Hanadan felt as if he'd broken through the barrier of exhaustion and come out on the other side. He had no name for the state he currently found himself in, but his most ardent wish was to be done with it as soon as possible and surrender to a deep, restorative sleep.

Unfortunately, his mind would not allow him to rest until he'd finished his most pressing tasks. He had to see them through, and yet his efforts were waning with each passing second. Almost drowning himself in jugfuls of water was no longer enough to keep the stress at bay and his thoughts focused. His brain craved something stronger and twice already he'd eyed the colorfully wrapped package just arrived from the dockside, whose accompanying note bore the potion master's hurried writing. It seemed that Quack was immensely proud of his newest batch of concoctions, and if he were to be believed, the box contained energy tonics, sleeping potions, a little rat poison, as well as some other surprises. If Hanadan were honest, it was the rat poison that presented the most appeal in his current predicament. He certainly didn't want to end all his mortal struggles for a while yet, but he could definitely do with a prolonged sick leave.

Upon realizing where his thoughts had once again drifted, he chuckled at his own folly, closed his eyes tightly, pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply. The all too familiar smell of the burning lamp oil overpowered the dry chrysanthemums his mother had sent him after learning of his promotion. They'd come delivered in a delicate vase of finest Iskarian porcelain - three scrawny strands of pale blue far more suitable to a funeral wreath than the working desk of a newly appointed Inner Councilor.

A note had accompanied the flowers, whose written words had been "To the stars springs the new shoot past the shade of its mighty sire", but Hanadan knew the translation sounded more like "How dare you steal your father's position, you ungrateful brat". Whether she had meant to chastise, warn or make her disappointment known, his mother couldn't have been happy with the development, and if he could go back to the throne room, Hanadan himself would have throttled Eker for pulling the rug out from under him.

The appointment wasn't all that unexpected, given that he was one of the king's only confidants, but Eker should have at least pretended to consider that vengeful mollusk Tohab for the position, or even better: any other courtier not related to the Jebril family. Hanadan's most cherished dream was to set his family towards the path of peaceful sleep and clean consciences, but he could hardly do so if they were to become more and more involved in the governing of the nation.

He pried open his right eye and frowned at the piles of documents, reports, letter drafts, and records, of which he'd barely scratched the surface. Ideally, he would have begun with the urgent ones, but there had been no way to distinguish those from the rest, unless he started reading each and every one to categorize it accordingly. He could also make neither head nor tail of the system his father had employed - if he'd ever actually done this at all. Hanadan certainly didn't remember Heddam toiling away like a diligent servant of the state - the man couldn't find the time, given that he was constantly plotting to tear it down from within. As far as Heddam Jebril had been concerned, the most useful abilities a Councilor could boast about were bullying and influencing. Of course, clogging up the bureaucratic system was also a manner of subverting the king's authority, so there might have been a chance that his father had been neglecting his official duties on purpose, with the evident result of piling it all up on his son's exhausted shoulders.

Hanadan opened his eyes and rallied his sagging resolve for one last push. If he could get three more approvals done before he collapsed, he would count that as a big win. He reached for the next letter and started reading about a road expansion proposal for the northern area limitrophe to the capital, which was supposed to help link two of the biggest country marketplaces, one in Delachek - a small town made famous by its extensive apple orchards - and one in Harrin - which, if memory served, was at the very limit of Councilor Amster's estate.

A spark of awareness prompted further investigation and Hanadan frowned as he tried to understand why it all seemed so very wrong.

He couldn't be sure whether his father had fulfilled his share of the tasks in a timely and efficient manner, but what he knew for certain was that roads had never been his responsibility. The previous king had usually saddled him with foreign affairs jobs, citing the ridiculous reason that Heddam had a decisive mien that was sure to be inferred from his writing, so that those "contemptible foreigners" wouldn't even dream of stabbing the Kassi king in the back. Hanadan reflected darkly that in the end, it had been Jurhem's own stupidity that had crushed his windpipe - true, the bear had done most of the heavy lifting, but one had to credit the drunk king's singular lack of higher brain function.

