The place reeked of urine. Marchan's nose closed against the smell and he switched to breathing through his lips. The smell from earlier in the day was nothing like what was to be found now. As he looked around, he saw Peter laying on a stack of furs; he heard women laughing and splashing noises from the back courtyard; and he tasted the urine in the air. He was not sure that breathing through his mouth was that much better.

Marchan walked over to Peter. He lay comfortably sleeping but seemed distrubed by Marchan's feet. He opened an eye and suddenly jumped up.

'Mr Dwarf!' he exclaimed. 'You have found me! I did not know you were here. I got back just moments ago with the clay and lay down to rest. Wow, how were you able to find me?'

'I met Rita this morning via Franna who we were starting to make friends with.'

'Oh, you have other dwarves here?' Peter said looking around.

'No,' said Marchan. 'My friends are human. I sent them back to the square because the women wouldn't let me enter until I had.'

'Oh. I don't know why that would be. Anyway, what do you think of our set up.'

'What are you doing? It stinks in here.'

'Cleaning clothes. You're quite right it stinks, but that stink provides us with money. The citizens of Kingcity want their underclothes to be brilliantly white, so we whiten them for them. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.'

'You're cleaning clothes with urine?'

'Yup, you let it sit for a while and it becomes a very powerful cleanser. Mix it with this special type of clay we've found and it takes out everything. The clothes that leave here are as white as clothing can be. The girls then take and wash it and perfume it before returning it to its owners.'

'Wow,' Marchan said. 'I had no idea. My mother always cleaned all our clothes.'

'Well, the nobility don't like doing it themselves, and we can get it whiter than most of their servants, so this works well for everybody,' Peter said. 'My job is to dig up the clay and bring it from outside of the city. When you first met me a week ago, I was just on my way out of the city to get some. I just got back from this week's trip.'

'So where's Moma Rita?' Marchan said after a slight pause.

'Come, I'll show you,' Peter said and led him back to the cubicle where they first met Moma Rita.

There she was again, reading more of that book to her ancestor. The ancestor seemed to exude enjoyment from it. Marchan couldn't quite figure out how a figure that was laying almost lifeless on the bed could be exuding enjoyment, but it was. He watched and listened for a few moments before Moma Rita noticed him and Peter by the door.

'Ah, you've returned Master Dwarf. Welcome. You've caught us when we are cleaning. The smell is nearly intolerable for most. Even sometimes those of us who live and work here. I hope you aren't offended by it.'

'I just closed off my nose,' Marchan said. 'I can't smell a thing right now.'

'Oooh, that sounds like a wonderful ability,' said Peter.

Marchan followed Peter into the rear of the house. There, in a courtyard, a gaggle of maidens were stepping around in a large tub which was full of a liquid quite yellow. They seemed to be having a lot of fun, splashing one another. Just as Marchan entered the courtyard one got some in her mouth and spit out onto the flag stones. Her friends all laughed at her all the harder.

Peter explained to Marchan, 'The easiest way to mix up the clothes and cleaning fluids is to walk around with them in the tub. Legs are much stronger for doing that than arms. You'll notice the girls are all wearing shifts that they wouldn't normally let themselves be seen in public in. In fact, that was likely why they wouldn't let your friends inside. It's hardly proper attire. 'Anyway, when the dirt is all gotten out of the clothes here and they're nicely whitened, we take and store them in this clay I had brought back. It seems to absorb any oil stains. From there they're taken to a large water pool where they're washed by hand to get rid of the smell and the dirt from the clay. After that, we return them to their owners homes with various spices stored among them to mask any residual smell. It's a nice little operation and feeds all these girls.'

'So, what they were telling us today, that Moma Rita just looks after poor orphans and everyone is surprised by how she can feed them, isn't true?' Marchan was confused.

'It was true until a few months ago. Then we hit upon this. All these girls were orphans. We all lived here under Moma Rita's tutelage. She cared for us and fed us and we have no idea where she got the money to do that. Every stray child or animal that crossed her path found a home here. She is a truly wonderful mother. When we discovered that we could clean clothes better than anyone in the city, we started doing this. Bit by bit we took Moma Rita's cares. A few days ago we bought a house off Middletrusk Square. We're doing a bit of work on it and soon it will become an orphanage as well. There are quite a number of starving children there too. Gayle and Gillian are over there and have already taken in a few of the children. Our work here will pay for most of that and Moma Rita's connections will likely pay the rest.'

