On the easternmost edge of the old land of Gadolais, far from populous Parth Pol and the gardens of silken Laissa, lies the city of Mavruche. Though as ancient as any of the cities of Gadolais, as celebrated in the interminable histories that gather dust in the empty towers of Jangalore of the Scholars, it is yet a place little spoken of, almost shunned. Its people are melancholy and somewhat severe of countenance; its musics elegant but doleful; its ceremonies grave and restrained. Even the dim sunlight in its narrow streets seems to have an autumnal air, and its tall houses of glossy black brick turn shuttered faces to the world, and raise high walls about their gardens.

Beyond Mavruche there lie no lands of men, only the great desert called the Amber Waste, whose sands fill the streets of the city when the wind blows from the east. With each spring the sands of that dessicated wilderness come a little nearer the walls of Mavruche, and one day it will swallow that city, as it has swallowed other dwelling places - of men, and things that are not men.

To Mavruche, one fine spring, came Yrel the Wanderer, moved by youthful curiosity, and the malicious and wholly incomprehensible desire of various parties in Laissa, with whom he had but lately enjoyed a most fruitful business relationship, to visit indignities upon his person. He was a tall young man, agreeable of countenance, with large hazel eyes and a habitually quizzical expression; his hair, which was long, he wore in a topknot pierced with a carved oastbone pin, after the fashion of the young coxcombs of Western Gadolais.

On entering the Orchard Gate of Mavruche, named for plantations which now lay beneath the encroaching sand, he accosted a passer-by for directions to a decent hostelry. The man, cloaked and veiled like all the Mavruchoix, surveyed him coolly.

"There is the Seray of the Pale Illumination, across the Plascenty Square, should you have a taste for religious debate and hard beds; or there is the Workman's Hostel in the Arcade of Troubadors, where the beds also are hard, and the company rough, but there is ale to be had."

"Neither of these choices appears appealing," returned Yrel. "Is there no inn suited to a gentleman of quality, with wine and rare essences to complement a refined cuisine, and comfortable accomodation?"

"Perhaps you should apply to Vade the Essence Merchant, if that is your need," replied the stranger sardonically. "Certainly so refined a young gentleman as yourself would find a warm welcome in his home."

"And where might I find this man of culture and hospitality ?" enquired Yrel.

"Why in the Street of the Perfumers, on the far side of Scandelume Plaza there. You may say if you wish that Cauvranche Miir sent you: we have had amicable dealings in the past, and I dare say that a recommendation from me will do you no harm with him." He nodded and passed on his way, leaving Yrel to reflect that his evident worth must have thawed the man's initially somewhat supercilious manner.

"And as well for him," muttered the Wanderer, "or I should certainly have mended his manners for him with a bodkin." And in a high good humour, he proceeded in the direction that the stranger had indicated, and found himself directly outside the establishment of Vade, a handsome building with an air of discreet prosperity. The door was firmly closed, but this posed no problem to the talents of the Wanderer.

On entering, he found himself in a dimly lit room, hung with rich silken brocades, figured with curious, and on closer inspection, rather disturbing images. A lamp suspended from a chain suffused the atmosphere with a golden glow and a rich scent, sweet but not cloying.

Having surveyed his surroundings with some care, Yrel rapped loudly upon the wooden counter at one end of the room.

"Ho there," he cried cheerily. "Are the servitors of Vade so neglectful in their duties ?"

A grey-haired man appeared abruptly from behind a hanging. He seemed surprised and not a little annoyed at the appearance of Yrel and glanced at the door crossly; but when he spoke, his voice was mild.

"Your pardon," he said. "For a fact, I was somewhat abstracted in the blending of a delicate distillation of fengari essence with oil of sweet pepper, and failed to hear your entrance. I am Vade: may I be of aid to you ?"

"In fact," replied Yrel offhandedly, "it may be that I can be of assistance to you. Cauvranche Miir mentioned to me that you have become somewhat reclusive of late; your friends grow concerned that you are too much with yourself, and should spend more time in refined company. Although my business is pressing, I at once determined to relieve the situation by passing a few days enjoying that hospitality for which you were once famous."

A curious gleam came into Vade's eyes.

"Cauvranche Miir, you say. Indeed, how generous. It is true I have been somewhat neglectful of my duty to society of late, for the needs of my business press upon me. Yes, indeed; it is an excellent plan. Allow me only a few moments to close up this shop, and I will at once accompany you to my home, where I have some rare essences on which I would value the opinion of so distinguished a traveller."