The Councilors had of course been aware of their monarch's shortcomings, and had divided the other petitions amongst themselves: insignificant things like tariffs, tax collection, education reform, religious stipends, and yes, road construction. Every project that exceeded a certain budget threshold left the minister's hands to reach the Inner Council and wait on their pleasure for its resolution. It was naturally understood that certain tweaks could be done to streamline the process, given the right incentive, but the Councilors usually took their sweet time with everything. Perhaps Eker had simply had enough of their pussyfooting and had decided to unleash the model of absolute efficiency that was Hanadan, a man who couldn't stand to follow a procedure unless he'd optimized it as much as possible beforehand.

Could it be that the rest of the Councilors had gotten wind of his weakness and immediately decided to take advantage of him? The papers had arrived in utter disarray even after Hanadan had expressed the importance of tidiness to the palace clerks who had let him into the Inner Council chambers. His father's documents had been kept securely under lock and key in his designated cabinet and Hanadan hadn't had the time to actually see how many there were. The clerks had been very solicitous, promising that they would deliver it all to the Jebril estate. Of course, it was only now starting to dawn on him that when they'd said "all", they'd actually meant "all".

In light of a revelation that should have come to him much sooner, Hanadan finally allowed himself to surrender. He let his head drop onto the desk, scattering some papers and writing implements. He tried to focus on the dull pain blooming out across his forehead instead of the agonizing embarrassment of having been made a fool by those coughing codgers.

Since this was a moment in which he desired to be left alone so he could wallow in some hard-earned self-pity, it followed that a timid knock wrenched him out of his self-deprecating thoughts and brought him back to present necessities. Hanadan frowned, unaware of any previous appointment, but since Corab had let the visitor through, it must have been somebody he knew.

"Come in," he called out after making a token effort to straighten some of the papers surrounding him.

The door was slowly swung open by a hesitant hand and the pinched, worried face of uncle Ossar appeared behind the wooden panels.

"Have you got a moment?"

Hanadan knew that if he attempted a smile it would only turn into a grimace and spook the man, so he kept a straight face and nodded instead.

"Please, come in," he urged. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually," began Ossar as he carefully clicked the door shut behind him, "I might be able to help you this time around. I can tell you're still busy, so I'll try to be brief. It's about... your friend from the Academy."

Tired as he was, it didn't take long for Hanadan to make the connection, given the sheer lack of options.

"You mean the current king?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Ossar started at his nephew's bluntness, and couldn't help but cast worried glances around the room, as if enemies could be lurking anywhere in and out of sight. It took some effort on Hanadan's part to avoid chuckling upon seeing his uncle's discomfiture.

Here was a man wholly unsuited to the family business - not because he lacked the intelligence or the ingenuity, but rather due to his excessive imagination, propensity for overcomplication and a unique perspective too far removed from realism. Ossar was a prolific dreamer, a successful inventor, and a passionate traveler. He'd also learned to be cruel enough to command some respect in the family, but certainly not up to the level required of a first born and presumptive heir. He didn't understand the cutthroat competition in service of personal gain and hadn't even batted an eye when his younger brother Heddam had usurped his place and assumed leadership of the Jebrils. In Ossar's mind as well as Heddam's, that was simply the way things should have been - a vision which was decidedly not shared by Tohab and Merith.

When considering his relations, one thing was clear to Hanadan: if someone were to press him to name his favorite uncle, the honor would undoubtedly go to the eldest of the Jebril siblings. He could hardly call the man nice, but Ossar had long made his support of Heddam and his son known, without giving Hanadan any reason to suspect that treason might have been afoot.

"This king-" said Ossar shakily, then cleared his throat and attempted a steadier voice, "is a dependable fellow, as far as I can tell. In time, he's bound to turn into a staunch ally, provided trust is cultivated and adverse forces don't ... intervene."

All traces of lighthearted mirth vanished as Hanadan registered Ossar's not so subtle warning. He felt himself grow cold as his eyes narrowed in murderous alertness.

"Who?" he demanded quietly.

"Mind you, I have no details. Just an idea, a shred of a part of an idea. But it's certain."

"What is certain, Uncle?"

