Tosh took a deep breath and wished he hadn’t. The stench that was in the background clawed at his nostrils and bruised throat. “And this is only his antechamber. This will not be easy.”

“Why?” Bors asked.

“You’ll see.”

They entered a large, fifty-foot circular room with a twenty-foot circular stone tub in the middle of it. A beautiful, pale woman poised at the edge of the tub, nude save for the fine gold chain and collar around her throat. The chain’s length disappeared into the murky water. Her milky skin had a luminous quality from the reflected light of the pool and the floating lantern orbs of the large chamber. Tosh was taken by her in an instant, even with her face a mask of bored placidity. Something in her green eyes pulled at Tosh for a moment as she lounged at the edge of the tub. Then, Tosh caught movement beyond her, a bloated lump of flesh that was a deep leathery tan skin. Tosh cringed inwardly, for the creature moved as his eyes set on the creature behind the woman. This was the thing that they saw, The Drumgag. In the tub was a mound of flesh with small childlike arms and a head that looked more like a bump on a balloon of flesh than a head. The thick, putrid flesh mound that was The Drumgag made the bile rise in the back of Tosh’s throat. He looked at the coifed blond hair of the creature. Stylized and shellacked in a way to frame the face into something quasi-human. Tosh felt his hand grip the handle of the ray gun in his sash, feeling the hilt bite into his hand from the force of his grip. A sense of dread filled Tosh, overwhelming him for a moment. This won’t work. “We should run,” he whispered to Bors.

Tosh knew that The Drumgag was once human, yet either through tech sorcery or through sheer, dumb luck, had existed for over three centuries, growing into the massive, quivering fleshy ball before them with the baby-like arms that gimbaled and swayed on either side of the massive ball-like creature. All the while, it screamed and bellowed for everything. Somehow, The Drumgag becomes one of the Merchant Lords of Renkashsa, the mercantile center of Centauri Prime and the rest of the Known Worlds.

Bors let out a threatening growl when Tosh’s hand moved. Tosh pulled his hand away and ducked his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Do you want to live, Little Bird?” Bors hissed in Tosh’s ear.

Tosh felt the thick paw of Bors rest on his shoulder, gripping him hard enough to pin him without causing pain. “Yes.”

“Then you will do what you were sent here to do.” Bors loomed over Tosh for a moment. “I don’t to have to kill you, but if I must…”

The barbarian let the threat hang as the guards ushered the pair fully them into the chamber and the inked woman announced the pair.

“Tosh of House du’Vaul and bodyguard, Bors of the Northern Hills of Mars.”

Tosh’s eyes moved to the chained beauty as she was yanked up towards The Drumgag, flopping upon the massive girth of the tub’s denizen. She was gorgeous, with porcelain, pale skin, and blazing red hair. Her eyes were such a deep jade that when she first turned them to Tosh, he knew he had to have her, if only to save her from The Drumgag and the vileness of his form—and the sick perversions Tosh had only heard rumors of. Seeing her curvy hourglass form pressed against the corpulence of the merchant lord sickened Tosh more than he thought possible. Focus on getting the gem. Save her later. He felt something loathsome touch his mind for a moment. That overwhelming sense of dread filled him again. He shoved it away, throwing up a mind shield that his uncle Bedrin taught him when dealing with The Drumgag, much like last time.

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“You do not let me into your mind?” The Drumgag warbled while drool of a viscous, milky-white fluid trickled over his jowls. He slapped at his chin with a small, small hand, splattering the viscous fluid everywhere, especially over the nude, chained woman and the slick, wet, putrid floor Tosh and Bors stood upon.

“Why would you need to, oh Great One?” Tosh asked, bowing to keep his eyes from the disgusting tableau before him. Steady, you can do this.

“I have great powers and should know what is on your mind. You wish to do business, you open your mind to me,” The Drumgag shrieked.

Bors glared at Tosh. “Do it,” the barbarian mouthed.

Tosh closed his eyes and peeled back the protection of his mind. He felt the creeping dark psychic fingers of The Drumgag’s mental violation, stroking and probing Tosh’s brain, searching for the secrets; hunting for the reason why Tosh and Bors were there. Tosh felt the mental ooze of The Drumgag burble its way through his mind. After a few moments, the intruding mind pulled away before it reached very far, and Tosh felt pleased for a moment.

The Drumgag let out a laugh. “Good. I will offer you a thousand credits for your guardian.”

“No, we are here for—” Tosh started before being interrupted.

“I want!” The grotesque human blob squalled, throwing his arms out and trying to cross them over his expansive chest, failed and the tiny appendages flailed more, slapping his bulging sides. “He will be mine!”

Tosh looked at Bors, who shook his head. “Oh Great Magnificence, my bodyguard is an uncouth barbarian. He barely knows to bow before you, as I do.”

Bors glared at The Drumgag as Tosh again bowed. “And?” Bors asked, crossing his arms over his chest, glowering. Bors was stubborn, refusing to bow.

Tosh thought he’d have to come up with another lie when The Drumgag nodded with a petulant frown.

“I see what you mean, though my majordomo would enjoy breaking the man,” The Drumgag said as a thin, serpent-like man with a sharp widow’s peak of coal-black hair appeared. The sallow face of the smirking man rang a bell in Tosh’s head. He knew the man. All too well.

“Setter Mylar?” Tosh asked, not able to cover the full shock of his voice.

“It is good to see you again, Tosh du’Vaul,” Setter Mylar said with a small bow. “It has been what, five years since Europa?”

“Four and a half. I see you’ve raised in rank,” Tosh said, plastering a smile on his face. He slammed his mind shield down hard, knowing what Setter could do with a few words and the right time to prepare. Europa was years ago, another lifetime. Setter survived? This is bad.

“Yes,” Setter said, moving closer, a grin stretching his thin, sallow face. Though the smile never touched his eyes. He stretched out a slim hand that Tosh had to take if he didn’t want to offend the man or his host.

Tosh felt repulsed by the touch of the man. The offered hand was moist and limp. Setter had all the charm of a snake. Yet, Setter was already looking at Bors with a thin-lipped smirk. “You would be fun to break,” the majordomo said in a sibilant hiss. One of Setter’s fingers traced and then tapped Setter’s own lips as he contemplated Bors.

Bors glared at Setter, giving the majordomo a small hard smile. “You can try, little man. You will die screaming.”

“Bors, show respect. Please,” Tosh said, throwing the please-do-not-make-the-large-man-upset-with-him look at Setter. He also shrugged his shoulders. “I will not be held responsible for what my bodyguard does if angered.”

Bors didn’t say a word, he simply leaned against one pillar of the chamber covered with nudes cavorting in ways even Tosh thought were scandalous. He played with a dirk, testing the edge while looking bored before cleaning his fingernails with it.

“Your dog is arrogant. It will turn on its master if not… trained properly.” Setter said, his head tilting a little while looking at Tosh with the oily smile, eyes that bore into Tosh.

“A risk I am will take. Now, I think we should get down to business,” Tosh said, trying not to shudder noticeably. “I say we table the talk of selling my bodyguard until you have heard my offer for the Eye of Saturnalia.”