You live here, yes? In Ethshar of the Spices?"

"Yes. I was born here, over near Olive Street." He gestured in the direction of his parents' home. "And I live behind Canal Square."

"You know the city well?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Then I hire you! To know the city for me. To tell me what I need to know, and take me where I want to go."

"A guide? You want to hire me as your guide?"

The foreigner smacked himself on the forehead with the heel of one hand. "Guide! That's the word. I couldn't think it. In Semmat it's almit, in Trader's Tongue it's elfur, and I could not remember the Ethsharitic. Guide, of course. Yes."

Emmis hesitated. He did not particularly like the idea of showing this overdressed barbarian around the city's sights; he would probably want to see the Arena and the Wizards' Quarter, halfway across town, and might be upset that he couldn't meet the overlord face to face. He would perhaps want to poke around parts of the Old City that Emmis did not care to visit. And people from the Small Kingdoms were notoriously stingy, unfamiliar with the prices charged in the big city…

"I will pay a round of silver a day," the foreigner said, interrupting his thoughts. "To start."

"Ten bits," Emmis said automatically. "To start." Apparently this foreigner wasn't stingy, as a daily round of silver was generous to the point of extravagance, but that was no reason not to dicker.

Only after he had responded did Emmis realize what he had done.

"Done!" The foreigner held out a hand.

Emmis grasped it, surprised to be doing so, though the thought of all that silver stifled any regrets. "May I ask your name, sir, and what brings you to Ethshar?"

The foreigner's mouth quirked upward. He turned for a moment, and pointed out several other workers. "You, you, you, and you! Bring those bags – my guide here will tell you where. And… Emmis, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get that one," he said, pointing to a leather traveling case, "and lead the way to a reasonable lodging."

"For one night, or a longer stay?"

"One or two nights, for now."

As he picked up the leather bag Emmis considered which inn might be willing to give him the best commission without overcharging his new employer too grotesquely. He heaved it up on his shoulder – it was heavier than it looked – and began walking toward land.

The foreigner fell in beside him. "As for my name and purpose," he said, "I am called Lar Samber's son, and I am…" He cleared his throat. "…I am, by appointment of the Imperial Council and of the Regent Sterren of Semma, the ambassador plenipotentiary from the Empire of Vond to the court of Azrad VII, overlord of Ethshar of the Spices and Triumvir of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars."

Emmis almost dropped the bag. "Ambassador?" he said.

"It's the right word, isn't it?" Lar said worriedly. "I practiced saying all that so much…" He shook his head. "I have no knowledge what 'plenipotentiary' means; Sterren didn't think there was any such word in Semmat, but he said it was important. He said 'ambassador' was the Ethsharitic for espovoi, a messenger from one ruler to another."

"That's what it means," Emmis agreed. He glanced back over his unencumbered shoulder to see a line of laborers hauling Lar's other luggage, but no sign of any other retinue. He would have expected an ambassador to have an entourage of aides and underlings, especially an ambassador from an empire. Admittedly, Emmis knew that Vond was a very young empire, having only been formed two or three years ago, and not really very large, but still – one man, unaccompanied?

"Did you bring your family, sir?" he asked.

"Don't have any," Lar replied. "No staff, so you can stop looking. Just me, my belongings, and my orders – and enough of the Imperial Treasury to hire you, and to pay my expenses for some time. And you'll forgive me for saying this, but since I have only just met you I think I must – the money is well hidden and carefully warded, with the most potent protective spells the Empire's wizards could find, so don't think you might rob me."

"Oh, I wasn't! I assure you, I wasn't!" Emmis said hastily. Then he smiled. "But I would have soon, so it's just as well you warned me," he said.

Lar smiled back.

"Emmis, my new friend," he said, "I think this is the beginning of a long and wealthy… no, not that word. A long and profitable relationship!"

The Crooked Candle was not the best inn in Ethshar, nor the best inn in Shiphaven, nor even the best inn on Commission Street. It was, however, fairly close to Pier Two, and known for its generously-sized rooms. From the top floor one could even, if one leaned out the right window far enough, glimpse the sea to the north, and Shiphaven Market to the south.

"I don't expect we'll stay here long," Emmis said, as he dropped the last of the smaller bags atop the largest of the trunks. "You'll want somewhere closer to the Palace, won't you?"

"Will I?" Lar asked, apparently quite sincerely.

Emmis blinked. "Well, I thought so," he said. "I mean, aren't you here as your country's representative to the overlord's government?"

"Yes, I am," Lar agreed. "Among other things."

"The government is in the Palace, and that's at least a mile from here, through some crowded streets and on the far side of the canal. I'd think you'd want somewhere closer. I don't know if you can afford a place in the New City, but something in Spicetown or the Old Merchants' Quarter ought to do."

Lar smiled at him. "Emmis, friend," he said, "those names mean nothing to me. I don't know anything about your city. Lord Sterren tried to explain some basic facts, but we didn't talk about the names of streets. It was easier to let me come here and learn it for myself. You say it's a mile to the Palace?"

"At least. You'd go across Shiphaven Market, then down Twixt Street to Canal Square and out Upper Canal Street, then turn right on Commerce Street and go south to one of the main streets in the Old Merchants' Quarter – that's the part of the city southeast of Shiphaven…"

"What's Shiphaven?"

Emmis's mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and started over.

"This part of the city, at the west end of the waterfront, is called Shiphaven. It extends from the New Canal in the east to the city wall and the overlord's shipyards in the west. Everywhere you've gone since you got off your ship has been in Shiphaven."

Lar nodded. "Do I really need to know this?"

"I don't know," Emmis said. "I think it would be useful, certainly, but I don't know whether you need it."

"People refer to these portions of the city often?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Very well, then. I'd never before been in a city large enough for such things to matter, but I saw from the ship just how large Ethshar of the Spices is. I'll believe you when you say this is important. You were telling me how to get to the Palace from here?"

"Yes," Emmis said. "I was. You'd go through Shiphaven Market – you saw that, I think – and southeast along the full length of Twixt Street, which runs from Shiphaven Market to Canal Square."

"Is Canal Square in Shiphaven?"

Emmis hesitated, considering the question, then turned up an empty palm and said, "Yes." It really didn't seem worth explaining that Canal Square was almost where Westgate, Shiphaven, Spicetown, and the Old Merchants' Quarter met, when really, it was in Shiphaven. "It's not a square, though. It's triangular."