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Cardfall Casino


It was a relief to escape to his office and the paperwork waiting for him there.

Majel set the kettle to brewing, and crossed to the desk, bending slightly to tap his screen up.

His mail was—not as much as he had feared, but what was there was dense.

Extremely dense.

The bank had found no breach, and had taken no damage through its connection with the room master. However, the directors were extremely displeased with Cardfall Casino for putting the bank in harm’s way, and there would be, so said the letter from his account agent, a Director’s Special Meeting called especially to decide if the bank could afford to retain Surda ziaGorn’s business.

Majel sighed.

It was all but certain that the directors would find a way to retain his business, the directors being fond of their profits. However, that solution would surely involve new fees, or perhaps a less advantageous interest rate, for Cardfall Casino.

He filed the letter, straightened, and had taken a bare step away from the desk and toward the kettle when the comm buzzed.

“ziaGorn.”

“Councilor ziaGorn, it is Padi yos’Galan of the Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission.”

He glanced at the clock. It was not so late as he had thought. Yet—

“How may I assist you, Trader?”

“Possibly, you cannot,” she said flatly. “However, I felt that, as our liaison, you should be informed that two of our team—Trader ven’Deelin and Master pai’Fortana—have been taken up as Reavers and brought to the Port Security station. The master trader has gone to stand for them, according to Guild Law. We were told that the Warden will be arriving, as well.”

Majel shivered.

Reavers? Say rather, invaders, who had come to Colemeno a-purpose to enslave the lesser of the Talents to their own unknown purpose. The Warden had certified to the Council that the invaders had been vanquished. The Talents were safe from predation, free to lower their shields, and bury the dead—there had been a few of those, though less of their own Talents had died than had the invaders.

And, try as he might, he could not fit the trade team—any member of the trade team—into the pattern of pirates or slavers.

“Councilor ziaGorn?” Padi yos’Galan said, startling him.

“Your pardon. To be accused of being Reavers—that is unfortunate. I will go immediately to support the master trader. Thank you for apprising me of this situation.”

“Thank you for your willingness to assist,” she said gravely. “I will detain you no longer.”

The active light went out.

Majel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned toward the door.


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