"Remind me, Karuss, did we embezzle any money from Road Infrastructure?"

Hanadan had had enough of being jostled around in the back of the wooden cart and had just elected to walk alongside it, since they weren't going too fast anyway. Still, even the support of his own two feet didn't spare him from the horrors of the path and he tripped every other step over cracks, lumps, holes, or some random piece of debris.

Back on the driver's seat, his bodyguard adopted a pensive stance, resting the thin leather whip along his thighs.

"Not that I recall," he mused. "That's Chinchalla's domain, and he never touches the Docks district. In fact, I believe we've taken great pains to ensure the current state of affairs around here."

When Hanadan glared at him, Karuss merely shrugged.

"I mean, look at the place. It takes time and a dedicated effort to bring it down to this level. Where else are we to conduct our business if not in the most disreputable area of the city?"

He had a point, of course. The Dockside enjoyed a thoroughly deserved infamous reputation, with its rowdy crowds, cheap inns, scandalous entertainment, smuggler dens, aggressively territorial sailor gangs and terribly maintained roads. There was also a score of shady warehouses, nearly half of which were reserved for traditional Jebril family affairs. Hanadan didn't make it his habit to stop by, but this time, he appreciated the necessity.

"Look at the bright side," continued Karuss, "at least we get to wear disguises."

Hanadan bristled under the brim of his ridiculously large straw hat. The "disguise" chafed everywhere, and he could already feel trickles of sweat in places he had no way of reaching at the moment. It didn't matter that they'd chosen early morning to drop by; people had woken up hours before sunrise and were milling around the streets, some of them casting dubious glares at their slow-moving one-pony cart, and the place itself was as hot and humid as Hanadan remembered. It was a unique amalgam of sensations that provoked his irritation to such a degree, he was too annoyed to feel thirsty anymore. And if all that wasn't enough to bring him on edge, Karuss was being awfully talkative.

"You're better today, I trust?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just wanted to make sure. It would be a wonder if you weren't, after falling asleep in the king's bed."

Hanadan stumbled on a loose paving stone, and if Karuss' snickers had been muffled until then, the man suddenly burst into laughter, heedless of the unwanted attention they garnered.

"You've been waiting to make that joke, haven't you?" grated Hanadan. His fists were clenched tightly and if he gritted his teeth any harder, he'd soon fuse them together.

"You have to admit," panted Karuss, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "that many envy your position. What wouldn't they all give, to do what you've just done... Although I suspect it's mostly women who share that dream."

Hanadan pretended to ignore his questioning gaze and focused on the ground instead. But Karuss wouldn't let up.

"Is that why he's so hell-bent on disbanding the harem? Because he's-"

"He's been forced to deal with those women's cruel schemes ever since he was a child." Hanadan cast a wary look around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard before he went on. "You're forgetting that he's a concubine's son, a very ambitious one at that. It took some heavy string pulling on my part to have her exiled."

"You?" cried Karuss, then remembered to temper his tone. "You had his mother exiled, and he's still talking to you?"

"He asked me to do it. She was going to kill him."

"What-"

"She wanted to take the first born out of the way and make her son the heir, which was not just very difficult, but incredibly stupid. It was my first political mission after I persuaded my father to let me try. And I still barely managed to save him in time."

"She must be congratulating herself right now," grumbled Karuss.

"Undoubtedly. Though if she's hoping he'll bring her back to the capital, she's sorely mistaken."

Karuss chewed on this new piece of information while Hanadan enjoyed a brief reprieve of silence.

"You've met Es-, I mean, his older brother," said Karuss after a while. "Did they get along?"

"As well as can be expected. He admired his brother as most people did, and his brother was weirdly indulgent with him."

"So did he follow through with his mother's plan after all?"

Hanadan cast his bodyguard a suspicious glance and was happy to notice the faintest tinge of a blush on the man's rough cheeks.

"No, he did not. In fact, I don't believe there's anybody in the country who's taken that idiot's disappearance worse than him."

"He tried to find him?"

