From: dac@prolix.apana.org.au (Andrew Clayton)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Tryssa's Troll. Conclusion.
Date: Tue, 29 Dec 1992 02:37:09 GMT
Organization: More like Dis~, really.
X-Newsreader: Arn V1.00

Tryssa's Troll was originally placed in LTUAE, by Nikolai
Kingsley.

    Chapter 6


    Tryssa lay back on her bed and stretched, completely aware of the
effect that this had on her slave, who was trembling with the effort
of restraint.  She smiled to herself and stretched again, arching her
back, her breasts straining against the thin material of her dress.
Kulyar whimpered very quietly.

    `Is something the matter, slave?'  Kulyar cleared his throat.

    `No, mistress.' he managed.  She smiled her approval.

    `Good.  Now, let me see... nothing particularly pressing to do
this morning... I think I'd like you to -'

    `- massage your feet?' he suggested hopefully.  She frowned at
him.

    `Don't interrupt, slave!  No, I think, this morning, I would like
you to scratch my back.'  She turned over and lay on her stomach;
with a gesture, her filmy dress parted magically from the neck-line
down to her legs, revealing her beautifully rounded behind, while
remaining fastened around (and depending from) her neck.  Kulyar felt
a rush of blood which started around his face, sped downwards and
settled somewhere near his groin, as she gestured that he should come
closer... he kneeled beside her bed, reached out with his right hand
and delicately placed the nail of his little finger against her back,
between her shoulder-blades.  She gave a small shudder as he drew the
finger down a path parallel to her spine, finishing a discreet
distance above her buttocks.  He recalled fondly the thrashing she'd
given him the last time he dared to touch her there without her
permission... he twisted his hand around slightly and retraced the
line, finishing close to the nape of her neck.  She closed her eyes
and sighed as the Troll gently drew his fingernail down her back
again.

    He had found that if he was very careful, he could progress to
using two fingers after about five minutes, and to using all of the
fingers of his right hand after another few minutes with no protest
from his mistress.  He did so, and was mildly surprised to find that
she didn't protest when he graduated from scratching her back, to
massaging it gently with the ends of his fingers (making sure not to
press too hard at first, and to keep his potentially lethal
fingernail out of the way).  He worked his way up from just under her
ribs to her shoulder-blades, digging into the tops of her shoulders
and drawing small gasps of pleasure from her; he then adventurously
began rubbing down her spine, finally settling around the back of her
hips, just above `the forbidden zone'.  Once there, he dug his thumbs
in as deep as he dared, slowly moving them up and down.

    As he did this, Tryssa was moaning softly and wiggling from side
to side.  She reached back and grasped his wrists, moving his hands
insistently, wrapping her fingers around his and placing them around
her waist, so that Kulyar appeared to be holding her down on the bed.
Unnoticed, his breathing was getting deeper, as was hers; it came as
a complete surprise to the Troll when she said, very quietly,

    `I want you, slave.'

    He froze, and she hissed `don't stop!'.  In panic, he continued;
after a few moments, she spoke again, in a softer, more intimate
tone.  `You want me, as well.  I can tell, from the insolent way you
stare at me when I'm getting dressed... the insulting way your eyes
cling to my body whenever you are in my presence.'  There was a
pause, after which Kulyar whispered,

    `i'm sorry, mistress.'  She laughed softly.

    `Don't be... if anyone else knew of my desire for you, I'd be
thought of as some sort of sexual deviate...'  Kulyar thought about
this.

    `i thought all Elves were sexual deviates... the Trolls have a
saying: Trolls Do It with Trolls, Humans Try Not To Do It With Anyone
and Elves Try To Do It With Everyone.'  Tryssa laughed at this, then
abruptly turned over to stare at him, a curiously blank expression on
her face, eyes wide.

