rang it six times. Though the tolling was not particularly loud, it reverberated through the cavernous hall as clearly as birdsong. By the time the last knell had died away, a gentle murmur had arisen to fill the entire structure. A trio of human youths, all dressed in pale blue uniforms with ugly red shoulder sashes, rounded a comer and stood at attention beside the counter. Around the opposite corner came another six guards, all wearing the same red plate armor as the door sentries. These men positioned themselves between the crowd and the counter, holding their glaives at port arms. From somewhere in the depths of the building echoed the measured clatter of four hooves clacking upon the marble floor.
The bariaur dipped his quill in the ink, then poised it over his ledger and peered down at the Thrasson.
'Name?'
The Thrasson hesitated, loathe to admit his one weakness in public. An impatient murmur rustled through the lobby, and the guards began to push the crowd back.
'Name?'
'I-er-uh, why is my name important?'
The bariaur's eye twitched. 'We have our procedures, berk. Name?'
'You dare call me-' The Thrasson bit his tongue, reminding himself that he needed the bariaur's cooperation to keep the promise he had made. 'I-uh-I can't tell you my name.'
Deep in the building, the steady clacking of hooves grew louder, and the two door sentries stepped to the Thrasson's flanks. 'Can't, or won't, berk?'
'I cannot.' Though hardly intimidated by the guards, the Thrasson forced himself to answer politely. His task did riot call for the shedding of blood, and it was the hallmark of a true champion never to cause unnecessary harm. 'I don't know my name. I recall nothing before awakening on the shore near Thrassos, where the citizens were kind enough to care for me until I could repay their hospitality by slaying the great hydra. Not long after, I heard of the mighty crocodile menacing the fishermen of the river Hebrus, so I journeyed-'
'Yes, yes, I have heard all that,' the bariaur snorted. 'But what am I to put in the ledger? He who slew the Hydra of Thrassos, then tamed the Hebron Crocodile, and on and on? I only have one line.'
The Thrasson thought for a moment, and while he thought, the clacking of hooves deep in the building continued to grow louder. At last, he looked up. 'The people of Thrassos call me the Amnesian Hero. That should fit on one line.'
The bariaur nodded sagely. 'The Amnesian Hero it is, then.' He scrawled in his ledger, then dipped his quill again. 'And may I put down Thrassos, Layer the First, Arborea, as your home?'
The Amnesian Hero nodded. 'That is the only home I know.'
The bariaur wrote this as well, then peered down at the Thrasson. 'I'll grant that not knowing your own name is serious, but it hardly seems an Emergency Priority.' He dipped his quill arid, almost sympathetically, said, 'Still, you paid the fee and I can't get it back for you. Who would you like to see first? The Bureau of Human Affairs, or perhaps the Nonplanar Races Commission? By the Emergency Priorities Edict of the Hall of Speakers, you have a maximum of ten appointments to answer a single question.'
The Amnesian Hero felt an unexpected flutter in his stomach. 'You can tell me who I am?'
The bariaur smacked his lips. 'I'm not authorized to dispense that information.' His quill remained poised over the ledger. 'My duties are limited strictly to the scheduling of appointments. Now, whom do you wish to see?'
The Amnesian Hero came close to requesting the Bureau of Human Affairs, but at the last moment found the strength to resist the temptation. Whoever he was, he was certainly a man of renown, and men of renown did not put their personal needs above their promises.
'If you don't know who you wish to see, I am authorized to give you a list.'
The clacking of hooves deeper in the building grew so loud that the Thrasson expected to see an enormous bariaur rounding the counter at any moment. Voices in the impatient crowd began shouting suggestions, some more polite than others. The guards yelled back, bellowing warnings about staying in control and complying with the rules. To make his answer heard above the clamor, the Amnesian Hero nearly had to shout.
'I'm not here about my name. I want to see the Lady of Pain!'
The old bariaur yanked off his spectacles, and, save for the mounting echoes of hooves on marble, the chamber abruptly fell silent. The clerk leaned out over the counter and, bushy white brows half-arched, peered down at the Amnesian Hero.
'Pardon me. Did you say, the Lady of Pain?'
The Amnesian Hero nodded. 'I did.' He gestured at the large amphora he was still balancing against the counter. 'I have a gift for her.'
Nervous laughter rustled through the crowd, drawing several stem threats from the guards. On the other side of the counter, the steady clacking of the hooves suddenly ceased. The bariaur's face turned a deep shade of crimson.
'This is no time for jokes, berk! You're the one who declared an information emergency!'
'I am not joking,' the Amnesian Hero replied. 'I came to deliver a gift to the Lady of Pain. My question is: where do I find her palace?'
A brief clatter sounded from the rear of the counter, then a second bariaur appeared beside the clerk. She was by far the largest the Amnesian Hero had ever seen – at least that he remembered seeing-looming a full head above her associate. In fact, she was so large that the silk-draped swell of her broad, goatlike forequarters was visible over the lip of the counter. Her face was gaunt and amazingly flat, save for a long narrow nose hanging like a bartizan over her gash of a mouth. Her hair was dyed the same pale blue as the hall's marble walls, and she wore it in a long, unruly mop that could not quite conceal the two golden horns curling back from her temples.
The Amnesian Hero felt his mouth gaping open. He promptly clamped it shut and averted his gaze. Horns were something of a deformity on female bariaur, and it would be unseemly to stare.
The female took a moment to glower over the crowd, then turned her glare upon the clerk. 'You rang the emergency bell, Earlick?'
