WE ARE AT the inn once more, though we shared a fine roast goose first with Muslak, Neht-nefret, and Azibaal. I will not have long to write before we go, and there is much to write.

The satrap wanted to see us. He is younger than I expected, with no gray in his stiff, black beard. He has the eyes of a hawk. With him were two others, older men of Parsa and Kemet. These three sat; we stood. When the servant who had come for us had named us to the satrap, he said, "I have need of a stout ship-not a trireme with hundreds of rowers to feed, but a small and handy ship with a bold captain. Are you bold, Muslak?"

"Bold enough to do your will, Great Prince," said Muslak, "whatever it may be."

"Let us hope you speak truth. You Crimson Men are brave sailors, I know. Have you been to the Tin Isles?"

"More than once," Muslak declared.

"I will not ask you to go as far as that." The satrap spoke to Azibaal. "You're one of this man's officers?"

Azibaal nodded. "I am first mate, Great Prince."

"In which case you would swear he was bold, whether he was or not. Are you a bold sailor yourself?"

"I'm not as brave as he is," Azibaal admitted.

Muslak shook his head. "Azibaal's as stout a seaman as you'll find anyplace, Great Prince. As stout as I, and more."

"Let us hope. Two of you have women. One does not." The satrap pointed to Neht-nefret. "Whose woman are you?"

She bowed her head, unable to meet his eyes. "Captain Muslak's, Great Prince."

"And you?" He pointed to Myt-ser'eu.

She stood very straight then, and her eyes were proud. "I am Latro's, Great Prince."