    `I want to be with you, Troll.  Now.'  There was an embarrassed
pause, a silence which was broken by a slight creaking sound coming
from the crotch of Kulyar's rough leather breeks.  Tryssa glanced
down, smiled when she saw the state of his arousal and instantly
switched to what Kulyar had come to think of as `tease mode'.  It was
signalled by a cruel smile which played about Tryssa's beautiful lips
as she reached out to stroke him, her finger outlining the bulge of
his erection.  She sat up, moving slowly and not taking her eyes off
him; abruptly, she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back
on the bed, crawling forward to kneel over him, gently squeezing his
ribs between her thighs.  She sat there for a moment, regarding his
mixture of confusion, desperation and lust, and smiled afresh. `You
are -such- fun to play with.' she murmured, closing her eyes and
hugging him, brushing the tips of her breasts across his face.  He
shuddered and started to thrust his pelvis up at her, but then
realised: this was his Owner; he had no right to behave that way.  He
couldn't assume that she wanted to make love to him; she was, as
usual, teasing him, and would send him back to his hole when she got
bored.  He half-slumped back onto the bed and lay there limply, eyes
closed, and yelped suddenly as Tryssa reached down and bit his
slightly pointed earlobe; she then leaned back and grinned at him,
noting appreciatively the way his eyes widened and the pupils dilated
in fear.  She slowly unbuttoned his tunic half-way down to his belly,
and slipped her hand inside to stroke his hairy chest and tweak his
nipples with one hand, while she loosened the cord that held closed
his breeks and slowly insinuated her hand down to where his erection
pressed tight against the leather, freeing it to wave in the cool
evening air.  Eyes slitted, she lasciviously stroked its entire
length, running her fingers along the veined underside, encircling
the head with her thumb and forefinger and tugging gently. Kulyar
moaned; encouraged at his response, Tryssa repeated the motion,
noting how flushed and close to losing control her Troll slave
appeared to be.  Grasping his erection in her fist and feeling it
grow even larger, she became aware of a familiar stirring deep within
her, but one she had never expected to be associated with this
situation; particularly not so with this partner!  She tried to shake
the feeling and continue working on Kulyar, but it began to distract
her again a few moments later, when the Troll began to breathe so
deeply that he was practically grunting, in a bestial (and typically
Troll-like) fashion.  She was on the point of ordering him to try and
be a bit less uncouth when she came to the realisation that it
sounded... interesting?  Whatever the word, she did not order him to
silence, but instead took his shaft in both hands and squeezed
harder.  Kulyar moaned again, so she alternately tugged and squeezed
gently, with the head of his penis trapped behind her fist.

    The Troll was almost raising his hips off the bed with the force
of his frustration; Tryssa was obliged to entwine the fingers of one
hand in the dark mat of hair that covered his chest while desperately
holding on to his erection with the other.  She suddenly released his
penis, allowing him to fall back on her bed with a thump.  He seemed
to realise where he was, and she almost purred at the familiar sight
of his wide Troll nostrils flaring, as he gasped with fear. She sat
there for a moment, her thighs pressed into his sides, her behind
hovering tantalisingly over his swollen endowment.

    `Do you want me, Troll?' she murmured sweetly.

    `Gods below, yes, Mistress!  Please!'  She smiled, and breathed,

    `I -love- to hear you beg...'

    `Please!  Mistress, PLEASE!'  She nodded approvingly, and with
tantalising slowness, lowered herself onto him, gently rubbing her
swollen lips against the head of the shaft which eagerly strained
upward to meet them.  She rested momentarily with him pressing
against her entrance, holding him down with her feet tucked inwards
over the tops of his thighs; then she moved upward, pressed her
warmth against his belly and slid down, pushing her behind against
his shaft, holding herself back against it, teasing him with the
slick wetness which belied how intently she felt for her ugly Troll
slave.  With an agile movement of her hips, she rubbed herself
against his erection, squeezing it between her thighs and holding her
breasts just above his face.  She could tell from his expression that
she'd pushed him about as far as a Troll could be pushed; supporting
her weight on her toes and outspread legs, she reached down and held
his erection just below the head, rubbing it against herself. Kulyar
responded with a renewed series of growls and grunts which almost
made her knees weaken.  She half-closed her eyes with pleasure as she
slowly slipped the end of Kulyar's shaft inside her, then out again;
the sensation was such that even she felt that she could not resist
for much longer.  Finally admitting how much she wanted this, she
released her hold on him and, transferring her support from her toes
to her knees, slid down onto him.  He gave a long, drawn out basso
rumble which she could feel in the pit of her stomach.  She levered
herself off him slowly, then dropped down on him again, unable to
repress the moans of pleasure which this motion induced. For a few
moments she bucked up and down on him wildly, clutching at his
shoulders and digging her fingernails into him, stopping when she
sensed that he was about to come and resuming when he'd calmed down.