This suited Yrel well, and he waited in high good humour while the other made his preparations, noting against future necessity the location of Vade's strongbox and the fact that it was locked with a small silver key that the older man kept on a chain about his neck. Vade drew on the grey veil of Mavruche, and threw a hooded cloak about him.

"Come then," he said, and they went out into the street. Vade led Yrel through the winding and dusty lanes of the old city, until they came to a door in a high wall, much like a thousand others that they had passed. He laid his hand upon the lock, and murmured a few words to it in a tone too low for Yrel to catch, and at once the door opened a little.

"Ho: you are a magician then," commented the Wanderer.

"In no wise. But the lock employs an imp of the demon realm Genkath, bound by the spell known as Spardeloft's Iconic Compulsion; it is a heritage of this house and dates from the great Era of the Magicians. None now has the skill to fashion such a thing, I fancy. Magic is fading, as Science faded before it; now there is only ingenuity or brute defiance to sustain us until the sun goes out."

"That is a harsh philosophy," commented Yrel, "and takes no acount of style and personal elan, which you have perhaps understandably omitted, but which in the person of a man such as myself may prove more sustaining than either."

"The concept is noted," replied Vade equably. "Come, enter." They stepped through the door into a walled garden of great beauty. Small trees with artfully contorted limbs grew among lush green grass and formed many pleasant bowers, and among them great drifts of pale lilies and blue-green telanxis that glowed in the dim light and scented all the air. Water splashed in fountains and dripped and sang in artfully contrived rills that ran beside the paths of pale stone. One side of the walled garden was the wall of a handsome manse with wide windows behind elegantly carved shutters, now open to afford a view upon this charming scene.

Vade clapped his hands, and straightaway from out of the house came two servants, a youth seemingly a little younger than Yrel, and a young woman. The young man had fine features, with pale skin and dark hair and eyes; the girl was also beautiful and striking, for her hair, which was long and bound with a fillet of silvery metal, was white, and shot through with iridescence like mother of pearl, but her eyes were as dark as the boy's. Both wore a simple grey overrobe, ankle-length at front and back, but open at the sides: from the glimpses of pale flesh thus afforded they appeared to be naked beneath, a conceit that Yrel found charming and not a little stimulating.

"The boy is Azirian, the girl, Tselais. They will attend to all your needs while you are a guest of this house," said Vade. "No doubt you will wish to refresh yourself and wash away the dust of travel. We will dine together at the hour of the Mouse." He bowed to Yrel, who responded with an extravagant courtesy; when he rose from his sweeping inclination Vade had gone.

"Hah," said Yrel, somewhat piqued. "I see that the niceties of the West are somewhat skimped on this dismal frontier. No matter; if his manner is a little abrupt, still Vade's hospitality is generous. Boy, you may show me to my rooms. Tselais, you may walk beside me."

The silent servitors accompanied Yrel to a room large and well-appointed, if somewhat sombre for that young man's taste. A bathroom adjoined it.

"Shall I prepare your bath ?" asked Tselais. Her voice was low in timbre and pleasantly husky.

"No: Azirian shall do so," decided Yrel. "You, my dear, may assist me to disrobe."

The girl bit her lip, and her expression showed that she did not much care for the idea.

"Come now," said Yrel. "Did Vade not direct you to attend to my whims ? Be warned: I am a kind man, but I brook no annoyances."

She lowered her eyes, and stepping forward began, with a clumsiness that was quite endearing, to unfasten Yrel's doublet and then his shirt; finally, with appropriate directions, she unlaced his hose and eased them down, kneeling before him to slip off his boots and pull the silken fabric from his feet. She reached up for his undergarment, but he caught both her hands in one of his and pulled her to her feet. His other hand slipped in under her robe to touch her smooth skin. Her breasts were small and hard as apples, her nipples large in proportion and rapidly stiffening under his clever fingers.

"Sir, your bath is ready," came the soft voice of the boy Azirian behind him. Yrel turned and motioned the boy forward. "And what of you ?" he murmured, slipping a hand into the youth's robe in turn, running it down the firm young muscles of the abdomen to cup the softness between the thighs and feel the member stir gently. As he ran a teasing finger upward again he felt a metallic hardness.

"Remove your robe," he told the boy sharply. Expressionless, the youth removed the heavy cloth and stood naked, slim and bright as a new sword. In his navel a small disk of silver had been fixed.

"And what is this ?" enquired Yrel.

"The badge of our servitude," replied Tselais. "All the servitors of Vade are so marked."

"You too ? Remove your robe also, that I may inspect you." The girl complied. Sure enough, the same disk of silver, matte and figured with a slightly raised circle, had been affixed in her umbilical cavity.