"He still hopes he'll return. And he's asked me to look for him, though I confess I didn't break my back trying."

"I don't remember you giving me instructions on finding Es-"

"That's because I don't want him found. He got what he wanted in the end, and good riddance to him."

"And what about your friend who sits on the big chair?" asked Karuss, and Hanadan couldn't help but notice a new edge in the man's voice. "Did he get what he wanted?"

"He'll soon realize it's all worked out for the best. What I'd like to know is what sparked this sudden interest in him. You usually pretend that he doesn't even exist."

Karuss winced and tightened his hold on the reins, though the pony was seeing to its way unbothered.

"I worry about you, obviously, since that's what I'm paid to do. Some say you're too close to him and it's causing you to lose your edge."

"Who says that?" asked Hanadan, perhaps a bit too sharply.

Karuss shrugged, as if to convince him of his innocence in spreading the rumor.

"The laundry staff. They noticed some porridge stains on the suit you brought in yesterday, and it sparked all sorts of speculation."

Hanadan's eyes widened, and he faltered for a second. He must have been truly exhausted, or he would have never missed such a detail.

Presently, he shook himself out of his spell just in time to shout at Karuss.

"It's the next right! What are you doing?"

Karuss pulled tightly on the reins and the pony flicked its tail in resentment, but then they were entering the quiet warren of the Dockside back alleys and everything settled down once more.

This was no place fit for conversation, and Hanadan suspected not for habitation, either. The looming buildings were decrepit enough that he feared one or all of them might topple on top of them at the next powerful wind gust. The windows were dark and dust billowed everywhere. Narrowing his eyes, Hanadan put his sleeve over his mouth, while Karuss coughed and swore.

Fortunately, they knew the way well enough not to get lost, taking the shortest possible route. It led to a nondescript shed alongside a grimy old warehouse that just screamed "illegal operations headquarters". Karuss pulled the reins, and the pony obeyed, stopping alongside an incongruous flower bed by the shed's rickety entrance.

"I don't remember the flowers," grunted Karuss.

Hanadan reached for the tarp covering their load and pulled it back to reveal a dozen stacked crates.

"Knowing Quack, it's probably another business venture," he muttered, as he grabbed the first crate and placed it gently on the ground. "Come on."

Karuss leaped off his seat and came around to help him, muttering under his breath. When they were halfway done with the unloading, two musclemen appeared as if out of thin air, and after analyzing Hanadan with critical stares, they bent down to pick up the crates and moved them inside.

"You carry this one," said Hanadan, and placed the last crate into Karuss' arms. "It's the sample set."

"Wait, we're not done?"

"We have an appointment."

Not allowing his bodyguard time to protest, Hanadan turned around and entered the shed. After fumbling ahead on the littered floor, they reached a tattered curtain leading into a small receiving area, where low, temporary walls had been erected, keeping the rest of the warehouse out of sight. Off to the left, a flimsy-looking staircase wound its way up towards the first floor platform.

Hanadan went straight to the bored-looking bouncer, trying to appear aloof.

"We're here to see the pharmacist."

The man sneered, but nodded ever so slightly.

"This way," urged Hanadan, ushering Karuss towards the stairs. As they climbed, metallic sounds drifted up to them, but wads of fabric had been hung all along the staircase's frame, so their view was obstructed. Hanadan wasn't unduly curious about the goings on in this place, particularly because he'd already made a reasonable guess given Uncle Ossar's usual line of business. Karuss, on the other hand, was certainly not at ease with not knowing, and he muttered and cursed all the way up to the second floor platform. Thick wooden panels sealed off the gallery and they still couldn't see the workers below.

"What the hell is going on here?" whispered Karuss, as they started down the makeshift corridor. "Are we actually going to see Quack?"

"I told you we had an appointment."

Karuss frowned and shifted his hold on the crate.

"But you weren't specific, and they say Mogara hides in the details."

"Then you should have asked for more details."

Hanadan halted in front of a flimsy door, lit on either side by cheap wall sconces, and knocked politely.

