Sam Carter moaned silently. He tried for the hundredth time since the journey began to shift his legs into a position where the insides would not be rubbed raw by the rough hair of his horse-like mount. He resolved for the dozenth time that one of the "inventions" he would import from the southern provinces would be a good, comfortable saddle. Another would be silk; the rough fabrics worn by Kahl's subjects were a fair substitute for the mount's hide. "Ho, southerner!" Prince Kahl wheeled his mount back from the head of the column and waited until Sam had caught up, then he fell in beside him. "How goes it? Does my second favorite mount suit you well?" "Very well indeed, graciousness," said Sam. "I cannot in honesty recall when I've had a more--_ouch!_--instructive ride!" "Good!" Kahl leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be glad to know we've but three more hours to go before reaching the summer palaces." "Only, uh, three more hours?" The sinking sensation in Sam's stomach had nothing at all to do with the undulating motion of his beast. "Ah, that is good news, your graciousness. We'll be there almost before we know it." Sam wished Kahl would go away and leave him to his misery, but the prince seemed disposed to talk. "I think there will be many surprised faces in my father's court tonight. Eh, southerner?" He chuckled, and then burst into raucous laughter as he considered the idea further. "And to think, it will all be perfectly legal! You have the papers safe, my friend?" "Yes, your graciousness," said Sam, sighing and patting his saddlebags. "Good! Don't lose them--I'd hate to see you missing your head!" He laughed again, while Sam's stomach turned several more flipflops. "The sight of blood always did make me sick." There were sixteen men in the mounted party, including a dozen of Kahl's private guard, the captain of the troop and the High Priest of the Sun God, the nation's officially sponsored religion. The High Priest was a little old man, bent over more from age than from the discomforts of the journey. Originally Sam had planned for one more member, but that had become unnecessary when he learned that the High Priest was also President of the Royal College of Chirurgeons. The latter role was even more important to his plans than the former. Now all that worried Sam was the possibility that the priest might not live to the end of the journey. He was inflicted with a hacking cough that sent chills racing up and down Sam's spine every time he went into a fit. Kahl grew weary of bantering small talk with a man really fit to come up with witty replies. He wheeled his horse again and dropped back to the end of the column for a moment, saying something to the High Priest, then he spurred his mount back to the head of the line, falling into his original position beside the Captain of the Guard. The two men were soon lost in reminiscences that had bored Sam to tears, every time he had been an unwilling audience.