    `Ah... unh, if you... if you come before -I- do, Troll... ah, you
will be -punished-...' she managed between thrusts.  Unsure if he'd
heard her, she sat up until the head of his penis was just inside.
`Do you understand me, Troll?'  He stared up at her with a dazed
expression, his eyes slightly glazed.

    `Mistress?' he croaked.  She smiled evilly, eyes slitted.

    `Fifty lashes if you come before I do.' she coolly stated. Kulyar
swallowed; he knew what she could do to him with fifty lashes. She
closed her eyes and with excruciating languor impaled herself upon
his shaft, wiggling her hips from side to side as she descended.

    At that point, it became a competition: each strove to bring the
other to orgasm.  Tryssa had her Elven wiles and her amorous skill;
all the Troll had was his desperate desire to serve... an uneven
contest.  He used every trick in his limited repertoire, but could
not, in the end, hope to match her.  Her hands clasping his to her
hips, she rocked backwards and forwards, sitting comfortably in his
lap; then with one hand, she reached behind her to grab him by the
balls and squeeze with all her might, at the same time bearing down
on him. With a shout, he was forced over the edge; she hugged him
tightly, her knees pressing painfully into his ribs, squeezing
convulsively, and even as he came, her cries told him that she'd
beaten him by only a few seconds.  She slid off him backwards, his
erection released to flip up against his belly, spurting hot fluid in
an arc.  Shuddering, she swept her disarrayed hair from her eyes,
leaned forward and snatched wildly at his penis, catching it by the
head and tugging at it frantically.  With each jerk, a fresh stream
of liquid was forced from him, coating her forearm; as the jets
diminished, she reached down with her other hand and drove her
knuckles deep into his perineum.  He screamed.

    She fell forward and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him
with a desperate passion.  Surprised, he returned her affections, his
hands meeting behind her shoulder-blades, pressing her to his sweat-
soaked chest.  He suddenly felt an unfamiliar emotion surging through
him; when he identified it, he struggled with the concept, but
finally had to admit, in a croaking whisper,

    `Mistress...' She lay on top of him, alternating between taking
vicious bites of and gently caressing, with her tongue, the
bluntly-pointed tip of his ear.

    `Yes, Troll?' she murmured. He paused, for what seemed (to him)
an age, and then, barely audibly:

    `i love you.'  He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a reproving
slap.  When his punishment was not forthcoming, he dared open his
eyes, to see her smiling down at him fondly.

    `Oh, Troll,' she sighed, hugging him, `I love you, also!'  He
wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, taking care not to use his
full strength for fear of cracking her ribs.  They lay there for a
long time, sharing their warmth, before she added, `Of course, that
doesn't mean that you get out of that fifty lashes.'

    He smiled.  He wouldn't have it any other way.

    Much later, with his tunic buttoned crookedly, Kulyar stumbled
back to his hole.  On the way, he passed Lieutenant Jacyn who, noting
his haggard expression, gave him a sympathetic slap on the back.
Kulyar's response was a prolonged, heartfelt exhalation, something
halfway between a groan and a sigh.  Jacyn smiled wryly.  He'd been
there.

    One evening, Tryssa was enjoying a bath, with Kulyar in
attendance.  He stood behind her, holding a jug half his size; by her
command, he poured hot water from the jug over her head and
practically writhed with desire as he watched her run her hands over
her breasts, tweaking the nipples between thumb and forefinger.  She
smiled inwardly as she did this; they were playing the now-familiar
game of teasing, breach of manners, punishment and (eventual)
recompense.  However, before Kulyar had time to think of an
acceptable infringement (something not too un-slavelike and yet
definitely punishment-worthy), a page announced the arrival of Prince
Sephayr.  Kulyar ushered the prince into the bath-chamber; a tall,
sturdy looking Elf with brown, curly hair and beard.  He bowed to
Tryssa, swept his cap off and passed it to Kulyar, patting the Troll
on the head.

   `There's a good Troll.' he said, without condescension.  Kulyar
grinned at the prince; they were, surprisingly, friends; as close as
an Elf and a Troll could be, and often exchanged half-serious banter
at the expense of each other's respective races.  Sephayr turned to
Tryssa, who was, even when up to her waist in sudsy water, sitting
with a definite air of regality.  Their eyes narrowed, and Kulyar
could almost see both their attention spans narrow, to exclude
everything else.  Sephayr slowly approached the bath, stripping off
articles of his clothing, not taking his eyes off her.  She stared
back at him defiantly; when he reached the edge of the bath, she held
her arms out to him; he leaned over, embraced her and fell into the
bath.  After a lingering kiss, Tryssa murmured to her Troll,

    `You needn't stay if you don't want to watch.  I don't mind.'
Kulyar shrugged, repressing a grin.  His only move was to place linen
around the base of the tub, to mop up the water that would inevitably
be spilled.

