STEVEN BRUST

Contents

Five Hundred Years After

Cast of Characters

Preface

BOOK ONEChapter the First | Chapter the Second | Chapter the Third | Chapter the Fourth |Chapter the Fifth | Chapter the Sixth | Chapter the Seventh | Chapter the Eighth |

Chapter the Ninth | Chapter the Tenth | Chapter the Eleventh | Chapter theTwelfth | Chapter the Thirteenth | Chapter the Fourteenth | Chapter the Fifteenth

| Chapter the Sixteenth | Chapter the Seventeenth

BOOK TWO

Chapter the Eighteenth | Chapter the Nineteenth | Chapter the Twentieth |Chapter the Twenty-first | Chapter the Twenty-second | Chapter the Twenty-third| Chapter the Twenty-fourth | Chapter the Twenty-fifth | Chapter the Twenty-sixth

| Chapter the Twenty-seventh | Chapter the Twenty-eighth | Chapter the

Twenty-ninth | Chapter the Thirtieth | Chapter the Thirty-first | Chapter the

Thirty-second | Chapter the Thirty-third | Chapter the Thirty-fourth

Conclusion

About the Author

BOOKS BY STEVEN BRUST

The Dragaeran Novels

Brokedown Palace

The Khaavren Romances

The Phoenix Guards

Five Hundred Years AfterThe Viscount of Adrilankha, which comprises The Paths of the Dead, The Lord of

Castle Black, and Sethra Lavode

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The Vlad Taltos Novels

Jhereg

Yendi

Teckla

Taltos

Phoenix

Athyra

Orca

Dragon

Issola

Other Novels

To Reign in Hell

The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars

Cowboy Feng's Space Bar and Grille

The Gypsy (with Megan Lindholm)

Freedom and Necessity (with Emma Bull)

NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolenproperty. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor thepublisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and anyresemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AFTER Copyright © 1994 by Steven Brust

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Cover art by Sam Rakeland

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, N.Y. 10010

Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

ISBN: 0-812-51522-6

Library of Congress Catalog Number: 93-45291

First edition: April 1994

First mass market edition: March 1995

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Printed in the United States of America

For The Fabulous Lorraine

AcknowledgmentsThanks are due Terri Windling for helping me beat this one into shape, to TeresaNielsen Hayden who did Many Fine Things for the manuscript, to Sam Rakeland forthe nifty cover, and to Valerie Smith, for this 'n' that.

Thanks are also due Patrick Nielsen Hayden, who provided support,encouragement, and arguments.

I'd also like to thank Emma Bull, Kara Dalkey, Pamela Dean, and Will Shetterly,my co-conspirators.

Special thanks to Ed Raschke, who supplied the leather. Don't ask.

Five Hundred Years After

^»

Being in the Nature of a Sequel to

The Phoenix Guards

Describing Certain Events Which Occurred

In the Year of the Hawk

In the Turn of the Orca

In the Phase of the Dragon

In the Reign of the Phoenix

In the Cycle of the Phoenix

In the Great Cycle of the Dragon

Or

The 532 nd Year of the Reign of Tortaalik the First

Submitted to the Imperial Library

From Springsign Manor

Via House of the Hawk

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On this 3 rd day of the Month of the Lyorn

Of the Year of the Iorich

Or

In the Eleventh Year

Of the Glorious Reign

Of the Empress Norathar the Second

By Sir Paarfi of Roundwood

House of the Hawk

(His Arms, Seal, Lineage Block)

Presented, as Always

To the Countess of Gamier

With Gratitude and Hope

Cast of Characters

«^»

Of the Court

Tortaalik I--His Majesty The Emperor

Noima--Her Majesty the Consort

Jurabin--Prime Minister

Rollondar e'Drien--WarlordCountess Bellor--Superintendent of Finance

Nyleth--Court Wizard

Khaavren--Ensign of the Imperial Guard

Brudik--Lord of the Chimes

Lady Ingera--Lord of the Keys

Navier--His Majesty's physicker

Dimma--His Majesty's Chief Servant

Daro--A Maid of Honor to Her Majesty

Dinb--Master of the First Gate

Of the Phoenix Guard

Thack--Khaavren's corporal

Tummelis e'Terics--A guardsman

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Naabrin--A guardsman

Menia--A guardsman

Sergeant--A guardsman

Tivor--A guardsman

Kyu--A guardsman

Ailib--A guardsman

Heth--A police-man

Of the Imperial PalaceDuke of Galstan (Pel)--An Initiate into Discretion

Lady Glass--Chief of the Sorett Regiment

Erna--Master of the Order of Discretion

Klorynderata--A servant at the palace

Of Lord Adron's Company

Adron e'Kieron--Dragon Heir

Aliera e'Kieron--Adron's daughter

Molric e'Drien--Adron's chainman

Durtri--A sentry

Geb--A soldier

Dohert--A soldier

Eftaan--A soldier

Of the Lavodes

Sethra--Captain of the Lavodes

Dreen--A Lavode

Tuvo--A Lavode

Roila--A Lavode

Nett--A Lavode

Of the City

Raf--A pastry vendor

Leen--A would-be assassin

Greycat--A ruffian and a conspirator

Laral--A Jhereg

Chalar--An Orca

Dunaan--A Jhereg

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Grita--A Half-breed

Baroness of Clover--A Dragonlord

Baroness of Newhouse--A Dragonlord

Count of Tree-by-the-Sea--A Dzurlord

Cariss--A Jhereg Sorceress

Tukko--A Jhereg

Mario--An assassin

Of Others

Aerich--Duke of Arylle

Fawnd--Aerich's servant

Steward--Aerich's servant

Tazendra--Baroness of Daavya

Mica--Tazendra's lackey

Sir Vintner--A Lyorn delegate

Lysek--A Jhegaala

Seb--A messenger

Theen--A brigand

Preface

In Which It is Demonstrated that the Works of

Paarfi of Roundwood Display Both the Rigors of

History and the Raptures of Fiction; With

Examples Taken from Each of His Historical-

Romantic Works.

"Fiction, therefore, is more philosophical and more

significant than history, for fiction is more

concerned with the universal, and history with

the individual."

--Ekrasan of Sibletown

"Truth is stranger than fiction."

--variously attributed

«^»WITH THE FOUNDERS OF OUR entire critical tradition expressing such

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opinions, it is no wonder that historical fiction, such as the volume you hold in yourhand, occupies an uneasy position between scholarship and romance, and is peltedwith opprobrium from both camps. When Paarfi of Roundwood published ThreeBroken Strings, those to whom he was responsible at this university's press askedhim to use another name than his own, under which the press had occasionallypublished his historical monographs. He refused to do so, with the result that thosewho read his romance were in a position to purchase and read his historicalmonographs as well, and to put sorely needed money into the coffers of thisinstitution.

This happy outcome did not prevent the repetition of that same request when ThePhoenix Guards was about to go to press; but since by then Paarfi had alreadybecome engaged in various disagreements with the university press concerning thepresentation of footnotes and maps for his latest monograph, he once more refusedit; and once more, his ardent readers purchased his monographs as well. Some ofthem have written to the university expressing their disappointment in themonographs, but it may be assumed that those who were satisfied did not bother towrite.

Writers of romance protest that there is no invention in historical fiction, no art,and no craft; writers of history protest that there is no scholarship in historicalfiction, and furthermore that it is all, if not invention, at least that distortion which canbe even more pernicious. Writers of historical fiction have so far kept quiet and goneabout their exacting business.

Let us examine the works of this author with these protests in mind. It is well tonote that while these romances do not purport to be history, they are read byhistorians, as well as by those who will learn their history in no other way. The firsthave always been concerned about the second.

Three Broken Strings was liberally accused of invention by several respectedscholars, notably by the author of Bedra of Ynn and Lotro: An Historical andPoetical Comparison, and by the editor of Mountain Ballads. There is in fact noinvention in Three Broken Strings, insofar as each of the episodes it details isattested to in at least three sources. Not all of these are reliable, as Paarfi clearlystates in his preface; but none of them is his own invention. Where thoughts areattributed to the hero, they are taken from his own published words; dialogue istaken from the earlier sources, notably Tales of Beed'n, Mountain Ballads, WiseSayings of Five Bards, Vaari's A Brief Consideration of Adverb Placement in theColloquial Tongue, and the unpublished letters catalogued as Yellowthorn MSS1-14 and lodged in the library of this institution.

As for art and craft, Three Broken Strings was derided for possessing neither,notably by the honored author of the Short Life of Lotro and the three noble soulswho kindly contributed their opinions, without giving themselves the credit ofaffixing their names, to Literary Considerations. But all of these protesters, historianand critics alike, are in fact deriding the book for not being a novel. It exhibits, ifanything, an excess of both art and craft. The episodes of Beed'n's life are divided

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not chronologically, but by type: love affairs, political entanglements, artisticwrangles, travel, poetic composition, musical performances, and so on. The meanswhereby episodes are associated are often ingenious; the structure is not entirelysuccessful from a narrative point of view, but one cannot deny that art and craftwere expended upon it. It is true that no consistent portrait of the minstrel emerges.But as a collection of the available information, the book is valuable to the student;and as a collection of lively and affecting stories divided into types, it is, as its salesamply attest, of value to the lay reader as well.

Historians had nothing to complain of in this first effort, although complain theydid. Lay readers did not, in fact, complain, but there is something to complain of ontheir behalf: the arrangement and unity of the book are scholarly rather than artistic.The subject chosen is so lively and so popular a figure that these defects are lessserious; this perhaps accounts for the absence of complaint not only on the part ofthe readers, but on the part of the usual critics as well.

These defects are in any case remedied in The Phoenix Guards, which is acoherent narrative of the sort ordinarily associated with the romance. Thiscircumstance has caused historians to complain even more vigorously that, the shapeof the story being what it is, some liberty must have been taken with the actual eventsit depicts.

And yet when one considers the available sources, this alleged liberty has notmuch scope to exercise itself. In any scene involving more than one person, it will befound by the assiduous researcher that at least one of them wrote a letter or amemoir, or talked to someone who did. The activities of the villains in the case werethroughly explored at their trials. The Teckla lackey Mica, whose overhearing ofseveral interesting conversations was so important to history, told his own personalhistory at great length to his companion Srahi, who wrote all of it down, if in a lessthan organized fashion, and preserved it with her household accounts. Hence eventhe asides concerning Mica's state of mind cannot be called invention.

If one considers even the meals the companions are said to have eaten on theirtravels, one finds that the records of the inns they stayed at--and indeed made aconsiderable impression on--have been preserved. There is, admittedly, no actualrecord of what Khaavren's party ate on their journey from Adron e'Kieron'sresidence to the Pepperfields, but the food Paarfi puts into their mouths was in factordered by Adron's cook and steward and was therefore present in his kitchen at thetime necessary, and was the sort of food generally carried by travelers.

In the interests of accuracy it must be admitted that one aspect of our author'sdepiction of these events is not, in fact, strictly in accordance with the actual practiceof the times. The mode of speech employed by those at court, and by Khaavren andhis friends as well, in casual discussion or when leading up to speeches actuallyrecorded in history, does not represent, so far as can be determined, any actualmode of speech, past or present. It is taken from a popular anonymous play of theperiod, Redwreath and Goldstar Have Traveled to Deathsgate, where it is found ina game played by the principals to ward off unwanted inquiries. The proof of this is

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the exclamation of one of their executioners at the end of the play, "The Dog! I thinkI have been asking for nothing else for an hour!" This, or similar exclamations, areused several times in The Phoenix Guards, and more often in the book you nowhold, to indicate that the time for empty courtesy is over.

But in the subtleties of its employment, the gradations of consciousness withwhich it is used, the precise timing of its termination, this mode of speech does infact give very much the flavor of the old court talk without that speech's tediousnessor outmoded expressions: it is a successful translation that does not distort anythingof significance to anybody except a linguist.

So we answer the historians. But if they are silenced, the romancers rise up intheir stead. Where are the art, the craft, and the invention, if every event, thought,and even meal is attested to in the records? Our three self-effacing critics all askedthese questions, as did Vaari himself. They are readily answered. The art, craft, andinvention reside in two places.

The first is in the structure of the story, in what Ekrasan called the arrangement ofthe incidents. Note that, while The Phoenix Guards might have begun by detailingthe intrigues brewing in the imperial palace, and sprung wildly from person to personand room to room, garnering evidence as the historian must, it does not. It enters thecity and the palace with Khaavren of Castlerock, and it stays with him while he findsand befriends the main actors in this history.

It may be objected that the main actors are rather Seodra, Adron e'Kieron, LordGarland, Kathana e'Marish'Chala, and various other important figures, many ofwhom do not make their appearance until late in the book. But this is precisely wherethe genius of our author shows itself. Here is the second place in which art andinvention may be demonstrated: in the choice of viewpoint. When Khaavren entersthe city, he is nobody: he must meet people, discover things, have matters explainedto him. The lay reader, whose knowledge of history is imprecise, if not actuallyerroneous, is in just Khaavren's position. And the author does not carry thistechnique to extremes, but heightens suspense at the right moment by showing usthose who plot against Khaavren and the empire, while Khaavren proceeds in blissfulignorance succeeded by bewilderment--a state, it should be remarked, in whichreaders, should they find themselves there for too long a time, are apt to becomeimpatient. The events are historical, but the order in which they are presented to us,and the vantage from which we view them, are determined by the author.

The Phoenix Guards is a tale of adventure and intrigue, and has been sostructured. The volume you hold in your hands is of another sort entirely. This is atale of inevitable tragedy, and of the shifts and strange chances whereby some savedthemselves, and others perished. It also tells of events that will be familiar to themost oblivious of readers. It is possible to be ignorant of what happened whenCrionofenarr met Adron e'Kieron on the Pepperfields at the beginning of the reign ofTortaalik. But no one can be ignorant of Adron's Disaster.

The structure of the book you are about to read reflects this difference. It is notthe role of the scholar to ruin a first reading of a fine book by tediously expounding

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on its scenes. But let us just glance at the very opening, in which a messenger arrivesto speak to the Emperor. Our author stops to describe the messenger and heraccoutrements, but when he has finished, he informs us that her progress has notbeen impeded by his own halt, and that while he has told us about her she hasmoved through the halls of the palace and stated her mission, and is about to bereceived by the Emperor. The author seems helpless before a moving sequence ofevents that cannot be halted or slowed, but proceeds to its fatal conclusion with theforce of some catastrophe, a flood or thunderstorm, being presently experienced.

This is not, of course, the case, as an examination of the balance of scenes andviewpoints, the moments at which personages old and new to Paarfi's readers arepresented, the arrangement, in fact, of the incidents, will amply demonstrate. But hiswork conveys a far different sensation than the earlier one, more complex andlasting, heavier of heart though not devoid of laughter. We leave the preciseexplication of these effects as an exercise for any reader so ungrateful as to continuein the mistaken belief that the writing of history demonstrates no art. Those who havebeen persuaded otherwise, or were too perspicacious ever to have fallen into sucherror, may merely enter into the stream of events and be borne along to its terrifyingconclusion, while the scholar slips away unnoticed.

D.B.

Dean of Pamlar University

R2:1/2:1/2/12

BOOK

ONE

Chapter the First

Which Treats of Matters

Relating to the State of the Empire,

And Introduces the Reader to

The Emperor and Certain of His Court

«^»UPON THE FIRST DAY OF autumn, that is, the ninth day of the month of theVallista in the five hundred and thirty-second year of the reign of His ImperialMajesty Tortaalik I, of the House of the Phoenix, a messenger arrived at the Imperial

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Wing of the Palace and begged an audience with the Emperor.

Before delving into the source and content of the message, we trust we will beallowed to say two words about the messenger herself, because this will provide anopportunity to set before the reader some of the conditions which prevailed at thistime and in this place, and will thus equip him to better understand the history wepropose to unfold.

The messenger was a young woman of perhaps four hundred years, whoseroundish face, stocky build, and straight, sort brown hair without noble's point, allindicated unmistakably the House of the Teckla--a diagnosis easily confirmed bythe roughness of her skin and the calluses on her hands. But far more interesting thanher fallow state (if we may be permitted such a word to refer to her appearance asprovided by nature) is her cultivated state, or the woman as she presented herself tothose who guarded the Imperial Wing.

She was dressed in the yellow, green, and brown of her House, but the yellowwas the pure, bright color of those flowers that grow in the lower valleys of Tursk,and took the form of a silk blouse embroidered with russet needlework of anexceptionally fine character. Her leather riding pants were also russet, and flaredwidely around her boots, which were dyed the bright green of new grass and hadwide extensions in the form of wings emerging from the heels. She wore, as well, awoolen cloak of a tan color, with a clasp in the form of a dzur, wrought with finesilver wire.

These details now having been placed before the reader, let us make haste tofollow her progress, which has not halted for our indulgences; while we have beendescribing her dress, the Teckla, whose name is Seb, after stating her mission, hasbeen granted admission into the presence of His Majesty the Emperor, and we can,therefore, follow her and hear the delivery of this message ourselves.

Because, being a Teckla, she could not be given a safe-conduct badge, Seb wasescorted by one of the guardsmen on duty, a certain Dragonlord called Tummelise'Terics, who brought her to the officer on duty, who looked the Teckla over brieflybut thoroughly before signifying, with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, thatshe could pass. This was all taking place, be it well understood, in the FirstAntechamber (or the Last Antechamber, as some have it, but we will hold to theusage of the historians of the period of which we write, and hope that our readers'perspicacity will surmount any confusion this causes), which connected to the FirstLower Level Imperial Audience Chamber, to give its official title, or the ThroneRoom, as some historians have it, or the Portrait Room, as it was actually called.

At the point at which we begin our history, it has just passed the quarter-hourafter the third hour after noon, and the Portrait Room doors are, consequently,standing wide open. Seb, notwithstanding her House, walked with full confidenceamong the nobles and courtiers who milled about the room, who in fact filled theroom to the point of straining to the utmost the ingenious cooling spells that theAthyra Marchioness of Blackpool had set upon it.

At length, upon reaching a point directly before His Majesty, where waited

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Brudik, Lord of the Chimes, Tummelis, her mission accomplished, gave themessenger into Lord Brudik's care. This worthy, who had held his post for somefifteen hundred years, turned to His Majesty and announced, in his droning voice, "Amessenger from Her Highness Sennya, Duchess of Blackbirdriver, and Dzur Heir."

His Majesty was just then amusing himself in a customary way, between banteringconversations with various courtiers: He was attempting to make himself angry, thensad, then happy, in order to make the Orb, which rotated above his head, changecolor. He was, as usual, achieving only indifferent success, wherefore the Orbglowed with the pale red of annoyance, which changed instantly to a delicate greenas, at the Lord Brudik's announcement, he looked up with an expression of mildinterest.

"Ah," he said. "From Sennya."

"That is it, Your Majesty," said Brudik.

"Well," said His Majesty, trying to remember if he had ever heard the nameSennya, and, if so, in what context, "then, let the messenger come before me."

As the worthy Seb steps up to address the Emperor Tortaalik, we will permitourselves to quickly sketch the changes that have occurred in the outer, and, tosome extent, the inner character of His Majesty since we last had occasion to bringhim to the attention of our readers, which was at the beginning of his reign, in thehistory of The Phoenix Guards.

The Emperor, we should note, had changed but little in appearance. He hadbegun to paint his fingernails, forehead, and ears (all of which on this occasion werea bright red that set off the gold of his costume), and he now wore diamonds on alloccasions, in the form of rings, bracelets, earrings, headdress, and necklaces; butneither his face nor his physique had undergone any transformation excepting onlythe addition of a few lines in the former and a bit of settling in the latter. Our readerswill remember his delicate skin, of which he took greater care than ever, bathingevery day in scented oils; his pale blue narrow eyes; and his fine, yellow hair, whichwas of medium length and curled inward below his ears.

As for those aspects of his character which are not readily visible, we may say,with the perspective that only distance brings, that the fundamental shift in hispersonality had begun some four hundred years earlier, when he was forced to exilehis sister for taking part in an attempt to introduce poisons into his drink throughcertain specially prepared goblets which were impenetrable to the mysterious powersof the Orb, although not, as it turned out, to the more mundane abilities of GyorgLavode. In point of fact, it is certainly the case that Tortaalik's sister had been thechief mover behind the entire affair, which information His Majesty did his best tosuppress, although whether out of affection for his sister, a desire to limit thescandal, or for other reasons entirely, we will not speculate. But he had certainlychanged since then, becoming gradually, over the course of the next few centuries, atonce whimsical and morose, devoting much effort to idle amusements, and muchtime to doing nothing whatsoever, this pursuit being occasionally interrupted bysudden and short-lived periods of intense interest in the doings of the State of which

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he stood at the prow.

Of the many changes in the makeup of the court, the two most significant werethe retirement of His Discretion, the Duke of Wellborn, and the appointment ofJurabin to the position of Prime Minister, which, in combination, gave His Majestythe inclination and the leisure to pursue his own amusements, such as they were. Thereader may rest assured that, if these two changes have more far-reaching effectsthan we intend to describe at this moment, we will discuss them as occasionwarrants.

The messenger, Seb, to whom we now have the honor of returning, performedthe proper obeisance before His Majesty and said, "I bring you, Sire, greetings fromthe holdings of Her Highness, Sennya, and I bear her wishes that Your Majesty willdeign to hear the message she has done me the honor to entrust to my care, andwhich she desires me to impart to Your Majesty."

"The greetings," said His Majesty, "are acknowledged. And we are anxious tohear whatever intelligence you bring us."

"Then, Sire, I will at once relay this message."

"And you will be right to do so. Is it written?"

"No, Sire, it was entrusted to me, by Sennya herself, from mouth to ear."

"Then you may deliver it the same way."

"I shall do so, Sire," said Seb. She cleared her throat and began. "This is it, then:Sire, Her Highness, Sennya, faced with a personal crisis of the most extremecharacter, begs to be excused from the Meeting of the Principalities. She hopes shehas not too much incurred Your Majesty's displeasure by making this request, andhopes, moreover, that Your Majesty will do her the kindness of granting it."

His Majesty frowned, and the Orb took on a slight orange cast. He then lookedaround, and his eyes fell on the barrel-chested form of Jurabin, who was moving, orrather, bulling, his way through the courtiers to reach the throne. His Majesty stirredimpatiently; Seb appeared quite at ease, although a few courtiers noticed that acertain amount of perspiration was evident at her temples.

Jurabin arrived at last, and leaned forward to allow His Majesty to whisper to him.His Majesty quickly explained what had transpired, and Jurabin, upon hearing thenews, looked at His Majesty with an expression of mild surprise, and accompaniedthe look by pronouncing these words, "But, Sire, what question does Your Majestydo me the honor to ask?"

His Majesty flushed slightly, and the courtiers, who were unable to hear thisconversation, noticed that the Orb darkened. "In the first place, Beespatch," said theEmperor, referring to Jurabin by title, as His Majesty always did when annoyed, "Itwas my opinion that you, as Prime Minister, ought to be made aware that yet anotherDelegate--in fact, an Heir--has backed out of the meeting. Other than that, I havenot done you the honor to ask you a question, although, if I may make asuggestion--" His Majesty's voice was heavy with sarcasm--"you may want to

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consider whether we ought to no longer accept excuses of any kind. If thiscontinues, no one will be at the meeting at all."

Jurabin perceived that he had, perhaps, annoyed His Majesty a little. He said,"Forgive me, Sire. My poor brain is straining to bear what is, perhaps, too much of aload, and so if I am brusque with my sovereign, believe there is no disrespectintended."

His Majesty relaxed, and signified with a wave of his hand that it was of nomoment. Jurabin continued, "If my advice in the matter is of any use to YourMajesty--"

The Emperor signified that his advice was welcome.

"--I would say that by refusing to accept these excuses, Your Majesty would runthe risk of being called a tyrant. Moreover, this is only the forty-sixth cancellation,which means we can still expect over two hundred delegates, which seems to mesufficient."

"Mmmmph," said His Majesty. "That depends how many more cancellationsthere are."

Jurabin bowed, but did not reply, seeing that he had convinced the Emperor, whothen addressed the waiting messenger with the words, "Very well, the request isgranted. Give your mistress my warmest regards."

"I will not fail to do so, Sire," said the messenger, who then backed away fromHis Majesty, bowed low, and left the room to return to her mistress. As she left, theEmperor turned to his Prime Minister and said, "I wish to have two words with you,Jurabin."

"Of course, Sire. I hope I have not been so unfortunate as to incur YourMajesty's displeasure."

"No, no, but this last messenger has brought to mind certain matters, and I wishto discuss them with you."

"As you wish, Sire. But allow me to point out that the time Your Majesty doesyour courtiers the honor of spending with them--"

"Is up even at this moment, Jurabin. Will you grant my wish for a few minutes ofconversation?"

"Of course, Sire."

"Then attend me. We will go to the Seven Room."

"Lead, Sire; I will follow."

His Majesty rose, whereupon all of the lords and ladies of the court who hadmanaged to find chairs rose as well, and the entire assemblage fell silent and facedhis Majesty, who sketched them a perfunctory salute. He looked around for theofficer on duty to escort him, and found this officer standing imperturbably at hisside.

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"The Seven Room," said his Majesty.

The officer bowed, and led the way through the throng, which parted before him.The Emperor and the Prime Minister followed at a leisurely pace; the Orb, a palegreen, serenely circled His Majesty's head as he walked. Upon leaving the hall via theMirrored Doors, which a servant hastily opened, the officer led the way down theTeak Passage, up the Green Stairway, and so to the room with seven walls whereHis Majesty most liked to hold private conversations. The officer himself opened theone door to this room, and, after satisfying himself that the room was unoccupied,stood aside for His Majesty and the Prime Minister to enter, after which he closedthe door and placed himself in front of it.

His Majesty sat in his favorite chair--a gold-colored chair with thick stuffing anda small matching footrest--and indicated that Jurabin should sit as well. When thePrime Minister had done so, in a plain chair facing His Majesty, the latter said,without preamble, "What have you been doing, Jurabin, about the finances of theEmpire?"

"Sire," said Jurabin, who appeared to be caught slightly off guard, "I have beendoing all that can be done."

"And that includes?"

"Not a day goes by, Sire, that I do not endeavor to find some new economy.Today, for example, I--"

"New economies, Jurabin? Is that all that can be done?"

"That is all, Sire, until the Meeting of the Principalities."

"Ah, yes, the meeting. The meeting to which we have just received yet anothercancellation. Jurabin, if the meeting is to take place, the Princes and Deputies oughtto begin arriving within the week."

"Perhaps, Sire," said Jurabin; who, while he seemed mildly startled at HisMajesty's sudden interest in matters of policy, did not appear unduly concernedabout the presence or absence of the Princes and Deputies.

His Majesty shifted impatiently. "Will you deny, in any case, that this rash ofcancellations has the smell of conspiracy?"

Jurabin cocked his head. "There is a certain fragrance, Sire, but sometimes wethink someone is cooking fish, when, in fact, we are only near the ocean."

"I usually know when I'm at the shore, Jurabin," said His Majesty.

"How is that, Sire?"

"Because my feet are wet."

Jurabin bowed at this witticism His Majesty did him the honor to share, and said,"Well, then, Sire, are your feet wet?"

"If there is a conspiracy around me, Jurabin," said the Emperor, "I am unable tosee it."

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"It is not, perhaps, a conspiracy, Sire," said the Prime Minister, "either around ushere, or among the Princes."

"It is not?"

"Perhaps not."

"Then, you are saying that perhaps it is?"

"That is not precisely my meaning either, Sire."

"Well then," said the Emperor, "What is your meaning?"

"To speak plainly--"

"The Gods!" His Majesty burst out. "It is nearly time for you to do so!"

"I believe that many of the Deputies are, quite simply, afraid to appear."

"Afraid?" cried the Emperor. "How, Sennya, a Dzurlord, afraid?"

Jurabin shrugged. "The Dzur are brave enough when faced with battle, Sire; manyof them have no special courage to face less tangible dangers--especially dangersthey do not comprehend."

"Less tangible dangers? Come, tell me what you mean. Are they afraid of me, doyou think?"

"Not you, Sire; rather, of each other."

"Jurabin, I confess that I am as confused as ever."

"Shall I explain?"

"Shards and splinters, it is an hour since I asked for anything else!"

"Well, then, this is how I see it."

"Go on. You perceive that you have my full attention."

"Sire, the Princes have been called, as is the custom, to determine the ImperialAllowance for the next phase, which begins in less than fifty years."

"I prefer," said the Emperor, "to refer to it as the Imperial Tax."

"As you wish," said Jurabin. "Though it can hardly be considered a tax, when,unlike the other Imperial Taxes, the Houses set their own portions, from a totalamount which is, by law, determined by the Empire."

"Nevertheless, the term 'allowance' offends me."

"Very well, Sire. To continue, under Imperial Law, dating from the Sixth Cycle,the Princes will meet and come to some agreement about the portion each Housemust pay."

"Yes, yes, I understand that. Go on."

Jurabin cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, Sire. The issue, just at themoment, is difficult for the Princes."

"That's just it, Jurabin; what makes it so? Or, rather, what makes it more difficult

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than usual?"

"Well, in the first place, there is the House of the Dragon, which demands that itsentire portion be waived, to offset the expenses of raising armies."

"Raising armies? For what reason do they raise armies?"

"There are encroachments of Easterners in the South, Sire. In addition, there areTeckla rebellions threatening in several western duchies. We have received petitionsfor Imperial aid from the Duke of Atwater, the Duke of Lonerock, the Duchess ofGreatworks, the--"

"Well, but I had thought we had made peace with the Easterners."

"Sire, there are many Easterners, and they do not all speak with each other, nordo they adhere to each others' treaties. The agreement Your Majesty had of thekingdom east of the Pepperfields at the beginning of Your Majesty's reign still holds,but there are others--"

"Hmmph. A sloppy way to do things, it seems to me. They should be broughtunder a single banner."

"That, Sire, is what the House of the Dragon, through its Heir, Eastmanswatch, isproposing."

"How, Eastmanswatch is behind this?"

"According to my sources, Sire--"

"You mean your spies?"

Jurabin shrugged. "It seems that the Duke opposes such an action, butnevertheless brings it forward on behalf of his House, which favors it."

His Majesty shook his head, as if refusing to consider the internal politics of theHouse of the Dragon. "Well," he said, "and the Teckla? Has their House been askedabout these uprisings, and warned that the Heir of the House may, under law, be heldaccountable?"

"They pretend, Sire, to be unable to meet the demands placed upon them, due tocrop shortages, caused by general climate changes in the West over the last twohundred years, which has led to thirty or forty seasons of drought, which trend isexpected to last well into the next phase. This same drought has caused theirdemand for a lessening in the payments they make to their landlords, and has alsoled to numerous uprisings, which seem to be continuing, perhaps even increasing."

"Drought? Haven't we sorcerers for that sort of thing?"

"The cost, Sire--"

"Ah, yes, the cost. Well, what of the cost?"

"The House of the Athyra has claimed that, should they call up the requiredsorcery, they would be unable to pay their portion."

"They have said this?"

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"'Yes, Sire, through their Heir, Tropyr."

"Well, that hardly seems unreasonable."

"Yes, Sire."

"'And as for the lessening of the payments, can't this be done in an equitablemanner?"

"Sire, most of those affected are of the Houses of the Jhegaala and the Lyorn,and the matter has been taken up by the Iorich, to study the legalities. But, as anImperial matter, naturally the Iorich charge heavily for their services, and--"

"The Gods!"

"Yes, Sire. Especially as the Vallista are adamant on mainlining the fullpayments--"

"The Vallista?"

"Yes, Sire, most of the mines in the North are owned by Vallista, and theydepend on trade with the West to feed the Laborers, who have been growing restive,due to short rations. This has resulted in lower production, which, in turn, reducesthe amount of shipping, so the House of the Orca is claiming extreme povertyamong many of its nobles, and will have a great deal of trouble in contributing to theImperial Allow--Tax."

"I see."

"Moreover--"

"How, there is more?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Go on."

"Various of the poorer Houses have banded together, to prevent the morepowerful Houses from taking advantage of them."

"It is always thus."

"Yes, Sire. In this case, the Tiassa and the Jhegaala have formed an alliance alongwith the Dzur and the Iorich, while the Hawk, Tsalmoth, Jhereg and Issola aresupporting the Orca and the Lyorn. The Teckla might have come to some sort ofagreement with the Yendi; we are unable to be certain--one never knows what theYendi are doing."

"Well?"

"It is very confusing, Sire, but it seems the alliances are shifting a great deal, andeveryone is trying to guess who will be forced to pay heavily, who will be able toescape paying heavily, and whether the Imperial Treasury will, in fact, be able tooperate at all."

"I see."

His Majesty fell silent for a moment, then said, "These alliances--"

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"Yes, Sire?"

"Can we break them up?"

"We have been trying to do so, Sire."

"With what results?"

Jurabin made a slight shift in his chair--almost his firs movement of any kindsince they had begun speaking. The Emperor was aware that this indicated that thePrime Minister was somewhat unsure of himself. "Sire--"

"Yes?"

"The alliances have been increasingly unstable, in part due to our efforts."

"Well?"

"The result is none of the parties are strong enough to stand against your will."

"That is good, I think."

"Yes, Sire. But it also means that many of the Princes and Deputies will be unableto avoid offending the Empire, or their own party, and in some cases, howeverthings go, they will be certain to offend both."

"I see."

"And that is why many of them, either from fear or confusion, have been backingout of the meeting."

"I see."

His Majesty thought over all that he had heard. At last he said, "You ought tohave brought these things to my attention years ago, Jurabin."

"I'm sorry, Sire, if I have erred. But--"

"But nothing! I would have settled it at once."

"How," said Jurabin, frowning. "Settled it?"

"Exactly."

"And, if I may be permitted the honor of asking a question--"

"You may."

"How would Your Majesty have settled it?"

"In the simplest manner, Jurabin. I would have commanded the Athyra to bringout their best sorcerers, and to solve this drought before it reached this stage."

"But, Sire, the cost--"

"Is nothing compared to the cost of ignoring the problem, Jurabin. With thedrought removed--"

"So is the largest source of revenue for the Empire, Sire."

"The largest?"

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"Yes, Sire. If Your Majesty had commanded them to bring the weather to heel,they would have been within their rights to refuse Your Majesty any contributionwhatsoever, and, moreover, they would have done so. We then would have no fundsfor the Imperial Army, and would have to demand mercenaries to defend the easternborders."

"But the House of the Dragon could pay heavily."

"Indeed they could, Sire, but they would not do so."

"They would not? Why would they not?"

"Because, Sire, if the House of the Athyra was not forced pay, because they hadprovided services to the Empire, the House of the Dragon would demand the sameright, and justly, too. If they didn't, the Athyra would gain economic power overthem, and those two Houses are ever struggling with one another for much of thesame land in the Northeast.

"And yet, there ought to be some money left in the Imperial Treasury."

"Very little, Sire. We will, by budgeting carefully, be able to survive to the end ofthe phase, until the new taxes are prepared, but--"

"But where has the money gone, Jurabin? I know that by the time wheat has beenharvested and turned into flour, and the flour reaches the market, it has already beentaxed four times, and--"

"Five times, Sire."

"--There has been no large war--"

"No large war, Sire? The war with Elde Island was not large?"

"Jurabin, it lasted a mere five years, and if our casualties were more than tenthousand, someone has deceived me. And, moreover, we won."

"Sire, there is no more expensive war than one fought on the sea, for each timewe lose even a skirmish, at least one ship has been taken or sunk, and the smallestfrigate in the fleet cannot be replaced for less than ten thousands of imperials. And inthe Battle of Redsky Harbor alone we lost eleven frigates and two ships of the line,and we won that battle."

His Majesty paused to consider these statistics, then said, "But the War Taxshould have seen to those expenses."

"Sire, that tax was necessary to raise money to prosecute the war, and there waslittle time to raise it, so we sold Bills of Taxation to speculators, mostly Phoenix andDragons, who still own those Bills."

"Still? Well, we shall take them back, and use them to raise taxes for the Empire."

"Take, Sire? Your Majesty would invite civil war?"

"Well, then, we shall buy them back."

"With what, Sire? The least of them is worth twenty thousands of imperials."

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"The Gods! Perhaps that war was a mistake, Jurabin."

"A mistake, Sire? But without it, the pirates of Elde Island would have utterlyprevented our trade with Greenaere, Holcomb, and Landsight, which would havebankrupted the House of the Orca."

"Oh, the Orca!" said His Majesty scornfully.

"Yes, Sire, the Orca, who are politically allied with the Hawk, the Tsalmoth, theJhereg, the Issola, and the Lyorn. Yes, Sire."

His Majesty shook his head, sighed, and looked thoughtful for several moments.Then he said, "Well, but surely we could survive, at least for a short time, withouttaxes from the Dragon and the Athyra."

"Sire? Without two of the three largest contributors to the Imperial Treasury?Perhaps we could, if that were all, but--"

"How, if that were all? It is not?"

"No, Sire."

"What more is there?"

"Well, Sire, we are of the House of the Phoenix, and you are Prince, as well asEmperor. What will be the contribution of our House to the Imperium?"

"I must ask our Deputy, who is the Princess Loudin, to whom I have delegatedthis matter."

"I have asked her, Sire."

"And has she given you an answer?"

"Yes, Sire. She has said that the House is on the verge of bankruptcy."

"Bankruptcy!"

"Those were her words, Sire."

"But how could this be?"

"Because, Sire, the House, in its own name, and many of us as individuals, havemade certain speculations--"

"What speculations?"

"You know, Sire, that we are a small House, and none of as, except perhapsBaroness Highplane and Countess Nolanthe, have large holdings, so it is byspeculation that, for the most part, we--"

"What speculation, Jurabin?"

"Primarily, Sire, to certain Dragonlords, counting on funds they will receive fromthe Empire for military operations, and to certain Athyra, counting on actions toappease the climate. These operations have been delayed, pending the Meeting ofPrincipalities, and the--"

The Prime Minister stopped speaking, for His Majesty had topped listening, but

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was, rather, sitting with his head leaning back, his eyes tightly shut. After an interval,the Emperor spoke, saying, "Jurabin, do me the kindness to summon my physicker."

"Yes, Sire. Is it the headache?"

"Go, Jurabin."

"Yes, Sire."

Jurabin rose at once and left to find the physicker, leaving His Majesty with hishead in his hands, and the Orb an ugly brown as it circled His Majesty's head. Thephysicker, whose name, by the way, was Navier, though it is not our intention tofully introduce her at this point in our history, arrived in due time, bringing with hertea made with certain herbs that were used to cure the headaches with which theEmperor was afflicted on those rare occasions when he tried to understand theworkings of the Empire he ruled.

After administering the treatment, the physicker remained to make certain HisMajesty felt better, after which she took her leave, and a few minutes later, theEmperor, seeing that it was approaching his dinner hour, rose to leave. He openedthe door, and found himself facing a familiar figure, that of the officer on duty, theEnsign of the Red Boot Battalion of the Imperial Guard.

Chapter the Second

Which Treats of an Old Friend,

And His Conversations with

Three Acquaintances from the Past.

«^»TO THOSE FAMILIAR WITH OUR earlier history, it should come as no surprisethat the ensign to whom we have just referred is none other than Khaavren, who hasnow passed his six hundredth year--that is to say, he has achieved an age at whichthe energy of youth is lost, but is replaced by a calmness that comes with knowingone's position. In Khaavren's case, his position was at His Majesty's door--or,rather, at the door of whatever room His Majesty happened to occupy--and thecenturies of waiting there, and making reports to his superiors, and makingcampaigns against enemies of one sort or another, had, to all appearances, entirelysapped the energy that had been the particular mark of his youth.

Where he had been wont to make wry observations and loyal outbursts, now hekept his observations to himself, and relegated his outbursts to those occasionswhen his duties required it (and, as a good officer, his duties seldom requiredoutbursts). Where he had been quick to bring hand to sword upon any real orimagined slight, now he was more likely to chuckle, shake his head, and pass on.And yet, should anyone be foolish enough to insist on playing, there were, in theEmpire, few with whom it would be a more dangerous pastime. Khaavren's wrist

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was as strong and supple as ever, his eyes were as sure, and his body as limber. Ifhe had lost, perhaps, the rash exuberance of youth, he had gained far more in hisknowledge of the science and art of defense.

As to appearances, the changes were fewer. The Khaavren of five hundred yearsbefore would, upon meeting the Khaavren of this day, have thought he was lookinginto a glass, were it not for a slight thinning of both face and figure, brought on byconstant exercise, and a few faint lines on his forehead, brought on byresponsibility--the implacable foe of all lighthearted natures.

Yet he took this responsibility gladly, for it was a mark of his character as it hademerged over centuries that he took great care and pride in carrying out his dutiesmerely because he found he was good at them--that is, he no longer saw the serviceas a means to glory and accomplishment; rather he now saw it as an end in itself, andas his prospects for tomorrow faded, so did his resolve strengthen to perform to thevery best of his ability. Whereas five hundred years before his motto had been, "Letthere be no limit to my ambition," now his motto was, "Let my ambition carry me tothe limit," which subtle change in emphasis, as we can see, bespeaks worlds ofchange in character.

This, then, was the person His Majesty suddenly found himself confronting--thesame as he had accustomed himself to seeing for some five hundred and thirty years.The Emperor prided himself on being able to judge his fellow creatures (in fact, inone of his few surviving letters he wrote to his mistress of the time, Enova of Ridge,shortly before the infamous scandal of the Three Gibbets, "In spite of what they say,I trust Lord Capstra. Why? Because all of my instincts tell me to, and I'd soonerlisten to my instincts than to all of the advisers in the Empire."), and, after seeing thisofficer, in the blue and white of the House of the Tiassa, with the gold uniformhalf-cloak of the Imperial Guard and the badge of an ensign--after seeing thisofficer, we say, for more than half a millennium, he realized that here was someone inwhom he could confide. And his Majesty was taken with the need to confide insomeone.

"Well, Ensign?" he began.

Khaavren's eyes widened slightly; he was unused to being addressed by HisMajesty, other than to be given orders. "Sire?" said the guardsman, looking franklyback at him whom the gods had made his master.

It is worth noting that the Khaavren of a few hundred years before would haveput into word and countenance all of his eagerness for glory and willingness to riskhis life on His Majesty's orders; the Khaavren of today merely answered and waited,slightly curious. Faced with this mild yet confident look, the Emperor faltered for amoment, and covered his confusion by saying, "Well?"

"Sire?" repeated Khaavren.

"Have you nothing to say, then?"

Khaavren had, in the intervening years, become a soldier of few words, and thosecarefully chosen. On this occasion he chose six of them: "I am at Your Majesty's

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orders," he said.

"And I," said the Emperor, "am waiting to hear what you have to say."

"What I have to say, Sire?"

"Precisely."

"I beg Your Majesty's pardon, but I do not understand the question YourMajesty does me the honor to ask."

"Do you pretend you do not know what we were talking about just now?"

Khaavren's countenance remained impassive. "I assure Your Majesty, I have notthe least idea in the world."

"And yet, you were outside of the door, and the walls are so thin that I can hearwhen anyone passes by, and I can even hear you explain to passersby in that soft,gentle lilt which still betrays your country of origin, that the room is occupied. Howis it, then, that you cannot hear what is said within?"

"Sire, it may be that I have trained my ears not to hear what does not concernthem."

"You have very complaisant ears, sir."

"That may be, Sire. In any case, they thank Your Majesty for deigning to noticethem." Khaavren accompanied these words with a small bow.

Tortaalik made a sound that is the despair of the historian to render, but may bethought of as midway between a snort and a harrumph. After which ejaculation hesaid, "Then you persist in denying that you overheard our conversation?"

"I assure Your Majesty--"

"Would you say so again, standing beneath the Orb?"

For the first time Khaavren's expression changed; a light of something like angergleamed in his eyes. He said, "It would not, Sire, be the first time I have beenrequired to swear beneath the Orb."

"Ah--ah," said the Emperor. "You did so once before, didn't you?"

"I had that honor," said Khaavren.

"I seem to recall the circumstances," said His Majesty slowly. "It had somethingto do with a charge of murder, had it not?"

"A murder, Sire, of which the Orb acquitted me."

"Yes, and a plot that you uncovered, and a treaty that you arranged with an armyof Easterners."

Khaavren bowed.

"And since then," continued his Majesty, "you have been involved in some eightor ten campaigns for us, have you not? Including the retreat from Watcher's Lake,where you distinguished yourself during the holding action?"

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"Distinguished myself, Sire? I was not aware--"

"--That anyone had seen your actions after Brigadier G'aereth was wounded?But the brigadier saw, and he was pleased to tell me, in glowing terms, of themarvelous stratagem you devised which allowed him to reach the safety of... of..."

"Brickerstown, Sire."

"Yes, of Brickerstown. But I know of these things, Ensign, and of others, believeme."

"Sire, I am--"

"And, now that G'aereth is less and less able to fulfill his duties, it becomes mylot to consider a replacement. What do you say to that, Ensign?"

"Sire, I don't know what to say." Khaavren delivered this remark--as he had eachremark since the inception of the conversation--with little inflection, no emphasis,and less emotion.

"What you should say, Ensign, is to answer my questions. I assure you, it will doyou no harm."

"Questions, Sire?"

"Come, walk beside me."

Khaavren bowed, and they began strolling toward the Hall of Windows, anextension of the Imperial Wing that looked out of the Palace on five sides (includingabove and below), and where His Majesty was accustomed to dine on informaloccasions. As they strolled, the Emperor said, "You are a military man, are you not,Sir Khaavren?"

"I have that honor, Sire."

"As a military man, what do you think of the state of the Empire, and of thisMeeting of the Principalities that is to happen within the month?"

"What do I think, Sire, of the state of the Empire and the Meeting of thePrincipalities?"

"Yes, that is what I wish to know."

"What do I think, Sire?"

"That is, indeed, the very question I ask of you."

"Sire, we can arrest them all."

His Majesty stopped and stared at Khaavren, dumbfounded. Then he resumedhis walk and said, "Do you, then, seriously advise me to arrest all of the Heirs andDeputies--that is, the Prince of each House--and the Deputies?"

"I, Sire? Not the least in the world."

"But then, I am certain I heard you say so."

"I beg Your Majesty's pardon, but I had no such intention."

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"Well then, what did you mean when you said we could arrest them?"

"Only that, Sire. We are able to do it; and, at that, with little trouble. The Duke ofEastmanswatch will present a certain difficulty, but I am certain--"

"Sir, I still fail to understand. If you are not counseling me to arrest them, whatare you doing?"

"Sire? I am answering Your Majesty's question. Your Majesty did me the honorto ask what I, as a military man, thought of the impending meeting. As a militaryman, which were Your Majesty's words, my thoughts at once fall to militaryquestions. Now, as I recall, Your Majesty has, on one occasion, arrested one ofthem at least, and I doubt I am mistaken, for I believe it was I who had the honor tocarry out the arrest of Her Highness the Princess of Bendbrook, of the House of theTiassa--"

"Author of a play in which I am portrayed as a buffoon! She is fortunate Ishowed clemency, or she'd not have her head today, much less be free to attend thismeeting."

"Yes, Sire, that is the lady to whom I refer. And you have caused to be burnedcertain pamphlets written by Lord Haymel, one of the Deputies of the House of theHawk--"

"Yes, by the Orb! And I'd do it again! He not only proposed an end to the salesof judgeships, a not unreasonable suggestion, but that each House provide its ownjudges, which would have caused no less than rebellion from the Iorich, and then hewent on to suggest unanimous approval for these judges by--me? No, of coursenot! By the Council of Princes! As if the authority of the Empire were not enough!He, too, is lucky he isn't a head shorter!"

"Yes, Sire. And then there is Lady Ironn, Deputy of the House of the Orca,whom you caused to be arrested some years ago on the occasion when she--"

"Publicly discussed matters of my personal history in terms that no gentlemancould be asked to endure, then declined to apologize, and would not fight! Ah, thenI missed old Lord Garland indeed, for he would have tracked her down andextracted either a recantation or her liver, instead of forcing me to use the powers ofthe state, which power ought, by rights, to have led her to the Executioner's Star."

"Yes, Sire. And that is how I understood Your Majesty's question."

The Emperor walked in silence for a while, and the Orb, which had been aforeboding red, cooled down. His Majesty said, "That is not, in fact, what I meant."

"Sire?"

"Sir Khaavren, Jurabin speaks of the state of the treasury and the correlation ofthe Houses; Countess Bellor tells me many things about the state of our treasury; thePrincess Loudin, who watches over the interests of the House, speaks of the "humorof the Empire" as if there were only one; the Duchess of Pronfir, Trustee ofShipping, has much to say concerning the fall in trade; Brigadier G'aereth tells me ofmatters military; and Nyleth speaks of--or, rather, cackles about--matters arcane.

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There is not a one of them who agrees with another. And to me, whatever myinclinations, fall all of the decisions. Well, Ensign, I am asking for youropinion--what do you think I should do? Or, if you positively will not answer, then:To whom should I listen?"

Khaavren paused, and appeared to reflect for a space of time that lasted longenough for them to traverse the corridor that rose from the West Terrace to the Hallof Ferns, after which he said, "Sire, I think Your Majesty ought, without delay, find aDiscreet to take the place of the Duke of Wellborn, now that he has retired."

His Majesty stopped, and looked at the guardsman, who returned his gaze withan expression of innocence. The Orb went through a rapid series ofchanges--beginning with a dull yellow of mild confusion, turning then to the orangeof beginning anger, followed by the pale blue of anger contained, then mutating to alight green of consideration. At this point His Majesty began walking once more.

"I am most anxious," said the Emperor, "to learn why you make this suggestion."

"You wish to know the reason, Sire?"

"I more than wish to, I demand to."

"Well, then, Sire, it is because, if His Discretion were still here, and still practicinghis trade, Your Majesty would have no need to confide in a humble ensign of theImperial guard."

Together, they climbed the winding stairway up to the Hall of Windows, one nextto the other, as if they were old friends engaged in pleasant remembrances. HisMajesty broke the silence by saying, "You seemed uninterested in the advancementin rank which I did you the honor to mention."

"Sire, I am without ambition."

"How, a Tiassa without ambition? That is unusual. In fact, it is more thanunusual--it is strange."

"Strange it may be, Sire, but it is true that I have none."

