“And I’ll forget yours.” The lout laughed loudly at his own wit.

The line crawled ahead, but Mithredath was too furious to become bored. The revenges he invented grew more and more chilling as he got hotter and hotter. A soldier who thwarted one of the royal eunuchs-even a soldier so far from Babylon as this guard-was asking to have his corpse given to ravens and kites.

The eunuch had thought Vahauka would signal him forward as soon as he saw him, but the satrap went right on with his business. At last Mithredath stood before him. Mithredath started to prostrate himself and waited for Vahauka to stop him and offer his cheek. Vahauka did not. Feeling his stomach knot within him, the eunuch finished the prostration.

When he rose, he had his face under control. “My lord,” he said, and gestured toward the bag of potsherds Raga held, “I am pleased to report my success in the mission personally set me by Khsrish, King of Kings”-he stressed the ruler’s name and title-”may Ahura Mazda make long his reign.”

Vahauka yawned. Of all the responses Mithredath might have expected, that was the last.

Having to work now to keep his voice from stumbling, the eunuch went on. “As I have succeeded, I plan to draw funds from the ganzabara Hipparkhos for my return voyage to Babylon.”

“No.” Vahauka yawned again.

“My lord, must I remind you of my closeness to the King of Kings?” Only alarm made Mithredath’s threat come out so baldly.

“No-balls, I doubt very much if you ever have been-or ever will be-close to Kurash, Kings of Kings, may Ahura Mazda smile upon him and make long his reign.”

“Ku-” The rest of the name could not get through the lump of ice that suddenly filled Mithredath’s throat.