"You will build a caroj for me?"
"It could be arranged, if you have the right kind of tools I could use. But I must first know what is the specialty of your clan, if you know what I mean. Like the Trozelligoj make caroj and the D'zertanoj pump oil. What do your people do?"
"You cannot know as much as you say if you do not know of the glories of the Perssonoj!"
"I come from a distant land and as you know news travels slowly around these parts."
"Not around the Perssonoj," the Hertug said scornfully and thumped his chest. "We can talk across the width of the country and always know where our enemies are. We can send magic on wires to kill, or magic to make light in a glass ball or magic that will pluck the sword from an enemy's hand and drive terror into his heart."
"It sounds like your gang has the monopoly on electricity, which is good to hear. If you have some heavy forging equipment...."
"Stop!" the Hertug ordered. "Leave! Out—everyone except the sciuloj. Not the new slave, he stays here," he shouted when the soldiers grabbed Jason.
The room emptied and the handful of men who remained were all a little long in the tooth and each wore a brazen, sun-burst type decoration on his chest. They were undoubtedly adept in the secret electrical arts and they fingered their weapons and grumbled with unconcealed anger at Jason's forbidden knowledge. The Hertug signaled him to continue.
"You used a sacred word. Who told it to you? Speak quickly or you will be killed."