    Some time later:  `Troll - come here - yes... help me up... ah...
yes, that's - ahhh..... oh...'

    Later that evening, after Prince Sephayr had left to return to
his Keep, Tryssa was cuddling her Troll in bed (Kulyar still thought
of it as `teasing').  She lay on her back, one hand idly tracing a
path from the centre of his chest down towards the base of his
abdomen and back, occasionally stopping off to tweak one or the other
of his nipples.

    Suddenly, she asked him,

    `What do you think of Prince Sephayr?'  Kulyar paused, thought.

    `He's obviously a capable ruler.  Intelligent.  Considerate.'  He
added the last after recalling how long the Elves had spent in the
bath.

    `You don't find him attractive?'  Kulyar snorted.

    `He's male, unless you hadn't noticed.'

    `...and you've never been attracted to another male?'  Kulyar
paused again.

    `No.' he replied, in a tone which implied `what have i done to
suggest otherwise?'

    `Are you certain?' she asked, her hand drifting down to touch
his growing erection.

    `i am -certain-.' he said finally.  She flicked his stiffening
member back and forth playfully.

    `As Synda often says: "Su-u-u-u-u-ure."'  Kulyar sat up on his
elbow and fixed Tryssa with a level glance.

    `i can assure you that i have never entertained the slightest...
uh, i've never... um... please, mistress, i can't concentrate when
you're doing that... ah...'  as she fixed her mouth over the head of
his penis, he fell back and conceded the point.  `Well, i can't argue
with that.'

    Chapter 7


    Pyraf frowned and turned from the examination slab.  He'd let his
anger rob him of valuable information; his study of the Westmarch
Troll had revealed that there had been an unusual form of magic
buried deep within, a rare fire-spell which (he thought) had some
basis in the variety of sorcery usually associated with dragons.  In
the process of interrogating the subject to determine how the spell
was triggered, his innate dislike for Trolls had surfaced, with the
usual result.  He gestured curtly to Jacyn; the lieutenant signalled
to the Human attendants, who began collecting the pieces and mopping
up the blood.

    `We're running out of subjects.' Jacyn offered. `Maybe that would
be the most, ah, expedient solution to the problem; when we don't
have any Trolls in our prisons, we won't have a security risk.'
Inwardly, Jacyn was quite content to live and let live - he had
nothing personally against the Trolls - but when in Pyraf's presence,
he knew which opinions to express and which to hide.

    Pyraf shook his head curtly.

    `There's something here which purports to elude me, and I'm not
fond of the notion that the Westmarch Trolls are trying to make fun
of me.  It's not... polite.'  Pyraf stalked to the far side of the
room, hands behind his back, to examine a map showing the territories
the Elves had claimed from the Trolls in recent months.  `Hmmm... the
Westmarch Keep was the last one we took, correct?'  Jacyn made a
vague sound of assent.  `Would you say that it was a particularly
easy conquest?'

    `Can't say, sir.  I was with the Eastern Battalions.'  Pyraf
stood, lost in thought.  He had an inkling as to what might be going
on, but it implied a degree of cunning and magical skill on the part
of the Trolls that he couldn't reconcile with his low opinion of
them.  `No... they just aren't that clever...' he muttered, then he
froze. His eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fingers. `A-HA!'

    `Sir?'  Pyraf turned, his raised index finger quivering.

    `Zarrow - the Red Sorcerer of Cerbia.  He was known to be acting
as a consultant for the Trolls, just before they finished with the
Humans... and it's known that he has a penchant for fire spells.'
Pyraf turned away, lost in thought.  `I should have killed that
pompous Human fool while I had the chance...'  Jacyn approached,
trying to think of a way of interrupting his captain without getting
any closer than necessary.

    There was a knock at the door.  A page entered and handed a
message to Pyraf.
    `From the King.'  The page bowed and made his exit.  Pyraf opened
the scroll, read the contents.  His face was completely blank; he
tossed the scroll into the fire and watched as it burned.  Suddenly,
he snatched up a brightly polished bronze shield, turned and ran from
the room.  Jacyn paused only for a moment before following, at a
distance.