"Then you have, in fact, no interest at all in what I am offering?"

"Offering, Sire? I heard no offer. If Your Majesty were to do me the honor ofassigning me new duties, of any form, I would certainly attempt to perform themwith all the skill and energy at my disposal. But I heard no offer; I only heard thatYour Majesty deigned to discuss certain matters of Imperial Policy--matters far toocomplex for Your Majesty's humble servant."

"My Majesty's humble servant," said the Emperor, "is not, I think, as humble ashe pretends."

"That may be, Sire; yet I beg Your Majesty to believe that I have nothing usefulto say, nor any opinions, about matters as far above my head as the complexities ofEmpire to which Your Majesty does me the honor to refer."

His Majesty seemed about to answer this, but they were arrived at the Hall ofWindows, and Khaavren had to attend to his duty of inspecting the hall--a duty he

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carried out with a few quick glances at the half-dozen servers; the Consort Noima;His Highness the Prince of Ninehills, Tsalmoth Heir and Their Majesties' guest; andthe two guardsmen. This being done, he bowed respectfully, and took his leave.

With our readers' permission, we will undertake to follow him; as he is an oldfriend, and one who has just had a conversation worthy of some remark, his path,and his thoughts, cannot fail to be of interest.

If, over the years, Khaavren had become positively taciturn, he had not lost hishabit of carrying on lengthy conversations with himself; on the contrary, this featureof his character had, if anything, grown as if to make up for the decrease in hisintercourse with others. And so as he strolled (strolled, be it understood, at a goodmartial clip) back to the Dragon Wing, he began to address himself on the subject ofhis recent discourse with the Emperor.

"Well now, my good Khaavren," he said, for he was in the habit of referring tohimself in this ironic manner. "What do we have? His Majesty condescends to askyou for advice on the management of the Empire? Cha! Here we learn what happensto victims of fiscal irresponsibility! Come, Khaavren, we must look to our ownaccounts, if for no other reason than to make certain that we do not begin to showsuch signs if our needs become so much greater than our income. If they did, whatwould we do--find a silver polisher, and ask him how to manage the drilling of acorps? And, now that I reflect, why shouldn't I do so? Perhaps such a fellow wouldtell me how to make all of our cloaks flash so prettily that the Consort will notice,and cause me to be made Captain.

"But, no, hasn't His Majesty made just this offer? Well, what can this mean?Steady, Khaavren! What offer did His Majesty make? Why, none whatsoever. HisMajesty said that with the Captain (Khaavren, out of habit, still thought of G'aerethas 'the Captain') become infirm, his duties must be assumed by another. Well, nowthis, as a piece of intelligence, is not worth the price of a cup of wine, even if it bethe slop they serve to strangers at the Soup Kettle. But was there an offer, a promise,a guarantee? Not the least in the world. And if the promise of an Emperor--and thisEmperor above all--is to be looked at as skeptically as Tazendra used to look atreasoned argument, then His Majesty's failure to give even a promise must have allthe substance of the air.

"So, he has offered me the air. While I should not like to be without air, as it isreputed to be important to breathing, I seem to have enough of it, and it wouldtherefore be ill-advised to risk life and limb in the pursuit of it. No, if His Majestywants something of Khaavren, he must make, an offer worthy of Khaavren. Or,failing that, give a simple order--it amounts to the same thing, after everything to besaid is said and everything to be done is done.

"Still, even two hundred years ago I might have made an effort to discover whatHis Majesty wanted of me, from curiosity if for no other reason. Well, we have lostour curiosity. We feel no lighter for its loss, nor weaker nor slower in body or mind.Therefore, whatever it is, we have no need for it, and have let it go the way the yendileaves its excess skin to blend among the desert sands in order to frighten those

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whose eyes are sharp but whose comprehension is not clever. We didn't find out,and it is done, and there's an end to it.

"Or nearly an end to it. There are still, it seems, some tattered shreds of curiosityleft to me, or I should not be asking myself what His Majesty might want of anensign of the Guard that would have anything to do with the tangle of policy andfinance of the Dragon and the Athyra, and alliances of the Teckla with the Orca, orwhatever Jurabin was pleased to tell His Majesty. Cha! It's a wonder I didn't get thesame headache His Majesty did, just from overhearing it all. And a pity that I didn't,for that should have made us equals for a time, and that would indeed be somethingto tell my children, should the cycle turn in such a way that I have any.

"No children, Khaavren, no promotion, and no curiosity. And, for that, nofriends--at least, none that I can see. If they were around, would that conversationhave gone differently? Would I have admitted to overhearing everything, whereuponHis Majesty would have had me brought to the Executioner's Star, there to haveremoved those ears he was kind enough to notice, along with the head that supportsthem? Very likely. No children, no promotion, no curiosity, no friends, but, inexchange, a head, a pair of ears, and perhaps a touch of wisdom--which is the namewe give prudence when we have become settled into our life with no hope orambition."

With this thought, Khaavren had, after having passed into the Dragon Wing, and,in turn, the Sub-wing of the Imperial Guard, entered the antechamber of the RedBoot Battalion, to be greeted by the corporal on duty there. They exchanged nowords, as it was Khaavren's opinion that words were unnecessary unless there wassomething to say, and he had instilled this tenet in all who served under him. On thisoccasion, as nothing unusual had occurred, the corporal saluted and Khaavren,nodding to acknowledge the salute, continued through the antechamber to his ownoffice, where he sat down in the very chair that Captain G'aereth had occupied onthat occasion when Khaavren and his friends had been questioned about their desireto join the Imperial Guard. Though he had sat in that chair thousands of times, itnever failed to bring back memories, which were often accompanied by a fondsmile.

"Ah," he said to himself on this occasion. "What would Aerich have said of thematter were he here? That is easy; he should have looked at me with that expressionof sorrow, reproach, and affection, and said, 'My dear Khaavren, if His Majestywishes something of a gentleman, what more is needed?' That is Aerich. AndTazendra, well, she would not have hesitated, she would have found the quest--for,to her, anything and everything was a quest--and charged out without anotherthought, hoping only that it was difficult. That is Tazendra. And what would ourfriend Pel have said? Well, that is, certainly, a mystery of the first order. Pel is aYendi. One never knows what Pel might say, what he might do, what he might say hehas done, or, above all, why he would say or do what he said or did. Still, one mighthave asked him. And, Cracks in the Orb, at this moment he is, no doubt, somewherewithin this same labyrinth of Palace through which I have been walking, and yet Ihave hardly seen him five times in five hundred years, nor exchanged five words with

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him on each of those occasions.

"Such is the nature of friendship," he concluded morosely, at which point acorporal stuck her head in to announce, "You have a visitor, Ensign."

"How," said Khaavren, started out of his reverie, "a visitor? And who might thisbe?"

"He gives his name as Galstan."

"A Dragonlord?"

"I'm not certain, Ensign, yet I fancy not, for I do not see a sword. Perhaps he isan Athyra or an Iorich, for he wears the robes of a monk or a judge. He claims to behere on a personal errand."

"Indeed?" said Khaavren, trying to recollect the last duel he had fought, andrealizing, with some surprise, that it had been more than a century ago. "Well, sendhim in, and we will see what he wishes."

The corporal nodded, and, shortly thereafter, a man, hooded and robed, entered,bowing. While it was hard to tell beneath the folds of heavy dark-brown fabric, heseemed to be small, and there was something athletic in his carriage. As the doorclosed, Khaavren studied his visitor, for there was something familiar about the wayhe stood and about the gleam of the dark eyes that peered out from the hood.

"Pel!" cried Khaavren suddenly, springing to his feet.

His visitor pulled the hood back and bowed once more, while Khaavren stared. Iffive hundred years can pass without a mark, then they had done so where Pel wasconcerned. He still had, or nearly had, the unlined face of youth, with the dark eyeswe have already had occasion to mention, and the fine, noble chin and high brow,surrounded by black curls which made the color of his eyes all the more vivid. Inother words, as far as Khaavren could see, he had lost none of the beauty of facethat he had traded on so heavily years before. Khaavren stared, remembering howthe Yendi had been accustomed to sorcerously change the color of his eyes fromapparent whim, and change his opinions the same way, and how one could neverknow if there were a reason behind any of these changes. And yet, at the same time,he remembered a score of battles in which Pel's irrepressible blade and fierce humorhad been instrumental in saving them all.

Khaavren stared at his visitor as these thoughts and their accompanying emotionsflitted through his mind and heart, then he repeated softly, "Pel. And here I was, thisvery instant, thinking to myself... Pel."

"Most of him," agreed the other.

"How, most of him?" said Khaavren. "What, then is missing?"

"Why, the sword," said Pel, smiling inscrutably.

"Cha! You no longer carry one?"

Pel held his arms up, to show that he was, in fact, weaponless. Khaavren laughed."Well, it is clear, then, that at least you do not come here to fight."

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Pel's eyebrows rose. "You thought I came to fight?"

"My good Pel, when an unknown is announced as desiring to see one on apersonal matter while one is on duty, well, has it been so long that you no longerremember what that is likely to mean?"

"I assure you, my dear Khaavren, that I had all but forgotten those days, and Ithank you for recalling them to me. But when did I become an unknown to you?"

"Cha! When you entered by a name I have never before heard pronounced."

"What, you pretend you never heard my name?"

"Not in this life, my friend. But, come, what is this? I am leaving you standing.Sit, my good Pel, which name I use from familiarity and because curse me if at thismoment I can remember the other."

Pel smiled easily and sat, without apparent discomfort, on one of the stiff,military stools that faced Khaavren's over his small writing table. "Galstan," said Pelcoolly.

Khaavren shook his head. "The Duchy of Galstan," he said. "I confess, itescapes me."

"Escapes you? But, my dear Ensign, it is not running from you. Nor, for thatmatter, am I. Rather, I am coming to see you. In fact, I am here."

"Now this circumstance I had noticed, and even remarked upon, albeit only tomyself."

"And, no doubt, you wish to know the reason for my visit, because, now thatyou are older, it would not occur to you that I might come to see you purely fromfriendship."

Khaavren shifted uncomfortably. "And would I be wrong in this?"

"Not the least in the world," said Pel. "And the proof is, I will tell you why I amhere."

"I am waiting for you to do so," admitted Khaavren.

Pel smiled--a small, gentle smile that, on the one hand, brought back to Khaavrenscores of warm remembrances, and, on the other, brought the realization that Pelmight well be using that smile to evoke those remembrances. "I come to you," saidPel, "in all honesty, in the hopes that you will give me certain information."

"I will be happy to do so," said Khaavren. "Always providing, of course, that it isnot information I am sworn to keep secret."

"Of course," said Pel.

"That understood," said Khaavren, "ask me anything. What do your questionsconcern?"

"The state of the Court."

"The state of the Court?" said Khaavren. "You? Asking me? One would think

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you an Emperor. No, do not ask me why I said that, but, rather, tell me why, of allthe people in this Palace, you would ask these questions of me?"

"Well, and why should I not?"

"Because, my dear friend, should I have any questions about the Court, you arethe first person I would ask."

"Ah, you have a good memory, my friend, but you seem unacquainted with myrecent history."

"Your recent history? That is true, I know nothing whatsoever except that youhave been studying the Art of Discretion."

"You know that?" said Pel. "Then are you unaware that, when one begins thisstudy, one falls out of touch with the day-to-day goings-on in the world?"

"What?" cried Khaavren. "You mean you know of nothing that has happened inthe Empire for the last five hundred years?"

"Nearly," said Pel. "Rumor reaches us of skirmishes in the North, and a warfought at sea in the West, but other than that--"

"Other than that--?"

"Why, we remain inside our walls, which are out past the Athyra Wing, barely inthe Palace at all, and we rarely leave, nor does news reach us. You yourself knowthat we have hardly even seen each other in all that time."

"That is true," said Khaavren. "I had even remarked upon this fact to myself."

"So, you see."

"Yes. Well, my friend, ask your questions."

Pel studied the ensign in silence for a moment, during which Khaavren wouldhave given a great deal to know what thoughts were passing through the Yendi'ssubtle mind. Then Pel said, "What do you think of His Majesty's humor of late,Khaavren?"

Khaavren frowned. "His humor?"

"Yes. You perceive that I am most anxious to know."

Khaavren nearly asked why, but he remembered his old friend well enough torealize that this question would elicit either a lie or an evasion. He said, "His Majestyhas, I think, been pensive of late."

"Pensive?"

"So I would say, Pel."

"Do you assign a cause to this?"

"Do I? My friend, you speak as if I were a minister. I assure you, I am only anensign in His Majesty's Guards--and, moreover, having been an ensign for nearlyfive hundred and fifty years, I expect to remain one for the next five hundred andfifty, after which I shall, no doubt, be promoted to Captain and given Orders of

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Nobility, after which I shall retire and marry the daughter of the mayor of somevillage in the Northeast, which will give me the income from two pensions and allowme to raise a family, which I will set about doing with the same thoroughness Iformerly displayed in skewering anyone who looked at me in a manner not to myliking. When this happens, I will, no doubt, hear rumors of all that is passing in thecapital, and, thanks to those rumors, I will know a great deal more of what is passingin His Majesty's mind than I do now--or, at least, I will think I do, which counts forjust as much when one is as isolated from policy as a rural baron or an ensign of theImperial Guard."

Pel listened to this monologue--which was, to be sure, the longest Khaavren haduttered aloud in scores of years--with a sad smile. When the Tiassa had finished,Pel said, "Come Khaavren, do you still care for our old friendship?"

"The Gods, Pel! As someone with no future, I already, like an old man, live in thepast, and our friendship is the best part of it!"

"Well, then, for the sake of that friendship, won't you be a little more frank withme? You tap your heels at His Majesty's door for hours every day, and I know thatyour mind is not the slowest in the Empire; you must have some suspicions aboutwhat is passing in his heart. I do not ask for state secrets, Khaavren, only for asmuch as you can tell me without fault to your duty or your conscience. But, truly, Imust know, and I can think of no one else who would both know and be willing totell me. Open your heart, my old friend, and tell me what you know; or, at any rate,what you guess."

Khaavren heaved a great sigh. Hardened as he'd become, he could not hear suchan appeal from one of the few who personified the happiest time of his life withoutbeing moved, and, more than moved, affected. He said, "His Majesty is, I believe,worried about the number of Heirs and Deputies who have withdrawn from theMeeting of Principalities, which is, as you may know, isolated though you are, todetermine the tax allotments for the next phase."

Pel's eyes suddenly glowed, and Khaavren realized that this had been exactly thesort of information Pel was looking for. "Ah--ah," said the Yendi. "He is worriedthen."

"I believe he is, Pel. It is driving him to become interested in matters of state, andthis is no small thing for our little Phoenix."

"Yes, yes," said Pel, as if to himself. "That is true. It must be true."

"Is that what you wished to know, my friend?"

"Yes. Much is explained, just with those few words, and I cannot tell you howmuch good you have done."

"And yet," said Khaavren, "I cannot help but wonder why it is today, rather thananother day, that you have appeared here to ask these questions of me?"

"Why today?" said Pel. "Is there something about this day that is, in some way,unusual?"

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"Of a certainty," said Khaavren. "You have come to see me. That is more thanunusual--it is unprecedented."

"Well, that is true."

"And therefore, it is only natural that I wonder if something has happened tobring these questions to the forefront of your mind, good Pel."

"Oh, I agree that it is only natural."

"And therefore you will answer me?"

"Certainly I will answer you."

"Ah, you will?"

"Indeed, and this very instant."

"Begin then, for you perceive I am listening avidly."

"This is it, then: you understand, do you not, how the system of Discretion isworked?"

"In fact, my dear Pel, I understand it not at all."

"Then I must first say two words about our Academy."

"Very well, I am listening."

"Here in the Palace, there is a small building near the Athyra Wing, where, in thehumblest of dwellings, live those who have undertaken the study of Discretion underthe Masters of the House of the Issola. Periodically, some great--to you, Khaavren,I can even admit that this means wealthy--noble feels the need to have a confidantat his elbow--a confidant he can trust completely, and to whom he can unburdenhimself. On these occasions, a journeyman or, sometimes, a Master will accept thisduty to the glory of the Academy and, I should add, his own advancement. But,however many nobles of one sort or another beg for our services, there is no greaterneed than by the Emperor himself. It is because the Emperor always has such a needthat the Institute first came into being in the Fifth Cycle."

"And yet, good Pel, for the past half a hundred years, since the Duke ofWellborn retired, His Majesty has been without a Discreet."

"That is exactly the case, good Khaavren, and you can imagine that this has beenthe cause of no little interest among those of us--numbering, at the moment,forty-one--undertaking the arduous study, for it is possible that one of us will beselected for this great honor."

"Yes, I understand that."

"Well, and do you also understand that the Academy--for so we call it--isfunded directly by the Empire?"

"No, I had not known that."

"Then, no doubt, you did not know that, mere moments before I arrived here, wereceived word that this funding was to be halved, which would necessitate dismissals

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among both staff and students."

"Hmmm. I see."

"Do you, then, understand my sudden interest in the state of mind of HisMajesty, and my speculations over his concern with matters of financial?"

"I understand entirely."

"And can you offer any more insight?"

"I will say only one word, good Pel."

"One word from you, my friend, is as a thousand from another. What is thisword?"

"It is--Jurabin."

"Ah--ah!" said Pel. "Is it he who controls the pursestrings of the Empire?"

"So it is said, good Pel, and so I believe."

"Well, well. And who controls Jurabin?"

"Ah," said Khaavren, smiling. "As for that, Pel, who controls the Court?"

"In the old days it was--the Consort?"

"You have answered your own question."

Pel nodded, then, abruptly, he stood, and pressed Khaavren's hand. "You havegiven me no little help, my old friend. If there is anything I can do for you--"

"Ah, but there is."

Pel's eyes narrowed by such a small degree Khaavren hardly noticed. "What is it,then? If it is anything I can do without compromising--"

"Yes, Pel, it is that you stop neglecting your old friend, and come to me and visitfrom time to time, while I rot away to insignificance and you shine ever brighter, likea fire to which an invisible hand is adding log after log."

Pel smiled. "You may be assured that I will not neglect you, Khaavren. But I alsoassure you that, even if you believe what you have just said about rotting away toinsignificance, I do not. There are some natures that are destined to rise to evergreater heights until they tower over all other mortals. The first of those I recognizedwas Adron e'Kieron, the Duke of Eastmanswatch. And, though I did not realize it atfirst, you are another. So have no fear."

"I agree about the first, Pel, but as to the second--"

"Remember my words, good Khaavren. And, to make them the stronger, I shallleave you with them, for I must be on my way at once."

And, after pressing his friend's hand again, Pel put his hood up over his head andleft Khaavren, who was still standing, staring after him, a bemused smile on his lips.

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Chapter the Third

Which Treats of Pastries,

And of the Care that Must

Be exercised with Regard to

Casual Correspondence.

«^»KHAAVREN LEFT THE DRAGON WING for home shortly after Pel's exit.Although the Tiassa, as ensign, had the right to quarters in the Dragon Wing, he keptas his own residence the house on the Street of the Glass Cutters, which we hopeour readers will recall without further prompting. On the way, as was his custom, hestopped for a pastry from the vendor who took as his station the place where theAvenue of Seven Swans Park intersected with the Street of the Dragon.

The vendor, a Teckla named Raf, greeted Khaavren respectfully and said,"To-day, my lord, the pastries are venison, and have, in addition, a filling ofmushrooms, both of which ingredients were left for some hours in a marinade ofwine and tarragon before being cooked together and folded into the pastry."

Khaavren nodded and accepted one, for which he did not pay, as Raf wasaccustomed to give the Tiassa what he wanted out of gratitude for the way the latterhad settled a territorial dispute with another vendor of pastries some ninety yearsbefore. Raf, therefore, not only handed over the pastry, which was deliciously warmfrom having been kept over the hot coals with which the cart was filled, but he alsobowed as he did so. Khaavren wordlessly acknowledged the gift and the bow as noless than his due and turned toward home, when, being struck by a sudden thought,he turned back and said, "How is business, my dear Raf?"

The Teckla, startled by the onset of conversation where he had anticipated onlysilence, took a moment to gather his wits, after which he said, "Business, my lord?Pardon me, but does Your Lordship do me the honor of asking about mybusiness?"

"You have understood me exactly, my dear Raf, that is what I am asking you."

"Well then, my lord, since you ask, I will reply, and frankly at that."

"That is what I wish."

"Business, my lord, is good. I have sold as many pastries today as I didyester-day, and because to-morrow is Market Day, I expect to sell even moreto-morrow."

"And so you are surviving, Raf?"

"Indeed I am, my lord. In fact, I am more than surviving; I am positivelyflourishing."

"How, flourishing?"

"Yes, my lord. To such an extent, in fact, that my wife has been able to buy the

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best glazes, so that her pottery has begun to sell better than ever, which means, inturn, that I have been able to secure such fine meats as you find in that pastry whichis, if I may be so bold as to remind Your Lordship, growing cold in your hand. This,as you may readily understand, increases my sales. The result is, my lord, that wewill soon be leaving our quarters at Two Canals and moving to a fine set of roomson the Street of the Monks, and have even been discussing the idea of having achild, which we have both wanted for most of this last century, my lord."

"Well, then, Raf, I ought to congratulate you, and I do."

"Thanks, my lord."

"I am pleased that, at any rate, the new tax has not harmed you."

"Harmed me, my lord? On the contrary, it has made me my fortune."

"The new tax has made your fortune? Come, how can this be?"

"In the simplest possible manner. Shall I explain it to you?"

"Yes, Raf, if you will do so, I assure you that I will happily listen."

"Well, this is it then, my lord. I had been selling each pastry for nine copperpennies--except, of course, to you. Well, between the new tax on wheat entering thecity, and the new tax on meats, my costs have gone up, as nearly as I can guess, byabout two copper pennies for each pastry."

"Well, and?"

"So, of course, the costs to all of my competitors also went up."

"Yes, that follows. And did you raise your price?"

"No, my lord, and that is the secret. I kept my price the same, where mycompetitors raised theirs."

"And so?"

"And so, my lord, now everyone comes to me. Instead of the loss of business,which, as I understand it, the other pastry sellers experience, I now have peoplewalking miles for my pastries. Of course, I may say that this is due in part to thequality with which I invest each one--"

"I will certainly agree with that, good Raf."

"--but in large part I am getting the business that my competitors have drivenaway by raising prices. So, while I make less than they with each pastry, I sell manymore than they--so much so, that each night for the past year, since the new tax hasbeen passed, I have offered up prayers to Trout for the safekeeping of His Majesty.And that is how the new tax has made my fortune for me."

"Well, it is all clear to me now, and I thank you for explaining it so well."

"My lord, I am honored that you asked."

Khaavren nodded civilly, and left the street vendor to deal with the notinconsiderable queue that had been patiently (or, perhaps, prudently) waiting to buy

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pastries while Raf finished his conversation with the ensign.

We ought to mention that it was now early in the evening, at just the hour whentradesmen and merchants were returning from their labors, beggars and prostituteswere beginning work, and His Majesty would be rising from dinner and going to hisgaming tables or to his evening of discussing the hunt with his companions.Khaavren returned to his home like any merchant, tired from the day, and ready togreet his family and partake of his evening meal.

But this similarity between our Ensign of the Guard and the tens of thousands ofmerchants, tradesmen, and Teckla, which similarity we are obliged to mentionbecause it passed through Khaavren's mind every day at this time, ought not to becarried too far. For one thing, he had already had his evening meal, in the form of apastry which he found, as always, delightfully flaky and perfectly seasoned. Foranother, the only family he came home to was the servant, Srahi, who had agedconsiderably and was now far more satisfactory than she had been--since, if shewas no better as a cook or housekeeper, she was at least more taciturn.

And if this had been a day of remarkable occurrences in other ways, at least inthis it was no different than usual: When Khaavren entered by the brass-bound doorwith the Tiassa crest, Srahi glanced up at him from her book, then returned to herreading without making any remark whatsoever. Khaavren walked by her, stoppingonly long enough to learn what absorbed her attention. He discovered it was a bookof scandalous rhyme published by someone calling himself "The Poisoner," then hecontinued up to his own room without feeling called upon to comment. Lest thereader determine from this interplay (for certainly the lack of interplay is, itself,interplay) that relations between the Tiassa and the Teckla were strained, allow us tostate at once that nothing could be further from the truth. Rather, they understoodeach other so well that no words were necessary, and they shared, moreover, anaversion to unnecessary talk.

Upon reaching his room, and hanging his sword-sheath on a peg at the top of thestairs, the first thing that caught Khaavren's eye was a letter he had begun writing tohis old friend Aerich (the Lyorn to whom we have already referred and of whom, wedare to hope, the reader has some recollection) some weeks before, but hadn't yetfinished. He picked it up and scanned what he had penned, which consisted of a fewlines in answer to Aerich's last letter--lines that said little, because there was little tosay. Aerich had written a short note asking after his health and his doings, andKhaavren had found himself unable to answer, wherefore he had left the incompletemissive on his desk as a reminder--the efficacy of which we have just proven.

The meeting with Pel caused Khaavren to resolve to, at the least, return hisfriend's courtesy, therefore he sat down at his desk, crumpled up the beginning hehad made, and threw it into a corner where it joined a score of others like itself, thereto await a season, which season arrived perhaps once each year, when Khaavrenshould be willing to have his sanctum invaded by Srahi at the same time as Srahi feltinclined to engage in such an invasion. Khaavren found a new sheet of paper (paperbleached to a pure white, so fine there was no grain, made in Hammersgate by the

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newest process) and began again:

My Dear Aerich [he wrote]: I thank you for your inquiry after my health andactivities. My health, thanks to the Gods and the physicians (or, perhaps, thanks tothe fact that I have intercourse with neither) is excellent. As for my activities--youmay rest assured that they have in no wise changed from the last time you did me thehonor to ask concerning them. I set the guards, I stand watch, and I hope for thediversion of battle, which seems unlikely, as His Majesty (whom the Gods preserve)has little interest, it seems, in assuming the personal command that is his right, butwould rather trust Rollondar e'Drien, who, as you may know, became Warlord earlythis past century. Lord Rollondar is an easy enough master, if only because he hasno interest in the Guards, and so leaves them to the Captain, who, in turn, leavesthem to me. This is an arrangement that keeps me busy, and being busy keeps mehappy, so there is no reason to be concerned on that score.

As for your own affairs, my dear Aerich, I am pleased to hear that everything iswell. I had feared that rearrangement of the Imperial assessments might have createddifficulties for you. We hear, now and then, murmurings of armed resistance, but, Iam sorry to say, there has been nothing of an organized nature. Some days ago, HisMajesty did me the honor to ask if I feared the people. I reminded him that I hadbeen on duty in the two hundred and sixth year of his reign, during the food riots,and I had seen an angry populace, and an organized populace; and this one, for alltheir clamor, is neither. He seemed satisfied with the answer. I have no doubt,Aerich, that, if you were here, you would agree with me.

As for Pel, I can tell you little, save that I have recently seen him, and he isunchanged--secretive, mysterious, and always with one scheme or another runningthrough his mind. I must confess that he hurt my feelings, Aerich, because hepretended, in order to get certain knowledge from me, to an ignorance that I know isimpossible. Yet, that is only his way, and I forgive him for the sake of our oldfriendship.

And, speaking of friendship, I heard, some thirty years ago, from our old friend,Kathana e'Marish'Chala. She has married a Dragonlord of the e'Lanya line, whosename escapes me. I was invited to the ceremony, but was unable to obtain leave. Didyou hear? Were you invited and able to attend?

While on the subject of friends, what of good Tazendra? I was pleased to learnthat she was able to escape unscathed from the explosion at her home. I hope shehas learned from this, and will temper her studies with care. What of her servant,Mica? Was he injured? I should be saddened to learn--

Khaavren stopped, hearing a rattle over his head that indicated that someone hadpulled the door-clapper. He carefully blotted the last few words he had written, thenprepared to go down to see who was at the door. The route to the stairway took himpast the small window he was accustomed to leave ajar to allow in the breezes--hehad, in fact, become adept at regulating the temperature in his room by gauging theopening on this window and the vent of his small stove. The reason we feel obligedto bring this window to the reader's attention is because through it Khaavren realized

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that night had quite fallen; he had spent more time writing to Aerich than he had atfirst realized. With this thought, he also realized that he was tired, and that his bedwas calling to him.

However, the door was also calling, and that more urgently.

Upon discovering, then, that it was in fact quite late at night, he arrested hismovements long enough to take his sword from its sheath, which was, in turn, on itspeg at the top of the stairs, and bring it (that is, the sword, not the peg) with him inorder to be prepared in the event that at the door might be one or more members ofthe Army of the Thorny Rose--a battalion of mercenaries whose quarters werefurther down the street, and who were not fond of guardsmen, nor of officers, andall of whom were known to drink heavily.

Some three minutes after Khaavren went down to answer the door, he returned tohis room, returned his sword to its place by the stairway, and returned his attentionto composition.

I should be saddened to learn [he resumed] that anything ill had befallen that goodfellow. If you can learn something of this, please tell me what you can, and I shall begrateful. You may be amused to know that I have just killed a man who clapped atmy door. He ascertained my identity, and then attempted to discharge a flashstone atme--perhaps writing letters is not as harmless an activity as I would have thought.Wherefore, prudence, as well as the lateness of the hour, dictates that I stop now, inaddition to which I have just realized that I am bleeding, and I ought to do somethingabout this, because replacing stained clothing is, as you may remember, difficult on aguardsman's income.

I remain, my dear Aerich, always your devoted friend,

Khaavren

At this point, we might venture to guess that our readers are, on the one hand,wondering how Aerich will react when he reads about this singular event, and, on theother, are themselves curious about any details Khaavren may have omitted. As forthe first question, we must beg our readers' pardon, but it will be some time beforethe answer to this question reveals itself. We hope our readers will be satisfied if, atthis time, we answer only the second of these supposed questions.

We can, in point of fact, reveal a little more than what Khaavren wrote to hisfriend. Upon arriving at the stairway, Khaavren had opened the door and seen there agentleman in Imperial livery, holding a roll of parchment in his hand--parchmentupon which an Imperial seal could nearly be made out by the luminescence from thelamp Khaavren had lighted on his way to the door.

The visitor had made a respectful courtesy and said, "Do I have the honor ofaddressing Khaavren, Ensign of the Imperial Guard?"

Khaavren saw nothing unusual about the visitor: It was by the merest chance thathis naked sword was concealed behind the door, for Khaavren had, in fact, notthought of hiding it--it was only concealed because Khaavren was carrying it in hisright hand and the door opened inward to the right. As it happened, however, it was

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a good thing, for when Khaavren admitted his identity, the visitor dropped the paperand revealed, in the palm of his hand, a smooth, flat stone--the sort of stoneKhaavren recognized from having used them himself on more than one occasion.

The Tiassa wasted no time, then, in putting a solid object between himself and theflashstone--the nearest solid object being the door, which he interposed byslamming it shut, after which he took a step back, let go of the lamp (which bychance neither spilled nor broke, which would have undoubtedly proved anannoyance) and assumed a guard position with his blade directly in front of his faceand at a forty-five-degree angle to the sky. The assassin--for so we may callhim--made the mistake of attempting to gain entry by charging into the doorshoulder-first. The assassin was strong enough that this would have worked had thedoor been latched with the usual thin steel that kept it closed when the iron bolt wasnot in use. The door, however, had not been latched at all, but merely shut, and so itopened at once and the assassin stumbled through, his flashstone raised, and adagger revealed in the other hand.

Khaavren had positioned himself so well that the discharge of the flashstone onlygrazed his cheek slightly while he, Khaavren, brought the edge of his sword downsmartly onto the assassin's forehead, thus ending the assassin's attack and life, andleaving Khaavren to regret that he had not been able to leave the fellow alive forquestioning. He did drag the body into the hall, however, and exchanged a few tersewords with Srahi, who had been awakened by the discharge of the flashstone, to theeffect that she need not consider removal of the body as part of her cleaning dutiesthe next day. After that thoughtful remark, Khaavren cleaned his blade and went backupstairs to finish his letter.

This being done, in the manner we have already described, Khaavren quicklyremoved his shirt and set it soaking in a tub of water into which he poured a smallquantity of lye, then set a cloth against his cheek, which was still bleeding slightly,after which operation he prepared the letter for the post, himself for sleep, and gotinto bed.

And yet, to his surprise, he found himself unable to sleep. Those who have spentseveral hundred years in uniform will be able to grasp at once how unusual it is for asoldier to have difficulty sleeping, yet Khaavren could not keep from wonderingabout the assassin whose corpse occupied a spot on the floor of his house. (Weshould note in passing that Srahi, the servant, had trouble sleeping for much thesame reason, but in her case this is more readily understood.)

"Why," he asked himself, "would someone want to kill me? I have done nothingto make myself a special target for revenge, nor do I hold a position of any particularimportance--at least, it seems to me that I could be replaced tomorrow by any of adozen good soldiers and no one would notice the difference. Nor have I anypossessions of special merit. It is, without question, decidedly odd." With thesethoughts going through Khaavren's mind, the reader will readily understand why ittook him over an hour to fall asleep.

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Chapter the Fourth

Which Treats of Several Others,

All of Who May Have Been Engaged

In Dangerous Correspondence.

«^»KHAAVREN AWOKE WITH THE SAME question on his mind that had occupiedhis thoughts before sleeping, and felt himself no closer to an answer. Srahi was stillasleep, so he decided to break his fast at the Palace. He removed his shirt from thewater on realizing that the shirt was soaking wet, and, opening up the single cabinetthat contained his clothing, brought out his other shirt, and, at the same time his oldblue tunic, which, though the weather was too warm for such heavy wool to becomfortable, he hoped would cover the places on the shirt where the fabric hadbecome thin.

He buckled on his sword, clasped his uniform cloak around his neck, examinedhimself in the full-length glass which he had had installed in the hall upon being madean ensign, and decided that his appearance would do. He then picked up the body ofhis visitor and slung it over his shoulder, took the letter to Aerich into his hand, andso encumbered, set off for the Palace. We can only speculate on the sight presentedby this officer of the Guard carrying a corpse along the Street of the Dragon; if therewere any remarks made, Khaavren either didn't hear them, or chose not to hear them.In any case, there were no incidents.

Upon reaching the outer gate of the Palace, Khaavren gave the letter into the careof an officer of the post who promised to see the missive delivered with all dispatch,after which, in due time, Khaavren reached the sub-wing of the Imperial Guard.

He was greeted there by his corporal, Thack, who queried Khaavren with a raisedeyebrow. We should add the reader might also raise an eyebrow upon recalling thatThack, when we met him in our previous history, was not one to inspire confidence;the reader might even be wondering how he came to occupy a position of trustunder the command of our brave Tiassa. We do not propose to answer this questionat any length, for the simple reason that our history does not require it; so, to put thereader's mind at ease on this question, we will say only that Thack, after transferringto G'aereth's command some eighty or eighty-five years after the close of the eventsrelated in The Phoenix Guards, had undergone sufficient transformation in characterthat Khaavren believed he could be depended upon. We will not take it uponourselves to dispute with the worthy ensign on such a matter, and moreover, there isnowhere any evidence that the good Thack at any time proved himself less thancompletely deserving of Khaavren *s trust.

Khaavren set his burden down in the antechamber and said, "My compliments toGyorg Lavode, and I should be honored if he would grant me a brief meeting at his

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convenience."

"Yes, Ensign."

"Has the guard been posted?"

"Yes, Ensign."

"Then, I will assume my station, stopping on the way for a bit of bread andcheese."

"Yes, Ensign. And--"

"Yes?"

Thack cleared his throat, and dropped his eyes eloquently toward the corpse.

"Ah," said Khaavren. "Yes, you may leave him there. I do not believe he will bedoing anything."

"Yes, Ensign."

Khaavren then set out, as he had nearly every day for the past five hundred andthirty years, through the corridors of the Dragon Wing toward the short ramp andthe great doors which never closed that marked the beginning of the Imperial Wing(which was, the reader ought to understand, not a wing at all, but the innermostportion of the labyrinthine Palace). Yet he had not gone far before he was interruptedby a young gentleman whose costume indicated that he was a page and whosecolors indicated that he was of the House of the Phoenix. This young man said, "MyLord Ensign Khaavren?"

"Yes, that is I," said Khaavren, arresting his motion.

"His Majesty is desirous of seeing you at your earliest convenience."

Khaavren frowned. "Well, you may inform His Majesty that I will be theredirectly. But, to do so, you must move quickly, or I shall be there before you arrive,and your message will be useless."

"I shall do so, my lord," said the page, and dashed back the way he had come,leaving Khaavren alone with his frown.

"Well," said Khaavren to himself. "This is no small matter. It has passed theseventh hour after midnight, and, in twenty minutes. I will be at the door of HisMajesty's chambers, where I am at the same time every morning, in order to conductHis Majesty through the ritual that we are pleased to call 'Opening the Palace,'although the Palace is never closed His Majesty has, I think, been awake for twentyminutes, and is still engaged in completing his morning toilet; and, at forty minutespast the seventh hour, I am always there. Why, then, does His Majesty feelcompelled to instruct me to do something I have done for half a millennium?

"The only explanation is that something has happened to cause His Majesty somuch distress that he is no longer thinking of patterns or habits, but wishes to seeme about something extraordinary. In light of yester-day's conversation, and lastnight's events, this morning promises to be interesting indeed. Come, Khaavren, your

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master calls, and this is no time to hesitate. Breakfast must, alas, await a moreopportune moment."

With these words sternly spoken to himself, he resumed his military walk, onlythis time putting himself out to arrive at the Imperial Bedchamber in ten minutes,rather than the usual fifteen. Upon arriving, he was greeted by a most remarkablesight. Two guardsmen stood outside the door, as usual, and saluted their ensign, andHis Majesty, wearing his normal morning costume of rich gold silk and diamonds,was sitting in the chair next to a large, canopied bed, next to which was the traywhich His Majesty's morning klava; but the Orb, which circled His Majesty's head,was showing a deep, lurid yellow, which indicated that His Majesty was bothworried and upset. Furthermore, there were, also in the room, two figures Khaavrenwas unaccustomed to seeing there, these being Jurabin, and His ExcellencyRollondar e'Drien, the Warlord.

Jurabin we have already met, and the reader, we believe, would rather learn theanswers to Khaavren's questions than to waste his time learning about the Warlord,wherefore we will only say that Rollondar e'Drien was a very thin man of abouteleven hundred years with straight black hair in a military cut, parted at his noble'spoint. Upon seeing him, Khaavren's first thought was, "Are we at war then?" But hesaid nothing, merely bowing to His Majesty and awaiting orders.

"My compliments, Captain, and you have arrived in a very timely fashion."

"My thanks--excuse me, Sire, but did Your Majesty address me as Captain?"

"I did. I have chosen to promote you, due to the death of Brigadier G'aereth,which occurred sometime last night."

"I see," said Khaavren, feeling--to his credit--a pang of sorrow more acute thanthe pride in his promotion. "I am honored, Sire, and I thank Your Majesty deeply."

"That is not, however," his Majesty added, "the reason for my summons, anymore than it is the reason why these gentlemen are here."

"Yes, Sire?"

The Emperor cleared his throat. "You should know, for these gentlemen do, that,however old Brigadier G'aereth was, he did not die of natural causes."

"Sire?"

"He was poniarded as he returned from a ball given by the Count ofWestbreeze."

Khaavren felt his eyes widen. "Sire! Who would wish to kill--"

"We don't know," said his Majesty, glancing at Jurabin and Rollondar, whoshrugged. "And that isn't all," he added.

"What, there is more, Sire?"

"Yes, there was another murder last night, about which I was informed uponawakening."

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"Yes, Sire?"

"A certain Smaller, an intendant of finance."

Khaavren frowned. "Yes, Sire, I believe I have seen him."

"Judging from the look on Lady Bellor's face, he was one of her ablest clerks."

"I can attest to that as well, Sire," said Jurabin.

"Sire, how did he--"

"He was found dead in his box at the Theater of the Orb, after a performance ofThe Song of Vinburra. We might never have known that his death was murder, savefor His Excellency the Warlord, who grew suspicious of all the deaths, and thoughtto bring in a wizard to look for sorcery."

"It was a sorcerous murder?"

"Yes. His heart was stopped."

"I see. But, Sire, did not Your Majesty pronounce the words, 'all the deaths'?"

"I did."

"Were there others, then, Sire?"

"One other," His Majesty sighed. "Gyorg Lavode. He was in his bed, sleeping,when his throat was cut."

"What does Your Majesty tell me?" cried Khaavren. "The Captain of theLavodes?"

"Himself," said the Emperor grimly.

Khaavren's mind fairly reeled with the news. "In that case, my message will, Isuspect, not be delivered."

"Message?" said the Emperor.

"Yes, Sire. I had, just this morning, requested an audience with him."

"For what reason?"

"To consult with him upon a matter that, it seemed to me, would best be lookedinto by a skilled wizard who was also a warrior, and, moreover, one who had othersof the same sort at his command."

"Well," said the Emperor, "that certainly described Gyorg Lavode. But what wasthe matter upon which you wished to consult him?"

"How, does Your Majesty wish me to explain?"

"Yes, and this very moment."

"Well, Sire, last night, an attempt was made upon my life."

Rollondar gasped, and Jurabin took a step backward, as if afraid that the odor ofdeath might still cling to Khaavren's uniform. His Majesty stood up. "But this isinfamous!"

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"Yes, Sire."

"Who was the assassin?"

"I don't know, Sire." said Khaavren. "But I brought his body back with me,which body lies now in my antechamber. I had had the intention of asking CaptainGyorg what he could learn from examination of the corpse, but now..." Khaavrenpunctuated his sentence with a shrug.

"But now," agreed His Majesty. "Now we must decide what to do. It is clear thatthere is a conspiracy afoot, and that, whatever the object of this conspiracy, theconspirators aim at the very top of the Imperium." His Majesty looked at thoseassembled before him. "How do we find them, and where do we look?"

"We look first," said Jurabin with a cold glance at the Warlord, "to the House ofthe Dragon, who may, perhaps, be desirous of seeing the cycle turnprecipitately--that is, sooner than, in the natural course of events (if, indeed, anycourse of events in which men are involved can be called 'natural'), the cycle mightturn."

Rollondar e'Drien glared back at him and said, "Dragonlords do not employassassins."

"That may be," said Jurabin, "but--"

"Please, gentlemen," said His Majesty. "You may bicker at a later time. It is clearthat we must do something, and soon at that. I am already late for my rounds, andeverything else will of necessity be late therefore, and today is my day forwine-tasting; I will not be pleased if that is delayed. So let us, right now, determine acourse of action, and you gentlemen may pursue this course, and I will return torunning the Empire."

"Sire," said Jurabin. "We must consider--"

"You may not consider," said His Majesty. "I will not have every activity of theday thrown into needless confusion, and have my schedule spoiled. I am willing todo what is necessary. Determine, then, what is must be done and then let us get onwith our tasks."

Jurabin cleared his throat. "An investigation--" he began.

"Yes, yes," said His Majesty. "To be sure, an investigation. But who shouldinvestigate?"

"I will," said Rollondar.

"You?" said Jurabin. "Have you the resources--"

"With the help of the Captain, here," said Rollondar, indicating Khaavren. "I haveno doubt--"

"Very well," said His Majesty. "Is that all? You will investigate, and you will tellme what you have learned."

"Sire," said Jurabin, "It seems to me that, at least, the Duke of Eastmanswatch

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ought to be summoned and questioned. As the Dragon Heir, he is--"

"Expected in the city within the week, in any case," said Rollondar coolly. "Youforget the Meeting of the Principalities?"

"Well," said Jurabin, "that is true, I had forgotten."

"Your pardon, gentlemen," said Khaavren. "But it is clear to me that there is oneperson who ought to be summoned to aid in the investigation, if for no other reasonthan because, if we do not invite her, she will investigate anyway, but may not giveus the benefit of her discoveries."

Rollondar evidently understood, because he suddenly turned pale. "Are youaware of what you are suggesting?" he said.

"I hope he is," said His Majesty. "Because I, for one, am not, and yet I am mostanxious to be so."

Jurabin merely looked puzzled, and slightly apprehensive.

"I am aware," said Khaavren.

"Well," said Rollondar, "I tell you that I, for one, want no part of this idea."

The Emperor cleared his throat and said, "If you would be so good, Captain, toexplain what is causing our Warlord so much distress, I assure you I will begrateful."

Khaavren bowed. "It seems to me, Sire," he said, "that with the death of theCaptain of the Lavodes, we have no choice but to call on the old Captain, theEnchantress of Dzur Mountain, Sethra."

As if the very name carried a spell of great enchantment, nothing followed itspronunciation except silence.

Chapter the Fifth

Which Treats of Events

In a Part of the City

That the Author Visits

Only with Great Reluctance.

«^»IT IS WITH SOME REGRET THAT WE must, at this point in our history, leavethose who have, up until this moment, been the principal actors. In so doing, we alsoleave the well-known halls of the Imperial Palace in order to look in on an area of thecity which has hitherto been entirely neglected. We assure the reader that this isindispensable, and that we would not abuse the power of our position to trifle withhis sensitivities and interests.

Our journey does not, in fact, take us far from the Palace in distance, although it

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does in appearance and atmosphere. The Underside, as it was called, was the districtdirectly to the north of the Palace, and bounded on the south by the Palace's northwall. It lay between the Street of the Tsalmoth and the Street of the Jhereg, with theStreet of the Vallista running through the middle. Some say it went north as far as theTwostar Canal, but others maintained that nothing north of the Avenue of theBridges could properly be considered the Underside. The reader will understand if,concerning this question, the historian remains neutral.

Its reputation has survived the Interregnum, and, in contrast to most such cases,its reputation, by all accounts, was well deserved. The White Sash Battalion (underthe command of Baroness Stonemover, who does not, alas, appear in this history),who made up the police force of Dragaera City, never entered this district in lessernumbers than four; or never fewer than six or eight if night had fallen. There was, sofar as is known, never an epoch when the area was well patrolled after dark, and atthe time of which we write the police rarely entered even during the day. It had, infact, become something of a jest--one might ironically suggest to a visitor who hadoutstayed his welcome that he run a footrace to the Bridge and return later for hisprize. If one was suspicious of a business deal, one might say that it "smelled like theUnderside," The reference to the district's foul atmosphere was quite literally true.

His Majesty, in the 183 rd year of his reign, signed his Sewage Edicts, among theleast remembered and most beneficial acts of a reign which the facts testify deservesfar better treatment from history than it has received. There are surviving records ofthe efficiency and thoroughness with which the edicts were implemented, butnowhere is there any reference to any of the policies it details being put into effect inthe Underside. The air of the Underside was filled with odors that we will not disturbour readers' sensibilities by reciting, save by remarking that, although theslaughterhouses of Baron Whitemill were located in this district, nowhere is itrecorded that anyone noticed the fumes they produced. It is well known, also, thaton those rare days when a north wind blew, all of the windows in the Jhereg andVallista Wings of the Palace had to be closed, and there were even days when thestench would infiltrate as far as the Imperial Wing.

As to the class and condition of those unfortunates who actually dwelt there,well, this is a matter upon which we suspect the intellect of the reader may safely beturned with little worry that he will stray from the truth.

Let us, then, hold our breath and shut our eyes until we arrive at the relative safetyof a small cabaret. We need not observe this hostel closely, for it looked like athousand others; reached by walking down three wooden steps, it was dimly lit, witha large room in front and two or three small rooms curtained off in back. In the mainroom, there were four or five round tables, and plain, shabby benches at which tosit, and a long, high counter behind which stood the host, a burly Chreotha whosepast must remain a mystery. The cabaret was situated on a street that may as wellremain nameless, in a neighborhood like many others; it was a neighborhoodpopulated by day-laborers, petty thieves, assorted malcontents--and one man inparticular who was called, simply, Greycat, for reasons of which we must confessour ignorance.

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Physically, we can sketch him in an instant. The first thing we might notice wouldbe a pink, puffy scar just above his right eye--a scar as if a wild animal hadattempted to remove this eye and only a dodge at the last instant, so to speak, hadsaved him. Far from being the only mark on Greycat's face, this scar was merely themost prominent, for there were, here and there, signs of other wounds about him,from forehead to neck, and even one on his scalp that ran alongside his noble'spoint--for he was, indeed, a son of the nobility. His right eye, because of the scar,was slightly squinting, and his left eye would at times match this squint, as if of itsown volition.

He was by no means a large man, yet he conveyed the impression of greatstrength within his small frame--a single look would convince the observer that hewas made up of bone and muscle and perhaps a small quantity of blood, andnothing else. He wore plain, dark clothes, and a floppy hat that would have beenmore at home on a buffoon or a beggar than on one with Greycat's countenance.For we should add that Greycat had an evil look about him--a look that, by itself,would have fully accounted for the fact that, even in this cabaret, peopled as it wasby those used to surviving in the Underside, no one wished to approach him. In fact,there were additional reasons why he was left alone, not the least of which was hisreputation.

To round off our sketch, we will add that he was armed. A long, heavy blade wasat his side; and, judging from the plain, smooth hilt, it was a soldier's weapon. Onerumor was that Greycat had, indeed, been a soldier, perhaps in one of the mercenaryarmies hired by the rebellious Duke of Hoarwall, and that he, Greycat, had desertedduring the Battle of Irontown, at which the duke was captured and executed. If thistale was true, no one doubted that his desertion had been caused by something otherthan cowardice.

There were other stories about him. Some said that he had been the Consort'slover, and that His Majesty had had him tortured, and he had somehow escaped. Atother times, it was said that he was a Jhereg assassin, and, in fact, some hadpromised him gold if he would beat or kill an enemy, but he had never acceptedthese offers.

Whatever his history, trial and hardship were clearly written there, and if heoffered no explanation, neither did he make any effort to conceal them. It was knownthat "he never troubled anyone who didn't trouble him," and that, on those rareoccasions when he drank, he only became quieter and quieter until he fell asleep. Onone such occasion, a cutpurse with more courage than wisdom had attempted to plyhis art; Greycat had come out of his stupor long enough to cut the thief's throatbefore resuming his interrupted nap.

This was Greycat; this was the man who, however distasteful we may find it, ourhistory absolutely requires we observe, for, as evening falls on Dragaera City, he andcertain visitors are about to hold a conference at which issues will be raised that areof no small importance to the subsequent events we must relate.