"Flower delivery!" he called.

"Flower-" began Karuss incredulously, but the door was immediately yanked open and he lapsed into silence.

The young man that stood before them could hardly be presumed to embody the maniacal genius scientist, but that was his reputation - one that Hanadan, along with his father, had seen fit to bolster at every opportunity. After all, it was a well-known fact that every evil mastermind needed his own mad scientist, for his brilliantly cruel inventions. Unfortunately, Quack was too shy to be maniacal, too inexperienced to be a genius, and he barely qualified as a scientist. That he looked young enough to still be in the Academy, could barely grow enough facial hair to justify shaving every other day, and still battled with juvenile acne did nothing to support his claim of the coveted title. Still, after his predecessor had run away with Ossar's daughter, Hanadan's father had seen fit to promote this mildly inept pharmacy apprentice to avoid future risks and make everybody else overthink his motives - again. And Quack did have his specialties, although not immediately obvious ones.

"Oh, good," he panted. "Come in."

His voice was pitched high, slightly trembling, and he quickly moved out of the way to allow them entry to his "laboratory", though one might as well call it a flower shop.

"Some guards develop unusual reactions to the air inside this room," he explained, "so I try to keep their exposure to a minimum."

Hanadan followed him to a counter partially covered by waist-high glass vases harboring giant hydrangea. Several vials and fragile containers were scattered on Quack's working bench, though none of the liquid-filled ones bubbled over ominous fires. Also present were a notebook, a half-eaten sandwich, some coiled paper flowers, and a timetable of the departures at the Docks. Hanadan eyed the strange assortment of objects with interest, then called over his shoulder after his gaping bodyguard.

"Karuss? Get over here." He then turned back to the would-be potion master. "What kind of reactions? Sneezing, running noses, red eyes, itchy throats...?"

"Oh, no," said Quack, shaking his head. "I know all about those - I mean, their reaction is to the chemical compounds, not the flower pollen. Some people are more susceptible to the potions I develop, and even the vapors may cause unwanted manifestations."

Hanadan paused to digest the information, then moved out of the way to allow room for Karuss to deposit the crate on the table - or rather, on the one corner of the table not covered in random little breakable items.

"Are we in any danger?" asked Karuss dryly. "What are you working on right now?"

"Rat poison. It's this really clever thing, though..." Quack paused, casting a bashful look at Hanadan. "Your father didn't seem to think so."

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

The young man's eyes widened, and his lips pulled back into a tentative smile, revealing slightly crooked, but excellently clean teeth.

"It's like the mad dancing disease, it speeds everything up," he explained, choking on his own excitement. "They become overactive and collapse from exhaustion!"

Hanadan heard Karuss' sharp intake of breath, and didn't need to look at him to know he was now wearing a thoroughly disgusted face.

"So what you're saying is that you deprive them of rest while artificially boosting their energy so they can cause more havoc in the houses of the people who want to get rid of them?"

Quack nodded enthusiastically.

"Torture for rats and humans at the same time," muttered Karuss. "There should be a prize for this."

"But that's genius!" cried Hanadan, clapping his hands. "I don't see what's not to like! Surely my father and Uncle Ossar can see the practical applications."

Ignoring Karuss' disbelieving stare, Hanadan continued to beam at the young man, who let his head drop in sadness.

"They don't," he said, sighing. "Your father wants me to focus on poisons, though I dread to tell him how little progress I've made there. And your uncle..." He paused, shuddering. "I'm sure he wants nothing more than to kick me off the premises, and then who'll take care of all the flowers?"

Before Quack could give in to his despair and erupt into violent wails, Hanadan patted him on the shoulder and smiled brightly.

"Here's the thing," he began, still holding on to the other man. "My father will be gone for the next week and a half - it's sudden, I know. So until he returns, I've been instructed to oversee your area of activity and I've also been granted limited administrative power. But keeping you here is surely within my prerogatives, especially if you promise us a batch of that rat poison."