    Tryssa straightened Kulyar's tunic and brushed a few specks of
lint from his shoulder.  She stood back, regarded him and sighed.

    `It's no good... you still look like a Troll.'  Kulyar protested,

    `But, Mistress... i -am- a Troll.'

    `I know that... my father has never been what you could describe
as partial to Trolls, and I'd like you to make a good impression when
I present you.'  Kulyar's eyes widened.

    `The King of the Elves is coming here?'  Tryssa turned back to
her mirror and allowed Kulyar to continue brushing her hair.

    `He will be here in less than half an hour.'  Kulyar had an odd
glint in his eye.

    `I've never met an Elven King...' he said absently.  Tryssa
patted at the flowing silver glory of her hair, and stood.

    `Well, you're about to.  Come along, Troll... we'll watch from
the upper gallery as he rides by, and then descend to the courtyard
to welcome him.'


    Jacyn knocked on the door of Synda's work-rooms.  The Elf
appeared after a short delay, desultorily rubbing her sleepy eyes,
brightening when she recognised her visitor.
    `Hello, Lieutenant,' she offered as he pushed past her and closed
the door behind him.  She gave him a quizzical look as he bolted the
door behind him and ushered her over to her work-bench.
    `Tell me what you know about the works of Zarrow the Red.' he
asked curtly.  Synda said nothing for a moment, absorbed in thought.
Then, her eyes narrowed.
    `He's a pioneer in the field of Dragon Sorcery.  The first to
successfully encapsulate Dragon-fire in a living subject, for later
release, as a weapon.  It proved too time-consuming to be used as a
general battle-field weapon -'
    `- but not too expensive for assassination.' Jacyn finished.
Synda snapped her fingers in exasperation.
    `I should have -recognised- it!  The reason Tryssa's slave can't
perform magic - his mana is tied up in containing a large quantity of
Dragon-fire.  It's probably held, with a subconscious compulsion to
release if he ever gets near the King.'  Jacyn clenched his fists.
    `That filthy Troll... and to think, I trusted him.'  Synda gave
the Lieutenant a dour look.
    `I don't think Kulyar is aware of it.  No-one - not even a
fanatical assassin - would -willingly- become a container for
Dragon-fire.  It's worse than suicidal... it's the sort of thing a
Human would do.'  Jacyn paused for a moment, then said slowly,
    `Pyraf knows this... but he didn't command a large force to
capture the Troll... he went off by himself.  With a copper shield.'
Synda snorted.
   `-That- won't stop Dragon-fire...'
   `...but it will look as if he tried...'
   `...tried, and failed?'  Jacyn gulped.
   `I'll summon the guard.'

    Jacyn found Pyraf in the courtyard, glancing about with an
experienced eye.  He joined the Elven Captain, following a few paces
behind, trying to establish what he was looking for.  Pyraf was
staring up at the upper gallery.

    `Lieutenant... if you were going to attack the King as he rode
by, where would you be likely to station yourself?'  Without waiting
for an answer, Pyraf drew his sword and strode off towards the
gallery steps.  Jacyn made to follow, but was stopped by Prince
Sephayr as he rode in through the open gates.  The prince reigned up
his horse, jumped from the saddle and greeted the Lieutenant.

    `The King arrives momentarily.'

    `Captain Pyraf suspects an assassination plot,' Jacyn informed
him breathlessly.  Sephayr looked about him and immediately spotted
the upper gallery, where Kulyar and Tryssa were emerging from the far
entrance just as Pyraf attained that level.

    Pyraf strode towards them, his sword drawn, shield to one side,
eyes glittering with hatred.  Kulyar automatically moved in front of
Tryssa and folded his arms, an impassable barrier.