The first to arrive was the most harmless-looking--she was small and elegant,

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dressed in black pants, black boots, and black shirt with grey trim. She did notappear to be armed, but there was the emblem of a Jhereg below her left collar, and aring with the same design on the third finger of her right hand, and these weresufficient to guarantee her safety--or, if not, they promised nothing good towhoever couldn't read the message they sent. She was called Laral.

She saw Greycat sitting alone at his table, and joined him there. As she sat, hestood in a gesture at once courtly and unconscious. She acknowledged his courtesywith a nod, and they sat waiting, neither speaking nor even drinking--which,considering the usual wines and ales at Underside cabarets, must be thought of aswisdom.

Next to arrive was one who would be called a gentleman only if one saw thenoble's point peeking out from beneath his hood. The hood, we should add, was ofthe type used by seamen in heavy storms, and was attached to the appropriate oiledcloak. He was the largest of the group; his hands were heavily callused and there washair growing on their backs--a sure sign, as is well known, of a bestial nature. Heseemed ill at ease in the cabaret; in fact, he seemed ill at ease in general, to judgefrom the way he opened and closed his fists as he looked around for a familiar face.Beneath the oiled cloak could be seen enough of his pale blue and green garments toestablish that he was, in fact, of the House of the Orca. His name was Chaler.

He espied Greycat and, after obtaining a cup of ale, sat down next to him, with ahesitant nod to Laral.

An instant later the fourth member of the party arrived. He wore no hat--indeed,it would have been difficult to find a hat that would not have looked absurd amid hishair, which was bright red, and, moreover, grew wildly and haphazardly all about hishead, proving to be his most distinctive feature. Otherwise he had the sharp chin,long nose, and narrow eyes of a fox, on a thin frame that gave the appearance ofbeing unable to bend, like a sword that has been poorly tempered, and so will, uponthe application of pressure, break rather than bow. Even with his noble's pointconcealed beneath his profusion of hair, he was unmistakably an aristocrat, butneither his face nor his dress, which was dull black, though of a fine cut, gave anyclue as to his House. At his side was an incongruously heavy sword, with a plain,leather-wrapped wooden hilt--a sword such as an elegantly dressed gentlemanwould never wear unless he knew its length. His name was Dunaan.

He sat next to Chaler, whom he ignored, after nodding to Greycat and scowlingbriefly at Laral.

It should be understood that, until this point, no words had been exchanged.Greycat said, "Let us retire." His speech was difficult to place, for it seemed, at first,like the refined accents of the court, but there were echoes of distant places in theway he drew out some of his vowels.

Dunaan's speech was of someone who had lived all his life in Dragaera City itself.He said, "Are we not missing someone?"

"No," said Greycat.

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"Very well," said Dunaan.

They rose as one and followed Greycat into one of the back rooms, which hehad reserved for their use. Chaler, who had finished his ale, left the cup where it was,making no effort to procure more, indicating that he was capable of what the naturalphilosopher calls, "learning behavior," which turn of phrase pleases us so much thatwe cannot resist making use of it.

It is worthwhile to wonder at the wisdom of moving into one of the privaterooms. By doing so, they not only made themselves more conspicuous, but putthemselves into a position where they would be unable to see anyone who chose tolisten in on their conversation; the protection from eavesdroppers afforded by thethin walls of the room was negligible. Perhaps they chose this room because theyhad been given to understand that conspirators (and they recognized, as, no doubt,has the astute reader, that they were conspirators) always met in small rooms inpublic houses. Still, there can be no question that it was foolish, and the only reasontheir conversation escaped notice was because, in fact, no one in the cabaret actuallycared what they said.

The room was small, lit only by a pair of lanterns in opposite corners, and, due tocertain support beams that kept the building above from falling into the cabaretbelow, was crisscrossed with shadows, giving a sinister look to the place. Insummary, then, we can say that it looked like the set of one of the Tenth Cycleconspiracy dramas so popular on the Street of Oranges at the time, and even gavethe impression that those involved were playing at conspiracy, rather than activelyinvolved in one.

We can only attribute this to a certain lack of experience, for the conspiratorswere, in fact, entirely serious about their intentions, and furthermore, consideringtheir actions up to this time, there could be no question of joking at all.

Once they were all seated (in the same relative positions they had occupiedbefore), Laral spoke, affecting the accent of the court. "What of Leen?" she said.

Chaler spoke with the twang of the Southern Coast--in other words, he soundedjust the way he ought to, saving only that his voice was slightly higher-pitched thanone would expect of a man his size: "He failed, my lady."

"Failed?" said Dunaan.

"Yes," said Greycat. "Chaler has already informed me. The Tiassa killed him."

"He was clumsy, my lord," said Chaler.

"I assume," said Dunaan ironically, "that you refer to Leen, not the Tiassa."

Chaler swallowed, as if Dunaan made him nervous, and said, "Yes. Leen wasclumsy."

"I take it," said Laral, "that you were not?"

"I was not, my lady," said Chaler.

"Nor," said Laral, "was I."

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"Nothing unexpected happened in my case," said Dunaan.

Greycat simply nodded.

"What then?" said Laral.

"We must kill the Tiassa," said Greycat.

"If you like," said Dunaan, "I will see to him."

"No," said Greycat. "Leen was an Orca; let Chaler repair the error."

The Orca in question nodded, indicating that he thought this proposal entirelyreasonable.

"What next?" said Laral.

Greycat smiled, and, in doing so, showed all of his teeth, which wereexceptionally white and fine. "Surely you haven't forgotten," he said.

"Ah, yes," said Laral. "You are to pay us."

"Indeed I am."

"And do you intend to do so?" said Dunaan.

"I will pay you as I promised. And to prove it, here is the money. One purse foreach of you. I trust you will find within the agreed-upon amount."

They accepted their fees, after which Laral said, "I will ask once again: whatnext?"

Greycat shrugged. "Next, we must embarrass Countess Bellor, which will not bedifficult, now that the one intendant who knew the true state of the Imperial Treasuryis dead."

"Pardon me," said Dunaan, "but I believe you said it would not be difficult."

"That is right," said Greycat.

"Then you have a plan?"

"No," said Greycat. "But I have confidence."

"How, confidence?"

"Yes, good Dunaan. Confidence that, before too much longer, you will have aplan, and a good one, too."

Dunaan nodded. "Very well, then."

"And I?" said Laral.

Greycat nodded. "You must know that Adron e'Kieron, the Duke ofEastmanswatch, is expected to arrive at court within a day or two."

"Yes, I know that."

"As the Dragon Heir, suspicion for these recent murders will naturally fall onhim."

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"Yes. And you wish me to help this suspicion along? Perhaps by putting a fewwords into the right ears, and a few clues before the right eyes?"

"On the contrary, Laral. Far from desiring you to increase these suspicions, it ismy wish that you will remove them entirely."

"How, remove them?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"That will be more difficult."

"I know a way."

"And that is?"

"By removing Lord Adron."

Laral frowned. "Removing Lord Adron," she said, "will be no easy matter."

"If it were easy, my lady, I wouldn't need to entrust it to one as skilled as youare."

Laral laughed. "You attempt to flatter me, Greycat, but I think there is more truththan flattery in your observation."

"And then?"

"Very well. But the Duke of Eastmanswatch is worth three times as much as anintendant of finance."

"Agreed," said Greycat.

"Agreed," said Laral.

"And," said Dunaan. "What will you be doing?"

"Very little," said Greycat. "Because very little is necessary, just at the moment,to provoke a riot."

"Ah," said Dunaan. "A riot."

"For what purpose?" said Laral.

"You do not need to know that yet," said Greycat.

"Very well," said Laral, who seemed not at all disturbed by this.

"Will we meet again?" said Chaler. "And, if so, when, and where?"

"Let us meet here in four days' time," said Greycat. "That is, on the fourteenthday of the month. And I find this place congenial enough that I do not hesitate to useit again. Moreover, I will be here late at night on the thirteenth as well, should anyonehave information to communicate to me. The night of the thirteenth and the earlymorning of the fourteenth should see--" he paused and smiled, "--certain activity."

"Very well," said Laral. "In four days, Adron e'Kieron will be dead."

"In four days," said Chaler, "Lord Khaavren will be dead."

"In four days," said Dunaan, "Countess Bellor will be discredited."

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"And in three days," said Greycat, "this city will see a riot. Small, but, perhaps, aportent of great ones to come."

Dunaan shook his head. "I don't know how you can command a riot, my friendGreycat, but I do not doubt that you can."

"You are right not to doubt," said Greycat.

As he said this, he made a gesture indicating that the meeting was over, and, oneby one, the others rose and departed, leaving Greycat alone in the room. He madeno move toward leaving, however; rather he sat, utterly motionless, with a look ofdeep contemplation on his features. After several moments, he stirred and said,"Come over to the table, Grita; I see no reason to pretend I don't know you're there,so there is, you perceive, no reason for you to hide."

"I was not and am not hiding," said Grita, who still spoke from the shadows. "Itis merely that I have accustomed myself to being seen as little as possible. You can,I assume, understand the reasons."

Greycat winced at these words, as if he were somehow affected by them. Thenhe recovered his blank countenance and said, "That's as may be, but please comeforward now, for I dislike speaking to someone I can't see; it brings back unpleasantmemories." As he said that, he chuckled slightly--a chuckle that would have sentshivers down the back of anyone who heard it and did not have nerves of iron.

Grita emerged from the corner and sat down opposite Greycat. If the reader hadthought that her reticence was due to some grotesque aspect of her appearance, wemust at this time assure him that nothing could be further from the truth. If Grita wasnot striking for her beauty, she had, at least, nothing of which to be ashamed. Shewas of middle years, certainly not more than six hundred, and small, with hair thecolor of new straw. The lines of her face were pleasing, if slightly sharp, with largeeyes and a small nose. Her movements were, perhaps, a little hesitant, but not theless graceful for that. She had, to be sure, a small scar, as from a knife wound,above her left eyebrow, but it was faint, and made her face more interesting, ratherthan repulsive.

It was only when one looked closely, searching for those clues to identity that wenotice almost unconsciously, that one began to be disturbed. She had a distinctnoble's point--more visible because she kept her hair cut short and brushed back. Ifone looked at her cheekbones and her chin, one might think she was a product of theHouse of the Dzur. Yet the roundness of her eyes gave the lie to this conclusion,and, furthermore, her complexion (which was nearly the color of an unripe olive) andher size spoke of the House of the Tsalmoth.

At this point, the observer would suddenly realize, with horror and pity, that herewas one of those unfortunates who, being the product of two Houses, belong tonone, and go through life as will a ship that, with neither anchor nor mooring ropes,will be accepted by no harbor, but must instead weather every storm that comes herway as best she can.

It was one of the great shames of society of that period that such people as Grita

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could, through no fault of their own, be subject to scorn and rejection at every hand.And, we might add, in spite of the wishes of our own Empress, such treatmentcontinues today, only moderately abated by the Edicts on Half-breeds which weresigned into law within five years of the Empress taking the Orb.

If, as has been often said, many such people become beggars and criminals, howcan this be considered their fault? If because of an excess of love or an insufficiencyof precaution in the heat of a moment of passion, a child is born to lovers whocannot marry because one or the other (or both!) were born into the wrong House,surely, wherever the fault lies, it is not with the child. It is one of the marks of thecivilized human being to separate the innocent victim from the guilty criminal; thosewho fail to make such distinctions fail to distinguish themselves from the tribes ofEasterners who, to their misfortune, are never able to rise above ignorant prejudice.

And to those who say that such a birth is punishment from the Gods fortransgressions in a past life, we say that we will hope for only misfortunes for thosewho make such claims, thus taking upon themselves the duties of Gods; and we canassure them that, whatever evils plague them, there will be few who show any pity.This historian, for one, will take unashamed delight in telling them that the loss of aloved one, or the collapse of a business, or a crippling or disfiguring injury, ispunishment for transgressions in a past life.

Let no one claim to speak for the Gods who does not, in his own hand, hold thepower to inflict and remedy that the Gods do. And such persons ought to consider,for their own good, if not from the kindness required of one human being to another,how the Gods will feel about those who dare to take on the attributes of Divinejudgment by saying such things.

And yet, to our sorrow, we must confess that through no fault of their own manyof these unfortunates do end as criminals, and, in some cases, of the worst sort.Such a one was Grita. We do not know what she was forced to do to live,Houseless and alone, in the Underside, and we will not lower ourselves byspeculating, but she carried herself as one who has battled with the worst sides ofher fellow creatures and emerged both victorious, in that she survived, and defeated,in that the sense of honor and decency with which we are all endowed at birth had, inher case, been entirely eradicated. Her countenance, as she sat with Greycat, wascool and confident--which says a great deal, because Greycat was one of the morefeared denizens of that part of the city.

"We spoke before," said Greycat at last, "about producing a riot."

"That is right," said Grita.

"You still believe you can do it?"

"I can do it."

"How?"

"That is my affair."

Greycat shrugged. "It is my affair as well, because if I put into morion events that

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require it to take place, and it does not--"

"It will," said Grita.

"Very well. It need not be large. Just enough to--but why are you smiling?"

"Because you speak of a riot of the citizens as if it were a fire that is contained bya stove or a hearth. It is not. It is an open conflagration, and will only go out when allof the timber is consumed."

"And, therefore?"

"I can start a riot; once started, I can neither stop nor control it."

"Do you mean it will consume the city?"

"It may. And it may die almost at once. It may depend on the reaction of oneman who sees his child threatened, or one woman who suddenly doesn't care if hershop is destroyed, or one soldier who does or does not strike at a certain time. Itmay destroy the city, it may turn into nothing. I suspect it will turn into nothing,because the people, while unhappy, are not desperate; while they despise theEmperor, they do not hate him. But I offer no surety. If you wish it done, it will bedone, and after that, those boots will be on your feet."

Greycat considered these words carefully for several long moments, after whichhe said, "Very well. I will accept the risk. Carry out your plan."

"And when do you wish this riot to take place?"

"In three days' time."

"In the evening or the morning?"

"The evening."

"At what hour?"

"How, you can create a riot at a precise time, yet you cannot control it?"

Grita laughed--a laugh, we might add, as chilling as Greycat's chuckle of somefew minutes before. "I know when I set off the flashstone; I cannot know what sortof charge it contains."

"Make it, then, at the eleventh hour after noon."

"It will be done. I would suggest that you go into hiding at that time."

"Me? Hide?"

"Where there is fire, there is water."

"Well?"

"Well, cats, I believe, are not overfond of either."

Greycat shrugged. "This cat knows how to use them both."

"For your sake," said Grita, "I hope so."

"Afterwards," said Greycat, "I will see you again."

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"Yes," said Grita, looking fully into his face. "Whatever else may happen, that isone thing about which there can be no doubt: you will see me again."

There being no more to say, she stood at that moment, and took herself out ofthe room, leaving Greycat there alone, to consider what he had begun. For a while,his countenance appeared worried, but gradually, as he considered the details of hisscheme, and the reward that awaited him, a small, wicked smile came to his lips.

Presently, he stood, left the small room, left the cabaret, and blended once moreinto the evening of the Underside of Dragaera City.

Chapter the Sixth

Which Treats of the Arrival

Of an Important Dignitary

At the Court.

«^»WE RETURN (WITH, WE CONFESS, some relief) to the Imperial Palace a merethirty hours (that is, a day and a night) after we left it. In the intervening time, therehas been constant activity amid the offices and secretariats of the Palace; messageshave been sent and received, audits have been requested, post officers have beendispatched; but in spite of this, His Majesty's routine has, since the emergencymeeting in his bedchamber the day before, been uninterrupted.

Before going on, we hope the reader will permit us to say two words about thisroutine. It was, first of all, invariant--more than invariant, in fact, it was unchanging.Each morning, he was awakened by the Orb at the seventh hour after midnight. At7:02 a servant entered, bringing him, in a silver cup decorated with emeralds, klavawith six drops of honey and a dash of cinnamon. He permitted himself only eightminutes to drink it, after which he began his morning toilet, finishing with dressingwhich, for reasons never revealed, he preferred to do himself. These proceduresconsumed thirty minutes, so that at precisely 7:40 he was ready to greet hisensign--or, rather, his Captain of the Guards, who conducted him on his "morningrounds," which consisted of walking by certain doors and commanding them to beopened--the official beginning of the day in the Imperial Palace.

The rounds ended back at his apartments (it was, in fact, because his walkdescribed what was in effect a circle that they were called "the rounds") where, at8:50, after dismissing the Captain (actually, until today, the Ensign), he broke his fastwith klava, this time served in a silver cup decorated with rubies, and without thecinnamon; usually a smoked fish served at room temperature; dark or sour breadwhich had been toasted over a redwood fire and might have butter or goat's cheeseon it; and some form of noodle covered with either goat's cheese or butter--thecounterpoint, be it understood, to the bread.

After breaking his fast, he arrived at 10:00 in the Portrait Room, where he was

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accustomed to meet with any High Lords (meaning Dukes) and Princes (meaningHeirs) who had business with him. In fact, if there were any such, they usually metwith Jurabin, who only interrupted His Majesty if it were necessary. The Emperoractually spent this time gossiping with the court gossips and jesting with the courtjesters.

Visitors were asked to leave the Portrait Room, and its doors were closed, intime for His Majesty's Hour of Relaxation, which began at 11:45 and continued foran hour and a quarter. During this time, His Majesty might walk, or fence, or read, oreven decide to cancel his afternoon appointments and go off to the Imperial Preserveto hunt the athyra, the wild boar, or other such game as might interest him.

Usually, however, the door would be opened at 13:00, and meetings with HighLords and Heirs would continue until the Lunch Hour, 14:15. When the weather wasfine, His Majesty would eat his lunch on the terrace immediately adjacent to thePortrait Room (which caused a certain amount of difficulty for the staff, as there wasno kitchen nearby); when the weather was poor, His Majesty would dine either in hisown apartments, if he wished to be alone, or in the Table Room, if he desired thecompany of one of the Gentlemen of his Household (those to whom we have earlierreferred, ironically but truthfully, as gossips and jesters). In any case, lunch wouldusually consist of assorted fruits (fresh in the summer and fall, dried in the winterand early spring) and possibly an omelet or some other dish made with hen's eggs,because His Majesty pretended that eating eggs every day was vital to maintaining hishealth and virility.

After allowing a mere forty-five minutes for lunch--in other words, at exactlynoon--His Majesty would be back in the Portrait Room, which would now be open(at least in theory) to anyone who wished to speak with His Majesty on any subjectat all. This was, in point of fact, his busiest time, and it was not uncommon for thepress of Imperial business to actually impinge upon his banter and conversation withthe ladies and gentlemen of the court.

At 1:30 he would retire to the Seven Room, or the Fireside Room, or the GlassRoom, to meet privately with anyone Jurabin felt it necessary for him to charm (hecould, indeed, be very charming when he put his mind to it), or to learn about thedoings of the Empire when it came into his head to take an interest, or to speak withJurabin if the inclination came upon him. Until fifty years before, this had been histime with the Imperial Discreet, but that post was now empty.

At 3:20, he would meet once again with--we may as well say hisname--Khaavren, who would conduct him to the Hall of Windows for dinner, whichbegan promptly at 3:30. Dinner was the largest and the most varied of the meals, andwas often attended by guests of state. It was frequently lavish, always well prepared,measured at least six courses, and consumed two and a half hours. Lately, HisMajesty had developed the affectation of wanting meals from every area of his realm.On one day the dinner might feature a kethna, roasted in the spicy style of theEastern Mountains. On another, perhaps there would be anise-jelled winneasaurussteak from the North. On yet another day, perhaps a fish stew from the South.

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At 5:45 began the evening recreation, which might involve cards, or visiting atheater or a concert hall, or even quietly reading in his chambers. Depending on theactivity, the Consort might be present; if so, this would be the first time they saweach other that day; if not, they would see each other at 9:15, which was when theyhad their supper together. Supper was the lightest meal of the day, and would oftenconsist only of delicacies, perhaps preceded by a broth.

At 10:45 he would retire to his baths, often with the Consort, Khaavren, on thoseoccasions when our Tiassa remained late at the Palace, would meet with His Majestyagain at 11:55 and conduct him on his evening rounds of closing the doors as he hadopened them--more often, Khaavren would delegate this duty to whicheverguardsman had performed exceptionally well in some capacity or another. TheConsort would sometimes accompany His Majesty on these rounds which, in anycase, would end at His Majesty's apartments at 12:55, which was the time scheduledfor his Majesty's evening toilet, which would be completed by 13:10, which was thehour at which His Majesty would retire for the evening.

It is certainly the case that, on some occasions, Her Majesty the Consort, Noima,would accompany His Majesty into his bedchamber, and it is also the case that it isonly Khaavren who would know how often this was done. Yet this is one subjectupon which the Tiassa has never breathed a word, and so we are left to engage inunseemly speculation, or not. The fact that the Consort was delivered of a childmust be held sufficient for our purposes. But we ought to add that, while courtgossip was certainly divided about Their Majesties' domestic lives, most of thosewho held that moments of passion between them were rare and mutually unsatisfyingwere those who wished to pay court to Her Majesty, and were very likely engaging inthe time-honored practice of confusing desire with truth. There were few, we shouldadd, who desired to pay court to Tortaalik, for he furiously objected to any suchfamiliarity, and his flirtations with mistresses were few and short-lived.

The astute reader will, no doubt, notice that, excepting only the briefest ofremarks while discussing His Majesty's morning toilet, we have entirely neglected thesubject of dress. Our reasons for doing so are twofold: We do not wish to tire thereader with needlessly lengthy descriptions; and the matter has been extensivelyelaborated upon in numerous scholarly and several popular volumes, not the least ofwhich are Traanier's Court Dress Before the Interregnum, belonging to the formercategory, and the unfortunately named Baron Vile's The Clothes Unmake theEmperor belonging to the latter.

For those unfamiliar with these or similar works, we will mention that His Majestychanged his dress no fewer than six nor more than eleven times during the day, butrarely returned to his apartments to do so, rather instructing the chief servant of hishousehold, Dimma, to procure what he wished so that he could duck into anyunused room and effect a change in costume. The scandal caused by this Imperiousdisregard for his own dignity provides the basis for Vile's work mentioned above--awork whose careful attention to detail nearly makes up for the absurdity of its centralpremise.

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Now that we have completed His Majesty's day in general, let us return to itsbeginning in specific; that is, we will return to 7:40 in the morning, when Khaavrenhas arrived to escort his Majesty on his rounds, exactly one day after the meetingwith Lords Rollondar and Jurabin.

His Majesty stepped forth from his bedchamber. Khaavren bowed, and, althoughthis was his first full day as Captain, he had no thought of changing his usualformulaic greeting to His Majesty, which was a bow made in respectful silence. HisMajesty responded with a brusque nod, and Khaavren led the way to the WhiteStairway, which led to the Inner Door of the Portrait Room, the first door to beopened. As they walked, His Majesty said, "Is there news, Captain?" (It is to HisMajesty's credit that, having promoted Khaavren, the Emperor never once forgot andreferred to him by his former rank.)

"Yes, Sire."

"How, you say there is news?" (If His Majesty was astonished, it was because heinvariably asked this question, and if Khaavren heard something of interest once intwenty years, it was very often indeed).

"Yes, Sire."

"Then, something has happened?"

"Indeed, Sire."

"And you know about it?"

"Enough, perhaps, to satisfy Your Majesty's curiosity, if, indeed, Your Majestyhas any."

"I assure you, Captain, I have some, and, moreover, it is now jumping around inits cage like one of Lord Weer's trained chreotha."

"Then, Sire, it is just as well that I can satisfy it."

"Do so now, Captain."

"Then, Sire, this is it: A messenger from the Lord Mayor of Adrilankha awaitsYour Majesty on an affair of some urgency."

At this moment, they reached the first door, and His Majesty nodded to the Lordof the Keys, who, at this time, was a certain Athyra named Lady Ingera. Lady Ingeraunlocked the door and, as it was opened by the servants, she fell into heraccustomed position a step behind Khaavren and the Emperor.

"How," said His Majesty, continuing the conversation. "The Lord Mayor?"

"Yes, Sire."

"I wonder what he wants."

"I think I know, Sire."

"You think you know?"

"Yes, Sire. In fact, that is the real news which I have for Your Majesty."

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"The real news is the reason?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And you can tell me what it is?"

"Yes, Sire."

"You will do so, then."

"Yes, Sire," said the Captain imperturbably. "I will do so."

"And this very instant, I hope."

"If you wish, Sire."

"If I wish? I think it is an hour since I wished for anything else!"

"Sire, Lord Adron e'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch, and Prince of the House ofthe Dragon, has arrived at the city gates, and awaits the Lord Mayor's word to beadmitted."

"Ah," said His Majesty. "Lord Adron is here."

"Yes, Sire."

His Majesty frowned, and spoke no more while they opened the next severaldoors. At last he said, "Captain, when you are finished here, if you would be sokind, please convey to the Lord Mayor my desire that His Highness be grantedpermission to enter the city. I understand that this is not, of course, your office, butif you would..."

"Of course, Sire. I should be honored."

"Thank you, Captain."

"It is my pleasure, Sire."

As this is the only thing of interest to happen until after His Majesty's breakfast,and as we are rigorously opposed to wasting the reader's time with information notessential to the unfolding of the events of our narrative, we will now bring the readerforward in history a few hours, to the time when, in the Portrait Room, Lord Brudikdroned, "His Highness the Duke of Eastmanswatch. The Countess of Limterak."

At this announcement, the space in front of the throne was parted as if by theprow of a tri-mast, and into the opening, walking as if he had never belongedanywhere else, came Adron e'Kieron and his daughter, Aliera e'Kieron.

Lord Adron had eschewed his identity as Duke of Eastmanswatch and even hisidentity as Prince of the House of the Dragon, appearing simply as a Dragonlord,clothed in black garments with silver trim--garments that fell barely short ofappearing to be a uniform. But, let us recall, Adron was not only the Heir of theHouse of the Dragon, he was scion of the e'Kieron line--which meant that he couldtrace his lineage back directly to Kieron the Conqueror; that is, to the man who, ifanyone did, fathered the Empire itself by gathering the disparate hordes into theworld's first actual army. Looking at Lord Adron, one could imagine his forebear.

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Adron was, at this time, past his thousandth year, and he was well known for hisBreath of Fire Battalion, which had won its name in the Kanefthali Mountains, andproved its worth again in the War of Three Sieges, as well as in what is today calledthe Whitecrest Uprising, but was then referred to as "the unpleasantness along thecoast."

Khaavren, observing him enter from his (that is, Khaavren's) place to theimmediate left of His Majesty's chair, noticed that Adron's hair, in contradiction ofKathana e'Marish'Chala's portrait that hung in the Dragon Wing, was, in fact, thin ontop, and it was so light in color that it almost appeared that he was losing it, like anEasterner, making Khaavren wonder with what sorts of spells His Highness hadendeavored to keep his hair, or if, in fact, His Highness didn't care or hadn't noticed.Moving from Adron's hair, however, it seemed to Khaavren that, over the years,Adron's face had become even narrower, his jawline sharper and more pronounced,his lips thinner, and his shocking blue eyes colder and more distant.

Khaavren, no mean observer, would have, no doubt, noticed more about him, ifhe had not at that moment been distracted by his first sight of Adron's daughter,Aliera e'Kieron, which sight affected him so profoundly that, for a moment, he quiteforgot where he was, and nearly started forward in order to get a better look. Alierahad, at this time, passed her five hundredth year, yet to look at her, one would havethought her scarcely a hundred. Lest the reader think this an exaggeration, it may bepointed out that scholars, both of that time and of to-day, have proposed the mostoutlandish theories to account for her apparent agelessness, such as the recentcontention of the Baroness Fernway that Aliera had been held "loosely in space, buttightly in time" by a benevolent Goddess (naming, it should be added, a Goddessnot known for benevolence).

But whatever reason we assign for her remarkably youthful appearance, we needgo no further than any book of poetry written by any court poet of the time to finddescriptions of her beauty. She has been, by various of these, compared to theglitter of torches reflected off the icicles that hang from Dynnep's Tower atmidwinter; to the turning of the leaves of the plover tree in at least four differentstages; to the gentle flow of Benin's Creek; to the roar of the ocean in the Straits ofKurloc; to the stillness of the night in the Desert of Suntra; to the majesty of theKanefthali Mountains; to the--well, in short, to every facet of nature that anyone hasat some time or another thought beautiful.

We will not attempt to duplicate or better the work of the poets; we will only givethe reader enough of a sketch to allow him to visualize the lady in question,wherefore we will mention that she was extremely short, sturdy without a trace ofheaviness, had the blonde hair that is exceedingly rare in the House of the Dragon,the long narrow face that is associated with the House (but softened by delicate linesabout her eyes, which eyes, we should add, were green or blue), and she hadsomething like her father's chin without Adron's extreme sharpness. She kept her hairlong and straight, brushed back so that her noble's point was prominently displayed.She wore a costume that was the match of her father's, and her only decorationswere a medallion with a dragon's head, displaying a blue gem and a green gem for

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the eyes, and a fine silver belt such as one might hang a sword from, although, ofcourse, only guardsmen could be armed in the presence of the Emperor.

As for her character, much less was known, and we consider it a sad commenton those court poets we have just had the honor to quote that they seemed utterlyindifferent to this omission, as if Aliera's physical perfection were so great that itovershadowed any other concern. Yet she was known to be proud, quick-tempered,and impatient with anyone who denied her what she wanted. It is perhaps to hercredit that she never cared, when annoyed, whether the individual who incurred herwrath was her social superior, inferior, or equal.

As to other aspects of her personality, we hope the reader will content himselfwith allowing these to be revealed by the progression of events that our history willunfold; for our purposes, we believe it is sufficient to say that Khaavren was, for amoment, caught off his guard, and had there been, at that moment, any threat to HisMajesty, our Captain would certainly have failed in his duty.

But, in the lack of any such threat, Khaavren, after a moment, returned to himself,tore his eyes away from Aliera, and resumed his passive study of the room. Adron,meanwhile, said, "Sire, I beg Your Majesty's permission to present my daughter,Aliera e'Kieron, Countess of Limterak."

His Majesty bowed his head, while, to the delight of the court gossips, the Orbturned to a blue so light it was almost white--a color that indicated His Majesty washolding his emotions sharply in check. Several courtiers looked around to see if theConsort were there, but she was not present. Khaavren, though his quick eyesnoticed His Majesty's reaction, noticed still more that Jurabin, who stood at HisMajesty's left elbow, took some few moments to recover his composure.

His Majesty inclined his head, first to Adron, then Aliera, and then said, "We arepleased to welcome you to Dragaera, Your Highness."

"Thanks, Sire."

"And how are matters on your estates?"

"Peaceful, Sire."

"We are pleased to hear it."

Jurabin, at this point, leaned over to whisper into His Majesty's ear. The Emperorlistened attentively for a long moment, then frowned, turned to Adron and saidsternly, "Peaceful, you say?"

"Entirely, Sire," said Adron, who appeared completely indifferent to whatever thePrime Minister might have whispered to His Majesty.

"Then it is not true, the reports we have heard of wanton destruction by brigandsof Your Highness's own game?"

"Game, Sire? Dare I ask Your Majesty to what game he refers?"

"I refer, Your Highness, to wolves."

"Wolves, Sire? In the mountains, wolves are sometimes considered dangers, and

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often pests, but are rarely game."

The Orb darkened and, with it, His Majesty's countenance. "Dare you addresssarcasm to your liege?"

"Not the least in the world, Sire," said Adron so coolly that Khaavren wassuddenly reminded of Aerich, which, in turn, reminded him of the warm feelings thathad existed between Adron and the four friends so many years before.

"I could not help but notice," continued His Majesty after a moment, "that youuse the phrase, 'are considered.'"

"Yes, Sire? And does not Your Majesty think it a fine phrase?"

"No, I do not. For it is very passive, and my preference is for more activephrasings."

"If Your Majesty would condescend to explain--"

"I mean that you say nothing about who does the considering."

"Ah. Well, Sire, I consider wolves in the way in which I have already had thehonor to mention, and so do all who live among them."

"All? Does Your Highness, then, refer to peasants?"

Adron appeared to shrug without actually moving. "Peasants, yes, Sire, andothers."

"But do not the wolves belong to you?"

"Yes, Sire, they do."

"And yet you countenance their destruction by peasants?"

"Sire, it is my opinion that if the wolves are allowed to destroy the little livestockthe peasants possess, the peasants will hardly be able to render unto me myportion."

"And how long has Your Highness held this opinion?"

"How long, Sire?"

"Yes. I ask because word has come to us that you attempted to stop theslaughter of the wolves until the rising of peasants against them became toowidespread for you to contain."

Once again, from where Khaavren stood, it seemed that Adron shrugged withoutactually moving. "There is," he said, "some truth in that, Sire, in that I preferred awholesale slaughter of wolves, who destroy livestock, to a wholesale slaughter ofpeasants, who raise livestock."

"This is, then," said His Majesty, "what you mean by peaceful? That you, liege ofone of the most important estates in the Empire, are unable to control your ownpeasants?"

"If Your Majesty will permit me to say so," said Adron, "there is a large stepbetween the slaughter of my wolves and the slaughter of my person and retainers."

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Khaavren glanced at Aliera, and remarked to himself, "She has some distance totravel before she learns to keep her emotions from her face; if thoughts were deeds, Ishould at once arrest her for attempted regicide." His Majesty, it should be noted,was doing scarcely better--he was plainly impatient with the answers Adron wasgiving him, and the Orb was not only giving off a reddish hue, but was moving aboutHis Majesty's head at a noticeably faster pace--an infallible indication that theEmperor was agitated. "Perhaps," thought Khaavren, "I shall be called upon to arresthim. Well, if the order is given, I shall certainly carry it off without argument; for thisDuke, Dragonlord though he is, ought to know better than to annoy His Majesty."

But no such order was given, at least yet. Instead, His Majesty burst out with,"And what, Eastmanswatch, of the reports I am hearing that you have dabbled in thesorcery of the ancients, that which was declared illegal at the beginning of theEmpire?"

This charge seemed to catch His Highness by surprise, for his brows rose andhis eyes widened. But he recovered himself quickly and said, "Sire, anyone whoknows me at all could assure Your Majesty that such reports can only be lies."

"Indeed?" said His Majesty haughtily.

"Yes, Sire. As everyone knows, I never dabble."

There was something like a simultaneous gasp from the assembled courtiers; atthe same time the color of the Orb darkened still more, and His Majesty, normallypale, darkened as if he wished to match it. He visibly trembled for a moment,sputtered, then croaked out, "This interview is at an end. Leave us."

"Yes, Sire," said Adron, and bowed, stepped back, and walked toward the door,his daughter matching his paces. Khaavren was taken with a desire to applaud, butrestrained himself, and instead looked at His Majesty to see if the latter should givethe order for the arrest of the man who had so annoyed him--which order, for amoment, to judge by the way His Majesty caught the Captain's eye; and by thecorners of His Majesty's mouth, which trembled with agitation; and by the edges ofHis Majesty's eyes, which deformed his face with their squinting; and by the set ofHis Majesty's jaw, which nearly made Khaavren's ache to watch--which order, wesay, it seemed the Emperor might be about to give; but the moment passed and HisMajesty relaxed into his chair, while an inaudible sigh seemed to extend out from thethrone to be picked up by each of the assembled courtiers, who then turned towatch the retreating backs of the two Dragonlords as they passed the guards and thedoorway, and retreated into the comparative safety of the world outside of thePortrait Room.

His Majesty, meanwhile, after making a sign to Khaavren, rose so quickly that thecourtiers scarcely had time to stand before he made his way out of the room throughthe hastily opened Mirrored Doors, the Captain at his heels.

"Sir Khaavren," said the Emperor as he traversed the long corridor.

"Yes, Sire," said Khaavren, matching his pace.

"He did not deny the charge."

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"That is true, Sire."

"In fact, he all but boasted of his guilt."

"That is also true, Sire."

"And before the court!"

"Yes, Sire."

"Arrest him, then. We will see if he will give us an honest answer when the Orb isover his head. Practicing elder sorcery is punishable by death."

"Very well, Sire."

They walked a few more paces, bringing them to the foot of the gently curvingstairway of green marble that led up to the Seven Room. As they climbed, theEmperor said, "Well?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"I nearly think I gave you an order."

"There is certainly no question about that, Sire."

"Well, is there a question about something else?"

"Sire, there is a question I would put, if Your Majesty will permit me."

The Emperor stopped just outside the door to the Seven Room. "Very well," hesaid.

"I would guess," said Khaavren, "that Your Majesty knew something about thisalready, before you questioned the Duke about it, else why would Your Majestyhave brought the subject up?"

"Well?"

"Well, Sire, I wonder why it is that Adron has not been arrested already."

"Why? Because he is the Dragon Heir, and his arrest would precipitate--"Tortaalik stopped in mid-sentence, and frowned.

"Yes, Sire?" said Khaavren.

"If he proves to be innocent," the Emperor began again, "to have arrested himwould..." His voice trailed off, and he seemed, for a long moment, to be lost inthought.

"And," continued Khaavren, "if he is guilty?"

His Majesty stared angrily at the Captain, then took a long, slow breath. "If he isguilty, his arrest will precipitate chaos among the representatives of the Houses, andwould delay the decision as to the allotment of Imperial funds." His frown deepened."He plays a dangerous game, Captain."

"Yes, Sire. And the order for his arrest?"

"I withdraw it. For now."

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"Yes, Sire."

His Majesty looked shrewdly at Khaavren. "Thirty hours have changed you," heremarked.

"Sire?" said the Captain, affecting a surprised expression.

"Yester-day, you would not have been so bold as to question my orders."

Khaavren bowed. "Yester-day, Sire, it was not my duty to do so."

The Emperor nodded slowly, then leaned against the door of the Seven Roomand closed his eyes, as if he were suddenly very tired. "Do you know, Captain," hesaid softly, "that it is assumed by those learned in history that Emperors of myHouse will become, toward the end of their Reign, weak-willed, or addled, or silly,or power-mad, or that we will neglect the Empire, giving over our responsibilities in aquest for pleasures of the moment?"

"I have heard this said, Sire."

Tortaalik nodded. "So have I. All my life. And from the moment I took the Orb, Ivowed that none of these things would happen to me. I have tried to keep my desiresin check, and to find trustworthy retainers for all positions of importance, and tokeep a close watch on my temper. And yet, Captain, at times like this, I feel that I amoverwhelmed by my destiny; it is as if there were hidden forces that try to pull meinto the abyss."

Khaavren looked at his master, as if seeing him for the first time, and, in a suddenreturn of the youthful loyalty that had been all but eradicated by the heartless years,dropped to his knee, took His Majesty's smooth, manicured hand into his ownsword-callused one, and said, "Sire, only the fates know the final outcome of thebattle, but surely there is glory in knowing one has not surrendered, and surely thereis comfort in knowing one is not alone."

The Emperor nodded, and the Orb turned to a soft, gentle green as hestraightened his back. "Yes," he said. "That is a kind of glory, and that is surely acomfort." Tortaalik indicated by a gentle pressure that Khaavren should rise. "Come,Captain. Go you and find Jurabin, and tell him that I wish to see him."

Khaavren stood, bowed, and turned hastily away, so that His Majesty wouldn'tsee the emotion that erupted unbidden in the soldier's eyes.

Chapter the Seventh

Which Treats of Our Old Friend Pel,

And His Recent Activities

Regarding Information, Deduction,

And Coercion.

«^»

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AS KHAAVREN LEFT THE SEVEN Room, his old friend Pel, now called Galstan(although we, like Khaavren, will continue to call him Pel), sat on a large, ambercushion in a room some half a league distant, yet still within the Palace. This roomwas not overly large, and boasted two small but perfectly square windows, onelooking out at the rounded towers of the dark and mysterious Athyra Wing to thenorth, the other looking out upon a walled terrace which enclosed a neat little flowergarden, some distance below. The room was furnished with a plain bed, a simplewriting table and chair, a bookshelf that occupied an entire wall and was filled withworks on the history and philosophy of Discretion, the amber cushion we havealready had occasion to mention, and a comfortable if unornamented chair againstthe wall facing the center of the room.

Pel was, we should mention at once, not alone; with him was the room'stenant--a handsome woman of middle years and dark complexion who wore thecolors and features of the House of the Athyra and was addressed as "YourDiscretion" and called only by the name Erna. Also with them was a pale young man(he had, to judge from appearances, scarcely seen his two hundredth year) in thebrown and yellow of the House of the Jhegaala. His name was Lysek.

Erna was staring idly out one of the windows, seemingly indifferent to theconversation, or, rather, the interrogation Pel was conducting with Lysek. Pel'scountenance was stern; Lysek's features were set in a stubborn expression.

"You must understand," said Pel in a tone of both patience and firmness, "thatyou are neither the first, nor the second, to come to us with such a request."

Lysek watched the Yendi, but made no rejoinder.

"Furthermore," said Pel, "you are neither the first, nor the second, to make therequest for the same reason you proffer."

Lysek started slightly. "Reason?" he said. "You pretend to know--"

"Here now," said Pel. "Let there be none of this. You come to us, asking us tobetray Confidence--which you ought to know we cannot do--in matters thatconcern personalities of the court, and you do not expect us to realize that there isonly one lady who inspires such desperate measures?"

"I--"

"Are you aware that it is an Imperial crime to even ask us to betray such secrets?"

"You do not know--"

"What you are offering in exchange? No, I do not. Nor, young man, do I wish toknow, for, in truth, I am weak, and can be tempted. That is why, when you asked tosee me, I asked Erna, the head of my Order, to be here as witness, to keep me fromsuch an error."

Lysek scowled and looked at the floor. Erna continued staring out the window,taking no part whatever in the conversation.

Lysek took a deep breath. "I have learned--"

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"And yet you persist," said Pel.

"--of that which will cause the Empire itself to tremble, and within a space ofhours. In exchange for this information, I merely wish to learn--"

"Bah!" said Pel, and rose to his feet. "There is no need to hear this, I knowalready, for your countenance betrays you as surely as if you shouted your desirethrough the halls of the Palace. You doubt me? Then attend: You want to knowcertain details about a certain highborn lady's personal life. You have seen her fromafar, and though you were in the crowd or at a distance, you know that she looked atyou, and you fell in love with her, and you are certain she loves you too, only youdon't know how to arrange a rendezvous with her, and you wish to learn--"

"But this is impossible!" cried Lysek, who sprang to his feet, and whose voicetrembled with emotion.

"Not in the least," said Pel. "Moreover, you have heard that we will exchangesuch information for other information. Where you heard this, I cannot say, but Iknow that such rumors abound. But there is no truth to them, and, to prove it, I willsummon the Guard and cause you to be arrested for so much as asking us." Withthis, Pel turned and began walking toward the door.

"Bide," said Erna.

Pel turned back, a look of surprise on his countenance. "Yes, Discretion?"

"Well, I wish to hear him."

"Your Discretion wishes to hear him?"

"Yes, for I am curious."

"And yet--"

"Come, no arguments. We shall betray nothing."

"Well," said the Yendi, "if we betray nothing, why should he tell us what hepretends to know?"

"He will tell us," said Erna, "to keep us from summoning the Guard, as you were,in fact, about to do, were you not?"

"Indeed I was," said Pel. "So much so, in fact, that I am about to do so again."

"No, I wish to hear his story."

"But I," said Lysek, "will tell you nothing unless you tell me that which I wish toknow."

Erna looked at him briefly, then shrugged. "You are right," she said to Pel. "He isuseless. Summon the Guard."

Pel nodded, and walked to the door. He was, in fact, through it and into the hallbefore Lysek, still on his feet, cried, "Wait!"

Pel stepped back into the room. "Yes?" he said, in his melodious voice.

The Jhegaala sat down heavily. "Very well," he said. "I'll tell you what I know,

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and you may tell me, or not tell me, what you wish."

Pel caught Erna's eye, and they exchanged a look of satisfaction, "Speak, then,"said Pel.

"I shall. But remember, this is for your ears; for you to act on as you see fit. Theinformation I bring you is known to perhaps two others in the City, and yet it is ofsuch import that His Majesty would tremble to learn of it."

"We will remember," said Pel. "Now tell us what you know."

"There is to be a riot in the city," said Lysek.

"A riot?" said Pel.

"Exactly. And within the week at that."

"Impossible," said Erna. "One cannot know when a riot will occur."

"Allow me," said Pel, "to disagree with Your Discretion on this."

"How, you think it possible?"

"At least," said Pel, "I wish to hear more."

"There is," said Lysek, "little more to tell. Someone is planning to start a riot, andseems convinced that she can do so."

"For what reason?" said Erna.

"That," said Lysek, "I cannot tell you."

"Then," said Pel, "tell us how you have discovered this infamous plot."

"You wish to know how I discovered it?"

"Yes, exactly," said Pel.

"Then I shall tell you. It was this way: You must know that I am employed at theTricolor Theater, on the Street of the Curios."

"I know the theater," said Pel. "In what capacity are you employed?"

"It is my responsibility to keep the costumes clean and in repair, and especially allof the footwear of the actors."

"The footwear?"

"Yes. You perceive, it is important to the safety of the actors that their footwearremain clean."

"Well, I understand that, only what I fail to understand is how the footwear of theactors--and the footwear especially--becomes so soiled that a specialist is requiredto clean them;"

"You say," said Lysek, "that you are familiar with our theater."

"Indeed yes."

"But have you ever seen a performance?"

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"No," said Pel, "I must confess that I have not."

"Well, we specialize in the farcical costume dramas of the Late Fifteenth Cycle,which have never lost popularity, testifying to their quality by the only meaningfulmeasure."

"Well," said the Yendi, who chose not to comment on this method of measuringartistic worth. "Go on."

"I am doing so. These dramas invariably feature a character, most often playedby either Sir Crowlin or Lady Neftha, who takes the role of the villain."

"I understand that there is a villain," said Pel.

"Well, then, you understand that, for the drama to be successful, the audiencemust hate the villain."

"That is," said Pel, "the usual role of a villain in the theater."

"Well, it is customary for the audiences at our theater to express their dislike ofthe villain in certain ways--ways that, I must say, are so vital a part of ourperformances and our reputation, that I have often suspected they account for ourcontinued success."

"And that way is?" said Pel.

"By pelting the villain with whatever vegetable matter they have brought for thatpurpose."

"And so?"

"And so, by the end of a performance, not only is the stage filled with suchmatter, but all of the actors' footwear is covered with it. If the footwear were notcleaned, why, a performance could hardly go by without someone slipping andhurting himself. There are others who clean the stage after each performance, but it ismy task to ensure that the villain's costume is clean, and, moreover, that there isnothing slippery on the boots, shoes, and sandals that are to be used in the nextshow."

"And therefore, you spend your time cleaning rotten vegetables from the bottomof shoes."

"That is exactly the case," said Lysek.

"Well, if you will pardon me, it does not seem to be an enjoyable pastime."

"Oh, it is not, I assure you."

"It is, in fact, odious?"

"Odious is the very word I should use to describe it."

"But at least," said Pel, "the pay is good."

"On the contrary, the pay is so poor, I can scarcely live from one day to the next.I sleep in the theater, and if the actors did not, from time to time, take pity on me byallowing me the leavings of their meals, I should be perpetually weak from hunger."

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"Well then, do you hope to someday rise to better position in the theater?"

"Hardly," said Lysek. "I have been given to understand that this is the only rôle towhich I can ever aspire."

Pel frowned. "Well, then, why don't you find another position?"

"How?" said Lysek, amazed. "Impossible. I live for the theater."

Pel saw nothing to be gained by continuing this line of questioning, wherefore hesaid, "Very well, then, I understand that you were at the theater. What then?"

"Well, you must understand that, while the play is being performed, I am atliberty to watch it from a vantage point off in the wings."

"Yes, yes, I understand that."

"And from this position, I can see a portion of the audience, especially the boxeswhere the nobility sit."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, and that is where I saw her, just yester-day."

"How, yester-day? But the Consort did not leave the Palace yester-day."

"The Consort?" said Lysek, puzzled. "Who spoke of the Consort?"

"But," said Pel, "if not the Consort, whom did you see?"

"Whom did I see? Who else could create such an impression on the heart but theLady Aliera?"

"What? She is in the city?"

"Well, she was masked, and so had not arrived as far as formalities areconcerned, but it was she, nevertheless."

"You are certain?"

"Certain? Yes, for I had seen the portrait by Kathana that hangs in the Pavilion ofthe Dragon, near the theater. And, as you will soon learn, there was additionalproof."

Pel exchanged a look with Erna, who (the reader may have noticed) had notspoken in some time. Erna still remained mute, and Pel continued.

"Well, then, you saw her."

"Yes, And, furthermore, she saw me, and I knew that the Gods had meant--"

"Yes, yes, I understand what you knew. But permit me to remind you that youwere going to explain how you came to hear of this riot."

"Well, yes, and I am doing so."

"Continue then."

"When the show was over, I could not bear to let her out of my sight, while, onher part, though she remained discreet, she turned her head in such a way that I knew

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I was to follow her."

"You knew this?"

"Have I not said so?"

Pel and Erna exchanged another look, after which Pel said, "Go on, then. Youfollowed her."

"Yes. She and another--I believe her father--"

"The Duke of Eastmanswatch?"

"Yes. They climbed into a coach. I--"

"Stay. Did the coach bear any arms?"

"Yes, on the side I could see, it bore the arms of Eastmanswatch, and, in back,was the e'Kieron sigil of the Dragon's head with blue and green gems for the eyes."

"You are observant," said Pel.

"I was, you perceive, fascinated by the spectacle."

"Very well. Go on."

"When they entered the coach, I sought for another, but there was none in sight."

"Very well, there was none in sight."

"I then began to follow it on foot."

"On foot?"

"It was not difficult at first, for the street was still crowded with those who hadleft the theater."

"I understand that. But later?"

"Later it became more difficult."

"Well?"

"Soon they reached Crier's Circle, and from there took the Paved Road towardthe Gate of the Seven Flags, or else the Dragon Gate, which are, you perceive, neareach other."

"I have seen the city," remarked Pel ironically.

"Yes," said Lysek, slightly flustered.

"Continue," said Pel.