Ossar let out a long breath and raised his eyes to meet his nephew's unflinching gaze.

"Merith is planning something," he said. "Tomorrow, most likely. And that is all I know."

"You mean he hasn't done anything yet?"

"About your friend? Dear me, I don't believe he's had the time. Much too focused on Tersi, coming up with all sorts of ridiculous notions." Clasping his hands together, Ossar glanced distractedly up at the ceiling. "Why, only yesterday, he bribed a servant into smearing all his master's clothes with molasses - and not just his finest suits, but his undergarments as well. How absurd is that?"

"He'll bankrupt the man," remarked Hanadan hollowly. "One ruined suit at a time."

"He - that is Merith - was boasting all throughout today that all this planning was making him tired, and he'll take a break before he ruins poor Councilor Tersi for everybody else."

"And that's how you realized he was planning something," deduced Hanadan.

"That's how I knew there was more to the story, so I made some discreet inquiries. If they hadn't borne fruit, I wouldn't have come to you."

Said fruit being a scrap of a fragment of an idea. But still, Hanadan wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thank you, Uncle. It does make sense to act tomorrow if he hasn't played his hand already. But I was still ready to bet that he was the one who sent those idiot assassins."

"Them?" Ossar chuckled lightly, a dainty sound that put Hanadan in mind of small, tinkling prayer bells. "Lenga spare our immortal souls, but I hope it wasn't one of us. The sheer damage done to our image to even consider sending in such bumbling amateurs..."

"And what of you, Uncle? I seem to recall you had an exceedingly exciting plan in store for Tersi. Locusts on crops, was it?"

"Oh, yes," said Ossar with a grin, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Quite the ambitious proposition, if I must say. Worthy of the Jebril name. Of course, it might have proven a tad too ambitious for our budget, so we've reconsidered our approach."

"Oh?"

"We've turned it into something else entirely, let me tell you. Tonight, I enlisted the help of several agents to unleash almost a bagful of critters into the living quarters of Tersi's estate: spiders, grasshoppers, stink bugs, and I know not what else. It keeps the locusts idea at heart, but strikes directly at the people. Isn't it so much better than Merith's stupid molasses?"

Hanadan couldn't douse the man's excitement, so he made himself smile, hoping that it didn't appear too forced.

"It's in a league of its own," he assured him. "I take it you know from reliable sources that Tersi is afraid of the things?"

"Oh, no, he's quite inured to them. Was a general in his youth, and slept in a tent for almost half his life. No, the beauty of the plan is that I unleashed the fiends in the women's quarters. Oh, just imagine the screams!"

Hanadan began to do so even before he was prompted. He winced, unable to stem a tide of sympathy for the dwellers of the Tersi estate.

"They'll be at it all night and no one will sleep a wink," he mused. "Absolutely genius plan."

"Of course it's genius, it's one of my own. And it also helps our dear Hedina, since her biggest rival will be hunting for crawlers under her bed for weeks to come instead of preparing for the trials. I should really give myself a medal for this."

"We can do even better than that, Uncle. Come your birthday, we'll all strive to prove how your tireless contributions have brought us to where we are today. We could not be more grateful for your ingenious schemes, and - don't tell the others I said it - even a little envious."

There was no mistaking the blush creeping up the older man's gaunt cheeks. For someone who didn't shy away from praising himself, he was very reluctant to receive the accolades of others.

"I wish I could say you had no reason to be," he replied carefully, "but even I have to admit that would be disingenuous. I thank you for your time, Hanadan. I can see that you still have so much to do, so I will not detain you any longer."

"A breath of fresh air is no detainment, and I think I'm done for the night anyway."

Ossar nodded and turned to leave, almost making a dash for the door.

"Good night then!" he called over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Uncle," replied Hanadan, managing to get the words out just as the door swung shut behind his visitor.

Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh and was surprised to discover that there was no room in his mind to register stress anymore. There must have been some truth to Ossar claims, and it might very well have been that Eker could once again face danger, but Hanadan would be useless to his friend if he didn't get some hours of rest before the hunt. He would deal with his father's colleagues and their tasteless jokes in good time, but for the moment, he had other priorities.