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split partnerships that had been in place for generations.”

“What form did the disagreements take?” Jella asked.  “Trade terms?”

“No, those kinds of disagreements are normal parts of business negotiations.  These were philosophical differences, primarily in terms of how each country treats things like citizen’s rights, governmental leadership, taxation, property ownership, and the enforcement of laws.”

“If these transactions happen in Montshire territory, aren’t they subject to Montshire laws?” Soshi asked.

“Yes, exactly.  That’s part of what has kept things sane for so long.  Our kingdom falls pretty closely between Berkette’s republic and Mandrigo’s monarchy.  Ours is also a monarchy, but with rotating leadership from the High Families, much as the republic circulates leadership among its wealthy class.  Our economic policies are fair and favor ease of commerce.  Taxation is reasonable and the government generally delivers the services the citizens need. Yet these conflicts were mainly about the differences between Berkette and Mandrigo.”

“Mainly?” I said.

“Sometimes Montshire’s form of government is the issue and when that happens, both sides take great pains to point out whatever differs most from their own culture and ignore the commonalities.”

“Hasn’t this always gone on?” Jella asked.

Freyla turned back to our Drodacian.  “Of course, on a very minor and very polite scale—at least compared to this.  Pub table debates have always occurred.  But in the past week, my guys have broken up seventeen fights.  In the previous three months, I’ve only had one scuffle, and it involved two old men wrestling over a bottle of rum.”

“So it’s a real threat. Any idea of the cause?” I asked.

She turned back to me, looked me in the eye for a moment, and then nodded.  Standing, she moved to the same sideboard that Jella was sitting on.  Ignoring the dangerous warrior who was swinging her feet, Freyla pulled a small key from a pocket and unlocked the little door in the center of the cabinet.  She pulled out a black bundle of cloth and came back to the table, then she set it down in front of me.

“That’s the cause,” she said with a nod at the object. “Or at least an example of the cause.”

I reached over and carefully unfolded the material, which seemed to be a silk handkerchief.  My team moved closer to see as the contents were revealed.  In the center of the black silk laid a circular piece of copper with an eyelet at the top like it might have been strung on a necklace. Centered on the copper disk was a rectangular white object with three rounded corners, the fourth having been cut off.  Inlaid in the rectangle and taking up most of it was another rectangle, this one of gold with tiny black lines running through it that were so precise, no craftsmen I knew of could have copied them.

“That looks like something of the Punished,” Cort said.

“It is,” Freyla said.  “Retrieved from Punished technology.”

“You said this was an example?” I asked.

“Yes.  These necklaces have been appearing all over town.  The churches of all three countries have pronounced them to be salvaged metal and not proscribed technology.  The gold you see is real, just negligible.  It would take thousands of these things to amount to any real value, and no one has ever found that many. But six months ago, a jeweler out of Strong started to use them in his designs with a small amount of success.  But then a month ago, these other ones appeared, and they’re different.”

“You have it wrapped in silk?” I asked.

“Yeah, exactly.  If you touch it, you’ll immediately want to pick it up.  When you do, you’ll become fascinated.  If you wear it next to your skin, you’ll start to change.”

“Change?” Kassa asked.  She’d been absolutely quiet, but the object seemed to have her complete attention.

“Your personality will begin to… morph.  You’ll get very focused on your own beliefs, very quick to defend them.  Next you’ll find yourself gravitating to people with similar beliefs and arguing with people who don’t agree.  Violence will quickly follow.”

“You sound like you know this from personal experience,” Jella observed.

“Just a little bit, combined with hours of observation,” Freyla said.  “Every altercation and act of violence recently has involved wearers of these objects.  This one got ripped off a brawler’s neck two days ago.  One of my girls picked it up.  When I asked to see it, she got in my face. This girl is one of my rescues, abused and beat down.  It’s taken me two years to get her to hold a conversation.  She doesn’t say boo to anyone.  I was so surprised, I smacked it from her hand and picked it up before she could.  She tried to get it, realized what she was doing, and ran from the room.  In the meantime, I found myself feeling like I would kill her if she spoke back to me again.”

“What made you put it down?” I asked.

She looked at me long and hard.  “Let’s just say that I’m not a stranger to things that can be addictive.  I recognized it for what it was.”

“Which was what?” Cort asked.

“A drug,” Kassa answered for her, eyes still on the object.  “Just one you don’t smoke, snort, drink, or otherwise put in your body.”

“Exactly,” Freyla said, looking at the pretty, soft-looking girl with surprise.

“You think it’s been tainted?” I asked Kassa.

“Of a sort,” she answered, giving me a meaningful look.

“Any idea where these are coming from?” I asked Freyla.  She looked back and forth between Kassa and me, then she shook her head.

“They just started to appear.  I’ve asked ten or twelve wearers where they got them, and they all told me that they found them just lying on the street or floor somewhere.”

“Smart,” Soshi said.  “Just leave the shiny drug laying around and let the soon-to-be addicts pick them up.  No way to trace them back.”

There was a knock at the door and Freyla leaned forward and covered the necklace even as she spoke.  “Come in.”

One of the bouncers opened the door, then moved out of

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