Lysek nodded and said, "On the Paved Road they began to move morequickly--so quickly, in fact, that I could not keep up. But the thought came to methat the Paved Road makes a long circle to the Winged Bridge, whereas I could godirectly by way of the Toehold Bridge, and perhaps I would be at the gate beforethem."

"Well, and was this thought a good one?"

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"I don't know," said Lysek, "because I never made it as far as the bridge."

"How, you did not?"

"No. I made my plan, as I said, in Crier's Circle, and therefore I set out by themost direct route toward the Toehold Bridge. This route required that I reach thealley between the circle and the Street of the Fishmarket, which I did by steppingthrough a tanner's booth that stood open and unoccupied."

"Well?" said the Yendi.

"Well, I had not taken three steps before I overheard someone pronounce thefollowing words: 'There they go--Adron and his daughter. Do you observe theEastmanswatch crest on the side?"

"You heard this, you say?"

"Yes, from someone who was just on the other side and not five feet away fromme, although concealed by the wall of the booth."

"So you stopped?"

"The Horse! I nearly think I did!"

"And?"

"They were not aware of my presence, for they continued talking freely, albeit inlow tones. The one who had spoken seemed to be a woman, and, as I listened, shesaid, 'You must mark that device, for the passing of that very coach will be yoursignal.' To which the other, in a masculine voice, said, 'Well, I have seen it, I willremember it.' You can imagine how this conversation intrigued me."

"I can more than imagine it," said Pel. "I confess that I am nearly as intriguednow as you must have been when it occurred, wherefore I am even now impatientlyawaiting your return to the narrative."

"Then I shall resume," said Lysek. "The man continued, 'But what if the coachdoes not pass?' to which the woman replied, 'In fact, if all goes according to plan, itwill not pass, wherefore you will take as a signal the sound of the Old Tower Bellringing the eleventh hour, which cannot fail to occur after dark.' 'I understand,' saidthe first. 'I am to look, first, for the passing of Adron's coach, and, failing that, listenfor the eleventh hour on the Old Tower Bell.' 'Exactly,' said the woman. 'But,' saidthe man, 'I understand that if Lord Adron's coach is passing in parade, there willnecessarily be soldiers; but if it is not, how am I to find soldiers with which toinstigate the riot you require?'"

"Ah," interrupted Pel. "He spoke the word 'riot.'"

"Yes," said Lysek. "And, moreover, she didn't contradict him, as you will see."

"Go on, then," said Pel. "I am listening."

"The answer," said Lysek, "came in this form: The woman said, 'In the place wehave selected, there will always be Guards, for it is on the very edge of theUnderside, yet not within, and it is a well-traveled square, all of which cause it to be

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watched carefully by the police. At the eleventh hour, in particular, you will not fail tofind two or three guardsmen, who should be enough to set off the disturbance.''Very well,' said the other. 'I understand.' 'Good,' said the woman. 'But,' said theman, 'when shall we meet when all is over?' 'In this very spot, the next day, if it ispossible.' 'Then all is settled.' said the man. 'Then here is the purse.' 'And here is myhand.' 'Until then.' 'Until then.'

"And that," concluded Lysek, "was the end of the conversation."

"Did you see either of them?"

Lysek shook his head. "I came back around the corner, but they had already left.I realized that I had missed the chance to follow Aliera, but it came to my mind that Ihad valuable information, which I could trade for learning how I might have a chanceto meet the lady, and I had heard that here, in the Academy of Discretion,information could be traded."

"You were misinformed," said Pel.

"So I perceive."

"Nevertheless--" said Erna.

Pel turned to the chief of his Order with an expression of some surprise.

"Yes?" said Lysek cautiously. "Nevertheless?"

"Nevertheless, we may be able to be of some help to you."

Pel frowned and bit his lip, but said nothing.

"I assure you," said Lysek, "that my attention is fully concentrated upon thewords you are about to speak."

"You are, then, listening?"

"To nothing else."

"Well, then, it seems to me that there may be a way for you to meet the LadyAliera."

Lysek nodded his head--perhaps unwilling to trust himself to speak, but hewatched Erna's mouth with the intensity of a hound watching the soup bone in hismaster's hand.

"If you should leave by the Gate of the Dragon, and continue on that road forhalf a league, you will come to a wide road leading to the south and slightly east. Ifyou take that road for two leagues, or perhaps a little less, you will see on your righta small house marked by a whitish stone, like a tusk, sticking out of the ground. Bearto the east, then, on a horse-path through the grove of trees you will see, and soonyou will come upon the encampment of the Duke of Eastmanswatch, where you can,if you wish, ask for Aliera."

Lysek bowed his head, and, without another word, turned toward the door. Hewas, it should be noted, nearly running by the time he reached it.

Pel seated himself in the chair the Jhegaala had lately occupied and steepled his

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hands, assuming an air of contemplation. Erna said, "Well, you disapprove?"

Pel blinked and focused on her. "I? It is hardly my place to approve ordisapprove of Your Discretion's actions."

"That is true, Galstan; I am pleased that you remember it."

"I could never forget, Discretion."

"We did well with the poor fool, Galstan."

"Yes, Your Discretion, we were successful once more."

"Once more, Galstan? You say that as if there were some doubt."

"It is a risky game, Discretion."

"But worth the risk, Galstan."

"As Your Discretion says."

She fell silent, then nodded brusquely, as if having reached a conclusion. "It isgood you called me, Galstan, for this is certainly worthwhile to know."

"You think so?"

"Yes. Do you agree?"

"I more than agree, I concur. Yet I wonder what what be the correct steps totake."

"You need not concern yourself; I will consider the matter, and decide what is tobe done about this forthcoming riot."

"Riot?"

Erna looked sharply at the Yendi. "Yes, riot. What, did you not hear him?"

"Yes, yes, I heard him. If Your Discretion will pardon my lapse, my mind waswandering."

"And?"

"And I assure Your Discretion I will not concern myself with this riot, but leaveall matters pertaining to it entirely in Your Discretion's hands."

"That would be best," said Erna. "Leave me now, for I must consider thematter."

Pel rose, and bowed in the manner of his Order, with fists pressed togetherbefore his breast. Erna nodded briefly, and Pel left Erna's chamber and took thefamiliar route to his own--which in appearance and furnishing was nearly identical toErna's, save for three factors: In the first place it was somewhat smaller; in thesecond place there was only one window, and that looked out upon the privategarden of the Institute; and in the third place there was, in addition to the symbol ofthe Institute which graced one wall, a long rapier hanging by pegs on another.

Pel wasted no time, but sat down at the writing table, the twin to the one in Erna'sroom, and set before himself paper, quill, ink-pot, and blotter. With these he set to

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work composing two letters, the texts of which we are fortunate to be able toreproduce in full.

For the first, he wrote in a broad, careful hand, as of one accustomed to makingsure that, above all, not a character will be lost. At the top, he wrote the date: "Thetwelfth day of the Month of the Vallista, in the 532 nd year of the Glorious Reign of hisMajesty Tortaalik I." We mention this because the reader may not remember that itwas, in fact, only the eleventh day of the month.

This done, Pel continued in this fashion:

Lord Adron e'Kieron

Duke of Eastmanswatch

Dragon Heir, etc. etc.

Your Highness:

My Master, Calvor of Drem, has been informed that you are to be among thosewho will speak at the ceremony to open the Pavilion of Kieron tomorrow. MyMaster wishes you to understand that he feels greatly honored to be allowed toappear before you, and that, in your honor, he intends to read from his most recentpoem, "Morning in the Mountains," which has been so well received here in the city.

My Master anticipates a splendid evening of entertainment, and looks forward tothe chance to meet you in person.

Until then, Your Highness.

I Remain,

Your Servant,

Dri, Scribe of Calvor,

Poet of the Streets.

This done, Pel sealed the letter and addressed it, then set it aside to await themorrow; after this, Pel sat down once more, with yet another sheet of paper. Thistime, when he wrote, it was in a hand small, fine, and elegant. And, to be sure, heused the actual date.

My Dear Temma [wrote Pel]: There can be no doubt that our old friend, Adron,stands in danger of imminent assassination. My reasons for believing this aresufficient to convince me, and my conviction will, I dare to hope, be sufficient toconvince you; yet I do not believe these reasons are enough to convince theauthorities (including, I must confess, our old friend Khaavren, who is involved ininvestigating certain conspiracies and assassinations which have lately erupted aboutthe Palace).

I am considering the question of appealing directly to Adron, yet Dragonlords areoften stubborn and foolish with regard to their own lives, and, moreover, I have noclue about how or when the attempt is to be made. Or, to be more precise, I believeI have already foiled one attempt, but there can be no doubt that there will be

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another, and I am entirely ignorant of the form it will take.

In short, then, I am at a loss. And you should know, my friend Aerich (for so Icontinue to think of you) that whenever my thoughts are confused, I still, as I used,look about to see where you might be, for a word of advice from you is morevaluable than all the tomes in the Zerika Library. Thus I write once more, hoping youwill be able, from a distance, to give me the counsel that will allow me to see clearlywhat I ought to do.

I remain, old friend, your affectionate Galstan (Pel)

When he had completed the letter, he read it over carefully, then, with equal care,folded it, sealed it, and put Aerich's address on the outside, after which hesummoned a page to deliver it to the post with instructions that it be sent to the Dukeof Arylle with as little delay as possible, accompanying his request with a quantity ofsilver, and the promise of a like amount if an answer were returned within three days.

Then, convinced that he had done everything possible, he sat down in his chair,and thought deeply about the many things he had learned that day.

Chapter the Eighth

Which Treats of Sethra Lavode,

The Enchantress of Dzur Mountain,

On the Occasion of Her Arrival

At the Imperial Palace.

«^»ONE MIGHT THINK THAT HIS Majesty, after the meeting with Adron e'Kieron,deserved an interval of peace, quiet, and relaxation to recover from the ordeal; HisMajesty was certainly of this opinion. Tortaalik was, then, not inclined to be graciouswhen Khaavren suddenly appeared before him near the end of his lunch andwhispered, "Your presence is required, Sire." In fact, the Emperor was so distraughtthat he let go with a string of oaths sufficient to fill Khaavren, who had dwelt for fivehundred years among troopers, with admiration.

When His Majesty's utterance of invective had reached its end, rather as a desertwash, after a sudden storm has spent itself, at last surrenders its torrent into the aridground, he said wearily, "Well, what is it, then?"

"Sethra Lavode desires to be announced, Sire."

"What, here?" cried His Majesty, while the Orb, which had just begun to fadefrom its deep red, became positively purple.

"That is to say, yes and no, Sire. If by 'here' Your Majesty means this very diningroom, then no. But if Your Majesty indicates with this word the Imperial Palace, thenI am forced to say that she is, indeed, here."

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"Impossible!"

"Sire?"

"The message can hardly have reached her yet."

"That may be, Sire; nevertheless, she is here."

His Majesty looked down at his plate, where a few lonely fish bones were floatingin a sea of butter and lemon. He then wiped his lips on his sleeve and said, "I mustchange my dress."

"Of a certainty, Sire."

"Where is Dimma?"

"I am here, Sire," said the obsequious Teckla. "I have both your AfternoonMilitary and your Afternoon Imperial, with belt and scarf but no robe."

"Hmph. Military."

"Yes, Sire."

Khaavren stepped out of the room for the few moments it took His Majesty toalter his appearance. When the Emperor emerged, he wore knee-length shiny blackboots, black hose, a dress sword hanging from a belt of gold chain,burgundy-colored split shirt with ridges forming a long "V" from collar to mid-chest,and a gold scarf around his neck. Such dress, while hiding his handsome calves,accented his graceful neck and proud head, and thus suited the Emperoradmirably--garbed in this manner there were few cavaliers who could contend withHis Majesty in appearance.

The change of costume seemed, as it often did, to have restored His Majesty'shumor. He nodded to Khaavren and said, "It is too early to return to the PortraitRoom, and I will not throw my schedule into more confusion than necessary.Dimma, cause her to be brought to me in the West Fireside room."

"Yes, Sire. Shall we light the fire?"

"No."

"Refreshment?"

"Wine. Something full and red." His face twitched into a brief smile. "Make it aKhaav'n," he said, "in honor of our Captain."

"Yes, Sire."

Khaavren listened to this discourse without changing expression, then followedHis Majesty down to the level of the Portrait Room, past the Hall of Flowers, and sointo the West Fireside room. On the way, he caught the eye of a passing guardsman,and without a word being exchanged, the latter fell into step with Khaavren. Whenthey reached the Fireside room, the guardsman, whose name was Menia, found apike in a storage room nearby (one change Khaavren had made when he took chargeof the Guards had been to place pikes at various points around the Palace, so thereneed be no delay for a guardsman assuming his station), and took up a position just

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outside the door, to one side, while Khaavren stood in the relaxed pose of attentionby which the experienced soldier distinguishes himself. His Majesty, meanwhile,entered the room and seated himself in a cushioned chair facing a small stool, and inview of the cold fire. The Orb, Khaavren noticed, had calmed itself to the pointwhere it was emitting a serene rose.

They had been waiting only a very few minutes when Khaavren heard the soft,tentative footfalls he had come to recognize as belonging to Dimma. Khaavrenglanced at Menia--giving her a look that she, from experience, was able to translateas: Something unusual is about to happen, do not make me ashamed of you. Meniaalmost nodded and fixed her eyes straight ahead as Dimma turned the corner andappeared before them, leading the way (unnecessarily, in fact) for the Enchantress ofDzur Mountain, Sethra Lavode.

To understand the effect Sethra's arrival had on those of the court who beheldher--and, in fact, the reason for Khaavren's subtle warning to Menia--we must lookbeyond her physical manifestation, for her appearance was not, we know fromseveral sources, unduly prepossessing. She was not exceptionally tall; she wasneither remarkably handsome nor unusually grotesque. Her complexion was one ofextreme pallor, her hair was dark, fine, straight, and, on this occasion, pulled into atight knot on the back of her head, bringing her noble's point into sharp relief. Shehad the Dragon chin, slanted eyes and ears like a Dzurlord's, an angular jawsupporting a small mouth and thin lips, and a nose with a very slight hook. Shemoved with athletic confidence and, in soft lyornskin boots, without a sound. Shewore the uniform of the Lavodes--black pants pulled tight around the boots, asharp-collared black shirt tucked into the pants, and a wide leather belt with only asmall pouch hanging from it--she had, presumed Khaavren, known that she couldnot appear before His Majesty armed.

So there was, in short, excepting only her unusually pale complexion, nothingabout her that would cause her to be remarked in a public place, unless one knewwho she was. And yet, who is there who has not heard of Sethra Lavode? Shestands out in history, in mythology, and in folklore throughout the Empire andbeyond. When one hears the word "enchantress" used in any context, one's mindimmediately leaps to The Enchantress! No children's story is complete without anevil sorceress who is older than she looks and lives in a mountain fortress. And whocan count the tales that speak of her either by name or by implication (the latteramong those who believe--even to this day--that to name her is to summon her)?Had she actually done half of the deeds attributed to her, she would have to be asold as the Empire itself, and still could let scarcely a day go by without beinginvolved in one or another battle, sorcery, or intrigue.

There are places, such as Moot County in Greenbough, where, in one town she isknown as the wicked Enchantress, while five leagues away, in the next town, she isthe hero who defeats whatever evil the storyteller creates for the delight of hisaudience.

What is really known of her? What are the drops of truth that intermingle in the

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cup of myth, legend, and folktale that flow from the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountainlike wine from an augured cask? This is no simple question to answer. There havebeen convocations of historians, bards, and wizards who have gathered for nopurpose but to address this question, and yet there is little they have been able tofind that is unquestionably true; and we have no wish to add to the list dubiousreports and doubtful anecdotes, wherefore we will confine ourselves to the little thatis recognized as true by reputable historians.

The earliest authentic records of Sethra predate the founding of the Lavodes, andconsist of a rough drawing of her device, which appears to have remainedunchanged throughout her life, consisting of white Dragon's Head and Dzur's Clawagainst black--unquestionably the simplest device in use at the time, and the mostunadorned on record from any time, saving only the Silver Sword on Black of themost ancient line of Kieron the Conqueror himself. In the oldest drawings of herdevice, a motto is shown at the top, but not only is the language one which noscholar has penetrated, there are even a few unfamiliar symbols, as if the veryalphabet in which it was written were ancient and forgotten. This is certainlypossible, and there has been endless speculation on the subject, though to noconclusion. Sethra has, by all reports, been silent on the subject, even to those fewwho have been close enough to be considered her friends.

Her lineage block, similarly, is in the form of a downward-pointing arrowhead ortriangle, entirely self-contained, with no lines either entering or emerging, as if hermaternal and paternal ancestor had appeared from nowhere at all, begotten her, andvanished. Lest this lead to uncalled-for speculation, we should note that, before thedawn of history, from which time Sethra almost certainly dates, there were nostandards for lineage blocks, and Sethra was free to view and declare her lineagehowever she chose.

For it is beyond argument that she was (and, for all this historian can answer, maystill be) the oldest human being the Empire has ever produced. How old remains amystery, but there is no question that she was alive and living in Dzur Mountainduring the Iorich Reign of the Fourth Cycle, for it is at this time that she appeared atthe Imperial Palace and denounced the treacherous Warlord Trichon and wasinstrumental in turning back the invasion from Elde Island along with Tericse'Marish'Chala, from whose memoirs we have our first verifiable accounts of heractions. As for the question of how she achieved her great age, we can speculate thatit must have something to do with the nature of Dzur Mountain itself, but we can sayno more than this, though we are entirely aware of how unsatisfactory this theory is.

It is also known, thanks to the work of Lyorn historian Taedra, that when she wasWarlord during the Dragon Reign in the Fourteenth Cycle she was a living woman,but that when the Lavode Scandal broke, she was in fact undead, and had been forsome hundreds of years. How did she die, how was she reanimated, and how didshe manage the deceit for so long? These are not questions we can answer.

Allow us, for purposes of illustration, to pick one of the accurate stories toexpress Sethra's character. She was Warlord under the Lyorn Emperor Tiska during

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the Thirteenth Cycle, when rebellion broke out along the coast to the southwest, inresponse to the combination of wheat shortages from the north and the interdictionon shipping that Tiska had declared in response to piracy from the LongburryIslands. It seemed to Sethra, who was aware of all of the circumstances of therebellion, that it would certainly continue to spread unless put down at once, so sheset out at the head of the army just as it was--without waiting for additionalconscripts or negotiating with mercenaries.

This quick mode of acting placed her, some few months later, at the head ofsome eight hundred cavalry and two thousand foot soldiers, facing seven thousandrebellious, heavily armed, and well-commanded Dragonlords, Orca, and Teckla onBernen's Field. Sethra rode up alone to the enemy lines and, in full sight of her owntroops, took from her brow the Warlord's Headdress, which had been the symbol ofultimate command since the First Cycle, and threw it into the enemy's line. The firstreaction, of course, was great joy on the part of the enemy, and despair in Sethra'sown army, but then she returned to her own lines and declaimed, "The enemy seemsto have acquired a holy relic of the Empire. We cannot expect them to return it fromkindness or duty, wherefore, my loves, I am about to order a charge, and if you careabout my honor and the traditions of the Empire, you must not think of holding backor retreating until this relic is in our hands once more."

Three hours later the Warlord's Headdress was again on Sethra's brow, and therebellion was broken and scattered. While we would hesitate to say precisely whatthis anecdote expresses about Sethra's character, we are certain, at any rate, that itought to tell the reader something. Let us, in any case, pass on to other mattersconcerning the Enchantress.

The saying among the Teckla is, "By his home you know him," and we are not sofoolish as to disdain wisdom because it emerges from beneath rather thandescending from above; thus we will take a moment to discuss the little that isknown of Dzur Mountain, Sethra's abode.

It is interesting to note that, while the records of the House of the Dzur documentliterally hundreds of Dzurlords who ascended Dzur Mountain with the reportedintention of challenging Sethra, there is no reliable information on the fate of any ofthem--from which fact, no doubt, grow the innumerable stories purporting toexplain the inevitable conclusion of any such journey.

The oldest verified report of anyone entering Dzur Mountain and returning dateback to the Sixth Phoenix Reign, when a servant of the Warlord, Nilla e'Lanya,passed through the gates with a request for assistance during an uprising in the area.Sethra refused (there is some reason to believe she was, in fact, behind the uprising),but the messenger was treated well and came to no harm, returning with a confusedreport of pleasant, unpretentious furnishings, powerful wards, warm fires, and cold,grey walls.

Since then, there have been more than a score of confirmed reports from visitors,and what they (and many of the unconfirmed reports as well) tell of Sethra's lair is noless confusing, and very similar; they speak of an odd blend of the mystical with the

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practical, the impossible with the mundane, the powerful with the comfortable.

And what could be a better expression of Sethra, founder and first Captain of theLavodes, Lord of Dzur Mountain, warrior, poet, enchantress, natural philosopher,vampire? Who could meet her, in the flesh and for the first time, without feeling hisknees to tremble, his mouth to become dry, and his heart to palpitate?

The answer to this question is not, we say with regret, Khaavren, who, in spite ofhaving prepared himself for the encounter, fell victim to all of the symptoms we havedelineated. Yet, to do him justice, we must add that not a shade of these sensationspassed over his countenance nor was visible in his aspect; he remainedexpressionless as a Serioli and motionless as a hunting issola. We cannot, in allhonesty, say the same for Menia, who, notwithstanding Khaavren's warning, allowedher eyes to widen and who twitched with some emotion upon realizing, by certainclues, who it was that stood before her.

Sethra, on her part, gave Captain and guardsman the most cursory of glances asDimma led her past them into the room where His Majesty waited. Dimma,performing in this room the function relegated to Brudik when His Majesty was in thePortrait Room, then called out, "The Baroness of Dzur Mountain and Environs." Weshould add that she performed this office as if there were nothing in the least unusualin announcing the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain before the Emperor.

Sethra bowed to His Majesty and took a step backward, seating herself, as HisMajesty indicated she should, on the low stool that faced his chair. When Sethra hadseated herself, Dimma poured wine for both His Majesty and Sethra, then left theroom. Khaavren, meanwhile, acting on instinct, entered and took up a position in acorner which commanded a view of the entire room and was placed only a few stepsfrom Sethra--although, as he admitted to himself, there was probably nothing hecould do in the event that Sethra were to attempt treachery.

The oil lamps that illuminated the room--there were four of them--gave a slightlyyellow cast to her features, and her attitude as she sat was that of a warrior: relaxedand confident. She studied the Emperor while giving him time to study her, then said,"Sire, I am informed of Your Majesty's desire to see me. I am here. What is YourMajesty's will?"

Tortaalik cleared his throat and sipped his wine--it seemed to Khaavren that HisMajesty had not decided what to say, and wished to gain time. The Emperor thenglanced around and drank more wine, as if hoping to find Jurabin at his elbow.Sethra also tasted her wine and, finding it satisfactory, swallowed a good draught.

"Madame," said the Emperor at last, "We have no doubt that you are informed ofthe assassination of Gyorg Lavode."

"I am, Sire," said Sethra.

"In addition," he added, hesitating, as if searching for words, "We do not doubtthat you are as anxious as we ourselves to learn who has committed this act, andwhy."

"Your Majesty is not mistaken," said Sethra.

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"That being the case, we--" he broke off. Khaavren, from his vantage point, wasable to notice three things--first, that His Majesty's forehead was spotted withperspiration; second, that the Orb had turned to a bright, nervous yellow; and, third,that Sethra showed no sign of having noticed either forehead or Orb. His Majestyresumed, "we desire your assistance in learning these things."

"Very well, Sire," said Sethra, nodding.

His Majesty started, and his eyes widened, as if the campaign had provedsuccessful before he had thought his forces to be so much as assembled. "How,you will assist us?"

"Yes, Sire. For I am, as Your Majesty has surmised, as anxious as anyone tolearn who has killed Gyorg, and for what reason. I have no doubt that it is part ofsome deeper plan, and, while this does not concern me, I will certainly inform YourMajesty of anything I learn."

"Yes, very good," said the Emperor. His mouth opened and closed a few times.Khaavren cleared his throat slightly, calling for His Majesty's attention. His Majestyblinked, then said, "You may begin by speaking with my Captain of the Guard, SirKhaavren, who will assist you in any way you desire."

Sethra turned her glance on the Tiassa, who withstood it, and bowed his headslightly. The Emperor rose to his feet, causing Sethra to do the same and,furthermore, to bow deeply to His Majesty, who returned the courtesy and made hisway to the door as quickly as his dignity permitted.

Khaavren placed himself before the Enchantress, saluted, and said, "At yourservice, madame."

Sethra acknowledged the salute and finished her wine in a single draught. "I aminformed," she said without preamble, "that an attempt was made on your life aswell."

"Yes, Madame."

"And has the body been preserved?"

"Indeed it has. Or, rather, they have; all of the bodies have been preserved againsta need to investigate them."

"That, then, is how I shall begin. Where are they?"

"In the basement, below the sub-wing of my company of the guards."

"Then, if you will have the goodness to lead me there--"

"I shall do so at once, delaying only to be certain that someone is attending to HisMajesty."

"Very well."

Khaavren fulfilled this duty with his usual dispatch, using neither a word nor astep more than was necessary, reckoning, as was his custom, that a step wasted cannever be recovered, an excess word can never be recalled. After five steps, then, in

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the direction of the corporal on duty, and after two words spoken to this worthy,Khaavren immediately placed himself, as he had said, at Sethra's service.

Sethra, like Khaavren, was not given to wasting words, wherefore in answer toKhaavren's declaration that he was prepared to render her any service she mightrequire, she simply said, "Let us recover my dagger, then view the body."

"This way, Madame," said Khaavren, and directed his steps through the ImperialWing, where Sethra's sheathed poniard was restored to her, and into the DragonWing, and so, eventually, to the basement level of the Sub-wing of the ImperialGuard. This level was reached through a large oaken door on iron hinges. On oneside--the side, be it understood, facing up the stairs--the door was polished to agleaming tan color and carved with an intricate dragon's head. The other side,however, marked the end of elegance and the beginning of cold utility, for the backof the door was hardly smoothed, and the walls it looked upon were barest stone,broken only by iron brackets to be used for torches, and the stairway, likewise, wasof stone cracked and chipped, upon which great care was required to avoid anembarrassing or injurious fall. It is worthwhile to note that neither of these warriorsappeared to give any thought to this danger, nor to make any accommodation in theirstride to the condition of the steps, but simply walked down as they would haveupon the finest marble stairway in the Imperial Wing, Khaavren holding aloft the oillamp, Sethra following in silence.

After some thirty or thirty-five steps, Khaavren became aware that thetemperature had dropped no small amount, and he began to wish that he'd worn hiscloak, although he was careful to let no hint of this discomfort appear in word orgesture. Reaching the bottom, Khaavren passed through a wide room filled withsword-blades, pikes, chairs, and desks, ready to answer their call as soldiers in theImperial Reserve might hold themselves ready for word of the outbreak of violencein the duchies. Beyond this was another room, which was filled with chairs awaitingglue, sword-blades awaiting a whetstone, pikes awaiting new hafts, desks awaitingnails, and other equipage of the guards in need of repair. After this, a passage off tothe right led to a room where glue, nails, hafts, and whetstones resided, while one tothe left would have brought them to a workshop where the contents of one roommight be brought together with the contents of another, the result to repose in thefirst. They ignored both of these, and continued straight ahead for some forty orfifty paces, after which Khaavren stopped, murmuring, "Hullo!"

"What is it?" said Sethra.

"Light," said Khaavren.

"Yes," said Sethra. "I see ahead of us the flickering of. an oil lamp. Is there, then,something in this sight that causes you distress?"

"Distress, Madame? No. But interest, certainly, and perhaps even concern."

"My Lord," said Sethra, "I am anxious to learn the reason for this interest andconcern."

"That is easily explained," said Khaavren. "It is because there is no reason for a

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lamp to be burning down here, especially in the chamber up ahead, which is wherethe bodies have been placed."

"Well?"

"Well, if there is a lamp, then no doubt, there is someone with it, for I have neverheard of a lamp which would ignite itself and bring itself into the basement wherebodies lie. Moreover--"

"Yes?"

"That a lamp is burning implies a person who wishes to see."

"Well, I understand that, but could it not be the case that the lamp was leftunattended and burning by whomever brought the bodies down here?"

"It is not likely," said Khaavren. "In the first place, I should wonder how thisperson found his way back up, or, alternately, why he thought it necessary to bringtwo lamps."

"That is true," said Sethra. "And in the second place?"

"In the second place, it has been more than a day since the body was placedhere, and none of the lamps we use hold more than twenty hours of fuel."

"I understand," said Sethra. "Well, then, what do you propose? Are you going tocall for assistance?"

"Assistance, Madame? Cha! When a soldier has a good sword by his right hand,and the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain by his left, he can hardly think he stands inneed of assistance, whatever unknown circumstances may lie before him."

Sethra bowed to acknowledge the compliment. "Well then?" she said.

"Well then, let us pass on and see what we find."

"Very well."

They continued down the corridor, and, in short order, stepped into a long room,which contained several tables, each of which held a body. There was, in addition,an oil lamp hanging from a peg on the wall, and a short female figure which stoodover one of the bodies and appeared to be studying it, to judge from the thin glassrod she held over it. This person looked up as they entered, and, with no sign ofsurprise or embarrassment, nodded briefly to Khaavren before returning to herinspection of the corpse.

"Lady Aliera!" cried Khaavren, who had recognized the Dragonlord when sheglanced at him.

"There is no doubt," said Aliera, as if in answer to a question, "that there was aspell laid upon this fellow before his death; the traces of it remain. I suspect what itwas, yet I cannot--"

"Lady Aliera," said Khaavren, in a more normal tone of voice, "if you would begood enough to tell me what you are doing here, well, I should be entirely in yourdebt."

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"You wish to know what I am doing here?" said Aliera.

"Yes, exactly."

"Why, I am investigating this body, in order to learn how he came to die."

"Or," said Sethra, "perhaps to remove all traces of the spell, so that nothing canbe learned."

Aliera looked at Sethra for a long moment before saying, "I don't know you,Madame."

The Enchantress bowed. "I am called Sethra Lavode."

Aliera bowed in her turn. "Very well, Sethra Lavode. I am called Aliera e'Kieron."

Sethra bowed once more, and if she was surprised that Aliera displayed noreaction upon learning her identity, she gave no sign of it.

"Now," said Aliera, "that introductions are made, there remains the matter of yourlast remark, which sounded to my ears very like an accusation. I must, therefore, begyou to make it either more explicit, so that I may respond appropriately, or to recastit in such a way that no response is called for."

Khaavren cleared his throat. "My Lady, are you aware that you are beneath thesub-wing of the Imperial Guard, and that this area is private--that is, reserved forthose with Imperial business?"

"And," added Sethra, "you ought to be aware that you are doing--whatever it isyou are doing--to the body of Gyorg Lavode, who was Captain of the Lavodes,and, moreover, my friend."

"Therefore?" inquired Aliera, assuming an air of curiosity, as if she could notimagine what these statistics might have to do with her.

"Perhaps you are unaware," said Khaavren, "that certain malicious gossipsaccuse your father of having had something to do with these assassinations."

"I know it so well," said Aliera, "that it, in fact, accounts for my presence here. Ibelieve that only by learning who, in fact, committed these actions, will I be able toprove that my father had nothing whatsoever to do with the crimes of which he isaccused."

"Well," said Khaavren, "but you have not contributed to the good of yourcause."

"How not?" said Aliera.

"Because," said Khaavren, "to find you down here, engaged in I know not whatactivities with respect to the bodies, puts appearances against you."

"Appearances, My Lord?" said Aliera, in a tone of voice, and with a simultaneouslook, expressing the greatest disdain. "I have often heard that phrase. Appearancesare against you, uttered by those who wish to conceal an accusation. Who are thesepeople who believe appearances, My Lord? Would you care to name them?"

"I am one," said Sethra, putting her hand on the dagger at her side.

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Aliera set down the glass rod which had been in her hand, stepped back from thetable, and drew a moderately long sword which was suspended from her hip by aleathern baldric. "Some," she said coolly, "might worry about the etiquette ofdrawing a sword against someone armed only with a dagger. Yet, as I knowsomething of that dagger, and of the person who wields it, I do you the honor tobelieve I am not overmatching you. If, therefore, you would be pleased todraw--and instantly, at that--we can, I think, arrive at an accommodation withoutany further delay."

"I ask nothing better," said Sethra, bowing slightly. She made a movement as ifshe would draw, then frowned and appeared to reflect.

"Why do you not draw?" said Aliera.

"For the simple reason," said Sethra, "that I find this an unfortunate location forsuch games. Here we have the remains of several men who have died by violence,and who I intend, after having the honor of dispatching you, to investigate. I should,therefore, dislike to think that in our activities we should accidentally upset one, or inour excitement do something that will make the investigation more difficult. Let us,instead, go out from this basement into the open air, and, on the way, we can findseconds and an Imperial Witness--I have no doubt that Sir Khaavren will act asjudge. Therefore, in addition to saving this evidence from damage, we will haveobserved all the forms, so no one can have any cause for complaint. Come, what doyou think of my reasoning?"

"I find it excellent," said Aliera, replacing her sword in its sheath. "So good, infact, that I will even tell you what I have discovered, so that if, in fact, you shouldprove victorious in our contest, I will have made your task less burdensome. It willonly take a moment to inform you, and then we can adjourn upstairs and out ofdoors, where the weather is so pleasant, and settle our differences in the best way."

"You are very courteous, and entirely a lady. So much so that, if we do notslaughter one another, I have no doubt that, in the future, we shall have muchpleasure in one another's company."

Aliera bowed.

Sethra returned her gesture and said, "What, then, have you discovered?"

"This man, in the corner--"

"Smaller," said Khaavren, "an intendant of finance."

"Very well," said Aliera. "This intendant was killed by the simplest of sorceries;that is, the major vessel of his heart was suddenly constricted, causing a hemorrhagewhich resulted in a death that was almost instantaneous. As the simplest of spellskilled him, so the simplest of spells would have protected him, and there is noevidence of concealment, from which I must conclude that he had no understandingof sorcery."

"Very well," said Sethra.

"This man--"

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"Gyorg Lavode," said Khaavren and Sethra together.

"Yes. Although he was killed by a knife wound, there can be no doubt a spellwas placed upon him to ensure he wouldn't awaken first. Look--" she picked up theglass rod she had been holding when they entered and handed it to Sethra. "Youperceive the yellow coloring at the end? This was the result of casting the Mirror ofSandbourne above his eyes."

"It is," said Sethra, "only the faintest of yellow."

"He died more than a day ago," said Aliera.

"And yet," said Sethra, "why did not the rod become green, which is how theMirror ought to have responded to a change in the mind's energies?"

"It is exactly this upon which I was musing when you entered," said Aliera. "Mysuspicion--"

"You have, then, a suspicion?"

"Very much so."

"Then I should be glad to hear it."

"This is it, then: The green appears, as you know, from a combination of theyellow, which indicates external energy having disrupted the workings of the mind,and blue, which is how the Mirror of Sandbourne signals the presence of sorceryinvading the sanctity of the mind--or, at any rate, the brain. Yet if, instead of havingbeen directed at the mind, the spell was placed about the area, the Mirror would notdetect an influence in the mind, but only sorcery around it."

"Well," said Sethra. "There is some justice in what you say."

"And yet," said Aliera, "I should be glad to know where there is a spell ofsufficient subtlety to penetrate the Amulet of Covering that Gyorg wore, yetpowerful enough to work on the area in which he rested--all, be it understood,without waking him up before putting him to sleep."

"That is easily answered. Do you perceive that, as I cast the Holding of Brenupon this instrument, the yellow dissolves and flows from one end to the other?"

"Well, yes, but what does it mean?"

"It means that the energies of the sorcery were not closely directed, but weredispersing even before the spell was cast."

"Which means?"

"It can only mean that the spell had been prepared some hours or days before itwas cast."

"In other words," said Aliera, "the spell was placed in an amulet or a wand, andreleased, perhaps by someone with no knowledge of sorcery at all."

"That is correct."

"The Jhereg," said Aliera.

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"That is most likely," said Sethra.

"But, if it is the Jhereg," said Aliera, "there ought to be about the body the marksof the sorcerous waves--the patterns of energy--which are so different from thoseleft by the sorceries of the Athyra, the Dzur, or the Dragons."

"Indeed. Have you noticed them?"

"In fact," said Aliera, "I have not looked."

"Then let us do so," said Sethra. "I would recommend the Norbrook ThreepassTest."

"Perhaps," said Aliera. "And yet, it has been more than a day. Perhaps we oughtto attempt the Lorngrass Procedure at first, which has the advantage that, should itfail, it will not disturb the fields in any way."

"Very well, then," said Sethra. "I agree to the Lorngrass Procedure. But in thatcase, at the same time, we ought to look for these wave markings upon the aura fromSmaller's remains."

"That should not be difficult," said Aliera, "provided we first prepare the area..."

And the two sorceresses, forgetting both Khaavren and the duel they had all butagreed upon, proceeded upon a discussion that left Khaavren quite befuddled. Hesmiled, however, as he realized what had happened, or, rather, what would nothappen, and, determining that he could be of no assistance to the two ladies, turnedwithout another word and made his way back to the suite of rooms above, fromwhich he was accustomed to carry out his duties.

Chapter the Ninth

Which Treats of Our Old Friend Aerich,

Certain Messages He Received,

And the Resolution He Therefore Undertook.

«^»WE OUGHT TO TAKE A moment to consider that, while to the pages of history(and to our own pages as well) a messenger may be a nameless figure, who carriesdispatches, news, gossip, or letters, more or less important, from place toplace--from the hand of one to the eye of a second--and that said messenger mayappear in this brief role for only as long as necessary to carry out his function, afterwhich he will vanish forever from the page and from history, yet to the messengerhimself, he is the central figure of his own drama. What he thinks about this dramawe can never know--whether he sees himself as a vital link in a chain of destiny theoutline of which he can only glimpse, or whether he is concerned with his pay andpromotion, or his plans upon returning from his mission, or his hopes, more or lessspecific, for his future, and thus cares not a bit for the broader issues at work--of allof this we must remain ignorant.

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But if (as, in fact, we are about to do) we skip lightly over him, being moreconcerned with the personages on either end of our metaphorical chain, and with themessage itself, still, let us, for just a moment, consider that these connections aremade by a human agent, with his own thoughts, feelings, cares, and personality. Letus recall that someone has taken a letter (in this case) and secured it in some wayagainst the elements and the chance of loss, and has brought it, by one means oranother, to its destination, with what feelings of relief or satisfaction we can onlyconjecture.

That said, let us arrive shortly after the messenger at the lower door ofBrachington's Moor, where are received such visitors who are above peasants andmerchants, yet not, by rank, fully deserving the Upper Door, and observe a tall, thinman of the House of the Teckla who is richly though tastefully dressed in the brownand red of the House of the Lyorn as he carries the rolled-up parchment he has takenfrom the nameless messenger through the indoor terraces that distinguish thestructure that is at once the chief residence of the County of Bra-moor, the seat ofthe Duchy of Arylle, and the home of our old friend, Aerich, whom we do ourselvesthe honor to trust the reader will not have entirely forgotten from his appearance inour earlier history.

Ah, but we have nearly been remiss in our duties, it seems, for we have beenabout to bring the reader through this manor house without in any way placing iteither on the map, except in the most cursory way, or in the reader's mind; allow usto repair this deficiency at once.

The Duchy of Arylle is (that is, it was then, and, as it still exists, it still is), tobegin with, an unlikely place. It comprises eleven counties of neat, elegant farmland,with the southernmost, called Groomsman, extending to a point abutting the Duchyof Luatha on the edge of the Great Plains. The westernmost county, called Pitroad,is separated from the Yendi River by the Collier Hills which, in fact, form somethinglike a ring around the entire Duchy. It was settled during the Ninth Issola Reign by aprivately funded expedition launched by a certain Lyorn named Corpet, who namedit for the expedition's leader, a Dzurlord called, as our readers may have guessed,Arylle.

The area had been unsettled for countless years except for coal-mining not faraway because, when viewed from the hills, the district had an ill-favored look,appearing at once marshy and barren. Yet when Corpet, who had been driven fromhis lands to the East by certain political and economic pressures which originatedwith the Emperor's desire to have a more direct control of the lines of coal inCorpet's old land (still known as Corpet County), the look proved illusory, and theregion proved to be wonderfully rich farmland, at least as excellent as those lands onthe Great Plains which surrounded the Collier Hills, with soil and climate ideallysuited to wheat, maize, and various obscure but nutritious legumes.

The County of Arylle was raised to a Duchy by the Ninth Vallista Emperor inrecognition of Corpet's daughter, also called Corpet, who assisted in the Siege ofBlacktar by refusing passage of supply trains through her domain, and, furthermore,

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by refusing to sell her produce to the rebellious Baroness of Lockfree. Corpet theYounger, upon being made a peer, immediately raised each of her eleven baronies tocounties, winning her much gratitude and friendship among her vassals and sowingthe seeds of jealousy and resentment with her southern neighbor, the Lyorn CountShaltre--seeds which were not destined to sprout for some thousands of years.

It should be noted in passing that the district between Shaltre and Bra-moor wasgiven to the Dzurlord, Arylle, and within it was a barony called Daavya, which, ourreaders may recall, was the home of our old friend Tazendra.

Bra-moor County consisted of rolling hills, speckled with woods, streams, andponds, and distinguished by a large population of curkings, whose bark could behard from before dawn to well after dusk, and who could be found waddling in neatrows from pond to pond, occasionally venturing across one of the neat, tree-lineddirt roads that connected the cottages and villages of the district to one another andto the central estate of the duchy, a fine, four-story, thirty-room house calledBrachington's Moor, which was reached by a wide road that ran from the hamlet ofMoortown, some three leagues distant, up to the nine-foot hedge that concealed thegateway to the estate. The gate being opened, the road, albeit far narrower, actuallyseemed to continue, turning into a path that circled past the Duke's fishpond, thesimple outbuildings of the estate, the gardens, and then met itself once more; in thecourse of which meandering it gave off shoots which led to each of the doors of themanor house itself, by one of which arrived, and would subsequently depart, themessenger to whom we had the honor of referring in the initial lines of this chapter ofour history.

To resume, then: Aerich's tall, thin servant whose name was Fawnd, found ourold friend Aerich sitting at a sort of desk in a corner room of the manor house,where he was rereading a letter he had received some few hours before, andoccasionally glancing out at the fishpond, as if in a reverie. Fawnd cougheddelicately, and waited.

Aerich looked up, and took a moment to return his thoughts from whatevertravels in time and space they ranged to, then said, "What is it?"

"A letter, Your Venerance."

Aerich raised one of his graceful eyebrows. "A letter? Another one? Pray, bring ithere."

Fawnd delivered the parchment, bowed, and departed the room as silently as hehad appeared. Aerich studied the seal, and his glance involuntarily darted to the letterhe had been holding a moment ago. "Well," he murmured. "First Khaavren, then Pel.And on the same day. What is happening in the city?" With this, he broke the sealand scanned the top of the letter, noting that, whereas Khaavren's letter had arrived ashort, but reasonable three days after being sent, Pel had caused his letter to arrive inrather less than two days, testifying at once to the Yendi's urgency. After formingthis conclusion, Aerich read the letter, after which, frowning, he at once read it asecond time. Then, after a moment's consideration, he reached for one of the ropesthat hovered above his desk, and pulled it once. After another few seconds of

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thought, he reached for a second bell rope and pulled it twice.

An instant later Fawnd was back in the room, to be joined almost at once by asmall, middle-aged Teckla named Steward. Fawnd said, "Yes, Your Venerance?"while Steward contented herself with bowing her head and waiting.

"Is the messenger still here, Fawnd?"

"He awaits Your Venerance's reply."

"Very well, then."

He turned to his desk, and taking up a good quill, black ink, and strong, bleachedpaper, dashed off a quick note, which we will reproduce in full:

My dear Pel, I have never known you to err in such a matter, and I hope I retainenough of a sense of duty to respond in the proper manner, and in good season,wherefore I shall call upon you as soon as I can manage. Apropos, if you will findsome means of letting good Khaavren know, that will be so much the better. I will bebringing Tazendra along, because there are no arms as strong nor a heart as loyal,and I fear that we shall have both of our strength and our loyalty put to the test in themonths, weeks, or even days to come.

I remain, my old friend, your affectionate, Aerich

He sealed the letter, and handed it to Fawnd to deliver to the messenger, alongwith a small quantity of silver.

"Is that all, Venerance?"

"Not in the least," said Aerich.

The servant waited patiently.

Aerich considered for a moment, then spoke in this fashion: "Fawnd," he said,"be good enough to prepare for an expedition. Two horses, traveling and courtdress, and my sword. Take ten imperials from the chest, most of it in silver. You willbe coming along as my lackey."

"Yes, Venerance."

"Be ready to set out within the hour. You should, therefore, be dressed fortraveling as well."

"Yes, Venerance," said Fawnd, with no change of expression. He bowed and setabout his business.

"Steward, see to the residence. I cannot say how long I will be away, mostprobably some weeks."

"Particular instructions, Venerance?"

"Yes. I shall give them to you now."

"I am listening, Venerance."

"Here they are, then: Inform Goodman Loch that I will see to his dispute on myreturn; he must understand that he will disoblige me by taking any action on the

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matter himself. The same, of course, applies to any representatives of GoodmanHandsweight who should appear."

"Very well, Venerance."

"Be certain Smith finishes the hinges on the lower door."

"I will not fail to do so."

"If the Petrose Brook does not clean itself--that is, if there are insufficientrains--those who live along the Seeming Road may fish my pond--but only they,mind; not all of their friends and acquaintances throughout the county."

"I understand, Venerance."

"Speak to Warder about keeping an eye out for poachers in the back woods."

"Yes, Venerance."

"The Westering Road may be opened for transport from the mines, and theminers are welcome in any of the markets, but only in groups of six or fewer.Apropos, any hardship cases among my tenants may be sent with maize and beansto sell to the mines; you know the rates."

"I do, Venerance."

"The rent-list is here, in this drawer; have Warder collect the rents as they comedue, unless I have returned; and he may keep a twentieth part for his trouble. He is,however, to take no action in the case of default--all such instances will await myreturn, or the arrival of heirs in the case of misfortune."

"I will be certain he knows Your Venerance's wishes."

"Urgent matters may be forwarded to me in care of Sir Khaavren, whose addressis in this box."

"I know the box, Venerance, and I will find the address should it provenecessary."

"Do you understand all of this, Steward?"

"Your Venerance may judge," she said.

"Let us see, then."

"The residence; Goodman Loch's dispute to be delayed, be to do nothing; Smithto see to the hinges; those on Seeming Road may fish the pond; Warder to watchfor poachers; Westering Road for transport; miners to the market, but no more thansix at once; hardship cases may sell maize and beans at the mines; Warder to collectthe rents for a twentieth part; Sir Khaavren's address in the box."

"That is it."

"I hope I may be permitted to wish Your Venerance a prosperous and notunpleasant journey."

Aerich nodded; then, on a sudden idea coming to him, said. "Bide."

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While Steward waited, Aerich turned back to his desk, and once more set quill topaper, writing a short note to which we will give the same courtesy that we gave hisearlier literary endeavor:

My dear Baroness, [said the note] I believe our old friends to be in some danger.We must, therefore, depart at once for the City. Pray make ready for a journey ofsome duration, which will commence upon my arrival at your door, where I hope tobe not more than an hour after this message. Please have four horses ready, two ofthem equipped for you and a servant. Your Affectionate friend, Aerich

He read the note over once to be certain he had said everything that was required,then gently poured sand over it, making certain it wouldn't smear, after which hefolded, sealed, and handed it to Steward. "For the Baroness Daavya, to be deliveredat once," he said.

Steward bowed, took the letter, and left without delay--she had served Aerichlong enough to understand that he would not thank her for standing on courtesywhen he was in a hurry.

These matters attended to, then, Aerich repaired to his dressing room, whereFawnd assisted him into his traveling clothes, which consisted of his brown skirt anda loose-fitting but well-cut red shirt, over the sleeves of which he slipped his coppervambraces. Fawnd then clipped onto Aerich's belt the sword Aerich had purchasedso long ago, upon the occasion of his joining the Imperial Guard, and opposite ithung a simple poniard. Fawnd had, by this time, dressed himself in dark garmentssuitable for the rigors of travel, with the Lyorn crest over the breast of his jerkin; hegave an appearance, to be sure, somewhat at odds with his demeanor--almostcomical, in such informal apparel--but if Aerich noticed this he gave no sign of it.

"You have given the silver and the letter to the messenger?" asked Aerich whenhe had quite finished dressing.

"I have, Venerance. And he rode off as if Kieron the Conqueror were on hisheels, which gives me to think that he is being well paid for speed at the other end ofhis journey."

"I don't doubt that you are right, Fawnd. You may go and attend to the remainderof your duties."

Fawnd left to finish the preparations for travel, while Aerich spent the timeconsulting certain maps and other documents, until, in rather less than the allottedhour, Fawnd returned to inform him that all was ready for their departure. Aerichnodded, rose, and, on sudden thought, opened a plain wooden chest in the corner ofthe dressing room, from which he brought out silk yarn and a crochet hook, whichhe gave to his servant along with orders that they be placed in the saddle pockets.

"Let us go," said Aerich. He led the way through the manor house, to the silentand respectful courtesies of the few servants he kept around him. Five minutes laterhe and Fawnd were on horseback, setting off down the road toward Daavya Countyand the Castle Daavya, which overlooked both a village and a river of the samename. After riding for some few minutes, Fawnd said (rather breathlessly, for he was

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by no means an experienced rider), "I beg your pardon, Your Venerance, but may Ibe permitted to make an observation?"

"You may, Fawnd. What is it?"

"At this rate, will not we fatigue the horses unduly?"

"No," said Aerich. He could have added, "Speed is everything," and he couldalso have explained that they would be changing horses upon arriving at Daavya, butAerich was not accustomed to offering unnecessary explanations to servants--or toanyone else, if the truth were to be told. Fawnd accepted the answer with nothingmore than a muted sigh.

