"And what do you ask in return?" said the Thultyrl.

"Finely polished and fitted armor is fairly common in your city-the type of thing that every gentleman in Procampur usually has, am I right?"

The Thultyrl said nothing, but he looked suspicious.

"And the book is so very uncommon and thus more costly. And, really, it will have great historical significance in the years to come. Snatched from the villainous magelord, just before the walls fell on him. The sort of thing that bards write ballads about," Ivy reasoned. "Repaying the fine losing common Procampur armor could be seen as a partial payment on such a treasure."

"With the book being so exceptional," murmured Mumchance, not looking up from his design for a new wall for Tsurlagol.

"And gotten with a certain amount of fighting on our part," pointed out Zuzzara.

"And cunning," added Kid.

"It is a tome of magical mysteries," added Gunderal.

"Very old and truly unusual, most illustrious liege," finished Ivy, who kept her face serene. She waited. Sometimes, silence was the best bargaining tactic.

"Not another bill," sighed Beriall.

"We doubt that even the Siegebreakers would be so bold," said the Thultyrl with a significant look at the group.

"Of course not, sire," said Ivy, maintaining her poise. "We were just hoping to obtain some digging tights along with a pardon for Captain Sanval's unfortunate loan of armor to a bugbear."

Sanval's eyes widened. Ivy smiled at him and laid her finger casually against her lips for a second.

"Where the wall fell?" the Thultyrl asked.

"Yes, just the west fields would be fine," said Ivy. "We are seeking to recover lost gear, that sort of thing. But you know how it is after the end of the siege. Confusion, lawlessness, looting. We would not like to be accused of illegal looting. Just a nice short and simple legal contract, making anything that we recover legally ours. The law being so important and all."

The Thultyrl still looked suspicious, but he nodded and beckoned a scribe to him. A few quick lines were scribbled on a piece of parchment. Hot wax was applied to the bottom of the document and sealed with the Thultyrl's own stamp.

Ivy glanced at the oblivious Osteroric, another mercenary but one who had landed on the losing side. Sanval was also staring at the bugbear. That Procampur sensibility probably was pricking him, telling him that he had some type of debt of honor there. After all, the creature had let him escape often enough. Sanval glanced at her. She calculated the costs of feeding a bugbear and sighed. "And perhaps we could have a detail of prisoners? Like that one and any bugbear that looks like him. To help with the digging?"

"As you request," said the Thultyrl. "But the expense of their care shall be your responsibility."

"I assumed so." With luck, the stupid creature would run away as soon as they found his brother, but the friendly, eager look on his furry face did not bode well. He looked a lot like Wiggles when she got a new bone.

Beriall took the scroll from the scribe and personally handed it to Ivy. "Some day," he said to her, "I hope that you will come to Procampur and teach our young scholars about proper accounting. I think it might improve our city's wealth in ways that we never dreamed."

"I am flattered," said Ivy. "I am just a simple mercenary who knows how to make three and three add to six."

"Or even seven and eight." Beriall felt the bill tucked safely in his sleeve. It was an astonishing document, most worthy of preservation.

"You have our invitation to come to Procampur some day," said the Thultyrl, signaling forward the next group of petitioners. "Perhaps when you are done with your digging." And, for the first and last time in front of Ivy, he dropped the royal "we" and added in the eager tones of a young man who liked hunting as much as law-writing, "I would be interested in hearing more about your adventures underground."

"You are both generous and kind, sire," said Ivy. Then she gave the Thultyrl the most elaborate court bow that her bard mother had taught her, hand on heart in a sincere gesture of respect. When she straightened up, she saw that even Sanval looked impressed. She didn't know why he should stand there blinking like that. It wasn't as if she'd been raised by orcs in the wilderness; she had told him that she knew how to behave when she had to. Restraining the urge to whistle some startling and scandalous tune just to see if she could make the Procampurs' ears turn red, Ivy gracefully drew back and let the next group of petitioners claim the Thultyrl's attention.

Outside the Thultyrl's pavilion, Ivy paused. The others hurried ahead to collect their shovels, sweeping Sanval away with them as they pulled him along in a swirl of amiable bickering stronger than any iron chain. Mumchance and Zuzzara were already arguing with Gunderal and Kid about the best way to dig down to the crypt full of jewels. Ivy just hoped they didn't say the words "Moaning Diamond" or "buckets of gems" too loudly or too often. She didn't want anyone else to get the idea that there was still treasure to be found in the ruins of Tsurlagol. Of course, she did have the only royal permit, signed by the Thultyrl himself, to dig and retain anything that she might find in the fields outside Tsurlagol's western wall.

Ivy watched them go, lit by that little aura of affection that always surrounded them in her view-even silly, fluffy Wiggles happily dancing around their ankles and doing her yippy best to trip them up and send them tumbling down the hill. She reflected with relief that she had gotten away with everything that she wanted. Truly amazing, she decided, and she wondered if she should waste any more coin on a temple tribute. After all, the gods and goddesses had plenty of worshippers and priests and temples stuffed with gifts, and it seemed silly to distract them from truly needy prayers with her minor concerns.

From where she stood, the broken wall of Tsurlagol was clearly visible, as were the swirls of Procampur's army and mixed mercenaries going down the harbor road, out into the wooded hills, and back to Procampur. There would be days of running down what was left of Fottergrim's horde, messages going out to all the little kingdoms in the Vast that another orc threat had been destroyed, and even more messages to dwarf enclaves and human cities that there was once again building work to be done in Tsurlagol.

The sun glinted on the pretty little lake that had spread out from the destruction of the western wall. In less than a day, the water level had already dropped considerably. Gunderal had speculated that the river was returning to its old course, now that her spell was fading away and no longer pulling it into the underground ruins. Ivy hoped that she was right. It would be easier to find the Moaning Diamond and that treasure-filled crypt if they were not underwater.

The Pearl rustled up to her. "You did very well," she said, startling Ivy out of her contemplation of treasure hunting beneath Tsurlagol.

"We took some chances and got lucky."

"Chance is less random than you believe."

"It is odd, you know, that the Thultyrl did not start healing until today," said Ivy, trying to fill the silence, glancing at the Pearl. "There must have been some poison in that wound to keep him so weak. Or maybe it was a spell. I wonder if Fottergrim had Archlis send some curse against the Thultyrl."

The Pearl's face was without expression-a proper face for a Procampur lady-as she watched the hubbub on the plain below. "The Thultyrl was supposed to die in his twenty-sixth year, after a great duel with Fottergrim at the base of that wall. Dead so young and with so much left unaccomplished. What do I care if Gruumsh wanted to raise another warlord to unite the orcs? My Thultyrl will build a great library. His codex will serve as a model for other cities and their lawmakers."