The package was delivered by ordinary (and confused) courier, because it was itself made of hermit-crab shells. It contained a letter, of course, on some very fine stationary, with a letterhead in an indecipherable language. The letter itself was hand-written, in English, with a very angular and awkward sort of handwriting.

To Fiorella Bohannon and Associates,

This letter has been written on Consultation with our Bodyguard, Kishekri Hilavaru Mokrilzenatsveke Nak Ren Tal, with the interest of establishing your firm as a Client to Ourselves.

We presently have at our disposal 7 Ships, each of which was laid down in the shipyards of Chardariyakoujiy, in the Nejema Velothiya from which we hail. Each Ship is crewed by my own people, from numerous Nations and Races, and is captained by a fellow Veloth that I trust Explicitly.

These ships are Fast, and Large, and can be operated very Inexpensively due to the low requirements of their Crews. Due to my own status as an Commissioned Servitor to the Emperor, I have the right to post the flag of the Imperial Office of Foreign Traffic (for which I work) on these ships, which should thusly grant them Immunity to all Searches, Seizures, and Delays.

If you wish to discuss this Issue further, it would be my pleasure to entertain you at my own home here in Rhydin. I reside at 161 Longhand Lane, in the Dragon's Gate district. As my office is in the same, I am available during the day. Please present this letter in order to be let in.

Wishing you success,
Dorji Koazluria Vei Ni Lya


There is some more moon-man writing on the bottom. Clearly he's not rich enough to have a steno.

Dorji Koazluria's office / home is, well, pretty nice. It's somewhat in the style of a Spanish villa or a Japanese yashiki - designed for somebody who can appreciate the outdoors. There are five buildings of varying size, the largest maybe . . . eye checked to 9,000 square feet across 2 stories? The garden is maybe a little bit too busy, too many tall evergreen trees, and it's obvious they were all dug out somewhere else and re-planted here. It smacks of someone who had a vision of what he wanted his place to look like but took too many short-cuts getting there.

And of course, it's all fenced around. Standing out front are five, count 'em five Kishekri creatures - they're called Skirra - at full-on attention. They're carrying weapons: steel spikes 3/4 as tall as they are, with a 6-inch lesser spike coming out perpendicular 6 inches from the point. The more you think about it, the meaner that thing becomes.

None of them speak any language except Low Veloth. When they are shown the letter, they ring a bell and another creature comes out to greet you. This one is more humanoid than its boss or the Skirra, but it still couldn't be mistaken for an Earthling without a heavy disguise - the face is flat, the nose is just three horizontal slits, and the eyes are green cat-eyes. At least it's human height and human build, from what you can see under its long and heavy robes robes. A little too small each way. It presses its hands against its chest and dips low, bowing its head and neck forward.

"Please come in. The Master has been expecting you." It has a distinctly soft female voice. She leads you into the main building. The decor inside is elegantly spartan - like the house used to have priceless objects of art everywhere, and then 3/4ths of them were suddenly stolen or something. The objects themselves are all either weird, beautiful, or horrifying - other than one painting on what appears to be some kind of papyrus, the rest of them are all made from some variety of the dead. Of particular interest is an abstract little statue made entirely out of tiny painted bones.

The first room inside the big house is the main hallway, and from there you're only one doorway away from the man's office himself. Said doorway is opened, and inside sits Dorji Koazluria Vei Ni Lya, cross-legged on a raised dais. He's got a writing desk, upon which he had previously been doodling or something. He looks up and folds his hands on his desk.

"Welcome to my home," he says. "Would be pleasing to you if you had a food or a drink? Or would be more if we had a talk first about the ships?"

He prepares himself a smoke. He does this by taking a little paper-wrapped parcel, putting it inside the chamber of his pipe, and striking it against the table gently. This magically starts the heating coil, which gets it going. A long drag and he speaks again.

"To be certain."

Then he takes out a ledger. This place is plastered in writing - at least three different kinds - but none of it is anything resembling legible. It's all . . . runes, or curvy runes, or insane curvy Chinese characters. His ledger is no exception - at least, it seems to be a ledger.

"Of the first thing is my duties as Ishaket. I am the Imperial Observer for this place, and my ships are sometimes busy. So not always can I aide you. But much of the time, to be certain."

"So, what is specific you want my ships doing?"