They presently came down the far side of a very long, gently sloping hill, formingthe eastern side of the Daavya River valley, and so into sight of Castle Daavya, thelargest structure in the Duchy, made of fine stonework and surrounded by afourteen-foot wall above which could be seen the upper few stories and the single,square tower; over this tower flew the two banners--Arylle on top, Daavya beneath.They crossed the bridge (called, as one would expect, the Daavya Bridge) and madetheir way to the gate, which stood open.

Servants in Dzur livery rushed off toward the keep itself. Aerich dismountedgracefully; Fawnd dismounted. They waited beside their horses until a familiar figureappeared: a Teckla dressed in the livery of the House of the Dzur, with the Daavyacrest apparent on both jerkin and hat. "Your Venerance!" cried the Teckla."Welcome, welcome. My master the Baroness will be here in an instant."

"That is well, Mica," said Aerich giving the servant a smile to indicate that he wasglad to see him. Aerich then added, "I observe that you are prepared for a journey."

"Yes indeed, Your Venerance."

"Good. But why do you not embrace your friend Fawnd?"

"Why, I will do so at once, if your Venerance permits."

Aerich signified that he had no objection to make, and Fawnd and Micaembraced as old friends will, and exchanged a few words of greeting, after whichthey set to work together to transfer the equipment from the horses on which Aerichand Fawnd had arrived, to the horses on which they were destined to depart.Meanwhile, in response to Mica's imperious command, other servants came forwardto make certain that Aerich's horses were fed, watered, groomed, and sent back tohis stables.

As all of this was taking place, the Baroness, Tazendra, appeared, dressed in herblack travel garb (as distinct, the reader ought to understand, from her usual blackgarb, or her black court garb) and with a long sword girt over her shoulder; she atonce rushed to embrace Aerich. "Ah, my friend," she cried. "It has been more thantwo years since I have seen you!"

"Indeed," said Aerich, returning her embrace with real affection. "And may I say,my friend, that you seem to be in the best of health."

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"Oh, yes, tolerably good health," said Tazendra complacently. "I am entirelyrecovered from the accident of which you know, and, as you see, I am back athome, which has been repaired in all particulars."

"So I observe, my dear Daavya, and I present my congratulations."

"Oh, bah," said Tazendra. "But you--shards and splinters! as our friendKhaavren would say. You seem to be as well as ever. Come, let me look at you."

So saying she stepped back and studied Aerich with an eye that was lessdiscriminating than affectionate. Aerich had, to be sure, aged--but he had done so inthe most graceful of ways. His hair was rather longer than he used to keep it, andwhether from age or from some other reason, had begun to curl, so that it now fell inrich, brown ringlets from a part of his noble's point all the way to below his ears. Hisface, though still thin, showed more lines, so that his mouth no longer appearedsmall. But his eye still had the calm that bespoke a man who was contented withhimself, and was, moreover unlikely to remain anything but cool before whatevervicissitudes fate might send his way. He still appeared, in form, the picture of robustgood health, and he moved with the grace one would expect of a trained Lyornwarrior who has continued his training for hundreds of years.

Tazendra, for her part, had in no wise lost the beauty that she had traded on soheavily in days gone by. If her face showed a few more lines, these werenevertheless concentrated around her eyes and mouth, and made her seem moreamiable than ever--and amiability, as everyone knows, is one of the hallmarks ofbeauty. Her form showed the signs of one who rode on horseback every day, andengaged in all manner of exercise besides, and, as what we call beauty is neithermore nor less than the attributes of nobility combined with those of a goodconstitution, the Baroness was still in the full flower of her appearance.

"I am pleased to see," said Aerich, "that Mica is still in good health--Khaavrenasked after him."

"Oh yes," said Tazendra, smiling fondly at her servant. "He is a good, faithfulservant, even when there are no blows to be struck."

Mica blushed and looked at his boots, while Aerich said, "And, do you miss theblows?"

"Well, of a certainty, but I perceive we may about to deliver some more."

"That, and maybe receive a few."

"Bah," said Tazendra.

Aerich smiled. "Come," he said. "We have no time to waste."

"Yes," said Tazendra. "Our old friends, you say, are in danger?"

"Very much," said Aerich.

"But, what is this danger?"

"That, I cannot say, except that it concerns His Highness, the Duke ofEastmanswatch."

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"How, Adron e'Kieron, our old friend?"

"Daavya, you must break yourself of this habit of referring as friends to thosemore highly placed than you in the eyes of society. Some would think ill of you forit."

"Bah, let them. And what of you; are you not a duke and a peer? And yet I domyself the honor to consider you a friend."

"Oh, that is different, as you well know," said Aerich, with a gentle smile.

"Well, then," said Tazendra with a shrug. We should point out that she hadlearned to shrug by watching Aerich, and had become proficient at this delicate art.

"But yes," said Aerich. "I do indeed refer to His Highness Adron e'Kieron, hewho showed us so much courtesy and good will in days gone by. And, moreover,Khaavren is in the middle of it."

Tazendra shrugged as if to say, "Where else would he be?" Aloud she said, "AndPel?"

"Pel is, as usual, in the wings, observing, but I believe that the wings are not asstable as they were a hundred years ago."

"How, not stable?"

"The foundations have, I believe, shifted, and the wings may collapse before thecurtain falls."

"Well, yes, certainly," said Tazendra, who had, in fact, become confused duringthe expansion of this metaphor.

She was rescued from embarrassment by Fawnd, who said, "The saddles havebeen transferred, Your Venerance, and all is ready."

"Then," said Aerich to Tazendra. "Have you anything left undone?"

"Not in the least," said the Dzurlord. "Upon reading your message, I turnedeverything over to my steward, who, I am forced to admit, maintains my holdingsand household in any case."

"Then there is nothing keeping you here?"

"Nothing at all, my dear Aerich."

"Well, then, let us set off at once."

"So late in the evening? It will be dark soon."

"We will ride through the night," said Aerich.

"And the horses? Will they ride through the night as well?"

"We will use the post."

"Shards!" said Tazendra, in a voice which covered up the nearly inaudible moanthat Fawnd permitted to escape from his lips. Tazendra said, "There is, then, no lackof urgency to the affair?"

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"That's my opinion," said Aerich.

"In that case," she said, "Allow me to give you this," upon which she handed hima pair of flat, grey rocks, smoothed until they were almost polished. "Each of themcontains a good, strong charge--I prepared them when I received your letter."

"Had you time?"

"Oh, it doesn't take me as long as it used to."

"And have you kept any for yourself."

"I nearly think so," said Tazendra. "And I even have one each for Khaavren andPel, should they express a desire for such arguments."

"That's well," said Aerich, putting the stones into his saddle pockets. "Then, asnothing more keeps us here, why, let us set out."

"To horse," agreed Tazendra, and, suiting action to words, she led her horse tothe mounting block, and pulled herself into the saddle with no other assistance. (Shewas, we should add, so tall that she would not have required even the inanimateassistance of the block, but mounting directly from the ground would have anecessitated a certain struggle, and thus would have imperiled her dignity.) Aerichdid not use the block himself, but mounted his horse with the grace that neverdeserted him under any circumstances. Then the two lackeys took to horse, and theyturned toward the gate.

Tazendra took a last look at the grounds of her home, as if uncertain whether shewould ever see them again, then turned her head and her horse's resolutely forward.

Aerich, looking over the lackeys, said to Mica, "I observe, tied to your saddle,the bar-stool I remember so well, and which you put to such good use."

"Your Venerance, my master the Baroness gave me to understand the affair mightbecome tolerably warm, and, moreover, Your Venerance has just confirmed it inconversation with my master that I could not help but overhear."

"Well," said Aerich. "I don't say you are wrong."

"In that case," said Mica, "I thought to stay with the weapon I knowbest--although the wood has been replaced, it is the same weapon."

"And it was well thought," said Aerich.

"How far is the first post?" said Tazendra.

"I studied the map while Fawnd was preparing for the journey," said Aerich. "Forthe first post, we must travel north nearly twenty leagues. After that, we travel forsixteen leagues until we join Undauntra's Highway, where the posts are set every tenleagues."

"The Imperial posts? But, my dear Aerich, can you use the Imperial posts?"

"You forget that I am a peer, my dear Baroness. Come, it must be good forsomething."

"So it would seem. Well then, there is no need to spare the horses."

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Fawnd moaned again, which sound was obscured by Aerich saying, "Indeed not,though we must not kill them, for then we should be delayed."

"That is true. When we shall be in Dragaera City?"

"With luck and good posts, by this time to-morrow."

"Amazing!"

"Well, the Empire has learned something from Lord Adron," said Aerich with asmile.

"Yes, certainly," said Tazendra, on whom this reference was entirely lost, for,although she was well acquainted with magical philosophy, and with the science ofdefense in all its branches, she knew little of history, politics, or the point wherethese two phenomena intersect, and which we are pleased to call, "news."

"And we shall make full use of it," added Aerich.

"Indeed we shall," said Tazendra. "Only--"

"Yes?"

"You set the pace."

"I will do so."

"Then I await you."

"Rather than await, follow me!" said Aerich, and set off at a good canter throughthe gates of Castle Daavya, to the respectful salutes of Tazendra's vassals, afterwhich the horses turned north beneath the slowly darkening sky.

Chapter the Tenth

Which Treats of the Meeting

Of a Captain with a General,

And of the Various Suspicions

Entertained by Each.

«^»ALIERA AND SETHRA HAD STILL not emerged when the hour arrived at whichKhaavren was accustomed to go home. He thought about inquiring after theirprogress, but, recalling a certain lieutenant under whom he had served during acertain action, who had the custom of pestering his subordinates as to the status ofevery order that was issued to make certain it had been carried out, Khaavrendetermined to avoid doing anything that resembled harassment (and there was, to besure, the question of to what degree it was practical to harass Aliera e'Kieron andSethra Lavode).

He resolved, at all events, to give them another hour, in case they had somethingof interest to tell him. When the sixty minutes had nearly expired, he added another

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thirty minutes onto the top of it, then another ten, after which he decided that, hadthey learned anything, they would certainly have informed him; and, upon reachingthis perhaps dubious conclusion, he shrugged and went out to procure his dinner,which he did quite successfully, albeit at a later time than usual. He finished hisjourney home at almost the same moment he finished his pastry, and, afterexchanging silent greetings with Srahi, he took himself to bed, where he sleptprodigiously.

The next morning found him once more in his accustomed place, escorting HisMajesty on his rounds, after which he repaired to his quarters within the Palace andsent to see if Sethra Lavode could be found. According to the previous watch'slog--insofar as Khaavren could make out the nearly illegible scrawl--she and Alierahad emerged in the small hours of the morning and left the sub-wing, which was notsufficient information upon which to base a search or risk a conclusion; whereforeKhaavren, slightly but not unduly annoyed, returned to his customary duty, whennothing else was pressing, of attending personally upon His Majesty. He did,however, make certain that those under his command understood that he was to beinformed at once should either Sethra or Aliera be seen.

The court was quiet, as if the excitement of the last few days--assassinations,attempted assassinations, the arrival of Adron, the introduction of Aliera, and theappearance of Sethra Lavode--had proved to be too much for the normally statelyprogression of events, and a breathing spell was therefore required. This gaveKhaavren time to contemplate his introduction to and conversations withSethra--events which had at the time appeared so fabulous that he had refused toconsider them.

"Come then, Khaavren," he told himself as he observed the peaceful comings andgoings of the court and His Majesty's formal greetings of the Deputies and Heirswho arrived in preparation for the Meeting of the Principalities. "You did not, if truthbe known, fare too badly. It is not every day that a figure from legend appears in theflesh and presents herself before one, and a little confusion is not, therefore, to beheld too strongly against one. She is, after all, powerful, mysterious, beautiful, andsinister; if these are not grounds for a certain confusion, then what could be? And ifI held to my duty, and did nothing of which I ought to be ashamed, then whatmatters a bit of trembling in the knee, so admirably concealed by these light bluebreeks, and a thumping of the heart, equally well hidden by this blouse?

"There can be no doubt, at any rate, that I concealed my feelings better thanJurabin--who, if he is not a Captain of the Guard, is at least a PrimeMinister--concealed his reaction to Aliera. My word! It is a wonder that he did nottear grooves in the arm of His Majesty's chair, the way his fingers were clutching it!

"Ah, but that was a rare sight--to see Jurabin, who is normally so collected, insuch a state! And over what? A pair of pretty eyes that are blue or green or somenameless shade that is neither one nor the other. Is it worth twisting one's baldricfor? Not if one is Khaavren, it isn't. And look at him now, standing at His Majesty'selbow, yet staring above the heads of the courtiers--I'll be starred if his thoughts

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aren't upon her now.

"So, we have the Prime Minister, whose mind is taken up with a woman who--Ishould stake a year's pay on it--he'll never touch, and we have His Majesty, whocannot keep a thought in his head long enough for it to generate offspring. And theywonder at the state of the Empire! Cha! If I were the Dragon Heir, I should take it asa sign the cycle had turned, and march into the city with--"

He frowned and his soliloquy abruptly ended, as his thoughts continued for somefew moments in a direction that he did not wish to express even under his breath.After these reflections had taken their course, during which time his face grew sternerand sterner, he made a signal to one of the guardsmen, who, being trained torespond to the least sign from his chief, approached directly.

"Yes, Captain?"

"My good Naabrin," said Khaavren, "please bring Thack here directly."

"At once, Captain."

Naabrin departed at a good, martial speed, and in a few moments, the guardsmanKhaavren had designated arrived and inquired as to the Captain's wishes.

"You will take over my duties here, Corporal, for I am called away mosturgently."

"Very well, Captain," he said, and stood at once to Khaavren's post, behind HisMajesty, in a position where he could survey the court.

Khaavren, for his part, using the prerogative that was his right as Captain,interrupted the conversation in progress between His Majesty and the Lyorn SirVintner.

"Yes?" said the Emperor.

"Sire, I find I am called away. Thack, my most trusted corporal, will attend to myduties until I return."

His Majesty nodded and dismissed Khaavren with a wave of his hand. TheTiassa wasted no time in quitting the Imperial presence and making his way back tohis own sub-wing, where he called for a horse to be prepared and brought to him.As this was done, he required one of his guardsmen to discover where the Duke ofEastmanswatch had encamped, and desired of another to learn if His Highnessintended any public appearances.

"It is interesting that you should ask, Captain," said one guardsman, a willowyDragonlord of the e'Terics line who had been given the unfortunate birth-name ofSergeant, leading to no end of confusion and embarrassment.

"How, interesting?"

"Well, the public scrolls spoke of his intention to speak at the dedication ofKieron's Pavilion, which is, as you know, to take place this evening, and, moreover,he has informed us of this intention."

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"What makes this so interesting, Sergeant? Be laconic, I beg, for you must knowthat I am in a hurry, and will be setting off when my horse is ready."

"I shall endeavor to please you, Captain."

"His Highness has been, as I requested, keeping us informed of all publicappearances, has he not?"

"Yes, Captain."

"He told us he would be at the dedication ceremony this evening?"

"Yes, Captain."

"And he still intends to be there?"

"No, Captain."

"How, he does not? He has canceled this appearance?"

"Yes, Captain."

"How has he informed us of this change in plans?"

"A note that has just this morning arrived by a messenger in his livery."

"Have you checked the seal?"

"I have, Captain."

"Well?"

"It is, indeed, his seal."

"But, does he give a reason for this change?"

"In a way, Captain."

"In what way?"

"Captain, he pretends that he is indisposed."

"Hmmm," said Khaavren, thinking deeply. "Very well."

At this moment, it was announced that Khaavren's horse was standing, saddledand equipped, by the door, where a groom was also waiting to help Khaavren inmounting. "I will be back this evening, my friends," said Khaavren. "You know yourduties--attend to them."

"Yes Captain, we will," said all the guardsmen present, and Khaavren tookhimself out of the sub-wing, his long sword slapping reassuringly against his leg.Once mounted, he set off from the Palace, and, after making his way to the Gate ofthe Dragon, left the city at a good speed, still considering all he knew of HisHighness and wondering what approach to take in order to confirm or deny thesuspicions that continued to grow in Khaavren's mind even as the leagues fell beforethe feet of his horse.

At this same time, a short distance away, His Highness Adron, Duke ofEastmanswatch, Count of Korio and Sky; Baron of Redground, Tresli, Twobranch,Pepperfield, and Erfina; Knight of the Orders of Kieron, Lanya, and Zerika; Imperial

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Baron of Noughtfound, who was standing in the tent which served as his quarters,drew himself up with all of the dignity of the Dragon Heir to the Throne and thescion of e'Kieron line of the House of the Dragon, turned to his chainman, and said,"Stuff."

The chainman, who was called Molric e'Drien, was, in the first place, Adron'snephew, and, in the second place, a good-looking, earnest young man who took hisposition very seriously indeed. He said, "I beg Your Highness to consider that, notonly had you said you would be there, and not only is the pavilion to be dedicated toyour particular ancestor, but the Lord Mayor of Dragaera is positively depending onyour appearance, and--"

"Stuff," repeated Lord Adron.

Molric opened his mouth, but Adron silenced him with a gesture.

"Young man," said the Prince, "I will submit to battle, war, uprising, insult, andeven humiliation if my duty calls me to it. But I will not submit to sitting for six hourslistening to the drivel that comes out of the mouth of Calvor of Drem, whom I haveheard before, and whose tiresome utterings, I assure you, give me more bad dreamsthan the missed signals at the Battle of the Arches. No. I have sent my apologies tothe Governor, informed the Guard of the change in my schedule, and even, though itmay weigh against me in the Halls of Judgment, rendered a thoroughly dishonestapology to the pretended poet himself. It is done; there is no more to be said."

Molric appeared to consult with himself for a moment before deciding that thisbattle was lost and his forces, such as they were, ought to be preserved againstsome future engagement, which conclusion he communicated to his liege by makinga respectful bow.

"Is there anything else?" said Adron.

"Yes, General," said Molric, announcing by this form of address that it was astrictly military matter to which he referred.

"Well?"

"A message from Turvin."

"And what does she say?"

"That she has treated for the three thousand horse Your Highness wished for,and that the equipment is ready, and she desires to know if the horses and equipmentshould be placed in the manner Your Highness has described to her."

Adron considered for a moment. "Not yet," he decided. "Tell her to stable andhold them, and I will inform her when they should be emplaced."

"Very well, General. There are also chits to be signed for the expenses oftransporting another month's worth of fodder to all posts."

"Leave them here, I will sign them later. Is there anything else?"

"No, Your Highness," said the chainman, with something like regret.

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"Dismissed," said Adron.

Molric turned and left the tent in a manner thoroughly military. Adron returned tothe activity which had been interrupted by his chainman, an activity which involvedstaring, first, at a small purple stone, like a gem, which he held between his thumband forefinger, and, next, at a large, flat piece of smooth, brown wood into whichseveral similar stones were embedded, forming a peculiar pattern. After somemoments of contemplation, he picked up a sort of awl and used it to carve outanother hole in the wood, into which he pressed the stone he held. Then he steppedback and considered the pattern thus expanded for some minutes, after which hegave it a grudging nod and turned to the papers Molric had left for him to look overand sign.

It was while he was engaged in these uninteresting but vital activities that he wasinterrupted by a clap from outside of the tent. Without turning around, he said,"Who is there?"

"General, I am Durtri, third sentry at the North Post."

"Well?"

"Lord Khaavren, Captain of the Phoenix Guards, has arrived, and requests anaudience."

"Indeed?" said Adron, turning around and coming to the mouth of the tent. "I amonly surprised he has taken so long. How many guardsmen has he brought withhim?"

"None, General. He is alone."

"What, alone?" To himself he added, "He has some trust, then. That is, at anyrate, a consolation." Then, aloud, he said, "Very well, I will see him at once."

Khaavren entered an instant later, and, removing his hat, bowed to the veryground. "I hope," he said, "That I find Your Highness well?"

"Tolerably well, sir," said Adron. "And I hope the same may be said for you?"

"Yes, I think so," said Khaavren. "And Your Highness does me too much honorby asking."

"Well," said Adron with a shrug, "if the message is not, I think, one I shall like, atleast I may say the messenger does not displease me."

"Your Highness is kind," said Khaavren, "though I will admit to being confusedby Your Highness's remarks about a message and a messenger."

"Confused, Sir Khaavren? Yet surely you must know that your errand will be, ifnot unexpected, at least in some part disagreeable to me."

"And yet I must confess," said Khaavren with another bow, "that I do notunderstand what Your Highness does me the honor to tell me."

"You pretend you do not understand?" said Adron, with a smile that was notunkind.

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"I assure Your Highness that I am entirely bewildered."

"Well, then, what is the cause of your visit?"

"Why, the desire to see Your Highness, nothing more."

Adron laughed without mirth. "Bah, my good sir. Be frank. Do you retain anyaffection for me, from our experiences so long ago?"

"The Gods!" said Khaavren. "I think I do."

"Well, then, from that affection, do me the honor to answer my questions ashonestly as I ask them."

Khaavren bowed. "Your Highness need but to ask; I assure Your Highness thatyou will not be unsatisfied with the truthfulness of my response."

"Well, then, here is my first question: You come on the part of His Majesty, doyou not?"

"I come on the part of His Majesty? Not the least in the world."

"How, you do not?"

"By my faith as a gentleman," said Khaavren.

"Then you are not here to arrest me?"

"Arrest Your Highness? And for what?"

"For what? Why, you know that His Majesty was vexed with me at the end of ourinterview."

"On my honor, I know nothing about it."

"Impossible! Then you do not come to arrest me?" said Adron again, as if hecould not believe it.

"Nothing like it," said Khaavren. "Oh, should that have been my plan, I beg YourHighness to believe I would not have traded upon your kindness this long, butshould have at once said, 'Your Highness, I have the honor to arrest you in the nameof His Majesty; please give me your sword and come with me.' And that would havebeen all."

"Well," said Adron, over whose countenance a slight shade had passed whenKhaavren had pronounced the words he hadn't intended to speak. "You nearlyconvince me."

"And then?"

"Then it remains for me to place myself entirely at your service. Would you carefor wine?"

"Wine would not be at all unwelcome, Highness, for there is no small amount ofdust in the air between the city and the tent, and hang me if most of it has not takenup residence in my throat."

Adron rang a bell, and, in less than a minute, Khaavren was seated facing His

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Highness while the two of them drank to each others' fortune. "Apropos," saidAdron when this ceremony had been thirstily brought to its conclusion, "how doesyour fortune fare, and that of your friends? That noble Lyorn, and the others. Doyou still see them?"

"Alas," said Khaavren, "not the least in the world. I hear from Temma--that is,Aerich--from time to time, and he tells me that Tazendra is still thriving, and once ortwice in a hundred years my path crosses Pel's, but I'm afraid our society is rupturedby the years, which, as you know, have neither pity nor empathy. And as to my ownfortunes, well, you perceive that I am Captain of the Phoenix Guards, which wouldseem to be the zenith of my ambition--and not bad, Your Highness will allow, forthe younger son of an impoverished Tiassa nobleman."

"Not at all bad," said Adron. "And please accept my compliments."

"And I hope Your Highness will allow me to offer congratulations for YourHighness's successes--the Breath of Fire Battalion has made a name for itself thatwill not soon be forgotten."

"Yes," said Adron, with a small smile. "We have not done too badly. Of course,you must take some of the credit yourself, my dear sir, for it would have beenimpossible to form the battalion at all if we had still to worry about invasions fromthe East, and, moreover, had it not been for your skill as a diplomatist we shouldhave been unable to trade for the number of horses--the truly appalling number ofhorses, to be frank--which made the battalion possible."

"It is good of Your Highness to say so," said Khaavren. "Ah, but I regret thosedays! At any moment either a sword was in my hand or a beautiful woman was onmy arm! Now, my sword remains at my side, and my arm touches nothing but thehilt, which hilt, allow me to tell Your Highness, has made a fine callus near my leftelbow, which is not where soldier's calluses ought to be, and has besides worn outthe sleeves of several blouses in the process."

"Is that what you remember of those days, my dear Captain?" said Adron,laughing. "Well, I remember other things. I remember a fugitive whom I was obligedto hide, and whose presence caused me to wonder if I should be led to theExecutioner's Star. And I remember fear of--not an invasion of Easterners, but,rather, an invasion of Easterners that would force me to choose between duty andoath--that is, between honor and law. If there is a less comfortable choice, Captain,well, I don't know what it is."

"Ah, it is true what Your Highness says--that is a sad choice to be brought to,and, if Your Highness has no such choice to-day, well, so much the better."

"To-day? Bah! To-day my cousin is Warlord, and his younger son is mychainman, so that whenever there is an opportunity for glory, well, there is noquestion about who will be the first one called upon."

"Your Highness does himself an injustice in thinking that these opportunities areanything but the result of a well-earned reputation. Who else but Your Highnesscould have managed the Briartown affair with such dispatch? Ah, if Your Highness

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had been at court while that was going on! On one day comes the word of theuprising, on the next Lord Rollondar--your cousin--is preparing to march, and onthe next we receive word that you have the matter in hand. I still recall the look onHis Majesty's face! And a month later came the reorganization of the posts. HisMajesty said, 'If Eastmanswatch can move two thousand soldiers four hundred milesin a day and a night, we should be able to move one post officer a similar distance inthe same length of time.'"

Adron laughed. "Is that what he said?"

"I have the honor to assure Your Highness that those were his very words."

"And the expense?" said Adron, still smiling. "What did My Lord Jurabin say tothe expense?"

Khaavren matched His Highness's smile with one of his own. "Neither more norless than you would think," he said, "And yet, in truth, it could not be that bad. Youare only one man, and you have managed the expense of maintaining the posts forten thousand, if my memory is not at fault."

"Oh, you know I am tolerably wealthy," said Adron. "The diamonds fromSandyhome must travel through Pepperfield on the way to Dragaera, and thepeppers from my own land travel in all directions, and so a part of each comes tome. In outfitting the Breath of Fire Battalion I have, to be sure, used up no smallsum, but hardly enough to make me look to a surrender of debts, or to fear the lossof my daughter's inheritance."

"Well, then, can Your Highness doubt that the entire Empire, with all herresources, can be so much further behind, when there are even fewer horses to equipand stable?"

"There is some justice in what you say," said Adron.

"Indeed, I wonder, if Your Highness will forgive my curiosity--"

"Oh, indeed; you may ask anything you wish."

"Well then, I wonder at Your Highness's desire to bring the entire battalion alongto the Meeting of the Principalities, which, as I understand it, is the reason YourHighness graces the city with his presence."

"Oh, you wonder at that?"

"Well, Your Highness perceives that I am but ill-informed about anythinghappening at the Palace that does not fall within the sphere of my duties."

"And yet," said Adron, with the ghost, as it were, of a smile playing about hislips, "do you not wonder if this battalion which now surrounds you might fall withinthe province of your duty?"

"How could it?" said Khaavren, affecting surprise. "My duty only involves thesecurity of His Majesty and the integrity of the Imperial Wing of the Palace, as wellas, to a certain extent, seeing to the general safety of the city and supporting LordRollondar's forces should he request such support. Not arduous, as Your Highness

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perceives, and entirely unconnected with anything Your Highness might do."

Adron, who did not seem convinced by this fine speech, still smiled. "And yetyou are, you say, curious."

"Well--"

"Then allow me to satisfy your curiosity. I have brought my battalion with me forno other reason than because His Majesty requested that I do so."

"How, His Majesty?"

"Exactly."

"The Emperor, Tortaalik?"

"I know no other. You pretend you were not informed of this circumstance?"

"Not the least in the world. You perceive that, as I said, I know little that does notconcern my duties. And yet I wonder--"

"Why His Majesty wanted the battalion at hand?"

"Exactly."

"I believe he is worried about disorder within the city."

"Ah, he worries about that, does he?"

"Exactly."

"And does Your Highness also worry?"

"On my word of honor, good Captain, I know nothing about it."

"And, yet--"

Here Khaavren was interrupted, for a sentry had arrived with a message.Khaavren fell silent while Adron accepted it. "Come," said the Captain to himself."Either there is no treachery here and my fears are those of an old man, or LordAdron is playing a closer game than any Dragonlord I have ever met would becapable of. But, what is this? He has gotten some news that puzzles him, for he isfrowning. Perhaps he will tell me what it is, for I should be more than glad to know."

Adron, still frowning, looked up from the message, staring out at nothing. "Thisis decidedly odd," he said in a low voice, as if speaking to himself.

"Your Highness?"

"Eh?" he said, looking suddenly at the Tiassa. "Oh, Sir Khaavren, I had forgottenyou were here. I have just received the most unusual intelligence. Shall I tell you whatit is?"

"If your Highness wishes."

"It is from a certain Calvor of Drem. Do you know him?"

"I must confess that I do not, Highness."

"No matter. He is a Phoenix, and a poet, and a colossal bore."

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"Well?"

"Well, he has sent me a note in which he claims that he does not understand thereason for the excuses I sent him."

"How, excuses?"

"Yes; I sent a messenger to him, begging his forgiveness for canceling myappearance at the opening of the Pavilion."

"Ah, yes, I know something of that."

"'He claims that he had no intention of being there."

"Well?"

"Well, I have here... now where is it? Ah! Here, what do you make of this?"

Khaavren glanced at the message, making sure his face remained expressionless,although he may as well not have troubled, for there was nothing remarkable in thenote, save for its contents.

"Well?" said Adron.

"I assure Your Highness that I find it all decidedly unusual."

"As do I, Captain. In one note he says he will be there, and in the other he deniesthat he had ever intended to. I mistrust the unusual."

"Were I in Your Highness's place, I should do the same."

"So you think--?"

"There is some mystery here, that is certain."

"Indeed. Come, Captain, look at the first note, and at the second."

"The gods! The hands are entirely different!"

"And yet both are signed."

"With different names--this one, you perceive, claims to be from the hand of ascribe named Dri, whereas the name of the scribe according to this letter is Entoch."

"But then," said Adron, "why would he use two different scribes?"

"Perhaps, as a poet, he requires two. Is he a particularly long-winded poet?"

"He is indeed. And yet, I am not satisfied. There is, in any case, somethingunusual in all of this."

"I am entirely of Your Highness's opinion--I should think, in fact, that one ofthese documents is a forgery."

"Well, but which one?"

"Oh, as to that--"

"Well?"

"I confess that I am at a loss. And yet--" Khaavren looked at the first note, the

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one in which Calvor announced that he would be presenting his poetry. And, asKhaavren did so, he realized that he had seen that hand before--there was somethingfamiliar, although disguised, in the way the marks were laid upon the page.

"And yet?" prompted Adron.

"I can see no reason to forge the second note," said Khaavren. "And, as to thefirst."

"Well? As to the first?"

"It would seem an effective way to keep Your Highness from attending thededication ceremony."

"Shards and splinters," said Adron. "That is true. But why should anyone wish tokeep me away from the ceremony?"

Khaavren shook his head and confessed himself at a loss. "Will you, then, attendafter all?" he asked.

"No," said Adron, frowning. "I have already made my excuses, and, furthermore, there is scarcely time."

"Then what shall you do?"

"I mislike mysteries," said Adron, in a thoughtful voice. "And shall take it uponmyself to solve this one. Who can have done this and why?"

"Why indeed?" said Khaavren quietly.

"I have," said Adron, "every intention of finding out. Wherefore, if you willexcuse me--"

Khaavren rose to his feet at once, and bowed deeply. "Of course. I thank YourHighness for receiving me, and for such pleasant conversation."

"It is nothing, nothing," said Adron who seemed to be so taken up by the puzzlethat Khaavren had been dismissed from his thoughts even before being dismissedfrom his presence.

Khaavren, realizing this, made his way out of the tent, and found his horse, whichhad been fed, watered, and even groomed during the time he had been back visitingthe Dragonlord. He saw to saddling the animal, and made his way back toward thePalace, saying to himself, "Ah, Pel, Pel! What are you doing now? And why? I willfind out, if not in one way, then certainly in another!"

Chapter the Eleventh

Which Treats of Khaavren's Meeting

With Aerich and Tazendra,

Who Arrive in Dragaera

After a Journey in Which

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They Make Very Good Time.

«^»KHAAVREN CONSIDERED VISITING THE DEDICATION ceremony, but hisroute did not take him that way, and, moreover, he nourished a lingering fear that hehad made a mistake about Pel's handwriting, and that the second letter was theforgery, and that therefore the poet Adron had named would, in fact, appear;wherefore Khaavren returned directly to the Palace. He left his horse in the hands ofthe same groom who had brought it to him and who had, apparently, been standingin the same spot the entire time awaiting Khaavren's return. The Captain left the reinsand a silver orb in the groom's hand, both of which the Teckla accepted as natural,after which Khaavren adjourned to his quarters, stopping only to upbraid, with twocarefully chosen words, one of the guards who stood at the entrance to the wing andwhose attitude was more cursory than seemed appropriate to the Captain. Uponentering, he was saluted by those in attendance; he acknowledged with a nod, andsaid, "Any word of Sethra or Aliera?"

"None, Captain," he was told.

He studied the log and found that nothing outside of the routine had happened,after which he ate a piece of bread with cheese and smoked kethna from the larder,then repaired to His Majesty's side (His Majesty was, at this time, just sitting down tosupper with the Consort), relieved Thack, and resumed his duty.

"Well, my dear Captain," said His Majesty, who was, it seemed, in the mood forconversation. "I hope your day was fruitful."

Khaavren stepped up to His Majesty's elbow and bowed, first to His Majestythen to the Consort, after which he said, "Sire, I cannot say that it was."

"Oh?"

"Certain matters of security, Sire, led me to some investigations."

"Investigations?"

"Yes, Sire. Investigations that have proven my worries to be ill-founded."

"Well, Captain, I should rather you investigate when it is not necessary than fail todo so when it is."

"Thank you, Sire. That has always been my policy; I am pleased to find that it isagreeable to Your Majesty." He bowed and waited, sensing that His Majesty had yetmore to say. Her Majesty seemed oblivious to the discussion, and concentrated allof her attention on a plate of sliced peaches, grapes, and rednuts that had beencovered with a decoction of white wine and cinnamon mixed with sugar and sweetcream, all surrounded by tiny blocks of ice carved into the shape of trees. Khaavren,after noting it, turned his eyes firmly away, feeling uncomfortably like the family dogsalivating at the bone on his master's plate.

Presently, the Emperor turned to him and said, "I wish that a discreet watchshould be kept on the movements of the Duke of Eastmans watch."

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"Of course, Sire," said Khaavren, pretending surprise at the question.

"How, of course? You mean, you have already done so?"

"Why, yes, Sire, and the proof is that I can inform you of his activities, nearlyminute by minute, from when he left the Palace."

His Majesty lifted his eyes from his plate to the Consort, who, although sheattended carefully to her food, seemed ill-at-ease; Khaavren knew that she preferredmatters of state to remain off of the supper-table, where they would, in allprobability, clash with the decor and conflict with the comestibles. Nevertheless, theEmperor said, "Tell me briefly, then."

"Sire, he has returned to camp and remained there. Moreover, he has canceled aplanned appearance at the Dedication of the Pavilion of Kieron."

"Canceled, you say?"

"Yes, Sire. A forged note is the cause of the cancellation; I am still searching forthe agent of the note."

"I see. And he now remains at his camp?"

"Yes, Sire. Where there is a moderate guard, good discipline, and only the mostminimal of training, consisting of post, dismount, and rolling attack drills."

"Rolling attack?"

"Exactly."

"I am unfamiliar with this term."

"Shall I explain it?"

"I would be pleased if you would do so."

"Then I shall."

"I await you." His Majesty assumed an attitude of great concentration.

"Sire, the troops are worked in companies of forty horsemen, who ridesometimes in ten files of four, sometimes in eight files of five, sometimes in otherarrangements. At a word of command from the officer in charge, the soldiersdismount and cause their horses to lie down and form lines, either two or three deep,with one or two meters separating the lines and perhaps one meter separating thehorses. The soldiers then draw sword and assume guard positions behind theirhorses. Then, at another, word, they cause their horses to rise, after whichthey--that is, the soldiers--mount, ride, reform lines, and charge--all of whichactions are accomplished in amazingly short length of time, and are, moreover,executed with great precision."

"Well, I understand," said His Majesty. "I perceive that you have, indeed, beenkeeping a close watch."

Khaavren bowed. "And yet, sire, I have a question, if Your Majesty will deign topermit one."

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"Very well, ask."

"Did Your Majesty request that His Highness arrive with his battalion? For, if not,I confess that I am confused about why he should have arrived with them--they are,Your Majesty may perceive, a more formidable honor guard than one might expectof a Prince."

"Ah, ah. Yes, Captain, I ought to have told you, but I did make this request somemonths ago, when it appeared that the citizens were becoming unruly, and itappeared, moreover, that the army might be needed in the Holdfree Mines to thenorth."

"I remember the time, Sire."

"Well, is your question answered, then?"

"Entirely."

"Then, if you are willing, answer one for me."

"If I can at all do so, Sire, I shall, and without delay."

"This is it, then: Does this cancellation of His Highness's appearance at thePavilion of Kieron seem at all odd to you, Captain?"

"It does, Sire. More than odd, it seems strange."

"Then you wish to learn the reason for it?"

"Very much, Sire."

"Well, so do I."

"Then I will address myself to the issue."

"How?"

"How? With Your Majesty's permission, I will attend the event         myself, or, atleast, the end of it, and see with my own eyes if there is any unusual   occurrence. Ifthere is none, I shall attempt to discover who forged the letter to      His Highness,which will perhaps tell us who stands to benefit from His Highness's     absence at theceremony."

"Very good, Captain."

"Then, if I may retire--"

"You may."

"Until to-morrow, Sire."

"Until to-morrow, Captain."

Khaavren left at once, hastening to be out the room before he could overhearwhatever remarks the Consort might choose to let fall before His Majesty in paymentfor the interruption of her supper. In fact, his exit was quick enough to miss HerMajesty's remarks, which included observations on the specific heat of ice, thenature of time, and other aspects of the physical world.

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The Captain, though he had never given thought to the specific heat of ice, waswell aware of the nature of time, and so wasted none of it while retracing his stepsand calling for a horse, which was duly delivered. We should acknowledge, here,that we have, in fact, said little about the characteristics of the horses which haveparaded across our pages. This is because Khaavren, though a good judge of horses(as every soldier who spends time on horseback must, to one degree or another,become), considered them nothing more than a means of transport, and gave nothought, except on the rarest of occasions, to any of the purely aesthetic aspects ofthe beasts. And, in fact, although Romances are often filled with long, lovingdescriptions of horses, it is the fact that to most of those who used these nobleanimals every day, transportation is exactly how they were considered; these literarydescriptions usually represent nothing more than the desire of an author to extend,by a page or two, the length of his narrative. We wish to assure our readers that atno time will we indulge in this or any similar activity, and, moreover, if at any time wedo stop our narrative to speak of the particulars of this or that horse, if it had aparticularly fine gait, or held its head unusually high, or had the thin ankles thatindicate speed or the proud chest that speaks of great strength, it will be for no otherreason than that our history absolutely requires it.

This said, we will find Khaavren making his way at a good pace through thecrowded streets near the Palace and the less crowded streets of the Hill District,where the newly begun Pavilion of Kieron was to be located. He was forced to slowdown once he reached the Street of Ropes because of the traffic--foot, horse, andcarriage--that began to come his way. He observed the colors of the House of theDragon on several passersby, and concluded that he had, indeed, missed theceremony. He wondered also at the lack of the parade which, he had been told,would begin at the end of the ceremony, and speculated whether the parade hadbeen canceled when Adron had failed to appear. Khaavren determined, nevertheless,to continue on his route, hoping to learn something from those who, no doubt, stillloitered at the site.

Khaavren was, to be sure, surprised at the size of the crowd, and wondereduncomfortably if he had dispatched enough guardsmen to manage it, although, inpoint of fact, there was no visible disorder. He looked around for gold cloaks, andwas pleased to see two or three who seemed to be carrying out their tasks in amanner thoroughly professional. At length they saw him and saluted; he returned thesalute and indicated by a gesture that they should continue their duty--which theydid, though with perhaps a touch more alacrity, now that they were under the eye oftheir Captain. There were also, we should add, some number of policemen, whosaluted Khaavren with the respect due an officer of a kindred corps.

With the subtlest of pressure from his knees--for he was a horseman of no smallskill and had, moreover, arranged for the training of the horses--Khaavren directedhis mount to bring him through the crowd, made up of Teckla who parted beforehim like water, bourgeois who parted before him like oil, and nobles who partedbefore him like sand or pebbles according to the rank, House, and disposition of thearistocrat in question. A widening in the street told him that he was approaching the

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market before the pavilion--an opening like the mouth of a river before the oceanleveled dirt where the lofty pavilion was destined to be erected. Amid a mass ofhumanity like drops of water in this sea was the wooden platform upon which thespeakers had stood, and which now served as a gathering place for those who choseto depart by carriage. The tide, Khaavren observed, appeared to be ebbing; the areain front of the platform cleared as more and more of those who had assembled forthe ceremony made their way down one of the three streets that came together in thewide circle which had been prepared for the construction due to begin on the verynext day. Here and there he caught the flash of a gold cloak, which assured him thathis orders had not been neglected.

He looked at the platform, lit by a number of torches against the onset of night,where some number of nobles, most of them Dragonlords, engaged in casualconversation, but he did not spot Adron. He signaled for one of the guardsmen toapproach, and, dismounting, gave his horse into the care of this worthy. His planwas to make his way on foot to the platform with the intention of asking if anyunusual incident had marred the presentation, and, moreover, if the poet Calvor had,in fact, appeared.

The astute reader will deduce from our careful use of the phrases his plan wasand with the intention that, in fact, something unexpected disrupted both plan andintention, so that what next occurred was both surprising to Khaavren and importantto our narrative (for the reader is by now aware that, were Khaavren's journey to thesite of the Pavilion unimportant, it would have been summarily omitted from ourhistory); any such deductions on the part of the reader are correct, as we are aboutto have the honor to demonstrate.

Khaavren had made his way through most of the crowd, and was only a step ortwo from the platform, which stood at about the height of his head, when his eyecaught a sudden motion behind him and to his right, originating, it seemed, fromunder the platform itself. With the instincts and reactions acquired in five hundredyears of training and battle, Khaavren moved sideways while turning and reaching forhis weapon, yet he was keenly aware that he had been taken by surprise, and wascertainly too late should the motion represent a treacherous attack--which, wehasten to add, is exactly what it represented.

From the corner of his eye he noticed what has so often been called "the glint ofsteel" that we dislike making use of the phrase, yet it is so descriptive of thephenomenon that we hesitate to forsake it. The realization that he was under attackand that, moreover, he had been caught sufficiently off guard as to be, in effect,helpless, occasioned in Khaavren neither fear nor anger, but, rather, annoyancedirected against himself for having allowed the situation to occur.

Yet, in that peculiar space of time between Khaavren's sudden awareness of theattack and its culmination, another factor appeared, equally unexpectedly--this beinga sharp sound as if a flashstone had been discharged (which was, in fact, exactly thecase), which sound was followed instantly by the cessation of the attack. Khaavren,whose sword had come into his hand as if propelled from the sheath by its own will,

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now pointed at a body which was stretched out full length upon the ground, facedownward, and which twitched and jumped as bodies so often will when the bodyhas not realized that the mind no longer lives. At the same time, several onlookers,whose attention had been commanded by the sound we have already mentioned,looked toward Khaavren, the body, and the area in general.

All of these, actions, be it understood, had happened so quickly that they wereover, save for the twitching of the body and the appearance of Khaavren's nakedsword, so that none of the onlookers actually saw what had happened--there hadbeen a quick motion, a loud sound, and then the changed circumstance. A Tecklascreamed. A voice said, "Well, my dear Khaavren, our arrival seems to have beentimely." We should note here that, in fact, it was not a voice which spoke at all, but,rather, a person--yet as it took Khaavren some little time to identify the voice (and,hence, the person), we have chosen to use this locution to both indicate theunknown identity of speaker with reference to Khaavren, and fulfill our desire todelay, if only briefly, the revelation of the speaker's name to our readers, thus strikingwith two edges at once, as the Dzur say, and saving ourselves from the necessity ofover-explaining, which could not but provide an annoyance to the discerning reader.

"Ah," said Khaavren turning his head in the direction from which the voiceoriginated. "Is it you, my good Aerich? Was it you who discharged that flashstoneto such good effect?"

"Not at all," said Aerich, emerging from around the side of the platform. "Forhere is Tazendra, who has come with me, and whose skill with such devices youknow as well as I."

And, indeed, the Dzurlord appeared at that moment, the flashstone (still trailingdark blue smoke) in her hand. She smiled to Khaavren, made as if to bow, butinstead rushed to embrace him--which embrace he returned in full measure, thengreeted Aerich similarly, encumbered not at all by the sword still in his hand.

It was at this moment that three guardsmen, also with weapons drawn, rushed up,looking about for danger, disturbance, or, failing these, at least orders from theirsuperior officer. "What has happened?" they cried.

"What has happened?" said Khaavren. "Indeed," he continued, as if to himself,"What has happened? Aerich, what did you see?"

"That person," said the Lyorn, indicating the body (which had, by now, quitestopped twitching) "made a treacherous attack upon you, which Tazendra,"--herehe bowed to the Dzurlord--"managed to foil."

"I wonder who he is," said Khaavren, approaching the body. He turned it overwith his foot and remarked, "Do you know, after all of these years I still cannot see acorpse--even the corpse of someone who has tried to kill me--without feeling sad.Isn't it odd?"

"I think it speaks well for you," said Aerich. Tazendra said nothing, but seemedperplexed.

"My dear Tazendra," said Khaavren, "would you be good enough to provide

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enough light to allow me to make an investigation?"

"Why, I should be more than happy to do so," said Tazendra. "In fact, I will doso this very moment, if you wish!"

"That is exactly what I wish," said Khaavren.

"Well, here it is then."

"An Orca," remarked Khaavren as soft yellow light appeared above his head andbegan to brighten. "Though he has not been to sea for a score of years at least. Hehas never served forward of the catchhold, but was a maintopman of some skill. Hehas only handled weapons of the roughest sort--hardly an expert."

"You have good eyes," said Aerich. "And you have learned to use them."

"I do not see--" began Tazendra.

"He has been eating well lately, but was hungry for some time before that.".

Tazendra began, "How can you--?"

"The fit of his clothes," murmured Aerich. "As well as certain lines visible on hisface."

"He lives in the Underside," continued Khaavren. "Or, at any rate, has spentmuch time there recently."

"Ah," said Aerich. "I had wondered what that odor was."

"He uses dreamgrass extensively."

Tazendra said, "How--?"

"Stains," said Aerich quietly.

"And he is no longer addicted to murchin--"

"Which he took orally," added Aerich.

"--although he was within the last six weeks; he probably used the dreamgrass tocombat his addiction."

"Which means," said Aerich, "that if you can find a murchin supplier in theUnderside, you could perhaps learn more about this Orca, such as with whom heassociates."

Khaavren shrugged. "There is no shortage of murchin suppliers in the Underside;half the Jhereg in the city use such enterprises to explain their income to thetax-collectors, and half of these are located in the Underside." He knelt next to thebody and conducted a closer examination, which occupied some ten or twentyminutes, after which he remarked, "To the left, it helps to know that this particularsupplier has a shop which lies next to a wax-merchant's or a candle-maker's, andfaces directly onto the Street of the Jhereg, the Street of Vallista, or the Street of theTsalmoth."

Aerich frowned. "I confess, my dear friend, that you have now mystified me."

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"That is good," put in Tazendra. "For you know I dislike being the only onemystified."

"There is no mystery," said Khaavren, "when you recollect with what materialthose streets are paved, and if you know what happens to someone who has justingested murchin orally, and you have looked closely at this poor fellow's hair andbeneath his nails."

"Ah," said Aerich. "Now I comprehend."

"You do?" said Tazendra doubtfully.

"Therefore," said Khaavren, "we know what to do, and, for my part, I wish tobegin at once--it may be that I will be able to discover a great deal by actingquickly, when nothing is known yet of the failure of this poor fellow's mission bythose who sent him upon it."

"Mission?" said Tazendra.

"It is obvious," said Khaavren, "that he was set upon me--the signs are cleareven if I had not had the experience of which I wrote Aerich."

"An assassin," said Tazendra, her brows drawing together in much the same wayas the overcast will draw together and darken before the lightening opens a path inthe heavens for the rain.

"A moment, if you please," said Khaavren. "I must speak to these worthyguardsmen who have been standing so patiently while I made my investigation."

Khaavren turned and beckoned to his subordinates, who held themselvesperfectly still and awaited his orders. "My dears," said Khaavren, "duty forces usinto the Underside, and you perceive that it is quite night. I am not unaware of thedangers associated with this course of action, and I should hesitate to ask it of you ifI thought you to be any less brave and skillful than I know you are. But, as you arebrave and skillful, and as duty absolutely requires it, I will lead the way, on foot asyou are, into the Underside, where we will attempt to learn something of matterswhich affect the security of the Empire, as well as the health of him who has thehonor to be your Captain."

The guardsmen bowed at once, impressed by this lengthy speech from theirlaconic Captain, though perhaps they wished at that moment that he entertained aslightly lower opinion of their courage and ability.

"May we accompany you?" said Tazendra.

"Why, I should like nothing better," said Khaavren. "For one thing, it will makeus that much safer, and thus more likely to accomplish our mission, and for another,it will allow us to continue our conversation, during which I can perhaps discoverhow it is that you came to be here at just the moment I needed, you, when I hadthought you were far to the East in the Duchy of Arylle."

"Well, we were," said Aerich, and they began to walk toward the Underside withtheir escort of three guardsmen.

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"Not long ago, at that," said Tazendra. "You would scarcely credit how quicklywe came here--thirty hours ago we were leaving home."

"How, you came from Arylle in a day and a night?"

"Exactly," said Tazendra, proudly.

"You must be exhausted!"

"Not in the least," said Tazendra. "Oh, I confess that I was feeling a certainfatigue an hour ago, but it has quite fallen from me, so that now, why, I could chargeinto battle with no difficulty. And you, my good Aerich?"

"I must say that Tazendra speaks for me, too," said Aerich. "If we can be of helpto you, why, you need only ask."

"I nearly think I already have," said Khaavren, smiling. He found anotherguardsman, and arranged for his--that is, Khaavren's--horse to be returned to thepost.