'So you wish to start orphanages all across the city?'

'Well, not in Kingcity. We could not afford to buy a house there, and there aren't any children living on the streets there.'

Marchan stayed for a while longer with Peter and after a while said goodbye as he thought Trevor and Richard might be wondering about him. He walked back to the square and discovered them sitting quietly on a bench.

'There you are,' said Trevor when he saw him. 'Was your friend Peter there?'

'Yes,' said Marchan.

'Are we done here then?' Richard asked. 'It will soon be the end of the day and I would like to return to the Hall of Records.'

'Yes,' said Marchan. 'I am done here. Let us return.'

They went back into Kingcity and returned to the Hall of Records. It was no longer a strange place to Marchan. It seemed quite a bit like home. Not the house that he had grown up in, but that feeling of this is where he belonged.

The next morning Marchan found the gardener who had helped him a few days prior with getting some marble from the block in the courtyard. With his help he took another large chunk and returned to his quarters. All that day and all the next he worked hard. Richard came and took him for lunch, and Trevor took him for supper, but aside from meals and short breaks, Marchan stayed in his quarters chipping, shaping, sanding and polishing. At the end of the second day, while eating with Trevor, he said, 'I was wondering if you would be able to make another trip to the Jeweller's with me?'

'Yes, why?'

Marchan pulled from his pocket a chess piece and placed it on the table. Trevor stood up and leaned closer to it. It was exquisite. It was a Queen. Trevor could see her flowing hair and it seemed her individual eyelashes were visible if he looked closely enough. Her lips and nose were of perfect shape and Trevor was quite sure he could see rings upon her fingers.

'You did all this in two days?' he was incredulous.

'Well, I still have four more Footsoldiers to do to finish the set.'

'You work very fast for such intricate work.'

'Yes, well, it's very fun. I could do this for months or years without getting bored.'

They arranged to meet the next morning and Marchan returned to this quarters to finish the work.

When morning came, Marchan was surprised to find not just Trevor, but also Richard, Gordon, Michael and Jeannie standing outside his quarters.

'Good morning,' he said.

'Good morning,' said Richard. 'Trevor told us about the work you've been doing and I don't think you want to go just the two of you. It could be quite dangerous.'

'So six is better?' asked Marchan.

'That should ward off almost anyone who might try to waylay you,' said Richard.

'Uhm, all right then,' said Marchan a little mystified that anyone would want to steal his work.

They made their way back to the Jeweller's and the Jeweller was very pleased to see the chess pieces. He quoted a price to which Richard looked a little shocked.

'Come,' he said to Marchan. 'We can find a better deal elsewhere. I'm sure there's another Jeweller in this city who would offer a much better price.'

The Jeweller asked them to stay and quickly the price jumped by leaps and bounds, soon he was offering more than twice as much as his original offer. It seemed a nearly fair price to Richard's eyes. At this point, however, the Jeweller announced he would need time to raise such a sum. He could not afford to keep that kind of money in the store, he said.

'How would you like a trade then?' Marchan asked.

'A trade?' the Jeweller inquired.

'Yes, you must have the sum you originally proposed. I'll sell you half my pieces for that amount, then trade the other half for diamands, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls and other such gems.'

'That is quite a good idea,' said the Jeweller smiling.

'And you're going to give him a good deal on those, now aren't you?' said Richard stepping closer to the Jeweller.

'Oh, of course, Your Excellency! Of course!' The Jeweller started to collect what Marchan asked of him. Marchan could feel desire for the gems grow in him. He wanted them so much. When the Jeweller had collected everything Marchan had asked specifically, Richard declared it was not enough. He said that the pile of jewels was less than the cash amount they were replacing. Marchan looking at the pile realised he had never seen such a pile of valubles and finally understood why Richard had insisted upon a guard. Richard and the Jeweller haggled a bit more and the Jeweller put another diamond into the pile. It was larger than any that were already in the pile. Marchan lifted and looked at it. He was very pleased with it.

He turned to Richard and said, 'Enough! That will cover everything I need.'

The Jeweller clasped his hand and said, 'Thank you little master. This officer was about to empty out my store. I am pleased with my trade just the same. You are welcome to my store anytime.'

Marchan shook the hand that clasped his and said, 'I am well pleased as well. Do you have some way for us to carry all this?'

'Why yes,' said the Jeweller and brought out some small wooden boxes. They filled six of them with the money and jewels and spread them among the six people from the Hall of Records and returned there by a most direct route.