"It would be a pretty conceit, but a man of more style would have chosen a more fitting design," said Yrel. "Also, the unwise servant might consider it a thing of value to sell, in the event that he or she should leave their master's service abruptly."

"They can never be removed," said Tselais sadly. "Nor do we dream of escape."

Yrel allowed them to conduct him to his bath, where he commanded the boy to wash him while he performed certain intimacies on the girl. Cleansed, and annointed with several of the rare oils that the essence merchant's trade afforded, he clambered from the warm water and allowed Tselais to dry him while he fondled the youth Azirian in turn, but the young man remained calm and unresponsive, piqueing Yrel's vast amour propre.

"What; do you defy me with dumb insolence ?" he cried. "There is a remedy for that." And taking up his leather belt from among his clothes he threw Azirian down upon the couch, and pulling to one side the loose robe the boy wore, he brought the supple leather down upon the pale moons of his backside. A red stripe flowered on the white flesh; and then another, and another. The watching Tselais grew pale, and her hand flew unnoticed to her mouth. At the eighth stroke the young man's breath hissed between his teeth.

"Ah," said Yrel merrily. "Now there will be singing to the tune that Yrel likes." He laid on with a will, and the boy began to gasp. As he writhed under Yrel's ministrations, however, his breathing took on a different rhythm, and a glimpse afforded by his movements revealed to Yrel that the youth had grown erect. Enthused by this discovery, Yrel chose to heed Azirian's tearful protests, and directed the boy to kneel at his feet and take Yrel's member, which had grown considerably during the exercise, in his soft lips and pleasure him. The youth proved adept at his task. Spent, Yrel dismissed the two servants, though not without noting that Azirian hobbled from the room his garments greatly extended at the front, and retired to the couch to rest. He slept there while the afternoon light waned, and awoke refreshed but hungry.

Presently the sombre tone of a bell sounded through the mansion of Vade, and Tselais and Azirian appeared to conduct Yrel to the dining room. Meeting Yrel's glance Azirian blushed prettily, and hung his head, but the suggestion of a smile lingered on his face.

The dining room proved to be pleasant and elegantly furnished. Vade was there, and greeted the Wanderer with the utmost cordiality, pressing upon him a black wine scented with violets, and morsels of smoked eel, and burdock comfits, to stimulate the appetite. Presently the meal was served by two more servants whom Yrel had not previously seen: course following course, each with its proper tincture or essence to accompany it.

"This is hospitality of a rare refinement and delicacy," commented Yrel over the fourteenth and final course: small balls of jellied rance served with a tart and smoky mangosteen wine. "Indeed, there are few men with the essential discernment to appreciate it as it deserves: in me, you are fortunate."

"Clearly so," said Vade, eyeing his guest as the latter downed yet another glass of wine. "I trust that you have found the hospitality of this house as adequate in other respects ?"

"In most respects I have been well served, although the quarters you have allotted me are perhaps a trifle narrow," said Yrel airily. "And I was compelled to urge the boy Azirian to a more responsive frame of mind concerning his duties."

Vade frowned.

"I do not understand," he said.

"For a fact, I found him somewhat sullen. But an application of leather to his hindquarters, and he moved with great despatch to mend his manners."

"What ?" cried Vade, his face colouring. "The work of months will be ruined !" His voice was sibilant with anger. Then, seeming to recollect himself, he shook his head as if in exasperation, and snapped his fingers. One of the servants came forward with a small squat bottle of antique design and two goblets.

"Forgive my outburst," he said in a quieter tone, "but the punishment of servants in this household is strictly regulated, and careless fustigation may spoil their training. Still, no matter; it can be retrieved. Come, let us finish the repast. I would welcome your opinion on this flask of Umber Lohock; it is at least five centuries old and came to me by very curious means from the ruins of a palace in the Amber Waste."

He poured two glasses of a rich, dark-golden liquid with a fragrance reminiscent of thyme honey and ozone.

"Your good health, and growing wisdom," he said, and sipped a little from his glass. Yrel raised the scented potion to his nostrils and savoured it before tasting. It was, indeed, the crown to an excellent repast, for the Umber Lohock tasted, purely and simply, of the essence of long drowsy summer days. Encouraged by Vade, Yrel consumed his glass with relish. Only on looking up and seeing the expression of malicious triumph on his erstwhile host's face did he suspect trickery, and by then it was too late, for as he strove to rise and draw the dagger he kept in his boot the room tilted queerly in improbable directions and darkness took him.