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"I neglected to introduce ourselves," Onek Mangsho said. "We’re merchants, travelling in search of specialities from the settlements of the desert, to sell in the markets of the south. I’m Bhoyanok Bhumikompo, and this," he nodded at me, "is my consort, the Lady Kharap Khorgosh."

"Ah, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And the other lady here is...?"

"My name is Shamanyo Sheeth"," Opodartho said quickly. "I’m their travelling companion."

I looked at her in startled surprise. Instead of asserting her position, which she guarded so zealously, as my Lord’s senior wife, she seemed eager to distance herself from us. I remembered instantly what she’d just said about Onek Mangsho taking too many risks, and resolved to talk to him at the earliest.

Fortunately, Põcha Pantabhat hadn’t noticed my astonishment. He’d been staring at her with hungry eyes, which instantly lowered my estimation of him even more than his weedy appearance and ridiculous patch of hair already had. After all, as all readers of these chronicles are well aware, I am prettier by far than the raddled harridan, not to speak of being smarter and more accomplished in every way. "What a lovely name," he said ingratiatingly. "A name to match a lovely lady."

"So," Onek Mangsho said, "you told me you’re from this city?"

"Yes." Põcha Pantabhat reluctantly tore his eyes away from Opodartho. "My parents own this inn, actually."

"Ah. So that’s why you know so much of local customs and history." Onek Mangsho took a bite of steak and swallowed with evident difficulty. "I must commend your parents on the quality of their cuisine."

"I haven’t ever eaten slavemeat quite like this," I put in, perfectly truthfully.

"What made you decide to become a monk?" Opodartho asked. I didn’t fail to notice that she seemed to have pitched her voice to make it sultrier than usual and more seductive. "It must be hard giving up love and women, especially for such a good-looking young man as you. Of course," she added, "I am assuming you are one of the orders who are so dedicated to the Cannibal Spirit that they have given up all thoughts of love and women."

Põcha Pantabhat actually blushed bright red. "Lady, it is true, our order does not permit us to indulge in carnal pleasures with the opposite sex. That is the strictest rule imposed on us by the Cannibal Spirit. Not even the High Abbot himself can break it."

"Oh, what a pity." Opodartho batted her eyelashes. "A handsome young man like you."

I seethed at the effrontery of the trollop, who seemed to be itching to drag the weedy monk off to bed if only given half a chance. Onek Mangsho chose that moment to speak.

"Your parents agreed with your decision to become a monk?"

"Of course. It wasn’t actually my decision, my Lord Bhoyanok Bhumikompo. They’re the ones who pledged me to the monastery."

"I’d have thought," Opodartho said, "that they would prefer that you stay on to run a going business like this inn."

"Well, afterwards, the monastery will inherit this inn in my stead and I’ll run it anyway." Põcha Pantabhat happily turned to her again. "In the meantime, it simply offers much better prospects, and my parents were more than happy to send me to it."

"Yes, the monastery." Onek Mangsho leapt at the chance. "It must be an...interesting place."

"Oh yes," Põcha Pantabhat said enthusiastically. "It’s a place filled with wonderful things. I never imagined how many valuable things there were here until I went to the monastery. Of course," he added, "for experienced travellers and merchants like you they must all be rather usual."

Onek Mangsho nodded. "You may be right, but then it’s impossible to tell without having a look at them. Would it be, you know, possible to visit the monastery?"

"Oh, no, no." Põcha Pantabhat seemed shocked at the idea. "Nobody who’s not a monk is allowed inside the inner gates."

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