"Oh." Quack blinked rapidly and clasped his hands together, a heartbreaking look of hope lighting his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really. But I'm going to need your help."

"Yes, yes, anything!"

If Hanadan weren't in a hurry, he might have paused to consider the man's oddly predictable behavior, his exaggerated reactions and his careful gaze that avoided certain areas of the room. He knew for certain he was hiding something from him, since every man was in this game for himself, but he didn't have cause to suspect anything truly dangerous from the pharmacist-florist's part. So he pressed on.

"Father's weekly meeting with the library informant. It's today, isn't it?"

Quack thought for a second, then nodded carefully.

"I think so, yes. They keep on changing the day of the week, and the library section, but I'm relatively certain it's today at the sewer history section."

"There's a whole section for that?" asked Karuss, momentarily shaken out of his gloomy boredom.

"Are you going to attend that in your father's place as well?"

Hanadan nodded, glancing earnestly at Quack, trying to convince himself that he wasn't wrong in revealing his intentions to the man. Every research conducted on him had produced the same results: common background, straightforward aspirations, no known double allegiance or potential betrayal suspicion. Looking at him in person, such doubts were cast even farther aside, as it was difficult to imagine him in any role other than what he presented to the world - not due to excessive loyalty or moral beliefs, but because of his incredible incompetence.

"I'm so glad you're the liaison in these meetings," confessed Hanadan. "My father was right to trust you with this."

"Th-Thank you," muttered Quack, shifting uncomfortably.

"What in Attari's name are you doing with these?"

Hanadan looked back at Karuss, who had taken the lid off the crate and was peering inside with a frown.

"Please keep Attari out of this," said Quack nervously. "They're for my experiments."

"They're not even real," retorted Karuss. "They're made of paper."

Hanadan craned his neck to look over Karuss' shoulder at the small piles of flower petals separated into compartments by shape, size, and color.

"A very special kind of paper," amended Quack. "I'm trying to see if I can get them to smell like the real things."

At the others' questioning glance, the budding scientist merely shrugged.

"It's a conundrum, really, but it just won't leave me alone. So I have to see it through."

"I see," murmured Hanadan, while Karuss shook his head hopelessly. "Well, we'd better be off. But I just remembered, would you mind sending more of the potions from last time? The sleeping and the energy ones?"

Quack's eyes lit up, and he grinned.

"You liked them? They worked?"

Hanadan thought he sounded too eager to inspire real confidence in his own findings, but he wasn't about to discourage the man.

"Absolutely," he said, nodding vigorously. "Same arrangement, thank you."

"No, thank you!"

Quack clapped his hands together and began rubbing them excitedly. Karuss started drifting back towards the entrance, and Hanadan followed him quietly. At least until they were safely out of Quack's sight and he ducked behind a row of giant ferns.

"I knew it," grumbled Karuss, as he watched Hanadan paw desperately at his sash to grab the water gourd. He finished the whole contents in a few efficient gulps and was beginning to search for another gourd when Karuss held it out for him.

"You left these with me, remember?"

Hanadan nodded gratefully and uncapped the container, tipping his head back to drink.

"I can't help but wonder," mused Karuss, while Hanadan struggled to catch his breath. "This guy's terrible at poisons, he likes flowers way too much, and he has very weird and impractical ideas. So what was he doing before you took him in?"

"Love potions," muttered Hanadan, wiping his sleeve over his mouth. "He was quite successful."

Karuss' eyes widened in alarm.

"Is that what he's doing here?" he hissed. "No wonder the guards avoid this place."

He started pulling at Hanadan's arm, dragging him towards the door.

"It can't be that bad," protested Hanadan. "Falling in love, I mean."

Karuss turned around to glare at him, and his grip turned painful.

"Spoken like a fool who's never felt it. Or seen it. If his love potions actually work, they could be more dangerous than the poisons."

They finally emerged in the corridor, and Karuss shut the door firmly behind them.

"Kill them with love," pondered Hanadan, then shrugged and started back towards the stairs. "If we run out of ideas, I might actually suggest it at next week's meeting."