    `I should have done this long ago, Troll... but there's
something I need you to do for me, first.'  Pyraf hissed, his tone
conveying the depth of his antipathy.  Just then, a fanfare sounded
from below, and the Elven King's retinue rode into the courtyard.
Kulyar's attention jerked to the right, and a golden-red gleam
flickered behind his eyes.  As the King rode in, Kulyar's body went
completely rigid; Pyraf stepped forward with the obvious intention of
separating the Troll's head from his shoulders, but with a titanic
effort Kulyar turned back to face him, a ferocious grin distorting
his features. Pyraf snarled and raised the shield. The Troll's fanged
mouth yawned wide, and with a roar, a stream of golden fire issued
forth, hit the shield, passed straight through it and struck Pyraf in
the chest, forcing him back. Tryssa protected her face from the
intense heat and retreated to the stair-well; stiff-legged, Kulyar
strode forward, playing the stream of fire up and down, from Pyraf's
head to his knees.  The Dragon-Spell reached a peak and then suddenly
faded; for a moment, Pyraf stood wrapped in a wreath of golden-red
flame which leaped in streams from his sides and back to his body;
then, he shrieked and leaped from the balcony, falling to hit the
courtyard stones with a broken thump.  He kicked for a few moments,
but fell motionless as the energy ate the flesh from his bones.  The
King's horse rode up and stepped over the smoking remains.

    Tryssa ran up to her father as he dismounted, closely followed by
Lieutenant Jacyn, Prince Sephayr and a company of Elven guards.  The
King held his arms out and embraced her, lifting her off her feet and
spinning her around, laughing.  After she had been set down again,
she nudged Jacyn in the ribs and muttered to him,

    `You've been promoted, -Captain-.'  The King exchanged greetings
with Jacyn and the other Elven courtiers that now joined them.

    `That was an interesting fireworks display just then,' he
commented wryly.  `Pyraf's doing?'  Tryssa giggled.

    That evening at the feast, Tryssa dragged Kulyar into the banquet
hall, over to the head of the table where her father was discussing
recent political events with Sephayr and Captain Jacyn.  The Elven
King looked up in surprise.

    `What's this?'  Tryssa smiled proudly.

    `He's my pet Troll, daddy!'  The King frowned and shook his head.

    `I'm afraid you won't be able to keep him, dearest,' he replied
gravely.  Tryssa's face fell; she was about to launch into her
prepared speech when the King continued;  `not since King Gargamon of
the Trolls sued for peace.  We've signed a mutual non-aggression
pact, which, in part, calls for the release and exchange of all
prisoners.' Kulyar's jaw dropped.

    `Does that mean... you're going to kick me -out-?' he managed.
Tryssa threw her arms around him protectively.

    `You can't -do- that!  He's -mine-!'  Kulyar glanced down in
surprise, and then found his voice.

    `That's right, i'm -hers-!'  Sephayr grinned, and then had an
idea.

    `You held the rank of Captain with the Trolls, didn't you,
Kulyar?'  The Troll nodded.  `Then, you could be accepted as an
Ambassador...'  Jacyn glanced at the prince in surprise, and then
caught on,

    `Oh, of course,' he put in, `Minister Plenipotentiary...
diplomatic immunity, and all that... he'd be admirably suited to
comment on the conditions of the former prisoners in our dungeons,'
he added with a grin.  Kulyar stared at Jacyn, and then Sephayr, who
winked at him.  They all waited as Kulyar absorbed the idea.

    `i suppose...' he began, `i'd have to learn how to read and
write...' the King waved his hand in a gesture of polite dismissal.

    `Not at all!  That's what clerics are for!  Right, Captain?' he
laughed, nudging Jacyn, who turned red.  Tryssa put on her most
hopeful expression and asked, in her best little-girl voice,

    `So - can I keep him, daddy?'  The King gestured magnanimously.

    `He's yours.'  Tryssa yelled with glee, jumped up and hugged
Kulyar, almost knocking him over.  She dragged him back to her place
at the table, where kitchen staff brought a large wooden stool over
for him.  Kulyar sat next to Tryssa and poured a goblet of wine for
her; a servant placed a platter with a smoking haunch of meat before
the Troll, who licked his lips.  Tryssa regarded it dubiously.

    `I -don't- want to know.'


    The banquet lasted well into the night, as Elven banquets do;
however, just before the hour of midnight, Tryssa took her slave by
the hand and led him away.

    `Come along, -Minister-,' she said, `there are some matters of
state I wish to discuss with you.'

    `Yes, Princess.' he replied meekly.

konets!

Dac
--
dac@prolix.apana.org.au              David Andrew Clayton.           // _| _  _
dac@prolix.sserve.cc.adfa.oz.au      Canberra, Australia           \X/ (_](_](_
                    <Using ARN on an Amiga 4000. Yay!>
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