"Well," he said after his horse--a fine-blooded animal with a fiery temper--hadbeen attended to, "Tell me something."

"What is that?" said Aerich.

"You must have had a reason for coming to the city--the more so if, as you say,you came with all speed."

"Indeed," said Aerich. "You wrote a letter."

"Well, that is true."

"And then," he added, "Pel wrote a letter as well."

"How, Pel wrote a letter?"

Aerich nodded.

"Mmmm," said Khaavren. "Pel has been much given to writing letters of late.Perhaps it has become a habit with him."

Aerich shrugged.

"So it was my letter and Pel's letter, in conjunction, that brought you here in suchhaste."

"Exactly," said Aerich.

"Well, I know the contents of my letter, having written it, but I confess a curiosityabout the contents of Pel's letter. So much so, in fact, that I beg you to tell me,without further delay, as much of its contents as you can honorably reveal."

"I will do so," said Aerich. "Pel wrote that he was concerned about anassassination attempt, which he expected would take place very soon."

"How, an assassination attempt?"

"Exactly."

"Then he knew what would happen here?"

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"Not the least in the world."

"But he knew that someone was going to make an attempt on my life?"

"To the best of my knowledge, he did not."

"But then--"

"The attack he anticipated, my dear Khaavren, was not directed at you."

"Then it was directed at another?"

"Just so."

"Well? Who?"

"Lord Adron."

"How, Adron e'Kieron? The Duke of Eastmanswatch? Dragon Heir to theThrone?"

"The very man," said Aerich.

"Cracks and shards!"

"There is no doubt," said Tazendra, "that tonight's attack was an error, and theassassin took you for His Highness."

Khaavren and Aerich exchanged looks, after which the Tiassa turned to Tazendraand cleared his throat. "And yet," he said gently, "we look nothing alike, and I amdressed as a guardsman, and a Tiassa, rather than as a Prince and a Dragonlord."

"Well, that is true," admitted Tazendra. "Perhaps I am mistaken."

"Did Pel know anything about the nature of the attack upon Lord Adron?"

Aerich shook his head. "He said that he had already foiled one attempt, but didnot know the nature of the second; only that he was convinced there would be one."

"I see," said Khaavren. "Yes, indeed, much is now explained. Ah, ah, Such aYendi he is!"

"Well?" said Aerich.

"When we have discovered what we can in the Underside, we must speak withPel, for I am certain he knows things that I would benefit from learning."

"That is not impossible," said Aerich.

"And yet," said Tazendra, "could there be two assassination attempts within thesame day? It seems so unlikely."

"Well?"

"That is why I think the assassin attacked the wrong man."

"Well, yes," said Khaavren, and cleared his throat again. "Aerich, you have nowexplained why you are in the city; but what brought you to this place?"

"Upon arriving," said Aerich, "we wasted no time in asking after Lord Adron'swhereabouts."

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"Well, and?"

"It seemed that everyone knew, or, rather thought, that he was to be here at thededication of the Pavilion of Kieron. It seemed that such circumstances would beideal for a murderous attack, so we came with all speed with the idea of protectinghim, only to discover that he was not here at all, which both mystifies and worriesme."

"Cha!" said Khaavren. "He is not here because Pel arranged for him to beelsewhere, no doubt thinking, like you, that this would be a good place for theassassin to strike."

"And you perceive," put in Tazendra, "that the assassin did strike. Only, in thegrowing darkness--"

"Yes, yes," said Khaavren. "No doubt."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Khaavren said, "Whatever thereason, it is good you were there. Moreover, I am delighted to see you both, for itbrings back a thousand pleasant remembrances to be walking beside you."

"If Tel were with us," said Tazendra, "it would bring back a thousand more."

"Well, that is true. But here now, if you were in such a hurry, you have nolodgings, have you?"

"That is true," said Aerich, with a smile, for the clever Lyorn knew in whatdirection this conversation was pointed.

"In that case, there is no reason why you cannot stay with me; you perceive yourold rooms are still ready."

"We thank you," said Aerich, "and accept gladly. Indeed, if you will forgive mypresumption, I even anticipated your invitation, for I have directed my servant,Fawnd, as well as Tazendra's servant, who is none other than our old friend, Mica,to go directly there when we found they could not keep up with us on the road."

"Ah, that is splendid!" said Khaavren.

"Do you know," complained Tazendra, "that I had quite forgotten the size of thiscity, and how long it took to get anywhere on foot."

"Well," said Khaavren, "you need not worry about that, for we are nearly there.Once we have reached the market square that you can see in the faint light providedby the glow-balls, we shall have entered the Underside, and from there it is not far atall to the place where we shall begin our investigations."

As he spoke, the bell in the Old Tower struck the eleventh hour.

Chapter the Twelfth

Which Treats of Social Unrest,

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Both in General and in Specific,

And Discusses Certain Possible Responses,

By Authority, to Such Occurrences.

«^»IT IS INHERENT IN THE NATURE of riots that no one can be certain exactly howthey began, who instigated them, or how, except in the most general terms, theymight have been prevented--this is, perhaps, the most significant difference betweena riot and a popular uprising; it is also why the author hesitates to call the events ofthat evening a riot. Uprising is a more general term; disturbance a word even lessspecific; and with the lack of a precise word to describe the situation, the historianprefers the general word that, at least, does not mislead the reader.

It should be noted, however, that Khaavren made no distinction so nice, eitherthen or afterward; his concerns lay in other directions entirely. The uprising, riot,disturbance, agitation, mutiny, or whatever term the reader prefers, which, by allaccounts, took place on the night of the 13th and the early morning hours of the 14thday of the month of the Vallista in the 532 nd year of Tortaalik's reign, began forKhaavren and his friends in the simplest manner: The Captain observed, in the verymarket that he was entering, three guardsmen running in the opposite direction--thatis, into the Underside. Khaavren did not, we hasten to add, see this clearly, for nighthad quite fallen and there were few glowbulbs in this part of the city, but the threegold cloaks were unmistakable, as was the direction in which the guardsmen ran.

"Captain--" began one of Khaavren's escorts.

"I saw them. At a trot, now," and he led the way through the market, followedclosely by Aerich, Tazendra, and his escort of guardsmen. He led them at a carefulpace, thinking they might have to run for some time, but they had hardly left themarket, stepping onto Backhoe Street, when he heard, from just ahead and around acorner, the familiar sound sword-blades make when acquiring notches and dents bybeing put to the use for which they were created.

"Hullo," said Tazendra, drawing her sword.

"This way," said Khaavren, taking his own weapon into his hand and leadingthem around the corner toward the sounds. Their escort of guards also drew theirweapons. Aerich did not, but those who have read our previous history willunderstand that he had no need of such toys.

At points such as this one, the historian will always encounter the dangers of, tothe right, assigning to those he is following a greater role than they actually played,and, to the left, failing to distinguish between what was witnessed by the charactersthrough whose eyes the reader is watching the drama unfold, and the historian's ownawareness, through whatever sources have come to hand, of the events as theyactually took place. It is our desire to steer our literary barque carefully betweenthese rocks, which we will do in this way: We will take the greatest possible care toinform our readers of the actual events, as they have come down to us from thememoirs and letters of those whose actions we have been following, while, at thesame time, the deeds of our heroes themselves will be reported only insofar as they

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come from the recognized and reputable sources that have survived the Interregnum.In this way, we admit that certain trivial inaccuracies may, from time to time, enterour narrative; we hope, however, that on the whole, the foundations of our narrativeedifice will remain strong, the edges sharp, the textures smooth, and the wallsperpendicular.

With this clearly understood, we will say that when Khaavren came around thecorner the first thing he saw, in the light of the glowbulb outside the Beescott Inn,was one of his guardsmen, stretched out upon the ground, his sword lying a fewinches from his outstretched hand. Just past this fellow were two other guardsmen,who fought back to back (in the manner that Khaavren himself recommended forsuch circumstances) attempting, with indifferent success, to defend themselvesagainst what appeared to be ten or fifteen opponents, all of whom were armed assoldiers, although no uniforms could be seen in the dim light, and from a distance ofthirty or forty yards.

As they watched, one of the guardsmen fell to his knees; although he stillmaintained his guard, it seemed that he would be struck down at any instant, afterwhich his companion would follow in short order.

"'I believe," said Tazendra, "that you must order a charge if you are to save thesefellows' lives."

"Well," said Khaavren, "I think as you do, my dear friend, only there is a matterwhich must be attended to first."

"'How, first?" said Tazendra. "Before rescuing those guardsmen who, I believe,are your subordinates?"

"Yes," said Khaavren. "For there is a matter that will not wait."

He turned to his escort and pointed to one of them. "You will return at once tothe guard-station on Narrows. You must run as fast as you can. You will have themsend everyone at the station to this spot at once, and you will inform the sergeant onduty that I will break him if he fails to do so. You will then have a messenger sent tothe Palace with orders for Baroness Stonemover to send three hundred horsemen tothis spot. Emphasize, at all times, that haste is everything--an hour may well be toolate. Lord Rollondar must be informed of what is happening so that he may put theImperial Army on alert, in case our first efforts fail. Finally, you must reserve ahundred guardsmen to protect Their Majesties; these must be called up and TheirMajesties taken to the Lower Square. Do you understand all of that?"

"You will judge, Captain: Return to Narrows, send everyone here; a messenger tothe Palace for Thack to send three hundred horsemen; Lord Rollondar to beinformed and his army put on alert; Their Majesties to be taken to the Lower Squareand guarded by a hundred troops."

"That is it. Here is my ring in case anyone questions you. Give me your sword, itwill slow you down and you have no time to fight in any case. Think only of speed.Now go!"

The guardsman left without another word. Allow us add, lest the reader wonder,

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that Khaavren had briefly considered alerting Lord Adron, but realized that bringingin the famous hero of the Battle of Briartown could enrage the populace even morethan an intervention by the Imperial Army, and that, moreover, the Breath of FireBattalion was but ill-suited--whatever His Majesty's opinion--to battles againstinsurgent Teckla. In any case, having now completed what he felt to be the mostimportant part of his duty, the Captain turned toward the issue at hand--that is, theonslaught against his guardsmen. He raised his sword and cried, "Charge!"

We should remark that Khaavren's nerve was, in point of fact, at least a littleshaken by what he saw; this must be so, for how else can account for the fact that,when Khaavren had covered the distance to the melee, he was holding two swords inhis hands without being aware of it? Yet, upon realizing this, he took the opportunityto throw the sword in his left hand at one of his opponents, which startled thisopponent long enough for Khaavren to use his other sword to good effect. In themeantime, Tazendra, at his side, was using her sword in her accustomedmanner--flailing it about as if she had no control over its direction, yet making eachstroke bite with deadly efficiency. Aerich, for his part, had lost none of his old skill,and, like the Lyorn warrior he was, used his hands, vambraces, elbows, feet, andknees as if they were bladed weapons. The two remaining guardsmen, we can besure, comported themselves as befit their rank.

The result was that, in a matter of a few seconds, all of their foes had either fledor fallen, and they--four guardsmen, Khaavren, Aerich, and Tazendra--held thefield; "That was bravely done," cried Tazendra, who, even in the dim light, seemedflushed with pleasure.

"You think so?" said Khaavren. "Well, we must form ranks for the night has justbegun, and it promises to be a long one, and full of hot work."

"How, you think they will be back?" said Tazendra.

"I more than think it," said Khaavren. "I am sure of it."

"Pah! Such rabble!"

"We will see," said Khaavren.

He returned to the guardsman they had first seen, a man Khaavren did notrecognize. He seemed to have taken a wound in the face and another high in the side,but he still lived, although the Captain, who had some experience with wounds,thought nothing good of his chances to survive the night.

Nevertheless, one of the guardsmen bound his wounds as best he could, usingmaterial from the wounded man's blouse, while another attended to the otherwounded guardsman in a similar manner.

We should apologize to our readers if too many of these men and women whoserved so well remain nameless and faceless, being referred to only as this or thatguardsman; where their names have come down to us, we do not hesitate to supplythem, but we are absolutely unwilling to fabricate names when we do not, in fact,know them.

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Of the three who had been the victims of the ambuscade, then, one was severelyinjured, one slightly less so, and the third was completely unscathed. Khaavrenturned to this man and said, "Come now, tell me what happened."

"Captain, that is easily explained," he was answered. "We were patrolling themarket and surrounding streets, for that was our duty this evening as determined byour commander."

"Yes, I understand that. Go on."

"As we walked, I was--"

"Well?"

The guardsman, whose name was Tivor, seemed embarrassed, but finally said, "Iwas struck in the head, Captain."

"By what?" said Khaavren.

"By... that is to... by vegetable matter."

"I see."

"Well, Captain, we looked around, and spotted some young persons, whoappeared to be taunting us."

"Ah. And you chased them?"

Tivor looked down and nodded.

"Well?" prompted Khaavren, who felt the need to understand what hadhappened, and determined that questions of discipline could be addressed later.

"Well, Captain, we chased them to this point, when Kyu was struck in the side bya bolt shot from we know not where. We drew the bolt, and were attempting tostaunch the bleeding as best we could when we were attacked by the horde you saw,who came from two sides. Kyu, though severely injured, attempted to give battle butfell at once. We retreated to the wall, and, Captain, I will say that things would havegone ill for us if you had not appeared."

"There is no certainty," said Khaavren, "that things will not go ill yet, foreverything you says confirms what I had thought from the first."

"Then you think--?" interrupted Tazendra.

Khaavren shook his head, and indicated where those who made up his smallforce should stand. He said, "Tazendra, have you any flashstones?"

"Why, I have three left, for you perceive that I used one at the pavilion."

"Well, I have one myself, that is four."

"I was issued one," said Kyu, who had regained consciousness and was proppedagainst the wall.

"Five, then," said Khaavren. "We must use them sparingly."

"And yet," said Tazendra, "I do not see--"

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"Be patient," said Aerich, who, like Khaavren, well understood what was about tohappen.

And, indeed, it was scarcely a minute later that they became aware of a distantclamor, as of voices shouting, doors being broken down, and other sounds theycould not identify save as being part of a general disorder; at the same time, they sawpeople running in small groups, gathering together and then dispersing, or breakingdown doors with heavy instruments.

Tivor said, "Captain--"

"Be patient," said Khaavren.

And, at that moment, they heard tramping, shouting, and clashing that indicated alarge body of armed citizens were making their way toward them.

As Khaavren prepared to face an angry populace (albeit a populace that had, ashe had already determined, been aroused in accordance with the plot of scheme ofparties unknown, rather than erupting spontaneously) in the streets of the Underside,we must run our attention elsewhither, for there was a meeting taking place scarcely aleague distant. This meeting is, in point of fact, taking place at the same cabaret andeven in the same back room at which we overhead the last meeting of certainconspirators, wherefore it should not surprise the leader to learn that some of thesesame conspirators, most particularly the one called Greycat, are again present. Theother is the lady called Laral, and Greycat sat perfectly still as she stood before himand spoke.

"Chalar failed," said Laral. "He is dead."

Greycat allowed a hint of emotion to appear briefly on his countenance. "How,dead?"

"The Tiassa had some friends with him."

"I see."

"A professional would have noticed them."

Greycat stared at her. "Has the professional seen to Lord Adron?"

She stared back. "No."

"Well?"

"He canceled his appearance at the pavilion."

Greycat shrugged, as if to say, "These details are unimportant to me."

"I do not," said Laral, "go blundering about with the idea of striking anywherethat looks convenient. That is the way to fail. And the proof is, that is whathappened to Chalar."

"What will you do?"

"You will see."

"Very well."

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"Is there anything else?"

"No. Have you anything else to say?"

"Yes. Be careful. There appears to be some sort of disturbance beginning somelittle distance away; the whole Underside may be burning by morning."

"Indeed," said Greycat. "It may."

"Then that is all."

"Remember that we are to meet again to-morrow night."

"I will not forget."

Laral rose and made her way to the door in a sinister stream of black and grey.She stopped there and said, "For your sake, I hope you know what you're doing."

"For your sake," said Greycat, "I hope so, too."

Laral nodded and left.

Grita emerged from the shadows and placed herself opposite Greycat. "So," shesaid without preamble, "you perceive that it has begun."

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Well, now we can only wait."

"You may also wish to reach a place of safety."

"I carry a place of safety with me at all times," said Greycat.

"Very well," said Grita. "If you will excuse me, I must be on my way."

"You wish to see how your riot is developing?"

"Not in the least. I wish to be out of the way in case the blaze becomes aconflagration; I do not have faith in my own invulnerability, and I know very wellwhat sort of forces may be let loose to-night."

Greycat nodded, and Grita left the room. Greycat remained where he was,frowning, and wondering what the Underside, even the city would look like in thelight of day. While he was doing so, some small distance away, in the ImperialPalace, the consort was frowning in almost exactly the same manner. If Greycat hadknown of the coincidence of expression, he would have been amused; Her Majestywould have been outraged.

But, if their expression were the same, we need hardly add that their thoughtswere entirely different, saving only that the word on their lips was the same--in fact,it was the same word that was on Khaavren's lips, and is perhaps on the lips of thereaders as well, that word being--who. The reader, perhaps, is wondering, "Who isGreycat and what does he want?" Khaavren, at this same time, is wondering, "Whoinstigated this disturbance and why?" Greycat, meanwhile, is wondering, "Who willattempt to respond to the riot and how?" Her majesty, at this same instant, iswondering, "Who is this Aliera person, and why does everyone find her so

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attractive?"

We are aware that this transition--from worries about fire, death, and destructionin the city to the secret thoughts of the Consort--is abrupt. We are also fully awarethat our readers are, in all probability, most anxious to learn about the former, anddo not understand why they are being pulled against their will to the latter, while thecity, not to mention the lives of people in whom we hope our readers have someinterest, hangs in the balance. In our defense, we can only say that these thoughts (orthoughts very much like them) were, in fact, going through the Consort's mind at thistime, and, as they are important to our history, we cannot fail to provide them to thereader in good season.

She stood, then, in her chambers, with her maids of honor in the next room andwith her back to the glass, resolutely refusing to look into it--for she had the dignityof the House of the Phoenix, and in some matters she could not relax this dignityeven in private.

"It has been two days," she said to herself, "since this Dragonlord has appeared,and in that time all heads have been turned to her--and from me. It is an aggravation.And yet, am I truly so bereft of pride, and, moreover, so frightened, that I allowsuch trivia to affect me? For beauty is trivial--it is a surface, and inasmuch as thesurface is a reflection of essence, that only applies to such matters as countenance,dress, and toilet; and I daresay mine are impeccable. It scarcely applies to thoseaccidents of form which were provided by capricious nature. And if--say it now,Noima--nature has granted her a pleasingness of face and form greater than myown, well, it is unworthy of me to allow the barest hint of distress over such trifle toenter my deepest thoughts.

"But of course, that is not all there is to it. I am a simple woman, in fact, onlywishing to take from life those pleasures and comforts it provides in the greatestpossible measure; and, in truth, was I born and bred for anything else? I, who knew Iwould be Consort from when I was eight years old? No. And, is it not also the casethat, because of my position, I can only get what I want through the good will ofothers? Surely, there is no one in the Empire with less power than I have, if power bethe facility to apply one's will directly to cause change. No, my power is only powerthrough those I can influence--my husband's first of all, then those over whom Ihold sway.

"And now this woman appears, and, by her appearing, my sway is weakened, mypower is reduced, my position is threatened. No, the sting to my vanity, though asreal as it is ignoble, is not the issue here; what is at stake is my position, which nowtrembles each time Jurabin's eyes turn to this Aliera, where two days ago they hadfixed on me.

"I must, consider what to do. I have no wish to harm this Dragonlord, who hasnever sought to hurt me, yet I must protect myself. Perhaps I can win her friendship.Perhaps. But how? What is it she wants? She is a Dragonlord, and they areunpredictable; furthermore, she is Lord Adron's daughter, and he is thriceunpredictable. I shall have to--but what is that?"

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Her thoughts were interrupted by a rustle of fabric and footsteps in the next room(for so quiet was the Consort's part of the Palace that one of her maids of honormoving to open a door could be heard quite clearly). She heard the door in the nextroom open, and someone she didn't recognize said, "I must speak with Her Majestyat once."

"How?" cried one of her maids, a Tiassa named Daro. "At such an hour, mylady?"

"You may perceive by this pike," came the muffled voice from the next room,"that I am on duty. You may assure yourself that nothing less than strictest necessitycould cause me to disturb Her Majesty at such an hour. Go, then, and inform HerMajesty that a guardsmen has come on an errand that will not wait, but that concernsnothing less than her safety."

"How, Her Majesty's safety?"

"Exactly."

"Well," said Daro, who sounded either hesitant or suspicious, "if it is so urgentas that--"

"I give you my word that it is."

"--I will inform Her Majesty that you are here."

"And you will be right to do so."

The Consort, who was wearing a white fur night-robe with a tall, gold-trimmedcollar, came out and said. "I am here. What is it?"

"Your Majesty, I am Ailib of the Red Boot Battalion of the Imperial Guard, and Ibeg you to come along with me without delay."

The Consort stared at the tall Dragonlord, who held a pike so naturally in herhand, and said, "How is that? Come with you? And for what reason?"

"Your Majesty, there is a disturbance in the city, and it is His Majesty's wish thatyou be conducted at once to a place within the Palace that can be more readilydefended."

At these words, there came a simultaneous gasp from all of Her Majesty's maidsof honor (there were nine of them), and even the Consort herself felt slightly giddy,and put her hand to her chest, as if she were suddenly short of breath. "Adisturbance?" she said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Where is this disturbance?"

"'In the Underside, Your Majesty. But we do not know how widespread it is, norhow fast it is growing, and so--"

"But the Guards!"

"Yes, they have been called out, and are, we dare to hope, restoring order.Nevertheless--"

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"Yes, yes, of course. Come, ladies," she said, addressing her maids. "There isnot a moment to be lost."

"Yes, Your Highness," they said, and prepared to follow the cool guardsmanwherever she might lead.

Where she was leading them, in fact, was to a place called the Lower Square,which was far below the main level of the Palace, beneath the Imperial Wing, andconsisted of eight or nine well-appointed rooms. It had been built under order of theEmpress Undauntra, who anticipated (wrongly, as it happened) the need to withstanda siege or an attack, and so had wanted at least one place in the palace that could bedefended, and that had, moreover, its own access to the outside world, which is whyeach of the rooms had a concealed exit leading into a labyrinth of tunnels.

The exact plan of the tunnels was known only to Undauntra, and thus to the Orb,and it had remained one of the most closely guarded secrets of theImperium--Undauntra had passed an edict making it high treason to even ask aboutthe labyrinth, ensuring that no one but the legitimate ruler would know its secrets. Weshould add that, although there are many stories that concern this labyrinth, it is ouropinion that these stories exist because it is no more possible for a labyrinth to existwithout attendant stories than it is possible for a flashstone to be introduced in thetheater without, at some point in the production, its being discharged--in otherwords, to the best of our knowledge, there is no truth in any of the tales set withinthese tunnels, saving only the matter of Undauntra's whistle, which we will forgodiscussing, as it has nothing to do with the history we have the honor to relate.

It was in this suite of rooms, then, that along with Jurabin, Countess Bellor,various advisors, companions, and a company of guardsmen, His Majesty abided,eschewing the comfortable if plain furnishings of the room set aside for his use,preferring to pace back and forth while awaiting word on the disturbances that haderupted in the very heart of his Empire. A hundred times he questioned Thack aboutwhat the messenger had said was going on, and a hundred times Thack hadanswered that the messenger had brought only orders, no information, except thatthere was trouble in the Underside.

"Trouble!" cried his Majesty. "Trouble! A fire is trouble; so is a flood; so is awindstorm. A thousand Teckla burning down a hundred buildings is trouble; so areten Teckla burning down one building. An armed uprising is trouble; and so is adrunken brawl that has gotten out of hand. Which of these is it? How serious? Whatis being done?"

In point of fact, we should say that his Majesty could have used the magicalproperties of the Orb to reach out and question his Captain of the Imperial Guard.He could have, but he also knew that, if his Captain were in the midst of somecritical operation, such contact could have the most disastrous consequences. So,with difficulty, His Majesty refrained and paced.

His disposition, to be sure, improved when the Consort arrived with her maids ofhonor, for he could then devote his energies to calming her fears--nothing relievesanxiety as much as helping relieve another's, just as wounds of the heart are best

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salved by helping another whose heart is wounded--for man has always lived bestamong his own kind, rather than alone, and there can be do doubt that when manwas first forged, the need to help his fellow was mixed into the very alloy that wentinto his shaping.

So His Majesty sat with Her Majesty--Emperor with Consort, husband withwife--and they spoke together in low tones and awaited further news. The Orbrotated about them, a pale green, as the courtiers remarked in whispers that TheirMajesties appeared to have achieved domestic harmony, and spoke in general termsof the usefulness of a crisis to show what was truly important and to help loverspast the trying times that they all faced now and then (although, in truth, none ofthese courtiers seemed inclined to give any details about any difficulties or tensionsbetween Their Majesties of late, because, in fact no such difficulties or tensionsexisted, saving only a recent spat about interruptions at the supper table).

The courtiers began playing three-copper-mud, except for Jurabin who hadbrought a set of s'yang stones (made of ivory, in fact, with a board of cherry wood;the grooves were all hand-carved, and by a hand that knew its business), andbecame involved in a contest with Lady Ingera, who loved the game as much as he;the "tic" of the flat stones alternating with the deep rolling of the round ones were theloudest sounds in the room.

This was the state of things, at any rate, until there came a much loudersound--this being the rattling and knocking of wood from the next room. It is safeto say that everyone present was, to one degree or another, startled--His Majestyjumped, Her Majesty gave out a tiny screech, Jurabin missed his throw, severalgamblers dropped their cards, and all of the guardsmen reached for their weapons.This was followed by an exchange of sheepish looks, when they realized that whatthey heard was only the sound they had been expecting--someone had pulled theclapper, announcing his presence at the door.

His Majesty drew himself up and walked toward it, as Thack, the seniorguardsman on duty, called out, "Who is it?"

"Rollondar e'Drien," came the muffled answer through the door, "in companywith Lord Khaavren." At the same time as this welcome response was heard, aguardsman looked through the peephole, then turned back to Thack and nodded.

"Sire," began Thack, "It is--"

"Yes, yes. Let them in at once."

"Yes, Sire."

The bolts were shot, the bars drawn back, and the door was opened to admit theWarlord, looking grim and dusty, along with Khaavren, who brought with him boththe dirt and the smell of the Underside, along with rents and tears in his garb andnumerous scratches and cuts on his person--his boots were scuffed and hisshoulder-length hair flew wildly about, save for one spot in the front where it wasmatted down to his forehead by dried blood. If the Warlord, as we have had thehonor to say, looked grim, Khaavren had the appearance of one who had been

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fighting for his life and would be ready to do so again, and woe to any whochallenged him.

Khaavren resolutely forced his eyes away form the assembled and unanimouslybeautiful maids of honor, and dropped to his knee before the Emperor at the sametime as Rollondar, executing a deep bow, said, "We can now report, Sire."

"Good," said His Majesty, making a gesture to Khaavren that he should rise. "Letme sit and listen to what you have to say, for, you understand, there is much that Iwish to hear. I perceive that you have come directly from the streets."

"Your Majesty is perspicacious," said Khaavren.

Rollondar gave Khaavren a quick glance, but His Majesty chose to ignore theirony.

The Emperor sat down, then, with the two soldiers standing before him inattitudes of respectful ease. At his side was Her Majesty, who also listenedattentively, a certain amount of disquiet on her countenance. Behind them stoodJurabin, and around them clustered the courtiers and the maids of honor.

When everyone was settled, His Majesty said, without further preamble, "What isthe state of the city?"

Khaavren looked at the Warlord, who said, "For now, Sire, order has beenrestored."

His Majesty visibly relaxed, then said, "I wish to hear the details."

"Very well, Sire," said Rollondar, and nodded to Khaavren. "You ought tobegin," he told the Captain, "for I was only called in later, and, come to that, at yourorders."

"Very well. I can tell Your Majesty what happened," said Khaavren.

"Then I beg you to do so, and at once," said the Emperor.

"I will."

"I await you."

"Well, this is it. At the eleventh hour of last night, in the Underside, some childrenbegan to taunt some of my guardsmen."

"How, taunt them?"

"Yes, Sire."

"But your guardsmen did not respond, I hope. I should dislike to think that yourdiscipline could be broken by children."

"At first, Sire, they did not respond."

"At first?"

"But the taunts turned into attacks--certain missiles were thrown at them."

"Ah, I see. And so they gave chase?"

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"Exactly, Sire. They gave chase--into an ambuscade."

"An ambuscade?"

"Yes, Sire. Of the three, one was killed, another wounded."

"Hmmm."

"I arrived as the ambuscade was taking place, along with additional guardsmenand certain friends--friends you may recall from some years ago, during thePepperfield affair."

"Yes," said the Emperor. "I remember them. They were involved, you say?"

"Sire, it was with their help that we--my guardsmen and I--succeeded in drivingoff the attackers."

"You drove them off, you say?"

"Yes, Sire. That is to say, we killed several, wounded several more, and the restfled."

"How many were there?"

"Oh, a tolerable round number, I assure Your Majesty. A dozen, perhaps. Lessthan a score, at all events."

"So it was hot work, then, Captain?"

"Oh, yes, Sire," said Khaavren, laughing shortly and pulling his chin. "It was nocooler than a summer in Suntra, yet no hotter than the forges of the Serioli smiths."This speech was greeted by admiring gasps from the maids of honor, and a tinyshudder on the part of Her Majesty; Jurabin's face seemed set in stone, if we maymake use of such a phrase, and the courtiers watched Khaavren carefully, notwithout a few traces of jealousy visible here and there, either because of the attentionhe was receiving from His Majesty, or the attention he was receiving from the maidsof honor.

"Well, go on," said His Majesty, looking at Khaavren with respect and pleasure,for Tortaalik was enamored of all accounts of war and fighting, and the coolness ofthe Captain in recounting the battle pleased him.

"Sire, as I have had the honor to say, we drove them off, but we knew theywould be back."

"You knew? How?"

"Sire, it was an ambuscade, hence part of a greater scheme, though I did notknow--and still do not know--exactly what the scheme was. But we knew theremust be more forces prepared."

"And so what did you do, Captain?"

"Sire, I dispatched a messenger to alert the nearest guard-post, and, moreover, tobring word back to the Palace; then we drew up what battle lines we could, and wewaited."

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"Well?"

"Well, Sire, the hottest work was ahead of us. We were not waiting a quarter ofan hour before they attacked us--mostly Teckla, Sire, but Teckla armed withshovels and knives, and with leaders who knew what they were about. Indeed, weshould not have survived were it not for my friend Aerich, who knew how to fight,and my friend Tazendra, who knew when to discharge a flashstone. I also have thehonor to inform Your Majesty that my guardsman, Tivor, comported himself withgreat skill and courage."

"I shall remember that name, Captain, and he will be rewarded."

Khaavren bowed.

"But, come, what happened next?"

"Next? Well, Sire, we were holding our own, and inflicting certain damage on theenemy--"

"Damage?"

"We killed several, Sire.".

Her Majesty allowed certain emotions to cross her countenance at the Captain'seasy manner of discussing death. The Emperor, who had eyes only for Khaavren,said, "And your own losses?"

"Sire, another of my guardsman was killed, and yet another wounded severely, sothat I do not know if he will live out the night."

"Well, go on."

"Sire, we managed to hold our position until we were reinforced by a detachmentof some fifty or sixty guardsmen of the White Sash Battalion from the station onNarrows, under the command of Corporal Keen."

"You were reinforced, you say?"

"Exactly, Sire."

"And did that quell the disturbance, Captain?"

"Hardly, Sire."

"Well?"

"By this time, Sire, the planned disturbance had touched off a spontaneous riot,that threatened to grow in both length and breadth, and that in no great short time."

"Hmmm," said His Majesty. Her Majesty turned slightly pale, but strengthenedher resolve as she recalled her duties as Consort, and that the Warlord had alreadysaid that the danger was in the past.

"Even with the reinforcements," continued the Captain, "there was little to beeffected save containment, Sire, and so I broke what forces I had into groups of sixor eight, and sent them around the edges of the disturbance, in the hopes that wecould contain the amount of damage until the arrival of the army."

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"And did this work?"

"I believe it did, Sire. It was thirsty work, and busy; yet when His ExcellencyLord Rollondar,"--he bowed to the Warlord--"arrived, the riot had not spreadbeyond the ability of his forces--and forces most skillfully deployed, I shouldadd--to quell."

His Majesty looked at Rollondar.

"Sire," said the latter, "When I arrived, Sir Khaavren,"--here he bowed to theCaptain--"explained the situation in terms most precise and explicit. Uponconsultation with him--in fact, upon his suggestion--we moved his forces to anarea some half a league further into the Underside, while, with half of myforces--that is, with some three hundred troops--we drove the rabble into the armsof Sir Khaavren's command."

"Half of your troops, Warlord?"

"Yes, Sire. The other half remained back, and conducted a house-to-housesearch, to be sure we had missed none of the culprits."

"Ah, ah! I see. Well, and the results of this effort?"

"Sire, in two hours we had quelled the riot, and those responsible are now deador imprisoned."

"How, all of them?"

"That is to say, Sire, if a dozen of them lived and are at large to escape YourMajesty's justice, well, I shall be surprised."

His Majesty beamed. "A complete victory!" he cried.

"That's my opinion," said Rollondar.

"And yours?" said the Emperor, addressing Khaavren.

"I am in all ways in agreement with the Warlord, save for one thing."

"And that is?"

"I am convinced that those responsible were not involved in the uprising, andthus are still at large."

"Hmmmm, hmmmm," said His Majesty. "Why are you so convinced that it wasplanned, Captain?"

"Why, Sire? Well, in the first place, there was the ambuscade."

"Well, yes."

"In the second, Sire, because of the pamphlets."

"How, the pamphlets?"

"Yes, Sire. As part of my duties, I keep track of the subversive material that iscirculated within the city in general and the Underside in particular."

"Well, and of what does this material consist?"

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Khaavren flushed slightly, stammered for a moment, glanced at the Consort, andsaid, "Sire, there is no need for Your Majesty to know the details."

"I see."

"But it is, for the most part, uh, humorous in intent."

"Humorous?"

"Yes, Sire. That is, these sheets poke fun at the court, and the edicts, and uh..."

"And me?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Well?"

"Sire, it is my judgment that, before a true explosion can occur, these circularswill lose their humor, and take on a tone of anger."

"Ah. And you, Warlord. What do you think?"

Rollondar bowed. "I am entirely of the Captain's opinion."

"I see. Then tell me, Captain, why is it these pamphlets are permitted tocirculate?"

"Sire? Well, for two reasons."

"Two reasons? Let us see. What are they?"

"In the first place, because they would simply re-emerge elsewhere, and might bebetter concealed; hence we might not know when they began speaking with voices ofanger rather than irony."

"That is not a bad reason. What else?"

"Because, Sire, to suppress them might well cause them to change their tone atonce."

"Hmmm. Then you believe we should let them continue?"

"I am convinced of it, Sire."

His Majesty sighed. "Very well. Go on, then."

"Sire," said Khaavren, "there is little that I can add to what Lord Rollondar willtell Your Majesty of these things, and, moreover, I am overcome with fatigue."

"Ah, ah, good Captain. Yes, you must go and get your rest--you have wellearned it."

Khaavren bowed, first to His Majesty, then to Her Majesty, then to the Warlord,after which he took his leave and, stopping only to give the necessary orders to hisguardsmen for escorting Their Majesties back to their chambers, he made his waythrough the respectful looks of the courtiers and the admiring glances of the maidsof honor, and so up into the Palace proper, out into the streets, and at last towardhome.

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Chapter the Thirteenth

Which Treats of Khaavren's Return Home

For Conversation with His Friends,

His Decision to Absent Himself

From the Palace for a Day,

And the Arrival of Guests.

«^»IN THE EARLY HOURS OF the morning, with the weight of darkness pressingsilence onto the streets of Dragaera, which darkness was broken only by theoccasional glowbulb or lantern outside a public house and which silence was brokenonly by the occasional lone footstep or call of the Watch, Khaavren made his tiredway back home, his thoughts filled with scattered images drawn from the last severalhours as he had experienced them; indeed, the Tiassa seemed to be in a wakingdream, where hot faces and cold steel rose in ceaseless waves before him andcarried with them all of the emotions--fear, anger, excitement, and evensatisfaction--that, in the fury of the event, he had been too busy to feel. It was, then,with considerable relief that he came at last to his door, and it was with delight thathe determined, from the low murmur of voices he heard as he opened it, that at leastsome of his friends were still awake, and so he need not face the loneliness of hisbed just yet, while the emotions to which we have just alluded--the emotions ofbattle, and at times, it had seemed, hopeless battle--were still fresh in his memory.

Tazendra, who happened to be facing the hallway, was the first to see him. Sherose from her chair with a broad smile and gleaming eyes, crying, "Khaavren! Ah,but it was fine bit of play to-night, was is not? Come, sit and drink a glass of winewith us, and help us as we tell the tale to our old friend Srahi. But come, youremember Mica, do you not? And this is Fawnd, who is Aerich's lackey."

Tazendra, and, for that matter, Aerich, who sat in the chair he had alwayspreferred, still appeared to be awake and alert--a circumstance that amazed theTiassa, knowing, as he did, that they had ridden for thirty hours and then fought forten or twelve more. Mica appeared also to be rested and well, although the thinTeckla called Fawnd seemed, to Khaavren's experienced eye, to be stiff and in acertain amount of pain.

As it happened, Tazendra's enthusiasm was exactly the physick required byKhaavren's nerves, and, before he was aware of it, he was seated in his favoritechair, a glass of wine in his hand, laughing as Tazendra acted out in exaggerateddetail a misadventure on the part of one of their antagonists of the battle; sang an oldcampaign song that mocked the exploits of certain generals who, though once ofgreat repute, were now almost unknown; and recollected particulars of their pastadventures.

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Mica sat at the end of the couch, blushing with pleasure when Tazendra told howhis famous bar-stool had been put to such good use during the ambuscade near ThePainted Sign, which the reader may recall from our previous history. Khaavrenobserved with interest and amusement that, as this story was related, Mica madeoccasional shy glances at Srahi, who ignored him with such determination that therecould be no doubt Mica's notice was returned.

"Well," said Tazendra, when she had for the moment run out of anecdotes, "butwhat of you, Khaavren? Was His Majesty pleased with your report on the night'swork?"

"Pleased?" said Khaavren. "I nearly think he was. At least, he smiled his mostgracious smile, and had nothing but compliments to make us."

"Before the court?" said Tazendra.

"Indeed, before the court. And I should add that I caused your name, Tazendra,to sound in his ears, as well as yours, Aerich."

Tazendra beamed at this, while Aerich shrugged as if this were a matter of noconcern to him (although, to be sure, Khaavren detected a spark of interest inFawnd's eyes; this loyal retainer, it seemed, had more concern for his master's famethan his master did).

"Well, this is all very well," said Srahi suddenly, "only it seems that you, SirKhaavren, must be awake at an early hour indeed, and you have had, if I am notmistaken, a long, hard night already, so that I should think sleep would not beunwelcome to you."

Khaavren's first inclination was to speak harshly to her, but then, with thatperspicacity with which sensitive and intelligent natures are often endowed, heunderstood that she was, in her own way, displaying for Mica; and so, suppressing asmile, he simply rose and said, "You have the right of it, Srahi. The rest of you maycontinue your conversation, but, as for me, my bed is calling in a voice too shrill tobe ignored, and I must placate it, and myself, wherefore I bid you all a pleasantevening."

"Indeed," said Tazendra; "I cannot deny that I have become weary myself;perhaps I am getting old."

Aerich shrugged, but he, too, seemed tired--and none too soon, thoughtKhaavren, wondering briefly if he were the one getting old.

Good nights were exchanged, and Khaavren took himself off to bed, where heslept long and deeply.

He awoke the next morning at his accustomed time, stumbled down to thekitchen, splashed water on his face, consulted with himself, then wrote a quick note,which said,

Sire, I find Myself in need of Rest after yester-day's Exertions. Should anyEmergency arise, Your Majesty knows how to Reach me at Once. In hopes that myAbsence does not Displease Your Majesty, I Remain Your Majesty's Humble

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Servant--Khaavren

He stepped out of the door, still in his nightclothes, and waited until a pair ofguardsmen passed by. He called them over and put the note into their hands,enjoining them to carry it to His Majesty with all dispatch, after which he returned tohis bed, where he slept several more hours, enjoying his rest as only an old soldier,who is perpetually short of sleep, can enjoy it.

He awoke the second time suffused with guilt, somehow aware that he shouldhave been at his post. But then he recalled the events of the night before, andacquitted himself of any misdemeanor in allowing himself a day to recover, so he layback against his pillows in luxuriant sloth until he became aware that the aroma offresh klava was drifting up from the lower floors of the house, which in turn madehim realize that his good friends were, no doubt, still present, and perhaps awake,wherefore he at once took himself from his bed, fairly leapt into his clothes, anddashed down the stairs with an enthusiasm he had not felt in centuries.

Nor was he disappointed; sitting in the parlor were Aerich, Tazendra, Mica, andSrahi, while Fawnd was emerging from the kitchen with a cup of klava, which herespectfully presented to Khaavren.

"Ah, ah!" cried Tazendra. "You have sharp ears, Aerich, for that was, indeed,Khaavren's step you heard. Good morning, my dear Captain--or, rather, goodafternoon. We were just discussing the court, and who better to answer ourquestions than you? But come, you must, no doubt, first have your klava, which I'mcertain will not be unwelcome to you."

"Far from unwelcome," said Khaavren, smiling. He sat down once more in hisfavorite chair, and inhaled of the bittersweet aroma before tasting it. He relaxedfurther into the chair, sipped again, and said, "But come, Tazendra, how long haveyou been awake?"

"Oh, not long, not long," said Tazendra. "An hour, perhaps, since I rose, andAerich was only drinking his first cup when I emerged."

"Ah, well, then I have not been so lazy as I might have been. Did you sleep well?And you, Aerich?"

"Oh," said Tazendra, "I slept tolerably soundly, I assure you--I remembernothing after my head touched the pillow until I smelled the klava that Mica wasmaking, and which pulled me from he bed as if horses were dragging me bodily fromit."

"And I," added Aerich, "slept all the better for the warm remembrances inspiredby this house where we shared so much trouble and happiness."

Khaavren continued drinking his klava from a large, black ceramic mug uponwhich his device and name were engraved on a silver plate affixed to the mug--amug that had been given to him by his command upon the date of the 500 thanniversary of his promotion to ensign. He noticed that, although Srahi and Micawere not, in fact, sitting together, nevertheless their eyes often strayed toward eachother, and that when their eyes met, Srahi would smile and Mica would blush and

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look at the floor. Khaavren, though tempted by memories of Srahi's sharp tongue toembarrass her, virtuously resolved to say nothing on the matter. Instead he treated itas a matter of course and addressed Tazendra once more, saying, "I'm afraid,however, that I must disappoint you in regard to your desires."

"How, disappoint me? In what way?"

"There is little, in fact, that I know of the doings of the court."

"What?" cried Tazendra. "You? Who live all of your life in the pockets of TheirMajesties?"

"That is just it," said Khaavren. "In truth, there is little enough that can be seenfrom inside a pocket."

"Bah! So you do not, at this moment, know what gossip and scandal there is?"

"As I told Pel a week ago--splinters! Only a week!--if you wished to findanyone in the Empire who knew less of the gossip of the court, well, you would havea difficult search. When the courtiers gossip, I am on duty and cannot listen. WhenHis Majesty does me the honor to address me, it is a matter of orders, not the reasonfor the orders. The guardsmen--who, as you recall, are always among the bestinformed--do not discuss such matters with me because I am an officer, whereasthe other officers, such as the Warlord, do not discuss such matters with mebecause I have His Majesty's ear."

"Well," said Tazendra, who seemed to follow this speech only with difficulty,"that is a shame, for I had hoped to learn much that I could not learn in the duchies.You say you know nothing?"

"Not enough to satisfy you, my dear friend; although, to be sure, I know thatthese are trying times for many who make their homes at court."

"Trying times?" said Aerich, raising his eyebrows and putting into his expressionan eloquent request for more details.

"Trying times of a certainty," said Khaavren. "Attend: Do you not know that,when the economy is troubled, intendants are dismissed? And, in addition, when wargoes badly, generals are executed?"

"Well, yes," said Aerich. "That is the usual way of the world."

"Well, they have been executing intendants."

"Ah!" said Aerich.

Tazendra said, "But not, I hope, dismissing generals?"

"As to that, I cannot say."

"Well," said Tazendra, "so the economy is troubled?"

"Shards!" said Khaavren. "I nearly think so. His Majesty has no more money untilthe new Imperial Allowance is decided, the Great Houses bicker about how to avoidpaying their share, the Teckla prepare to rise against the taxes, the revenue farmersprepare to revolt against the Empire if the Emperor decides to recall their tax-rolls,

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the mines are shutting down for want of food, ships lie idle in the harbors ofAdrilankha and Northport, the armies and the wizards wait for negotiations withfinanciers before taking action to end the uprisings and droughts--in truth, theproblems are better suited to the reign of the Orca than that of the Phoenix."Khaavren punctuated this speech with an elaborate shrug, as if to say, "What mattersany of this to me?"

Aerich gave Khaavren an indulgent smile, as if the Lyorn did not for a momentbelieve the Tiassa's protests of unconcern. Tazendra seemed about to speak, but atthat moment there came the sound of wood knocking on wood that indicatedsomeone had pulled the door clapper.

Khaavren sighed. "I am needed at the Palace," said he, "for some trivial matter."

"How, needed?" said Tazendra.

"How, trivial?" said Aerich.

"Why, yes. Who else could be calling on me but someone from the Palace? Andif it were urgent, His Majesty has faster ways of reaching me than sending amessenger."

"Well, are you going to answer it?"

"Cha! Let Mica answer it. Lackeys are in fashion now; let the messenger think Ihave one, and that he wears the livery of the House of the Dzur; it will cause gossipand speculation, which will bring me a certain satisfaction in the contemplation, as Ido not hear these things."

Mica rose and went to see who was at the door. From the living room, they couldhear the door open, then a murmur of voices, and then silence. Khaavren frowned,suddenly remembering his last unexpected visitor and hoping that he had not putMica into harm's way. He was on the point of rising to see when Mica returned, hiseyes wide and his face pale.

"Well?" said Khaavren and Tazendra together.

The Teckla opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, opened it again, and said,"There are visitors, my lord."

"How, visitors?" said Khaavren. "Well, haven't they names?"

"Indeed, they have names," said Mica. "And even, if I may permit myself thehonor of expressing an opinion, very good names."

"Well?" said Tazendra. "What are these names? For you perceive we are waitingfor you to tell us."

"I am about to tell you," said Mica.

"Do so, ninny!" said Tazendra.

"They are," said Mica carefully, "Aliera e'Kieron and Sethra Lavode."

"The Horse!" cried Tazendra. "Adron's daughter, and Sethra Lavode? Here?Now?"

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"Shards and splinters," said Khaavren. "It seems I was entirely wrong."

"Well," said Aerich, smiling. "Are they less welcome for your error?"

"Not in the least."

"Then, are you going to invite them in?"

"Cha! I nearly think so. Come, Mica, bid them enter."

Mica bowed and, not without some signs of trepidation, went to show in theirguests. Everyone stood as Aliera and Sethra entered the room.

"Welcome," said Khaavren, bowing like a courtier. "Allow me to name theTazendra and Aerich. Sethra Lavode and Aliera e'Kieron."

Courtesies were exchanged on all parts, after which Khaavren asked if their newguests would care for klava. This offer was accepted, and Fawnd stiffly brought intwo more steaming cups, after which, still showing signs of pain, he vanished backinto the kitchen to make more, along with Srahi to pulverize the beans and Mica wentto accompany Srahi leaving Sethra, Aliera, Aerich, Tazendra, and Khaavren alone inthe room.

"Well," said Khaavren, "your visit is as unexpected as it is welcome. Do youknow that I have been searching for the two of you?"

"How, searching for us?" said Sethra. "Impossible."

"It is a week since I have done anything else," said Khaavren.

"But then," said Aliera, "you must have a reason."

"I nearly think I do," said Khaavren. "You must know that I am anxious to learnthe results of your investigations."

"Investigations?" said Sethra. "You mean, into the murders?"

"Well, and what else?"

"But," said Aliera. "We have learned nothing definite; you must know that weshould have told you at once if there was an accusation to be made."

"Ah," said Khaavren, attempting to conceal his disappointment. "Well, but then,to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? For you should believe that, delighted asI am by two such lovely and renowned ladies gracing my home, I cannot believe youhave come to enjoy my society--especially when I recall that, had I not beenovercome by my labors of yesterday, I should be at the Palace now and not behome at all."

"But we knew you were not at the Palace," said Aliera.

"How, you knew?"

"Of a certainty, and by the simplest possible method--we asked after you there."

"And," continued Khaavren, "finding that I was not there, you searched for mehere?"

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"We more than searched for you," said Sethra. "In fact, we found you."

"Shards! I nearly think you did. Well then, having found me, I hope you will dome the honor of explaining the reason for your search, for you must know that I amcurious."

"Then," said Sethra, "we shall satisfy your curiosity."

"I shall be happy if you do."

"As will I," added Tazendra, who wished to call attention to herself before suchillustrious visitors.

Aerich merely shrugged.

"We have," said Aliera, "something to report in our investigation into the magicinvolved in the death of Gyorg Lavode, and of the others."

"Something to report? But you have just told me that you had come to noconclusions.".

"There are conclusions," said Aliera, "and conclusions."

"And what you say is true," said Sethra. "We have arrived at nothing definite.Nevertheless, we have learned certain things, and we thought you should know, inorder to help your own investigations."

"Well, you are entirely correct, and I am pleased you have done so. Is it safe tosay that you have, at any rate, learned certain things?"

"Yes," said Sethra. "Or, that is to say, no."

"I beg your pardon," said Khaavren, "you must understand that this answerconfuses me."

"She means," said Aliera, "that we have found answers to some of our questionson some matters, but none to which we can subscribe without room for doubt."

