The Law is the Law

The Emperor, even incognito, drew stares. He reached into an inner pocket as our food arrived and handed me a small salt-cellar.

“Most humble merchants do not carry their own personal spices with them,” I pointed out.

“It is necessary,” he said. “Trust me.”

I shrugged and seasoned my food with a liberal pinch. “Snobbery.”

“No,” he said earnestly. “Unicorn horn, serpent’s tongue, and powdered bezoar. I poisoned everything in the kitchen as a matter of course. They have seen my unmasked face: the penalty is death.”

Someone behind me sighed as they collapsed into their soup.

I tasted salt.