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."Let your hounds off, Cleedis.I'm coming."Saying that, the regulator waited just to be sure.When no more thuds resounded through his suite, he unwedged the chair and sat in it."It's open, Lord Chamberlain."A furious squall entered the room, beet red and thundering.The old soldier showed more fury and emotion than Pinch had seen in him since their first meeting."And what was the purpose of that little game?""Privacy.I was sleeping."The hard sergeant in Cleedis growled disapproval."It's midday."Pinch shrugged."What happened to you?" the nobleman demanded, noticing Pinch's battered face.The rogue refrained from a smile, though the chamberlain had given him the opening for the tale he'd planned."I had more visitors—Prince Vargo's thugs.That's another reason for the chair.""Vargo's? Will it stand to the proof?""Does the prince make gifts of his livery?""My men were outside." Cleedis's voice was full of wishful loyalty."Indeed." Though it hurt, Pinch raised an eyebrow in skepticism.To that the old man could only stomp about the room, rapping the floor with frustration.Now Pinch allowed himself a smile, unable to restrain the malicious joy of his own handiwork any longer.There was no way to confirm his story, nor would any denial be trusted.Cleedis had no choice but to doubt his own men.There was even a chance the old soldier might set his men on Vargo's.In any case, it was a weakness in the strength of his hosts and captors.Any weakness of theirs might give him an edge."Get dressed," Cleedis ordered in his gruff sergeant's voice."We're to meet your employer.""Finally." As he rose to get dressed, Pinch kept his words sparse and light, although inside he was seething with curiosity and eagerness.At last there was a real chance of getting some answers.He came back quickly, dressed and clean, and limping only slightly from his fall.Cleedis hadn't expected such haste, but Pinch brushed that away as the desire to get on with his duties, though in truth he'd been partially dressed beneath his robe.As they left the room, Cleedis dismissed the guards on the pretense they should rest their aching shoulders.Only the chamberlain's personal bodyguard was to accompany them on this trip.Hooded and cloaked more for secrecy than warmth, the small party rode from the postern gate of the palace toward the far side of Ankhapur.At first Pinch couldn't figure where they were headed, but after they'd crossed several avenues and not turned off, he knew.They were making for the grave field.The common practice to get from place to place in bowl-shaped Ankhapur was to climb or descend to the avenue desired and then make a circuit around the center.The chamberlain had done neither.In leaving he wove through the interconnecting streets, first taking this boulevard then that avenue.The route was in part to reveal any unwanted followers, but after crossing the Street of Shames the only place left to go was the grave field.No city likes its burial grounds, festering sores of evil.Too many things buried came back for such places to be safe.In a few cases, the dead came back of their own volition seeking revenge or just flesh.More often than not, the dead were disturbed by others—wizards and priests who saw the graves and crypts as raw material for their dark arts.The dead don't like to be disturbed and generally make ill company for the living.Thus, different cities adopt different strategies for dealing with the problem.Some bury their dead outside the city, others behind strong walls.In a few, cremation is the rule.Ankhapur used to dump its dead far out to sea, until the Year of the Watery Dead.In that year, Ankhapur's ancestors returned: a host of sea zombies and things less wholesome that clambered over the docks seeking revenge on the city that had cast them away.The assault lasted more than a year, new waves of terror striking every night, before the undead host was finally overcome
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