"Ah. Now I comprehend. Well, then, what are these conclusions, insofar as youcan explain them?"

"I forewarn you," said Aliera, "that this concerns sorcery."

"Well, sorcery doesn't frighten me."

"And," put in Tazendra, "sorcery intrigues me."

"Then we shall explain," said Aliera.

"I await you," said Khaavren.

Sethra said, "The forms of sorcery that were used--that is, the patterns oftensions and energy about the affected area--are those of an unskilled sorcerer ofthe House of the Dragon, or a skilled sorcerer of the House of the Jhereg, wishing todisguise his hand."

"I had not known," said Khaavren, "that these patterns were similar."

"They are not," said Aliera coldly.

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"They can easily be mistaken, one with the other," said Sethra. Aliera respondedto this comment with a quick glare at Sethra, but did not speak.

"Ah," said Khaavren quickly. "I see your confusion. But, at any rate, it is hardlythe work of your father--no one would say he is unskilled."

Aliera began to speak, then closed her mouth. Sethra said, "He is so skilled, mydear Captain, that, if he wished, he could make his hand look like that of an unskilledDragon, or a skilled Jhereg."

"Oh," said Khaavren.

"We must look further," said Aliera, "for the proof of my father's innocence."

"We must look further," said Sethra, with a certain sharpness of tone, "to learnwhat actually happened and who is really responsible."

"The tasks," said Aliera coldly, "are identical."

"That remains to be established," said Sethra.

"But do you doubt the outcome?"

"I doubt everything."

"And do you doubt my word?" cried Aliera, rising to her feet.

"Your word, no," said Sethra, also rising. "But your judgment."

"So you said only yester-day," said Aliera. "And do you recall my response? Ihave not changed my mind, and I do not at this moment see a librarian arriving withancient sorcerous tomes to distract us from the business at hand."

"Well, no more do I."

"Then, do you persist in your remarks?"

"This will be interesting," whispered Tazendra.

"Hush!" said Khaavren and Aerich together.

Sethra said, "I have seen you work, lady, and you are skilled in hand and daringin thought, but if you do not temper your opinions in the cool water of fact, thetheory you forge may shatter the first time it is crossed with another."

"Then let us step into the street, oh lady of the tangled metaphor, that I mightunweave it for you, and at the same time, teach you something of the tempered steelyou discuss so carelessly."

"If you wish," said Sethra. "Do me the honor to lead, and--what is it?"

This last remark, so different in tone from those preceding it, was occasioned bya sudden change in Aliera's countenance: Instead of appearing cold and haughty, shenow wore an expression of intense concentration, as if something she wished toremember were eluding her, or she were trying, like an actor of the Hantura school,to hold every muscle unmoving for as long as possible.

Khaavren rose to his feet. "Lady Aliera," he said. "Is something wrong?"

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"Do not speak to her," said Sethra, who had understood almost at once what washappening. "She is involved in psychic communication--mind to mind."

"Shards!" said Khaavren. "With His Majesty?"

"With her father, I would think--for I know they communicate in this fashionfrom time to time."

"How, is this possible?"

"More than possible," said Tazendra. "Though I have never done it, I have beenstudying the art, and it is certainly possible between people who know each otherwell and are master sorcerers."

"Indeed," said Aerich. "It was thus, if you recall, Khaavren, that Garland kept incommunication with Seodra; have you forgotten the famous disk he left behind?"

"Ah, yes, that is true," said Khaavren, remembering their old antagonist Garlandand how he had communicated with Seodra. "Hang me, but I had forgotten it."

"It is exactly as this lady," here Sethra bowed to Tazendra, "has said. It issomething a skilled sorcerer can sometimes do, although it works best when aidedby a device, or between two people who know each other's minds very wellindeed--such as a father and a daughter."

"Well," said Khaavren, "there are times when such a skill would be useful indeed.This may indeed be such a time for the Lady Aliera, as I perceive from hercountenance that she is communicating on a matter of no small importance."

As he said this, Aliera's eyes suddenly focused on Khaavren--it was evident thatthe communication had ended. She bowed to her host and said, "I must leave atonce. I have an errand that will not wait."

"Very well," said Khaavren. "We will, no doubt, see you again."

"No doubt," said Aliera over her shoulder as she left the room. An instant laterthe door was heard to open and close with a force that testified to the urgency of theDragonlord's errand.

Khaavren drew a breath, then sat down. Sethra seated herself as well. Mica camein with klava; he had been standing in the doorway, afraid to enter, during the latterpart of this conversation. Now he entered with some hesitation and poured klavafrom Khaavren's silver pot.

"Does this mean," said Tazendra to Sethra, "that you aren't going to fight?"

"Not at the moment, in any event," said Sethra, smiling a little.

"Well," said Tazendra, sounding disappointed, "perhaps it is for the best."

Aerich shrugged.

"You were explaining," said Khaavren, "that you have, in fact, been able todetermine little about the spells used in the murder?"

"For my part," she said, "I am convinced that they were prepared by a Jhereg."

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Khaavren frowned. "You are convinced of this?"

"Yes, I am."

"But then, why did you--"

"Irritate the Lady Aliera? Because I enjoyed it." She accompanied these wordswith a smile that made the hair on the back of Khaavren's neck wake up and stretch.

He cleared his throat to hide his confusion, and said, "I will take this information,then, and see what I can learn of the matter. I will say that I am nearly certain themurders are related to the riot yester-eve, though it is nothing more than instinctwhich tells me so."

Sethra nodded. "It is not hard to believe," she said. "It is clear that there is aconspiracy at work--a conspiracy that has laid its plans deep and subtle."

"Like a Yendi," murmured Aerich.

"Where is Pel?" said Tazendra.

"Who?" said Sethra.

"A friend of ours from long ago," said Khaavren. "He is a Yendi, and he nowstudies the art of Discretion. It was he who warned us of the attempt on Adron'slife."

"Hmmm," said Sethra. "Could he be involved?"

Aerich shook his head. "If Pel were involved, we should not suspect a Yendi."

Tazendra frowned, as if trying to make sense of this, while, at the same time,Sethra frowned, shrugged, and rose once more to her feet. "Well, I have told youwhat I agreed to tell you. I will now continue my investigations, and do you do thesame, and we will speak more of what we have found. Come, do you think my plana good one?"

Aerich raised his eyebrows and shrugged at the word, "plan" while Khaavrensaid, "Entirely." Lyorn and Tiassa rose and bowed to Sethra, while Khaavren added,"For my part, I shall attempt to discover--"

He was interrupted by the rattle of the door clapper. Khaavren looked at Sethra,at Aerich, and at Tazendra. then watched the doorway. Presently, Mica came in andsaid, "A messenger from His Majesty has arrived, and desires Lord Khaavren toaccompany him back to the Palace."

"Indeed," said Khaavren.

Srahi appeared behind Mica and said, "I'll fetch your sword and your uniform,Lord."

Khaavren began to ask why she wished to do this, but then changed his mind andsimply nodded.

"What do you think His Majesty wants you for?" said Tazendra.

Said Khaavren, "Some trivial matter."

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Chapter the Fourteenth

Which Treats of the Arrest

Of a Superintendent.

«^»WAS THE MATTER UPON WHICH Khaavren was summoned trivial in fact? Thisis not a judgment the historian is willing to make. The reader need not, of course, bereminded of the "Tale of the Smudged Letter," in which a drop of water causes thesinking of an island; and there can be no doubt of its basic, though apocryphal,truth: History is, for the most part, a recitation of paltry insignificant deeds that,taken together, or in sequence, reveal the complex workings of Man and how hecame to the place he occupies. We cannot say if the single event for which Khaavrenwas ordered back to the Palace (which was, to be sure, of more moment than alove-letter to a cobbler's servant) was a vital link in the chain of events that we havechosen to narrate; we can only narrate it, and allow the reader to make this decisionfor himself.

Yet it behooves the historian, as one who has taken upon himself the task ofrelating historical fact and revealing causality and logic in the interrelationships ofthese facts, to consider the following: How poorly must this letter have beenworded, that one drop of water could change its meaning so completely? Howignorant must have been the boatman to be unaware of the currents in a river hecrossed every day? How foolish must have been the seer to mistake a broken oar fora sign from the Gods? How foolhardy must have been the wizard to exchange runesin a spell without testing the results? And so we may continue down the sequence ofevents related in the tale.

The lesson of the fable--which is, as much as anything else, to keep one's roofalways in repair--is certainly a good lesson for those whose dispositions inclinethem toward laziness. Yet it would be a poor historian who would accept the mererelation of such a series of events as being good and sufficient explanation.

So, then--was the matter upon which Khaavren was summoned to the Palacetrivial? This, we repeat, is not a judgment we are prepared to make. Nor, for thatmatter, did Khaavren make any such judgment; his only concern was whether it fellwithin his province as Captain of the Phoenix Guards, and it was to answer thisquestion that, upon arriving at the Imperial Wing, Khaavren went at once in search ofHis Majesty.

While Khaavren had been speaking with his friends, an entire day had passed atthe Palace (and Khaavren's absence, while noticed, had not impaired the functioningof the offices or ceremonies of the court in any way), so that when our worthyTiassa--that is to say, Khaavren--arrived, His Majesty was at supper with theConsort.

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Khaavren caused himself to be announced, and prepared himself to endure HerMajesty's stony glare while Imperial matters were transacted at supper for the secondtime within a week. However, he was not brought into the room--instead he wasgiven a note with the Imperial seal.

He frowned, broke the seal, and, standing just where he was--without the Hall ofWindows--read it. It was short and left no room for questions or interpretations:"Order for Khaavren, Captain of the Imperial Guards, to arrest the Countess Bellor,Superintendent of Finance, and confine her in my prison in the Iorich Wing of theImperial Palace." It was signed by Tortaalik.

"Well now," murmured Khaavren, recalling his words of just a few hours before."I spoke better than I thought if it has really come to this."

He addressed the servant who had handed him the message, saying, "How areHis Majesty's spirits today?"

"His spirits, My Lord?" said the servant, a young Teckla with a clear eye andlarge ears.

"Yes. His spirits. Is he angry, distracted, cheerful?"

"Well, My Lord, it seems to me that he has had a sour disposition for the entireday."

"Ah, ah! And do you know anything that might be the cause of His Majesty'sunhappiness?"

"My Lord, I know that he spent some time closeted with Jurabin, yet he seemedto be in an ill humor even before this occurred."

Khaavren shrugged. "I would be in a sour mood if I knew I would be forced tospend time with Jurabin," he thought to himself, "but I suspect there is more to itthan that. But, still, no doubt the minister gave him news that displeased him, and theblame fell on poor Bellor, and that is the whole story." Aloud he said, "Tell me, ifyou would, did anything unusual happen at court today?"

"Unusual?" said the Teckla, frowning. "Well, My Lord, there was the fishdiscovered in the bathing pool. No one yet knows who put it there, yet the gentlemenof the court all laugh whenever--"

"What else?"

"What else? Two Teckla demanded to see His Majesty at different times duringthe day, which is, My Lord, the first time I have known two to appear on the sameday."

"And was His Majesty disturbed?"

"Oh, not in the least, My Lord; Dinb was able to discourage both of them with notrouble. But it is unusual that, in one day--"

"Yes, yes. Pass on. What else of moment happened today?"

"Well, there was a petition from the Academy of Discretion, but I do not know

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its substance, for it was delivered in private."

"Ah, ah," said Khaavren. "A request for funds, no doubt."

"That is possible," said the servant. "And even likely. For immediately after thepetition was presented, Countess Bellor was sent for."

"Indeed," said Khaavren. "Well then, perhaps that goes some way towardexplaining things."

"Explaining things?" said the servant.

"Nothing, nothing," said Khaavren. "It doesn't matter. I am wondering aloud.Thank you for the information you have given me, my dear fellow. Here, take this todrink my health, and I will take another and drink yours."

"Willingly, My Lord," said the servant, pocketing the coin, bowing, and goingabout his business.

Khaavren spent a few more minutes thinking over what he had learned, then heshrugged philosophically, knowing that he might never know the full and exactreason for the order, and that knowing it made no difference to the execution of hisduty. Khaavren, like a good officer, was rarely more content than when he had aclear, unambiguous order to carry out, and an order, moreover, that he knew to bewithin his powers to fulfill. Hence he put the letter into his belt next to his gloves,adjusted his sword-belt, and set off for the offices of the Superintendent of Finance.

The Superintendent had, in fact, two offices. The first was on the fourth floor ofthe Imperial Wing. It was large, elegantly appointed, lavishly furnished, and neverused except for entertaining official visitors. The second, to which Khaavren at oncetook himself, was in the Phoenix Wing, on the first floor but far, far back, nearlyabutting the Imperial Wing (although, except for any secret passages of whichKhaavren was unaware, there was no direct route). Khaavren had no need to askdirections, and he found himself in front of the door, at which he clapped twice,strongly.

A clerk, a Lyorn Khaavren had never seen before, opened the door, peered out,then opened the door wider, at the same time blocking it.

"My Lord," said the clerk. "May I perform some service for you? If you are hereconcerning pretended arrears in pay, I assure you that no one can help you untilto-morrow, when you must present yourself between the twelfth hour after midnightand the third hour after noon, and you must, moreover, bring with you papersindicating--"

"Is the Countess Bellor within?"

"Why yes, My Lord. She is indeed. And yet, I am sorry to say that mattersrelating to arrears in pay, or," here the clerk looked at him shrewdly, "advances, arenot to be addressed at all except--"

"Then if you will be pleased to announce to her that Khaavren, Captain of HisMajesty's Guard, wishes to pay her a visit, I will be grateful to you."

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"Nevertheless, My Lord, I must insist that--"

"A visit, I should add, on Imperial business."

The clerk hesitated.

"You will do well not to waste His Majesty's time," said Khaavren.

The clerk blanched at the cool, official voice of the Captain; he licked his lips,hesitated for another instant, then nodded and said, "My Lord, I will be honored toannounce you at once."

"That would be just as well," agreed Khaavren pleasantly.

The Countess Bellor appeared with almost no delay, an expression of curiosityon her sharp-featured face. She wore purple and red of the finest silk, with gold overall, and had painted a red streak down the middle of her hair. She carried herself withthe air of one accustomed to being polite out of duty, who knows herself to holdone of the highest posts in the Empire. She did not, in either dress or countenance,have the look of quiet skill and intelligence that Khaavren had always thought shouldmark the Superintendent of Finance for the Empire. Khaavren shrugged off thesethoughts, for, he admitted to himself, he had never had Tazendra's knowledge offashion, Pel's impeccable taste, or Aerich's ability to wrap himself in such dignitythat whatever garb he affected appeared to be the height of elegance.

He bowed deeply to the Phoenix noble and said, "Countess Bellor, I am here onbehalf of His Majesty."

"Well," said the Countess. "You are then doubly welcome. Please come in, andtell me at once how I can make myself agreeable to His Majesty my cousin."

Khaavren took a step into the room and bowed once more. "You can makeyourself agreeable, Madame, by doing me the honor of putting your sword into myhand."

"Your pardon," said Bellor. "You wish for my sword?"

"Yes, madam, you have understood me exactly."

"I am to give you my sword?"

Khaavren, who was used to having his speech, normally so clear and precise,questioned at such times, merely nodded gravely.

"But, what use could you have for my sword?"

"None, in point of fact," said the Captain conversationally. "Nevertheless, I musthave it."

Bellor stared. "How, am I arrested, then?"

"Yes," said Khaavren, bowing slightly. "That is it exactly. You are arrested."

There was a slight commotion behind Khaavren, but, when he looked around, hediscovered it was caused by the clerk who had first admitted him, and who, uponhearing the word arrest, had sat down suddenly and without first being certain of thelocation of his chair.

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Bellor, who seemed oblivious to her clerk's discomfiture (being, no doubt, tooconcerned with her own), said, "His Majesty has ordered my arrest?"

"Your arrest, madam, and even your confinement."

"My confinement? In prison?"

"Yes, Countess. Your confinement in prison. I am, in fact, to escort you there atonce, as soon as you have surrendered to me your sword."

"But... but this is impossible!"

"How, impossible, madam? Not in the least. I assure you that I have carried outsuch orders before, and they are entirely possible. In fact, only rarely do theypresent any difficulty. I would hope that you shall not be one of those who presentsuch difficulties, for you perceive it could only be unpleasant for us both, and theresult will be no better than if you had remained agreeable."

Bellor stared openmouthed at Khaavren, so that her costume, which hadappeared to him silly before, now, stripped of its wearer's confidence in herself and(hence) her appearance, seemed positively absurd.

"Come, madam," said Khaavren. "You perceive there is no reason to delay."

She looked at him as if he were a sort of impossible and inconceivable animal,then said, "May I be permitted time to write a short note to His Majesty?"

"You may," said Khaavren. "And, moreover, I will undertake to deliver it into hisown hand, if you wish."

"I assure you, you will make a friend for life if you do so."

Khaavren shrugged. This was not the first time he had made a friend for life ofone he was escorting to the Iorich Wing.

"And," she continued, "may I be allowed to change my clothing? For I am hardlywearing appropriate garb for prison."

"Better than that," said Khaavren, "you may take time to pack a small valise, soyou will have some choice of what to wear while you are confined. However, I mustwatch you pack, to ensure that no papers are accidentally taken or destroyed, assometimes happens when one packs in an hurry."

Rather than being insulted by this insinuation, Bellor gave a distracted nod as ifshe could not understand how any papers she possessed could matter to anyone."Come, then," she said, "and we will fetch my sword."

"I ask nothing better."

She led the way past several plain desks at which sat clerks and intendants, all ofwhom wished to give the appearance of being hard at work and oblivious to thedrama taking place. They went back into her office, which was filled almost tooverflowing with pictures on the walls, chairs on the floor, and jewelry suspendedfrom the ceiling, and in which a small desk covered with dust and documents washidden in a far corner. After searching for some little time, she found a bejeweled

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rapier in an even more bejeweled scabbard. Khaavren took this weapon with a bow,hiding his distaste as well as he could. He need not, in fact, have troubled himself,for Bellor was entirely oblivious to everything except the shock she had justreceived.

Khaavren did her the courtesy of turning his back while she changed into a pair ofwhite breeks and a blouse that was also white and decorated only with a bit of goldlace, along with simple, comfortable brown boots. When she announced that shehad finished changing her dress, Khaavren escorted her up a stairway in back whichled to her quarters, and watched while she summoned a servant to pack a valise andto carry it for her. This operation took some little time, during which the Countessasked if Khaavren knew anything of why she was being arrested.

"I assure you, madam," said the Tiassa, "that no word of any reason has reachedmy ears."

"It is strange, then," said Bellor.

"Indeed," said Khaavren. "You are, then entirely ignorant yourself?"

"I feel as simple as a cow-herd," she said.

"So, then, you have done nothing to offend His Majesty?"

"Nothing at all, I swear it."

"You have not, for example, refused him funds he requested for some purposeor another?"

"How, refused him funds? Oh, Captain, it is true that he requested funds for theAcademy of Discretion."

"And did you supply them?"

"You must understand, Captain, that there were no funds available, which Ihardly think is my fault."

"It is not your fault?" said Khaavren. "You, the Superintendent of Finance?"

"Well, it is true that I am Superintendent of Finance. But in that role, I only keepwatch on what money there is--I cannot create it."

"Well, and did you explain this to His Majesty?"

"Of a certainty I did."

"And did he seem satisfied with the explanation?"

"As to that, I could not say. At any rate, he asked me to show him the records."

"Well?"

"Well you understand, Captain, that I could not do so. The intendant who kepttrack of such things is scarcely cold. He was murdered, you perceive--"

"Yes. Smaller was his name, was it not?"

"That was it exactly."

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"And he was the one who knew the state of the treasury?"

"As well, Captain, as you know your sword."

"You must miss him."

"To be sure, there has not been an hour since his death when I have not mournedhim."

"What sort of fellow was he?"

"Oh, as to that, I couldn't say. We hardly exchanged ten words in the scores ofyears he has been employed by me. Yet--"

"Forgive me, madam, but I believe your valise is ready. Come, allow me to escortyou."

On the way out, they walked past the Lyorn clerk, whose mouth had not yetmanaged to close, and to whom Khaavren remarked, "Perhaps I will see you soonabout an advance in pay," to which the clerk could find no response. The servantclosed the door behind them. As they left, Khaavren and Bellor walking together as ifthey were old friends, and the servant trailing behind with the valise, the Tiassa said,"I have the authority and the freedom, madam, to take any reasonable route to ourdestination, which is, of course, the Iorich Wing. Since I have this freedom, why, Igive it to you. Have you a preference?"

"A preference?" said Bellor. "Why should I have a preference?"

"Well, you perceive that you are arrested."

"Indeed, sir, you have my sword."

"Exactly. Now some, upon being arrested, prefer that as few people as possiblesee them. Others, for fear of vanishing without a trace, prefer their arrest to bewitnessed by as many as possible. I, having received no orders on the subject, willbe happy to guide you in whatever way you wish."

"You are most courteous."

Khaavren shrugged.

"Well, the answer to your question is that it matters to me not at all, whereforeyou may choose whatever path most pleases you."

"Very well. In that case, we will take the shortest route. We ought, in that case, toturn here, descending these stairs, which will take us all the way down to the BlueCorridor, which leads directly to the main floor of the Iorich Wing."

"As you wish, Sir."

Khaavren had, by one route or another, arrived at the Imperial Prisons beneaththe Iorich Wing perhaps a hundred times, yet on each occasion he was reminded ofthe first, when he came as a prisoner rather than a captor. This memory awakenedseveral emotions within our Tiassa: a certain irrepressible fear of confinement; a sadlonging for the simple love he had felt for Illista, who had proved herself false withinthese very walls; and a certain pleasure as he recalled the triumph which had

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followed on the very heels, as it were, of his disgrace.

None of these thoughts, be it understood, caused Khaavren to hesitate in the leastin carrying out his duties. He said nothing as he led the way, until Bellor herself, whohad appeared deep in thought for some time, broke the silence, saying, "Captain, didHis Majesty say anything to you which might give me a clue as to why he hasordered my arrest?"

"No, madam, I must confess that he did not even speak to me on the matter, buthe merely gave me the order through the hand of a servant."

"Would you like to know why I have been arrested? For I believe that, afterthinking about it for some moments, I could tell you."

"If you wish to tell me, well, I will be happy to listen."

"I do wish to tell you, for I have no one else to tell, and, moreover, because youare someone who may be able to act on the information I am about to impart."

"In that case, madam, I assure you that you have my entire attention."

"That is well. This is it, then: His Majesty has ordered my arrest because I havefailed to provide a proper account of the state of the Imperial Treasury."

"I see."

"It seems reasonable, don't you think?"

"Madam, I must take your word for it, for none of these matters fall within myprovince."

"I give you my word, it is reasonable."

"Very well."

"Only--"

"Only?"

"Only the reason I have been unable to provide these accounts, is because, as Ihave explained, my best intendant has been killed."

"Yes, you said that Intendant Smaller was killed."

"The very man."

"Well, go on."

"I have been thinking about this matter, trying to understand."

"What is it that is puzzling you? For you perceive that I wish to know."

"I have been trying to understand why anyone would wish to kill Smaller, whowas, by all accounts, an inoffensive man, and entirely devoted to his duties."

"Ah. And have you a theory?"

"I do indeed."

"Well, I am listening."

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"I will tell you then. I believe he was killed in order to precipitate my arrest."

"How, you think so?"

"Splinters, can you doubt it?" said the Countess. "For, within days after hismurder, here I am, arrested!"

"Then you believe," said Khaavren, "that the object of murdering Smaller was tomanage your arrest and removal as Superintendent of Finance?"

"That is exactly my belief."

"Hmmm," said Khaavren. "It is possible." Khaavren allowed no trace of hisopinion of this theory to appear on his countenance; he merely nodded somberlyand encouraged his prisoner to continue speaking.

"And of course, the only reason to arrest me, is to throw the treasury, and hence,the Empire, into confusion."

Khaavren reflected that the murder of the intendant had accomplished that, andthat the arrest of the Countess made no difference whatsoever, but he merely said,"That is, of a certainty, an interesting thought."

"And a true one, I am convinced of it."

"You may be right," said Khaavren.

"Good Captain, you must explain this to His Majesty."

"Hmmm," said Khaavren.

"It is not for myself I fear, but for him. Perhaps you can find the names of thosewho are behind this conspiracy against me--that is to say, against His Majesty--andwhat they plan to do."

"Indeed," said Khaavren. "I will consider carefully all that you have told me. Butfor the moment, we are now arrived at the prison, and I must leave you in the care ofthis gentleman, who will see to your comfort while you are his guest."

Bellor turned her eyes to the jailer, an Iorich named Guinn with whom Khaavrenhad had numerous dealings in the past. Guinn bowed politely, and, after signing thepaper Khaavren presented to him, turned his attention to the Countess. Khaavrenbowed and took himself hastily away from the Iorich Wing, and retraced his steps tothe Imperial Wing with the intention of interrupting His Majesty, who waspresumably engaged in his evening toilet, and of reporting to His Majesty on theresults of the commission.

As he walked, he considered what the Superintendent had told him. "Certainly,from all evidence, there is no reason to conspire against her. Yet there is this muchtruth in what she says--the murder of Smaller must, indeed, be part of somethingbigger. And, the more I think about it, the more worried I become.

"Ah, Khaavren, this is a matter of the security of the Empire, and that is exactlyyour province! You must discover who is doing what, and why, and you must wasteno time.

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"But how to do it? Well, there is a clear answer to that: When there is a war, onefinds a Dragon; when there is corruption, one goes to a Jhereg; and when there areconspiracies afoot, one goes to a Yendi--and there is a Yendi I claim as a friend. Iwill unburden myself to him, telling him all I know and suspect, and I will listen to hisadvice. So, as soon as I have reported to His Majesty, I will discover his quartersand return the call of courtesy with which he honored me just a few days ago. Ah!And here we are already at the Imperial Wing. Let us finish this business as quicklyas possible, and so on to other, more important issues."

Yet, as Khaavren set foot into the Hall of Duchies, where those of the court oftengathered for conversation after Their Majesties had retired, he realized that somethingunusual had happened or was happening. The entire court, or as much of it as wasgathered in the Hall of Duchies, which seemed to Khaavren to be a great deal of it,was in an uproar of scandalized courtiers, frustrated ministers, and baffledguardsmen.

Khaavren frowned, touched his sword, and strode forward into the hall todiscover the reason behind the excitement and commotion.

Chapter the Fifteenth

Which Treats of the Transformation

That the Duke of Galstan Undergoes,

And the Return of Our Old Friend Pel.

«^»KHAAVREN, AS WE HAVE SAID, entered the Hall of Duchies with the intentionof learning what had caused the commotion and disturbance so apparent therein.Some of the guardsmen knew some of what had happened, and some of thecourtiers knew more; the process of putting the story together from these piecestook Khaavren some twenty or thirty minutes. The reader will be glad to know thathe will be saved this time; some of the value in reading history must lie in the abilityof the historian to quickly summarize events that took the participants hours, days,or even years to understand; in fact, it is as much in efficiency--that is, in the savingof the reader's valuable time, as it is in the drawing of lessons and conclusions, thatthe value of written history lies.

Khaavren, upon seeing the commotion, had at first assumed that either Bellor hadmore friends than he had thought, or that some aspect of the arrest had beenremarked upon as unusual or disturbing; he was as surprised as, perhaps, the readeris to learn that this uproar had nothing (or, at any rate, nothing directly) to do withthe dismissal of the Superintendent of Finance, but rather followed a drastic breachof etiquette on the part of Aliera e'Kieron, who had demanded to see His Majestywhile His Majesty was concluding his evening rounds. To be more precise, we willsay that, at a certain time, Aliera had entered the Palace through the Dragon Wing,

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passed the Warlord's quarters without even acknowledging a challenge (Khaavren, ifhe had time, would no doubt have words for those who let her through!), and, afterdemanding answers of certain courtiers who ought not to have supplied them,discovered that His Majesty could be found, at this hour, walking through the Hall ofBallads, escorted by Corporal Thack, in lieu of Khaavren, whose duty this normallywas, and the Lady Ingera, Lord of the Keys. Some of these courtiers were evenindiscreet (or, perhaps, mischievous) enough to tell her how to find this hall in thelabyrinthine Imperial Wing. By all accounts, when she arrived she burst into the halljust as His Majesty was commanding that it be locked; in fact, Aliera very nearlyoverturned Ingera, who was at the point of inserting the key into the lock when Alieramade her spectacular and unseemly entrance.

Thack, for his part, though startled, noticed at once that Aliera had a sword at herside, and knew very well that this was not allowed in the presence of His Majesty,wherefore he interposed himself between Aliera and the Emperor and drew his ownsword, taking on his most threatening aspect. Aliera appeared quite unconcerned;she merely unbuckled her sword belt and offhandedly tossed it to Thack, whilesaying, "I beg leave, Sire, to have speech with Your Majesty," in a tone quite inconflict with her well-chosen words, but entirely in accord with the time and mannerof her arrival.

Lady Ingera recovered her dignity, Thack stared at the sword-belt whichappeared to have suddenly grown from his left hand, and His Majesty stared downat Aliera (who, the reader ought to recall, was exceptionally short) as if he couldn'tquite think what sort of beast she was, but knew that it was one he'd seen before.

At last he said, "This is hardly the time for speech. Should you returnto-morrow--"

"Sire, a most urgent matter has come to my attention, wherefore I humbly crave amoment of your time." Need we add that, even now, the tone of her voice and theattitude of her person made a marked contrast to her words? Need we add that theOrb, which, upon her entrance, had flashed to a startled white, was now turning red,and becoming ever darker?

Nevertheless, His Majesty, matching Aliera's angry gaze, said, "Well, then, if thematter is so urgent, you may speak of it," in a tone that said plainly, "It will go hardwith you if you haven't sufficient cause for this outrage."

"Sire, it has not been an hour since, in accordance with Your Majesty's orders,my quarters were entered and one of my possessions taken."

The Emperor's face darkened and he bit his lip. "Impossible," said His Majesty.

"How, impossible? You say--"

"I say that nothing has been removed from your room that could possibly beyour possession."

Aliera's eyes narrowed. "Would Your Majesty do me the honor to explain? For Iconfess that I am entirely bewildered." The reader ought to understand that thesewords, like the others which issued from her lips, were, if we may be permitted to

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use the expression, bitten off--that is, each was pronounced carefully and precisely,conveying, by tone, Aliera's exasperation as the words themselves conveyed herunfailing courtesy.

"I will more than explain!" cried the Emperor. "I will tell you exactly what hasbeen removed from your chambers, and why."

"I ask for nothing better."

"What was taken was an object of pre-Empire sorcery. Do you understand me,Lady Aliera e'Kieron? An object of the sort that has been forbidden since thecreation of the Orb itself!"

"Which is odd," remarked Aliera, "when one considers how the Orb was made.Nevertheless, Sire, I must protest--"

"You protest? You protest? You protest?"

"Indeed, Sire. But only once."

"Possession of such an object is punishable by death!"

"Is it, Sire?" said Aliera, in a tone of cool inquiry. "But what is the punishment forviolating the privacy of a lady's chamber?"

"I think you do yourself the honor of questioning me!"

"Do I commit an impertinence, Sire?"

"An impertinence? I nearly think you do!"

"Well, but how does my impertinence in questioning Your Majesty compare toYour Majesty's impertinence in causing your guardsmen to enter my privatechambers and conduct a search of my possessions?"

"You dare accuse me--me, of impertinence?"

Aliera looked at him coldly, and, though she was considerably shorter than he,seemed almost to be looking down at him. "The Orb and the Throne, Sire, are givenwhen one becomes Emperor. Stewardship of the Empire must be earned." With thiscomment, she bowed, took several steps backward, and recovered her weapon fromThack, who still held it as he watched, dumbfounded. Then she turned and made herway out of the Hall of Ballads.

This was what had occurred, and was what Khaavren learned as he listened toand pieced together different stories and rumors from those assembled in the Hall ofDuchies. When he understood enough, he paused and consulted with himself. "Imust now," he said, "come to a decision. If I return home, or to my offices, therewill, without doubt, be a message for me to find His Majesty, who will then order meto arrest Aliera, who is not a Superintendent, and is not, furthermore, someone Ihave any desire to arrest, as she is the daughter of someone I do myself the honor toconsider a friend. If, instead, I continue with my plan and go to visit Pel, then I willavoid this order at least long enough for Aliera to have a good start on me. No onewould accuse me of neglecting my duty when I had no duty to neglect--I am, afterall, on my own time, now that the hour at which His Majesty retires is at hand."

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Then he sighed. "I would, however, accuse myself. No, Khaavren, you cannotescape so easily. Your conscience will follow you, and it will whisper in your ear,and it will disturb that sleep which you value so highly, and cast a pall over thatdiscourse with your friends, and especially with the noble Aerich, that you take suchjoy in. No, His Majesty wants me to arrest Aliera, of this there can be no doubt.Therefore, I will be as good a servant as I can, and I will seek him out in hischambers. If he has retired for the night, and left me no message--well, so much thebetter. If, as I suspect, he has left orders, or, more probably, he is waiting up to givethem to me, then I will carry out those orders with as much dispatch as if I werearresting a Teckla or an Easterner or a Superintendent of Finance."

Having reached this decision, Khaavren made his way at once to His Majesty'sbedchamber. The two guardsmen on duty informed him that His Majesty had onlylately retired, and was, in all probability, still awake; an opinion Khaavren confirmedafter passing into the antechamber by noticing the light which leaked out beneath thedoor of the bedroom. He positioned himself in front of this door and clappedsharply.

"Who is there?" called His Majesty.

"Khaavren."

"Ah, ah! My Captain of the Guard! Please come in, my dear Khaavren, for Idesire nothing more than speech with you."

"I am hardly surprised," said Khaavren under his breath. He entered the room andbent his knee to the Emperor, saying, "Sire, I am here to report on the commissionyou have given me."

"Yes, exactly. Did the matter go off well?"

"Entirely, Sire. Countess Bellor is now confined in the Iorich Wing. Here, Sire, isthe receipt I had of Guinn."

The Emperor took the receipt, read it, and nodded. "So much the better," hesaid. "Did she have aught to say?"

"Oh, Sire, she said one thing and another, as prisoners will on their way toprison."

"Ah, she protested her innocence?"

"Precisely."

"And claimed a conspiracy against her?"

"Exactly."

"And even against me?"

"Just so."

The Emperor smiled. "Well, you and I know of such things, do we not, Captain?Bellor was not the first to be arrested, nor shall she be the last."

"Now we come to it," thought Khaavren, but he only bowed to acknowledge His

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Majesty's words.

"Well," said His Majesty. "Is that all?"

"That is all, Sire."

"Very well."

"Sire?"

"I said, very well. If that is all, you may go, and I will see you in the morning."

"I--"

"Yes?"

"There is nothing else, Sire?"

His Majesty frowned. "Something else? What do you mean?"

"Your Majesty has no other orders for me?"

"Why no, Captain. There are no other orders."

Khaavren bit his lip, trying to keep the surprise from his features. "Nothing at all,Sire?"

"Why no. Is there something you expected?"

"That is to say... not in the least, Sire. I was simply making certain nothing hadbeen overlooked."

"Nothing of which I am aware."

"Very well, Sire. I shall see Your Majesty in the morning."

"Yes, Sleep well, Captain."

"And may Your Majesty do the same."

Khaavren made a courtesy, and left the Emperor's chambers, puzzled. Not onlyhad there been no order to arrest Aliera, but there was no trace of ill-humor on HisMajesty's countenance. Had he, Khaavren, been misinformed? He considered thesources of his information and decided this was unlikely. So what could it be? Hadsomething else happened? Was some part of someone's plan working, even now?

If so, there was one man who knew how to unravel such schemes, and there wasno time to lose before finding him. Khaavren, without further delay, went back downto the main level of the Palace, out through the Silver Door, and so into the PaintedTunnel, which led to the Athyra Wing. Once there, he had three times to askdirections through the dark and twisted corridors of the Wing, until at last heemerged into a section of the third floor of the Palace, where a woman, seated on aplain, three-legged stool, guarded an entryway (or, at any rate, seemed to guard it,though she had no weapon) into what seemed an unlit corridor. Here Khaavrenstopped and said, "Is this the Academy of Discretion?"

"It is, My Lord. May I be of service to you?"

"I hope so. I am looking for the Duke of Galstan."

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The woman, whose features could barely be seen beneath the hood, raised hereyebrows and said, "My Lord? You wish to see him at this hour?"

"I am Khaavren, Captain of the Imperial Guard, and I assure you that mybusiness will not wait."

The woman frowned and said, "Please have the kindness to wait here. I willinquire."

"I will not move from this spot," said Khaavren.

She disappeared back into the darkness of the hall. As her footsteps faded, itseemed to Khaavren that silence had descended on the entire Palace, as if there wereno other living person within it. He shivered, though he was not cold.

Although the wait seemed long to Khaavren, it was, in fact, only five or tenminutes before she returned, appearing from the darkness as suddenly as she hadvanished into it. She said, "He will be down directly, My Lord. If you wish, you maycome with me to a place where you can sit while you await him."

Khaavren looked into the gloomy corridor and said, "I will wait here."

"As you wish."

Khaavren passed several more minutes alone--we say alone because the woman,after seating herself on the stool where we and Khaavren first found her, fell silentand motionless, so that it seemed to Khaavren his only company was a statue, and astatue less lifelike than many of the sculptures that adorned the Hall of Ballads whichhad, earlier that evening, been the scene of the very events which so mystified himnow. Eventually, however, he heard soft footsteps and Pel appeared in the samerobes he had worn when he had paid his visit to Khaavren, only in this place theapparel seemed entirely congruous with the surroundings. Khaavren was able to seethat the Yendi was smiling within his hood. Pel took Khaavren by the arm andescorted him some forty or fifty feet away from the dark corridor and out of earshotof the lady who stood guard.

"My old friend," said Pel in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry to have awakened you," said Khaavren, also attempting to speaksoftly, though he was not certain why it mattered.

"Awakened me?" said Pel. "I was not sleeping--I was merely meditating, and thatonly lightly, so that your interruption, if it can be called such, brings me nothing butpleasure, especially if it affords me the opportunity to be of some service to you."

In fact, Khaavren saw no trace of sleep in the Yendi's veiled but alert eyes. "Somuch the better," said Khaavren. "For I am, indeed, asking for your help."

Pel nodded. "Then let us find a place where we can not only speak, but allow ourvoices free play, which, out of respect for those who are sleeping or meditating, wecannot do here."

"If you wish," said Khaavren, "you may come back to my house, which is at thesame place you remember. Even better, Aerich and Tazendra are there, for I believe

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it was you who sent to them."

"And they arrived?"

"In good time," said Khaavren, laughing. "Such good time that--but I will tellyou the entire affair when we are sitting down."

"I ask nothing better," said Pel. "But first, have you any errands about thePalace?"

"Why, yes, there are one or two matters I could attend to. Why do you ask?"

"Because I do not choose to go out in the world dressed as I am, so I would askthat you take care of your errands, and I will meet you in your offices, and you canescort me back to the house of which I retain such charming memories--thoughhang me if, at this moment, I can remember how to get there. Come, do you thinkmy plan a good one?"

"I can think of none better," said Khaavren. "I will await you in my offices in theDragon Wing."

"You will not need wait long," said Pel.

"So much the better," said Khaavren.

"Until then."

"Until then."

With these words they parted, Pel disappearing back into the gloom of theAcademy of Discretion, Khaavren making his way as best he could into the DragonWing, and so to his offices, where he took care of certain paperwork that hadaccumulated during the day he was absent. When he was finished, he reviewed thelog of the day's events, where two items seemed to him especially interesting. Thefirst, in Thack's careless hand, was an account of orders received that afternoon toallow certain guardsmen belonging to the White Sash Battalion into the privatechambers of Aliera e'Kieron in the Dragon Wing. It was, of course, the White SashBattalion who would have conducted any searches; Khaavren would not allow hisown guardsmen to soil themselves with such matters, nor had his battalion anybusiness in the private areas of the Dragon Wing. In fact, there was some questionwhether Stonemover's guards ought to have been there, but, as this was outside ofKhaavren's province, he gave it only passing thought.

The other entry that Khaavren noticed with interest, amusement, and a certainamount of annoyance, was that His Majesty's altercation with Aliera was recorded inthis way: "Adron's daughter gained entrance to the person of His Majesty in the Hallof Ballads and had a conversation with him, after which the evening roundscontinued."

Khaavren determined to speak with Thack on the matter of the log, as well asspeaking to those who had let Aliera past--although Khaavren had a certain amountof sympathy for anyone who was required to stop Adron's daughter from goinganywhere she wished to go.

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It was while he was considering this matter that the night door-ward said, "TheDuke of Galstan to see the Captain."

"Ah!" said Khaavren. "Come, that wasn't too long a wait. Bid His Veneranceenter, by all means."

The Duke entered, and Khaavren sprang to his feet. "Pel!" he cried.

"Himself," said Pel, smiling and bowing.

Gone were his plain dark robes; instead he wore a bright white blouse with finegold embroidery in wavy lines down the breast. The collar of this blouse was long,and pointed like arrows at the shoulders, which were covered by a sort of bright redyest with black embroidery. The vest, we should add, had also black borders, whichformed twin lines down the front of his blouse, which worked to set off the goldembroidery we have already mentioned. At his waist was a wide leather sword-belt,with leather designs cunningly embedded, and in which reposed a pair of elegantgrey gloves. Also from the belt there hung that sword with its slender blade anddueler's grip that Khaavren remembered so well, and that had been put to such gooduse in days gone by. Below the waist, Pel wore loose-fitting breeches, and shinyblack boots which came almost to his knees. There were small silver spurs on theboots.

"Pel!" cried Khaavren again. "Shards, but it is good to see you back again!"

"Ah, then you approve of my costume?" said Pel, smiling.

"Approve? I nearly think so!"

"Well then, there is no more to be said. Let us go to your home, where we willgreet our old friends, and you will discuss with me this difficulty you haveencountered and about which you do me the honor to consider my opinion to havesome value."

There being nothing to say to this, Khaavren rose and escorted Pel out of theDragon Wing and so out onto the Street of the Dragon, where they walked arm inarm toward the Street of the Glass Cutters.

"It is a long time since I have made this walk," said Pel. "Yet it is all comingback, and bringing with it the sweetness of youth."

"Our friends will be pleased to see you, I think."

"Oh, yes. And the good Srahi? Will she remember me?"

Khaavren laughed. "It is unlikely that she will remember her own name; she isthinking only of our old friend Mica."

"Oh ho!" said Pel. "That is something I had not expected, though perhaps Ishould have."

They arrived in due time at the house, where Srahi let them in, only to informthem that Aerich, Tazendra, and Mica and Fawnd--the latter now somewhatrecovered from the exertions of his journey--had left with Sethra some two hoursbefore, appearing to be in a great hurry, though she, Srahi, did not know why. The

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Teckla appeared to be put out by this--so much so that she scarcely greeted Pel atall, although she did consent to bring him, and Khaavren, a glass of wine as theyseated themselves.

"So," said Pel, "our reunion appears to be delayed. Nevertheless, you can tell meof this matter that has you puzzled, and I will, I assure you, put my entire mind tosolving whatever the problem is."

"I will do so," said Khaavren. "Only I must first tell you that this is an Imperialmatter, and if word of it reaches the wrong ears it may have the gravestconsequences, both for me and for the Empire itself."

"Ah, Khaavren, you wound me," said Pel. "When have I ever been indiscreet?"

"Never, my friend," said Khaavren. "And I do not accuse you; I merely wish toinform you of the gravity of the matter we are about to address."

"Very well, I am informed."

"Then I will begin."

"I await you."

With this, Khaavren launched into the details of the various assassinations, thearrest of Bellor, and the peculiar situation with regard to Aliera and His Majesty. Pellistened to the story with careful attention, but with no change of expression at anypoint during the recital. He made no comment, nor did he ask any questions until, atlength, Khaavren had finished, at which point he said slowly, "On some of this, mydear friend, I will be able to enlighten you."

"In that case, you have my complete attention."

"In the first place," said Pel, "you are correct--the Academy did, indeed, petitionHis Majesty for funds, and I think it was this that precipitated the arrest of Bellor.We did not wish to have Bellor arrested, or even removed from her office--rather,we hoped to secure the funds we need to continue our curriculum. You, who havedealings with His Majesty every day, must understand the importance of our role,and you must have perceived the changes in His Majesty's character since Wellbornretired."

Khaavren, not wishing to say too much to this point, contented himself withnodding.

"The matter of Aliera's confrontation with His Majesty, and His Majesty'speculiar lack of outrage, is, indeed, mystifying, and in two different ways."

"Two ways?"

"Indeed. The one you have noticed--how could His Majesty permit himself to beso insulted without responding?"

"Well, and what is the second mystery?"

"The second mystery is: How did His Majesty know that there was an item ofpre-Empire sorcery in Aliera's chambers? Surely he would not have dared to order a

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search within the Dragon Wing if he hadn't been entirely convinced--certain, infact."

"Well, that is true. And so?"

"And so, how did he come by this certainty?"

"Indeed," said Khaavren. "I had not thought of that."

"I do not know the solution to either of these mysteries, but I know where tobegin looking."

"And that is?"

"The Prime Minister."

"Jurabin?"

"Exactly."

"But, Pel, why Jurabin?"

Pel smiled. "Because it is a matter that involves the Lady Aliera, and word hasreached my ears that Jurabin has conceived a fondness for her that is so strong itclouds his eyes--eyes none too clear, perhaps, to begin with."

"Hmmm. I must consider what you say."

"As to the conspiracy itself, well, I am forced to say that I agree with you,Khaavren. This has all the odor of a well-laid plan. Too well-laid, in fact, for I haveno idea where to begin looking."

"It is as I feared," sighed Khaavren.

"Although," Pel added suddenly, "now that I think of it, there are two places totry first."

"Well, and tell me those two places, and I will begin looking there."

"One is Jurabin, for the reasons I have already mentioned."

"Yes, Jurabin is one."

"The other is the Consort, because all intrigues involve the Consort, sooner orlater."

"That is true," remarked Khaavren.

The Captain considered for a moment, then said, "Well, you have pointed outsome directions in which I should look. I will begin investigating these matters in themorning." He spoke, we should add, with more confidence than he felt--Khaavrenknew how to interrogate prisoners, but he knew little about how to conduct aninvestigation of the type he was about to commence.

Pel said, "With which of them will you begin?"

"Which one? I have not considered this."

"Well, let me know, because then I will begin with the other."

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"How, you?" cried Khaavren.

"Indeed, and why not?"

"You are then, willing to assist me in the investigation?"

"More than willing, my friend, I am even eager; for it appears to be a seriousmatter, and I am anxious to do my part. Moreover," he added with a smile, "ourfriendship is not one lightly forgotten. So, will you have me?"

"I can think of nothing that would make me happier," said Khaavren, with perfectfrankness.

"Well, then, with which of them do you wish to begin?"

"For my part," said Khaavren, "I will begin with Jurabin, whom I know a littlebetter than I know the Consort. This will leave you with Her Majesty, and I knowthat you have certain skills in dealing with ladies--skills that I have never acquired."

Pel blushed slightly at this remark, but said, "Very well, then, it is agreed." Hefrowned then and said, "I wonder where our friends are?"

"I don't know," said Khaavren. "I, too, am curious." Then he sighed. "There is,I'm afraid, yet one more thing you ought to know."

"Well? I am listening, my friend. I perceive by the expression on yourcountenance that it is a serious matter."

"I'm afraid it is, dear Pel. Here, what do you make of this? It was in the bundle ofcorrespondence that I was looking at while I was waiting for you in my office." Hetook from his pocket several pieces of paper which had been folded together, all ofwhich he handed to his friend.

"It is," said Pel after studying it for a moment, "a poorly printed pamphlet,consisting of bad drawings of figures at court, gossip, and ill-executed rhyme."

"Have you seen such things before?"

"Indeed yes, Khaavren. And I tell you are wrong to be upset. When theymock--"

"You have not looked it over carefully, my friend."

"Indeed? What is it that catches your eye?"

"Do you see the drawing on the inside page, on the far left?"

"Yes. It appears to be an attempt to draw His Majesty engaged in a functionwhich, while he no doubt performs it every day, belittles the dignity of the Imperiumto contemplate. Yet I fail to see--"

"Look at the item below it."

Pel quickly read the indicated paragraph, then he frowned, looked up atKhaavren, and said, "Ah."

"Then you, too, see what I see?"

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"Yes. The humor is coarse and the language execrable, but the implication is thatHer Majesty is conspiring with merchants to rob the people."

"Exactly."

"It is the first such implication I have seen."

"And you think--?"

"As you do, Khaavren. It is a bad sign."

"And yet, to suppress it--"

"Exactly. Would only make it worse."

Khaavren nodded. "We may be in for difficult times. Pel."

"Indeed. I do not envy you your job."

Khaavren sighed. "Perhaps it will blow over."

"Perhaps," said Pel. "And yet, when the people whisper of conspiracies by themerchants and the aristocracy--"

"Yes. They are facing harder times than I had thought, and it may be that disorderwill follow."

"Well, there is nothing to be done on that score," said Pel.

"Indeed, that is true. And yet, there is something that remains to be done rightnow, for the evening is not over. Although we must get an early start to-morrow, yetthere is still something we must do to-night."

"Is there?" said Pel. "Then tell me what it is, and if I can help you, I will do so."

"Oh, indeed," said Khaavren. "I can think of no one who will be of more helpthan you."

"Then I am listening."

"Here it is, then. Earlier to-day, I had a discussion with a Teckla who gave mecertain information. I promised him that I would go out and drink his health. Nowthis is something that, it seems to me, would be better done in company, and I canthink of no company I would prefer. So, if you are willing, we will drink to the healthof this nameless Teckla, and then--cha! we will drink to each other's health as well.Come, what do you think of this plan?"

"My dear Tiassa, I can find no flaw in it."

"In that case, my dear Yendi, let us find the Hammerhead Inn, which still stands,and which brings back such pleasant memories, and put our plan into operation atonce, with the intention of being as successful with this one as with the one we willinitiate on the morrow."

"After you," said Pel.

"I am leading," said Khaavren.

And they made their way out the door, where they acted on Khaavren's plan with

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all the enthusiasm two old friends could bring to such endeavors, and where theymet with no small success.

Chapter the Sixteenth

Which Treats of a Busy Night

In Dragaera City,

As Greycat Unfolds His Plans,

And Adron e'Kieron Struggles

To Control His Temper.

«^»WHILE HIS MAJESTY, AND, INDEED, most of the population of the city slept,there was a great deal of activity taking place, as it were, beneath the surface. Thiswas to be one of those nights with which history is here and there dotted; a nightwhen plans, discussions, and ideas were first planted: plans, discussions, and ideaswhose fruit would not emerge on the tree of history until after some as yetundetermined springtime should arrive to melt the snows of apparent quiescence andsomnolence and awaken every mind to the light of day, open every eye to witnessthe passing of the season, and cause every heart to leap, in joy or terror according toits nature, at the wonder of the sudden blossoming of new growth which wouldappear, fully ripe, in the hazy dawn of a new era of history. This literal andmetaphorical night, then, though passing unnoticed by all but a few, was pregnantwith a day that would literally and metaphorically shake the Empire itself upon itsbirth.

We will attempt, therefore, to insure that the reader will remain cognizant of everyseed that is sown on this night--the night following the 14th day of the month of theVallista in the 532 nd year of Tortaalik's reign. We hope that we have fulfilled ourduties in keeping the reader informed of every significant development in our historyup to the present point, and, with the Gods to guide our pen, we shall do our utmostto continue as we have begun.

As the reader might expect, our next stop on this journey through times andplaces, via the medium of the printed word, one of the most effective means of travelyet devised, is to a tavern. But it is not, in fact, to the tavern to which our friendsKhaavren and Pel are directing their attention, for at the same moment they are off torenew their old friendship, there is a far more sinister gathering in an entirely differentpart of town--in fact, in the Underside, in the same cabaret to which our duties ashistorian have brought us on two previous occasions, and to which our duties may,we are forced to admit, bring us again before our tale is told.

On this occasion, there were three conspirators present, these being Greycat,Laral, and Dunaan. They sat in the same back room, and spoke quietly.

Laral said, "I have learned something of interest."

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"Well?" said Greycat.

"You recall that His Highness, the Duke of Eastmanswatch, did not appear for histwo appointments--that is, his appointment with the public, and his appointmentwith me--at the Pavilion of Kieron."

"I remember very well," said Greycat. "Do you now know the reason?"

"I do indeed," said Laral. "And, if you wish, I will tell you."

"That is exactly what I wish," said Greycat. "Why did he not appear?"

"Because he was warned," she said.

Dunaan seemed surprised, and looked an inquiry at her.

"Warned?" said Greycat.

"Exactly."

"By whom?"

"I don't know yet."

Greycat frowned. "If someone has learned that an attempt was to be made on hislife, we may all be in danger."

Laral nodded.

"We must find out how he came to be warned."

"I will attempt to do so."

"Very well."

Dunaan said, "I am pleased to report, at any rate, that Countess Bellor has takenup residence in the Imperial prisons, and His Majesty is, at present, without aSuperintendent of Finance."

"Excellent," said Greycat.

"What was your method?" said Laral.

"I have friends in the Academy of Discretion," said Dunaan.

Laral nodded.

"For my part," said Greycat, "the riot went off as planned, although it was endedsooner than I had hoped. Still, it accomplished what it was intended to accomplish."

"Which was?" said Dunaan.

Greycat shook his head but didn't answer. He then turned to Laral and said,"Now I must ask you a question."

"Very well, ask."

"Knowing that you had not succeeded in removing Eastmanswatch, did you thenattempt to remove him in a different way?"

Laral frowned. "Speak more plainly," she said. "For you perceive that I don't

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understand your question."

"An effort was made to discredit His Highness, through his daughter, Aliera. Thisis not what I wish. It would be better if--"

"That was no doing of mine," said Laral.

Greycat sighed. "I was afraid you would tell me that. It means there are otherplayers in the game."

"Does that startle you?" said Dunaan, smiling a little.

"Just what is the game?" said Laral.

Greycat hesitated, then shrugged. "I am attempting to gain a position at court," hesaid, "as well as a certain measure of revenge, although that is secondary." He smiledslightly. "You two will not, I take it, object to having an influential friend at court?"

The two Jhereg matched his smile and saw no need to otherwise answer thequestion.

"How do you hope to accomplish this objective?" said Dunaan.

"By creating a crisis which I will be able to solve."

"A good plan," said Laral. "If it can be done."

"In spite of certain setbacks," said Greycat, "it is progressing satisfactorily."

Dunaan shrugged. "What needs to be done now?"

Greycat considered. "We must not make another attempt on the life of HisHighness. If he suspects, then it will be too dangerous."

Laral started to object, but Greycat held up his hand. "No, we must concentrateon other things. If all goes well, there will be ways to make certain he is put out ofthe way."

"Does the same apply to the Tiassa?" said Laral.

"No," said Greycat. As he spoke, there was a certain narrowing of his eyes andcurling of his lip that suggested that, to Greycat, Khaavren was more than animpediment to his schemes.

"Well?" said Dunaan.

"No," said Greycat, answering the Jhereg's implied question. "Laral will take careof the problem, since we are going to leave His Highness alone."

"I will do so," said Laral in a tone of finality that spoke nothing good aboutKhaavren's future.

"And I?" said Dunaan. "Toward what task ought I to set myself? For I assumeyou have something in mind for me."

"I do," said Greycat. "You are to find me an assassin."

The Jhereg frowned, then looked significantly, first at Laral, then down at hishands; then he sent Greycat a look of inquiry.

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Greycat smiled and shook his head. "An expendable assassin."

"Ah."

"One who is skilled, and who will follow orders, and who is either stupid ornaive."

"How," said Laral. "A stupid assassin? A naive assassin? It is unlikely."

"I am forced to agree," said Dunaan.

"Are you certain? Is there no one you can find who is skilled, yet not wise in theways of deceit?"

Dunaan said, "Then you plan--?"

"Let us not discuss it."

"I see."

"Can you find one?"

He thought for a moment, then abruptly nodded. "I believe so."

"Good. Then there is no more to say."

"On the contrary," said Laral. "There is, indeed, more to say."

Greycat questioned her with a look.

"The riot."

"Yes, what of the riot?"

"Exactly what was that intended to accomplish?"

"That is my affair," said Greycat.

"No, it is now all of our affair, for, not only have you revealed much of your plan,but you must perceive that Dunaan and I are now far too involved to escape anyrepercussions of this plan should it fail."

Greycat looked at Dunaan, who, notwithstanding his apparent dislike of Laral,said, "I am forced to agree. I, too, wish to know, and you ought to tell us."

Greycat shrugged. "Very well," he said. "It was intended to make the courtfearful of the people, and to heighten to the crisis."

Laral nodded. "Are you aware that it did more than that?"

"To what do you refer?"

"You may have convinced the court that it was a genuine riot, or you may not.But you have certainly convinced the people. There are whispers of revolt in thestreets."

"Let them whisper," said Greycat. "Let them, in fact, shout if they choose. Theyare rabble, which you know as well as I. What can they do?"

"They can send the Empire up in flames if you aren't careful," said Laral. "Thenwhere will you be?"

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Greycat smiled in a way that only he could smile--a peculiar, feral expression. Hesaid, "I will then be exactly where I wish to be. For, because I create the unrest, Ican quell it the same way."

Laral watched him for a moment, then said, "For your sake, as well as for ours, Ihope so."

Dunaan nodded, silently echoing her sentiments.

Greycat shrugged. "Let us review, then."

"For my part," said Laral, "I am to kill the Tiassa, Khaavren, and also to learnhow Prince Adron was warned about the attempt, and, furthermore, how much thePrince knows, and how much is known by whomever warned him."

"That is it," said Greycat.

Dunaan said, "I am to arrange for you to meet an assassin who is either foolish ornaive, but who is, nevertheless, a skilled assassin."

"Precisely," said Greycat.

"Then," said Laral, "there is now no more to be said; I will be about mybusiness."

"As will I," said Dunaan.

Greycat nodded, but did not otherwise move as they departed the room and thecabaret.

When they had gone, Grita, her dzur-like eyes narrowed and her hair sleekedback like a veritable tsalmoth, emerged once more from the shadows. "Well?" shesaid.

"Well?" said Greycat.

"I think the lady from the Jhereg speaks with more wisdom than you. I, too,wonder if you can put out the fire you are so willing to start."

"You are not privy to all of my plans, nor to all of my secrets," said Greycat.

"Enough of them," said Grita, catching his eye.

Greycat turned away.

"Have you a task to assign me?" she said after a moment.

Her tone, we should add, contained a certain amount of irony, as if she thought itamusing that he should give her instructions.

He either didn't notice or chose to ignore the tone, simply saying, "Yes."

"Well?"

"Make your way into Adron's encampment, however you can, and--"

"However I can?"

"That is correct."

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She laughed humorlessly. "You know, I take it, what you are implying I shoulddo?"

Though still facing the wall, he blanched, as if he could not bear the look shegave him, even though he could not see the expression on her face. "I implynothing," he said.

"Hypocrite."

He turned back to her suddenly. "You--you of all people will not address me insuch terms. You know better than anyone what I am doing and why. And don'tforget what you stand to gain from this. As for your scruples--if you haveany--they are your concern. You are welcome now, or at any time, to back out ofthe entire affair. But until you do, and as long as you ask me how you can be useful,I will tell you. The details are hardly my concern."

She laughed, but did not otherwise answer him. "And once I have entered HisHighness's encampment, what then?"

"Then you will stay with him, as close as you can, watching everything he does.Do nothing for the moment, but be prepared for anything."

"And yet, you are aware that my talents are best employed in the city, amongthose you call rabble?"

"I know," he said.

"Without me, how will you control this rabble, and set them off when and howyou wish?"

"I have made arrangements."

"Ah! So I am no longer needed. Is that what you tell me?"

"As I said before, you do not know all my secrets, nor are you privy to all myplans."

Grita made him an elaborate courtesy. "Very well. I will go to join a host ofDragonlords."

"Good."

"Until later, then--Greycat." She laughed as she pronounced this name, as if shethought it funny; if so, she was surely the only citizen of the Underside who thoughtso. When he did not respond to her baiting, she turned without another word andwalked out of the room, leaving Greycat alone with his thoughts, where we will alsoleave him, but only after, with the reader's permission, saying two words aboutGreycat as he appears on these pages.

We have endeavored to remain true to history regarding both the appearance,character, and intentions of this fascinating if distasteful figure. We are not unawarethat there may appear to be a certain mystery about him--in fact, we should go sofar as to say that if there is no mystery about him, we have failed in our duty ashistorian. Yet it has come to our attention that some readers may wonder if thehistorian is, as it were, playing games--and that Greycat may, in fact, be the alias for

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an entirely different person--Jurabin, for example, or even Pel.

This is a point on which we must insist: We are endeavoring to relate historicalfact, and, in the course of doing so, to entertain and enlighten the reader, but onlyinsofar as we can entertain and enlighten without compromising our integrity as anhistorian. We now give the reader our word that, in general, if we are withholdinginformation, it is only because that information was not then available to any of thesethrough whose eyes we are witnessing the unfolding of this history; and in specific,Greycat has not and will not appear anywhere in these pages under another guise.

With this firmly established, let us now move on. It is hardly coincidental that ournext stop is identical to Grita's--that is, the encampment of the Duke ofEastmanswatch and his Breath of Fire Battalion, located outside of the city. Here wewill catch up with several of our friends at once; for not only is the Duke Adronhimself present, but so is his daughter, Aliera; as well as Sethra Lavode, theEnchantress of Dzur Mountain; and, lo and behold, our missing friends, Aerich andTazendra. Mica, we should add, was outside of the tent, near the entrance, sitting onhis faithful bar-stool and awaiting the end of the discussion within. Fawnd, who hadstill not entirely recovered from the journey on horseback, had been givenpermission to retire for the evening, and was sound asleep not far from the tent.

These five were gathered, as beneath a dark, threatening sky, within the large tentthat was Adron's home while he was with his battalion. In the back of thetent--which was big enough to hold a meeting of fifty captains--was the boardcovered with the peculiar mosaic of purple stones that we observed earlier, only itwas, at this moment, entirely covered by a cloth, so that nothing of its nature couldbe divined. There was a small table off to one side, covered with the papers Adronhad been perusing when the visitors arrived, and there were cushions thrown aboutthe tent, on which cushions were seated four of our friends--that is, all of themexcept Adron himself, who walked back and forth, back and forth, between the tableand the covered board.

Of the others, Tazendra appeared determined to remain plussed in spite of anyvicissitudes in her environment, though her eye strayed constantly between those twogiants of history, Adron and Sethra. Aerich, though he watched Adron closely,maintained his natural and habitual calm. Sethra was seated facing Adron, and theexpression on her countenance was troubled, as if she heard the thunder andunderstood the lightning. Aliera seemed grim, as if she were determined to remainstanding in spite of the ferocity of the wind. Thus we see that, to judge by at leastfour of those present, there was something disturbing at issue.

But to look upon Adron was to look upon the storm--for every muscle in hisface was taut, his hands were clenched into fists, and he appeared to be havingdifficulty in preventing himself from exploding into a fully fledged rage that wouldmake him a danger to everyone present--for there is nothing more terrifying than aDragonlord wizard who has lost his temper and has no good place to direct hisanger.

The reader will know from his own experience that it is no unusual trait to shout,

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rage, and shake one's fists when angry--it is as easy to find a person who acts thisway as it is to find acorns in the Traveling Wood. But there is more than one reasonbehind such behavior. Some throw tantrums to frighten those around them intotaking shelter, or negotiating with the lightning. Some, with no such plans, find it theonly way to express their frustration at the uncaring climate. And some, like the Dukeof Eastmanswatch, know that, when anger threatens to engulf them, to cry out theirexasperation is the only way to prevent themselves from losing all control andengaging in undirected violence against anyone and everyone unfortunate enough tobe within range of the lightning bolts of their rage. Where such people areconcerned, we can only be thankful when they know themselves well enough todirect their tempers into a channel more or less harmless.

With this firmly in mind, we will observe the rage of his Highness Adrone'Kieron.

"Who is he, anyway?" cried Adron to anyone who would listen. "Did you knowthat his mother attempted to enlist in the Imperial Service during the Reign of theOrca, and was thrown out of the Navy because she could not learn to navigate? Didyou know that his father, before his marriage, lost all of his wealth investing in adevice that was supposed to clear the sky of its overcast--a device that neverexisted, wouldn't have worked, and, if it had worked, would have made no moneybecause no one cares anyway? Did you know that his education stopped at the ageof one hundred and ten because he was so arrogant his tutors, one at a time, gave upon the notion of teaching him anything? Did you know--"

"Father," said Aliera.

Adron stopped. "What? What is it? This fool, this spurious Emperor, this falsecommander, dares, dares to have searched the private chambers of my daughter,and then expects to be served by gentlemen? He expects to command the loyaltyof--"

"Father!" said Aliera.

"What? The very idea that he could--"

"Father, you must stop. You must know that all of your troops can hear you."

"Let them hear me!" cried Adron, still rapidly pacing back and forth. "Do youthink it matters to me if they know what sort of man--I say man not Emperorbecause, may the Gods hear me and weep, we cannot deny him his species, but hehas never proven himself to be an Emperor--what sort of man we find ourselves inthe service of?"

Aerich said calmly, "It is unseemly for a gentleman to belittle one whom the Godshave made his master in the presence of those of whom the Gods have made himmaster."

This stopped Adron, if for no other reason than because he had to think for amoment to work out what the Lyorn was saying. From anyone else, such a remarkwould almost certainly have been the "drop that broke the dike" as the saying is, butdelivered by the Lyorn, it caused His Highness to pause and consider, and, in this

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consideration, he began to cool down.

"Perhaps," he said at last. "And yet the idea of this pipsqueak Phoenix having hisruffians enter--"

"Father," said Aliera. "I've spoken to His Majesty, and I assure you I saideverything that was necessary. I think we should now put this matter behind us,and--"

"I beg your pardon," said Sethra. "But the last thing we should do is put it behindus--at least until we have stared at it from the front a little longer."

Aliera turned a puzzled glance her way. "You think so?"

"I am certain of it."

Aliera frowned and addressed Aerich, saying, "And what is your opinion, mydear Lyorn?"

"I am entirely in agreement with Sethra Lavode," said Aerich.

"Explain, then."

"I will do so," said Sethra.

"Come, let us listen. You too, father."

"Very well," said Adron gruffly, and sat down on the cleverly constructedcollapsible chair that he always brought with him on campaigns so he could sitwithout undue strain on his back.

"This is it, then," said Sethra. "Before we move on, and put this unfortunate affairfrom our minds, it is well for us to consider several questions which spring from it."

"What questions?" said Aliera.

"In the first place, we must ask ourselves how His Majesty knew to search yourroom for this object."

"That is a good question," admitted Aliera. "And next?"

"Next, we must ask ourselves why you, Aliera, have not yet been arrested."

"Arrested? Bah. We came here directly. Who would dare to attempt to arrest mehere, in the midst of my father's encampment?"

"Would you resist?" said Aerich. "If so, it would be open revolt against theEmpire, as I hope you perceive. Moreover--"

"Yes? Moreover?"

"The answer to your question is our friend Khaavren. For I assure you that, if hehad been given the order to arrest you, he would be here by now, though everywarrior of the House of the Dragon stood before you."

Adron chuckled at this, and said, "I nearly think you are right."

"That was," said Sethra, "exactly the impression I had of him from the time wespent together."

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"Well then," said Aliera. "Why has the order not been given? Have you anytheories?"

Tazendra, who had been silent during this entire discussion, said, "Yes. Are thereany theories?"

This produced an embarrassed moment of silence, during which Adron andAliera looked at her quizzically, Aerich grimaced, and Sethra favored her with anamused glance. Tazendra blushed and looked away.

Sethra said, "It is clear that someone intervened on your behalf."

"Ah!" said Aliera. "Yes, that is possible."

"But who would have done so?" said Adron.

Sethra shrugged. "My own guess would be Jurabin, for he has His Majesty's ear,and it is obvious to everyone that he is much taken with you, Aliera, especially asyou were, according to all the court gossips, eyeing him most indiscreetly duringyour introduction to His Majesty a few days ago."

As quick as an indrawn breath, Aliera was on her feet, crying, "I was what?"

"It does no good to be angry with me, my dear girl," said Sethra. "I only repeatwhat I have heard from my sources at court."

"You heard that I was--how did you put it? Eyeing this... this... this minister!"

"Exactly."

Aliera seemed to control herself only with difficulty. Then she said, "I am notangry with you, nor do I hold you to blame. If you will give me the name of whoevermade this preposterous claim, I will say no more about it."

"How?" said Sethra. "Give you the names of my informants at court? It isunlikely."

"I must insist," said Aliera coldly.

"Insist?" said Sethra, in tones of amazement. "You?"

"You find it amusing?"

"Aliera," said Lord Adron.

"What? Am I to stand here and allow myself to be accused of such conductwhile I have sufficient steel at my side to insist on the respect due my rank andlineage? I will not allow this,woman to--"

"Aliera!" said Lord Adron.

"What? You must understand that this woman is implying that I have beenplaying the coquette--and, moreover, doing so with someone with whom I wouldn'tso much as--"

"Aliera, recall where you are, and what we are talking about. We have no timeto--"

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"Bah! Time! It will take only moments to dispatch this haughty--"

"I should point out," said Aerich coolly, "that should the two of you slaughtereach other, it will be much more difficult for us to learn what has actually been takingplace at court--and, whatever is taking place, it is clear that it has more far-reachingconsequences than who has insulted whom. I suggest the two of you delay yourquarrel for at least long enough for us to come up with a plan of action. For my part,I think Sethra's point ought to be considered--it may well be Jurabin who has beeninvolved in this, however much the Lady Aliera may have encouraged or failed toencourage such emotions as he may be experiencing."

Silence fell in the tent, then Aliera said, "Well, there is some justice in what yousay."

The Lyorn bowed his head.

"Then how ought we to begin?" asked Adron.

"I wish Khaavren were here," murmured Tazendra.

"Well," said Aerich, smiling. "I think our clever Dzurlord has hit on it."

"How, I have?"

"Indeed, my friend. Our first step ought to be to find Khaavren, and let him knowall that has occurred. Next, perhaps we should find Pel; the clever Yendi may be ableto shed some light on these things--he certainly knew that Your Highness's life wasin danger; who knows what else he has knowledge of?"

Adron shook his head. "No, we cannot involve Khaavren in any of this."

"Your Highness?" said Aerich, surprised.

"He is the Emperor's creature."

"Well? And if he is, he is nevertheless our friend."

"And therefore, can we ask him to help us in a matter which could bring his dutyinto conflict with his friendship?"

"Ah," said Aerich. "I had not considered that." He frowned and seemed troubled.

"Well?"

"Perhaps you're right. But Pel--"

"Is he not in the Academy of Discretion?"

"Yes," said Aerich.

"And is not his Academy supported by the Emperor?"

Aerich shrugged. "All of the nobility is supported by the Emperor."

"In fact," said Adron grimly, "it is the other way around."

"No, Your Highness. We support His Majesty with our gold; the Emperorsupports us with his majesty."

"So it should be," said Adron. "It is rarely so."

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Aerich shrugged.

"Khaavren is a good friend," put in Tazendra. "And so is Pel. If they were havingdifficulty in which we could help, they would not hesitate to tell us."

Adron bit his lip. "Nevertheless," he said, "for now, we should keep this toourselves."

"Father," said Aliera.

"Yes?"

"What are you planning?"

Adron smiled at his daughter--a smile in which there was a certain degree ofpaternal fondness, odd as that may be to think of when discussing Adron and Alierae'Kieron. Yet it was true, as all the accounts of the time agree, that these two giantsof history, father and daughter, cared for one another even as fathers and daughtersamong commoners might. Adron said, "You are not easy to deceive."

"Well?"

His eyes strayed to the covered board in the back of the room, then he said, "Iam planning nothing that I wish to discuss, Aliera."

"Very well," she said.

Aerich's eyes narrowed; Sethra's lips pressed together; and Tazendra's eyebrowsrose.

"Then our plans?" said Aliera.

"Someone must speak with Jurabin," said Adron.

"I will do so," said Aliera.

Adron nodded. "You must attempt to learn what he knows of the search of yourroom, and do not stop until you are certain you have emptied him of thisknowledge."

"And I will try to learn as well," said Aliera, "what His Majesty's intentions aretoward you."

"If you wish," said Adron, shrugging his shoulders.

"And I," said Sethra, "shall accompany the Lady Aliera, lest anything untowardhappen to her while she is at the Palace."

"I will remain with His Highness," said Aerich, not saying anything more--to putinto words that he feared for Adron's safety would, of course, have been an insult.

"And I," said Tazendra. "I will..." she frowned. "I'm not certain. What ought I todo?"

Aerich thought for a moment, then said, "You and Mica return to the house, andtell our friends that we have been in conference with Lord Adron. Of course, youmust mention nothing of our plans, or of our concerns about Jurabin."

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Tazendra nodded brusquely. "Very well," she said.

Sethra's eyes appeared to twinkle for a moment as she looked at Aerich, but if henoticed this he gave no sign of it. Tazendra rose and said, "If we are to go, we oughtto take our leaves of Your Highness."

"Yes," said Adron, who seemed distracted, but came back to himself longenough to say, "Though I am not undisturbed by the news you have brought, still, Iam delighted to see you, my friends, and I could not ask for better companionshipfor my daughter."

Tazendra and Aerich bowed deeply to Adron, after which father and daughterembraced. Then Sethra and Tazendra called to Mica, who appeared in the doorway,his faithful bar-stool slung over his shoulder.

"We are ready to leave," said Tazendra.

"Yes, my lady. I shall bring the horses."

"Aerich will be remaining here with His Highness."

"Yes, my lady."

As Mica went to fetch the horses, Aerich suddenly turned to Aliera and said, "Mylady there is one question that I wish to ask you, for there is a matter upon which Iam curious."

"How, are you curious about something?" said Aliera. "Well, you may ask."

"Then tell me this," said the Lyorn. "What exactly was this object that HisMajesty discovered in your chambers, and that justified the search?"

Aliera shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just a small purple stone."

Chapter the Seventeenth

Which Treats of Small Purple Stones,

And of Irregularities in Dress.

«^»THIS IS NOT THE FIRST time the astute reader will have noticed these purplestones appearing in our narrative. Those with a knowledge of magical and naturalhistory will, of course, have recognized them long hence, and be aware of theirsignificance, and the threat posed by their very presence. It remains, then, our dutyto assist those who have not had the privilege of making these studies, so that all ofour readers will be, as it were, at the same place from this point forward, when thoseevents which shape the conclusion of our narrative begin to coalesce into thepatterns from which the final form of our history will emerge--or, to put it moresimply, we must now ensure that all of our readers have the knowledge necessary tounderstand why those matters we are addressing fell out in the exact manner in which

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they did. It has been theorized, and by such learned scholars as Richor ofMountcalm, that these stones were first created by the Jenoine--those mysterious,powerful, half-historical, half-mythical earliest dwellers on the world, who at lastfaded into the primal mist from which they emerged, or blew themselves up formingthe Great Sea of Amorphia, or vanished to another plane of existence, or whatevertheory the reader holds dear. It has also been theorized that the first of these stonesoccurred naturally near the edge or the "shore" of the Great Sea, although this seemsunlikely.

Whatever their cause, the secret of creating them was discovered by wizards ofthe House of the Athyra late in the Ninth Cycle, and they were put to devastating useby sorcerers of the House of the Dragon early in the Tenth, for which reason theLyorn Emperor Cuorfor II passed edicts forbidding their use or creation--edictswhich have at times been rigorously enforced, at other times all but ignored. Weshould note that elder sorcery had been outlawed from the beginning of the Empire,and many believed--and still believe--that use of these stones was nothing morethan a particular form of the sorcery that predates the Orb and the Empire; on thissubject the historian will take no position.

It would, without doubt, require the services of an Athyra or a Dragon to revealthe details of their working--and it should be pointed out that such knowledge isavailable to those willing to look. Yet this history does not require such explicitdetail--it is enough to say that to carry one of these stones about one's person will,over time, give one some understanding of the uses of that queer and dangerousbranch of science called elder sorcery, and that these stones can also serve as ameans of calling, storing, and dispersing the energies, taken from the very ether inwhich we live, that this sorcery calls upon and manipulates in its workings.

Where the sorcerer achieves his effects through the careful and subtle control ofthe powers were are granted, by the grace of Her Majesty, from the Orb, whichcontrols and channels the energies from the Great Sea, elder sorcery, by its nature,eschews subtlety, instead relying on the sheer power of the amorphia. Is it anywonder that its use had been outlawed? Is it any wonder that no one save the crazedor the desperate will touch it? The difference between using thesetechniques--epitomized by the purple stones which we have now seen severaltimes--and using the raw, naked power of the amorphia itself, is one of degree, notof kind.

And yet we must, for the sake of honesty, add that the Orb itself was fashioned(by Zerika the First, according to legend; by the Jenoine, according to myth) by thissame pre-Empire sorcery. If so, then what power could be unleashed, what dreamsof man could be fulfilled, if it were possible to achieve nice control of these powers,such control as the creators of the Orb must have had?

There is no answer to this question, so let us instead ask another: What sort ofman might set himself the task of finding out? Who might take upon himself all ofdreadful risks of unleashing such energy, wild and uncontrolled, in order to harnessthis power for mankind, or in order to further his own aims?

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The answer, as the reader will already have surmised, is Adron e'Kieron, who haddevoted more than four hundred years of his life to the study of this illegal anddangerous science--devoted those years to studying in the same fashion he dideverything: with the enthusiasm of a Tiassa, the courage of a Dzur, the subtlety of aYendi, the ferocity of a Dragon, and the thoroughness of a Lyorn.

What were Adron's aims in harnessing this power? This is a difficult question toanswer, for he, himself, did not know. In all probability it began with simplecuriosity--he wished to understand the nature of sorcery, which led him naturallyand inevitably to a study of amorphia. Later, in all likelihood, he became aware of thepotential in such power, and became, therefore, enamored of it as a tool he couldunlock. Nowhere in his diaries is there any evidence of a lust for personal power, yetthere are hints that he wished to have his name remembered, and he had, it is certain,a burning desire to create. We might even say that the same drives which led him toorganize and lead the Breath of Fire Battalion led him to study ways to release andcontrol the energies of the amorphia. While he had been growing steadily less happywith the court since observing Tortaalik's mismanagement of the White Goblet affair,had he had been livid about the debacle along the coast that had left an entire district,and one critical to Imperial trade, without a liege, there is no reason to believe he hadever contemplated revolt--and certainly no reason to believe that it ever entered hisdreams to use the power of amorphia, or of elder sorcery, or of the purple stones, inany sort of bid for personal gain.

But here can be no doubt that, when His Majesty went so far as to deliver a directinsult to Adron's daughter, who was, in Adron's mind, doing nothing more thanentering a study of one of the more esoteric (and, therefore, worthwhile) branches ofmagic, Adron's motivations, goals, and methods underwent a drastic, abrupt andirrevocable change.

It is possible that Aerich sensed some of this, and that it was in the hopes that theLyorn's gentle wisdom would temper the fire in the Dragonlord's heart that Aerichwished to remain in Adron's presence, as much as to protect His Highness, towardwhom the Lyorn felt some sense of duty and no small degree of affection. It is notimpossible that Aerich realized this, whether aware of it or not, and this was whyAdron welcomed Aerich's company.

Now that the reader has some understanding of these artifacts which have causedsuch a furor, let us look in on our various friends in the early morning light of thefifteenth day of the month of the Vallista in the 532 nd, year of the Reign of Tortaalikthe First. We will begin with Pel, for, after a night's drunken debauch with Khaavren,he returned to the Institute of Discretion, and, at the time of which we write, he isdoing nothing more than sleeping soundly. The reader ought to appreciate thismoment, for it is rare indeed that we will have the opportunity to come upon ourYendi when he is not doing three, four, or five things at once!

Next is our Tiassa, Khaavren, who, notwithstanding the rigors of his night's feastof wine, nevertheless rose at his accustomed time, feeling, thanks to his ironconstitution, none the worse for the debauch to which we have already alluded, and

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made his way as usual to the Dragon Wing of the Palace, and so on to meet HisMajesty in time for the morning rounds.

Sethra, Aliera, and Tazendra, who had all returned to the house on the Street ofthe Glass Cutters before Khaavren and Pel had taken themselves to bed, were, infact, awakened at about the time Khaavren was reaching the Palace. They wereawakened, in fact, by Mica and Srahi bringing them klava. Of all the pleasuresbrought by riches (and we, unlike certain desert-born mystics we could mention, willnot deny that riches can, in fact, bring pleasure), there is, perhaps, none to compareto being awakened, while still in bed, by a lackey bringing hot klava to which honeyand cow's milk have been liberally applied, and realizing that one has the leisure toenjoy this first mug before arising. It was this pleasure which our friends Tazendra,Aliera, and Sethra experienced--we shall not, therefore, disturb their happiness bywatching them, but will allow them their klava in peace; we will return to them againwhen they have arisen and are ready to begin their day's activities.

This brings us to His Highness, Adron e'Kieron, and to Aerich, both of whombegan the day in military fashion--that is, at exactly the same time as Khaavren.Aerich accompanied His Highness on the morning inspection of the battalion, afterwhich they broke their fast together on fresh, warmed bread with butter, both ofwhich were purchased, at a good price, from nearby peasants. Aerich could see thatthe Prince was distracted, and that he had certain ideas frothing through his mind,but the Lyorn could not fathom what those ideas might be. He therefore watchedgravely as Adron stood before the wooden board on which strange patterns wereformed of purple stones; Adron worked hastily at first, removing stones andreplacing them so that entirely different though equally abstract patterns appeared;then Adron began to slow down, until he spent long minutes staring at the designbefore moving a single stone. Aerich, while he did not understand precisely what thesorcerer was doing, nevertheless felt a deep disquiet as he watched the process.

Khaavren, after finishing the rounds with His Majesty, who appeared to be inexcellent spirits, went off to find Jurabin in the hopes of learning from him somethingof what had passed, and what had not passed, between Aliera and His Majesty.Jurabin, however, was, it seemed, busy in one of the meeting rooms with which thesecond floor of the Palace abounded, and could not be disturbed. Khaavrenshrugged and returned to his offices, where he discovered that he had a visitor, andan unexpected one at that. "Tazendra!" he cried.

"Ah, my dear friend," said the Dzurlord.

Khaavren rushed forward to embrace her, after which he insisted she come intothe office that had been Captain G'aereth's but was now Khaavren's, and that she sitand converse with him.

She sighed happily as she sat down. "You cannot know what memories it bringsback to be here again."

"And," said Khaavren, "what memories it brings back to see you here."

"Yes, but, Khaavren, do you know, there is hardly anyone that I recognize?"

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"Well, but what would you have? There aren't many who wish to make a careerof the Guard. You, yourself, are a splendid example of this very fact."

"How, am I?" she said, smiling proudly, not entirely sure what Khaavren meant,but convinced that he had paid her a compliment.

"Entirely," said Khaavren. "There is no one who is a better example than you."

"Well, it is kind of you to notice."

"Not at all."

"I have worked hard to become so."

"Yes, I perceive that you have."

"But enough of this, what of your own affairs?"

"My own affairs? Cha! Of what affairs are you speaking?"

"Why, I haven't the least idea in the world," she said. "Yet you were out last nightvery late."

"Oh, as to that, I was drinking with our old friend Pel."

"With Pel?" cried Tazendra. "Drinking? Does he still drink then?"

"Like the sea drinks the river, my dear friend. And you should have seen him, forhe was dressed like the Pel of old. Ah, what a fine companion he was! The innkeeperbrought us the coals and tongs, but Pel would have none of it. In a motion asgraceful as a dancer's he broke the neck of the bottle and, spilling not a drop, filledour glasses in the same motion."

"And was he still as graceful at the end of the night as he was when he began?"

"Shards, I nearly think so! My head was all in a spin, and the lights of the tavernreplicated themselves behind my eyes, yet Pel was as cool as if he had not touched adrop, though I will swear he kept pace with me glass for glass."

"Well, I wish I'd been there, for I assure you it was wearying enough where Iwas."

"And where was that?"

"Where was that? How, you don't know?"

"If I knew, I would not have asked," Khaavren reminded her gently.

"Ah, that is so, that is so; you were always economical with questions."

"And so I still am, my dear Tazendra. And yet I find I must ask you again: Wherewere you?"

"Where were we? Oh, we were at Lord Adron's encampment, as the note said."

"Note, my dear Tazendra? I received no note."

"Bah! You did not? You received no letter explaining where we were and sayingthat you ought to join us?"

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"No, for if I had, well, I should have done so."

"The Horse! That is true! And yet, I was so certain that I had written a note. And,look! I did write a note, for here it is in my pocket."

"Well, Tazendra, if it is in your pocket, that is why I did not get it."

Tazendra laughed. "Ah, ah! I wrote it, yet I did not remember to put it where youwould find it. The fault is mine, good Khaavren, and I apologize."

Khaavren signified that it didn't matter, and added, "But I hope Lord Adron iswell?"

"He? Well, yes and no, I think."

"How, yes and no?"

"He is healthy, yet he is not happy."

"He is not happy? Has, then, something happened to make him unhappy?"

"Something happen? I nearly think so! Did you not hear that His Majesty had asearch made of his daughter's quarters in the House of the Dragon, or the DragonWing, I forget which?"

"Well, yes," said Khaavren. "It seems to me that I did hear something of that,now that you mention it."

"Well," said Tazendra.

"Were you able to cool his temper?"

"Oh yes," said Tazendra. "I spoke most soothingly, and he listened to everythingI said. And of course, our friend Aerich was of some help."

"So that he was no longer angry when you left?"

"He was as gentle as a winneasaurus, content to let us make our investigationsand do nothing until he learned what the results were."

"Investigations, my dear Tazendra?"

"Yes, certainly." Then she stopped and her eyes grew wide. "Ah, fool that I am, Iwas not to mention that to you."

"How, you were not to mention that?"

"Exactly."

"What were you not to mention?"

"That we have determined to investigate."

"Well, then I will pretend that you said nothing of any investigations."

"Oh, would you do that?"

"Cha! It is nothing. Though I confess that my self-love is a trifle damaged,Tazendra, that His Highness felt I could not be trusted."

"Oh, it wasn't that, I assure you."

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"Well, but then, what was it?"

"He merely wanted to avoid putting you in a position where you must choosebetween your duty and your friendship."

"I see. Then it was a noble gesture."

"Was it not? I've always thought Lord Adron every inch a gentleman."

"Oh, certainly. Yet, I fail to see how an investigation you are conducting couldcause a conflict between my duties and my friendship."

"Well, would you like to know something, Khaavren?"

"Certainly, my friend."

"I don't understand either."

"How, you don't understand?"

Tazendra solemnly shook her head.

"Then," said Khaavren, "it must be a deep matter indeed."

"Oh, the deepest."

"It must involve intrigue."

"I think it does," said the Dzurlord, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"And the court," said Khaavren, lowering his voice to match hers.

"Oh, of course, the court," said Tazendra. "Why else mention Jurabin?"

"Ah, that is who they wish to investigate?"

"None other."

"It is, I suppose, Aerich who is investigating Jurabin?"

"No, no. Aerich has remained with His Highness. It is Aliera and Sethra who arespeaking with Jurabin." Then she winced. "Bah! I cannot keep my tongue undercontrol. I was not supposed to mention that, either."

"Think nothing of it," said Khaavren who was, meanwhile, thinking of it a greatdeal.

"Ah, I am vexed with myself."

"But what were you to tell me?"

"Only that we saw His Highness, and passed the evening with him."

"That is all you were to tell me?"

"Not a word more."

"And whence came these orders?"

"Bah! From whom would these orders come except from His Highness?"

"But, then, who told you to pass on that you had seen him and that he was well?"

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"Oh, that was Aerich."

"I see," said Khaavren. "Yet it seems to me that you have done just what youwere asked to do."

"I have?"

"Why, yes, You have told me that you spent the evening with His Highness. So,you perceive, you have done what you ought to have done."

"Have I?" said Tazendra. "Well, then I shan't worry about it."

"And you will be right not to."

They continued speaking for some little time then, as old friends will, but theyconfined the discussion to reminisces and to praise for their friends and for eachother.

"Well," said Tazendra, after a certain amount of time had passed, "I have seenyou, and seen once more these rooms that were so important to me, and I have toldyou what I came to tell you. Now I shall be off, and I will, no doubt, see you athome this evening."

Tazendra stood up, and Khaavren did the same, and they embraced once moreand parted with compliments. Khaavren returned to his duty of inspecting hisguardsmen and reading the reports of the previous night's events, and was on thepoint of leaving to see if His Majesty required anything when he was informed that hehad another visitor.

"Well, it seems to be the day for it. Who is this?"

"The Duke of Galstan."

"Ah, ah! Send him in!"

Pel came in, once more dressed as a student of the Art of Discretion: fullycovered in plain robes the color of the mud that formed at the edge of the DragaeraRiver. "Pel, my friend! Sit down, sit down. Do you know, you have not missed ourfriend Tazendra by more than an hour."

"How, she was here?"

"In the very chair you now occupy."

"Well, but did she have a reason for her visit?"

"Oh, indeed yes. Aerich sent her to tell me that Adron is furious, and may becontemplating doing something rash, and is, moreover, investigating Jurabin,because they suspect, as we do, that Jurabin may, for his own reasons, haveprevailed upon His Majesty to be lenient toward Aliera." He frowned. "Our dearJurabin cannot have had an easy time of it."

"I should think not," said Pel, smiling.

Khaavren shrugged. "Now you know what I know."

"That is true," said Pel, "but you do not yet know what I know."

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"How, you have learned something since last night?"

"Indeed yes, and I will tell you if you wish."

"I wish for nothing else in the world."

"This is it, then: We were right about Her Majesty. She was behind the search ofAliera's quarters."

"Ah," said Khaavren. "How did you learn this?"

"I spoke to her, in my role as a student here. I asked if she had anything shewished to speak to a Discreet about."

"And yet, if it was told you in confidence--"

Pel laughed. "Not in the least. She denied requiring a Discreet, after which we hada pleasant conversation together, during which I learned much from her."

Khaavren nodded slowly, recognizing Pel very well in this tale.

"So, now what, my friend?"

"Now what?" said Pel. "I am not certain. Yet if, as seems to be the case, there istrouble brewing between the Consort and the Prime Minister, and at such a time asthis, well, nothing good can come of it, Khaavren."

The Captain nodded, for he had been thinking exactly the same thing. Then hesighed. "I must think, and you do too, and we will see if, together, we cannotformulate some plan. For I will tell you, Pel, that I am frightened of this situation; andyou know, I think, that I am not easily frightened."

The Yendi nodded solemnly and could think of nothing further to say. Khaavrenrose and walked with Pel back to the Imperial Wing, after which Pel turned towardthe Athyra Wing, walking at a slow, dignified gait so at odds with the spring in hisstep when he was garbed as a cavalier. Khaavren watched him, smiling. "Ah, myfriend," he said softly. "How many of you are there? Do you even know anymore?And how do you keep them all distinct in your mind?"

He took a step toward the Portrait room and His Majesty, when, on a suddenimpulse, he changed direction and made his way up to the suite of rooms belongingto Noima, Her Majesty the Consort. Now this suite, located on the east side of theImperial Wing, featured an extension which had been grafted on above the JhegaalaWing to provide a sort of balcony or parapet or porch where Her Majesty could siton fine days and look down on the Dragaera River or the hills of Eastend. Thisbalcony, for so we will call it, was entirely secluded from the rest of the Palace, andcould not be reached except through the Consort's own bedchamber, which wasalways watched by a pair of guards (not to mention the other three pair who guardedthe different entrances to the Consort's suite). All of this, in addition to providing anexcellent setting for Luin's farcical murder drama, Who Dropped Her First? had theresult that, if the Consort wished for privacy, all she need do was inform the guardsto her room that she did not wish to be disturbed, and these guards would let noone, not even His Majesty, pass without word from the Consort.

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No one, we should say, except their superior officer, Khaavren of Castlerock.

We ought to mention that it was not, in fact, Khaavren's intention toeavesdrop--his plan was to speak openly and frankly with Noima in hopes ofpleading with her on Aliera's behalf. But when his clapping produced no response,and when the two guards informed their Captain that the Consort was, in allprobability, taking the air on the balcony with her maids of honor, Khaavren simplyshrugged and walked through the door, thinking nothing of it.

The Consort's bedroom was large and furnished mostly in white, with animperial-size canopied bed, a white couch, and enough chairs for her attendingmaids. In the back of the room was the door which permitted access to the balconyto which we have felt obliged to call the reader's attention.

Khaavren was, in fact, setting his hand to the doorknob when he was caught upshort by the sound of the Consort's voice, speaking in tones that were severe andleft no doubt about the seriousness of the matter under discussion.

"Oh, ho," said Khaavren to himself. "Her Majesty is upbraiding one of her maidsof honor. Perhaps, then, this would be a poor time to ask her for clemency, and itwould be best to leave them alone and wait for Her Majesty's disposition to improve.And yet, one cannot help but be curious about the subject of Her Majesty's anger,for there is no doubt that what makes someone, be it Consort or courtesan, angry,tells us as much about her, or him for that matter, as what brings her pleasure. Letus, then, listen for a moment, and then we will steal away as silently as we havearrived, wealthier in knowledge and richer in experience."

As Khaavren listened, then, so shall we, and we will hear the Consort speaking inthese terms: "Daro," she said, addressing a maid of honor whom Khaavrenremembered as an elegant and haughty Lyorn, "you take liberties. I warn you thatyour position at court is in doubt if you continue speaking and behaving in thismanner."

"Come, that's not badly said," murmured Khaavren. "What will be the reply?"

The reply, delivered in a feminine voice both strong and melodic, took this form:"Madam, I do take liberties, for which I hope Your Majesty can forgive me, yet myself-love speaks louder to me than my love of pelf, and if I must sacrifice one, why,there is hardly a choice. Your Majesty contemplates an injustice; I cannot remainquiet--"

"An injustice!" cried the Consort. "How, you are weeping for this poor, helpless,defenseless girl, who happens to be a Dragonlord, and, moreover, daughter of theDragon Heir to the Throne? If you hate injustice, you might look to the injusticescommitted daily against those who have fewer means of defense than Alierae'Kieron!"

"Ah, ah," said Khaavren. "What is this? They are talking of the very subject thatinterests me! Come now, this is fortunate; we must listen more closely than ever, thatnot a single note of this concert should escape our critical judgment."

"Madam," said Daro, "What Your Majesty does me the honor to say is full of

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justice. Nevertheless--"

"Yes? Nevertheless?"

"Weak or powerful, she is still a woman, which means she is human, whichmeans she is able to feel pain, and Your Majesty has already subjected her to thehumiliation of having her rooms searched, and this only for the crime of attractingattention that has previously gone to Your Majesty. Now Your Majesty contemplatescrushing her beneath the weight of Imperial displeasure by bringing to bear all theweapons of the law--"

"The law she has broken!" cried the Consort, whose voice was beginning tosound shrill.

"--upon her head. Yes, madam, she has broken the law. An ancient law. A lawsome feel is unjust, and a law some feel is useless, but, nevertheless, a law. But I begleave to point out to Your Majesty that it is a law no more ancient than thoseunwritten laws which regulate honorable behavior and use of power--laws designedto protect--"

"You are in danger, Countess," cried the Consort. "I warn you, take care!"

"Madam, I have Your Majesty's interests at heart, believe me. That which YourMajesty contemplates can result in nothing good for you, as well as those of us whohave the honor to belong to you. I cannot stand by idly when Your Majesty engagesin acts which.cast shame upon you and on the court."

"How dare you speak to me thus?"

"I dare not keep silent."

"I believe I am condescending to dispute with you, Countess! Can you somehowhave contrived to forget your rank, as well as my own?"

"You dispute not with me, but with Fairness and Justice, madam--two entitieswho know no rank."

"Shards and splinters," said Khaavren to himself. "It is a shame this girl is aLyorn, for I declare that if she were a Tiassa I should marry her in an instant, andthen I should convince His Majesty to give me back the lands of Khaavren and weshould have a fine daughter to rule my estate as Marchioness and a pretty son to rulehers as Count, after which we would retire together to Mount Bli'aard and let theEmpire fall to whatever ruin it desires while we watched the golden lights dance offRedface in the morning."

If Khaavren was impressed with Daro's rejoinder, we can only say that theConsort was less so. She said, in a voice at once high and cold, "Countess, I think itis time for you to return to your estates, which, I suspect, stand in need of your firmand, no doubt, just hand to guide them."

"As Your Majesty wishes," came the answer, still in a strong voice. "Yet, madam,I have not surrendered. I assure Your Majesty that, before leaving, I intend to makecertain that everyone at court knows--"

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"You will do nothing of the kind!" cried the Consort in tones of outrage. "Youwill speak to no one; you will say nothing. You will be gone from here within thehour. If you fail in any way to do exactly what I have just said--that is, if youdisobey a direct order of your sovereign--you will be arrested for treason at thatmoment and you can spend the rest of your life in prison, remembering this day andall it has brought you. And if I were less merciful, I should not give you this choice,for you have hardly earned it. Now go!"

"Madam, I will follow your orders to the letter, yet I beg you to consider--"

"Go!" cried the Consort.

Khaavren suddenly realized his peril, and positively sprinted for the door, whichhe reached safely even as he heard the inner door open. He walked quickly past theguards, thinking to be out of sight before either the Consort or the Countess couldsee him. But then, on a sudden thought, he stopped where he was, in the Consort'ssitting room, turned, leaned casually against the wall in the attitude of one who hadbeen there for some time, and waited.

Daro appeared in an instant, her face flushed, but her eyes dry and appearingcalm. She wore a floor-length dress of Lyorn-red, gathered down the back, withpuffed sleeves tapering to the wrist and a train that was also red save for a bit oftasteful gold embroidery. Her brown hair fell straight and plain to her shoulders, yetcaught the light as if it had been brushed the legendary five thousand strokes. Sheappeared about to go straight past Khaavren as if she hadn't seen him, but he clearedhis throat, bowed, and said, "Countess--"

She stopped, frowned, and said, "What is it, Captain? I am in a hurry."

"Well," he said phlegmatically.

"Yes?"

"If you will allow me to escort you whither you are going, I assure you I wouldlook upon it as a great favor, and even as an honor."

Her eyes widened. "Surely I am not arrested!" Then she added in a low voice, asif to herself. "No, it would be impossible so soon."

"Arrested, madam? Not the least in the world, I promise you. Rather I amarrested. But that is neither one place nor another. No, there is no talk of arrest,merely a desire to escort you, for no reason other than the pleasure of doing so, for,if the words, however heartfelt, of a mere soldier can touch you, than be assured thatyou have interested me. Will you allow me the honor of escorting you?"

She laughed, though it seemed to Khaavren that she felt no great amusement."What, Captain, after all these years have you become a courtier?"

"Ah, you wound me, madam. I--"

"Captain, I assure you that, as I said before, I am in a great hurry. I must see tomy business with no delay. If you wish to accompany me, well, I have no objectionto make, yet we must be about it at once. In fact, Captain, for reasons I dare not

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mention, it would ease my mind to have a strong arm to lean on just now, thoughperhaps it would be best for you if it were not yours."

"How, best for me? Yet--"

"No, do not ask why, and do not speak, merely allow me to take your arm, andlet us proceed at once."

Khaavren bowed and held out his arm, which Daro took, and they walked downthe corridor. Now we would not be faithful to our duty as historian if we did notadmit that our Tiassa found himself confused by the tremor he felt in his arm whenshe took it, for he had been a soldier for five hundred years, and, after the heartbreakof his first love, had treated dalliance as the game that, alas! many soldiersdo--forced to by the nature of their calling. Those who live with violence too oftenfind that its opposite--love, becomes a matter as casual, and worth as littleconsideration, as swordplay. That is, to commit violence because duty requires it isto find one's self simulating hatred (for the best soldiers feel no real hatred for theopponent fate has placed before them); in the same way, then, it is all too easy totreat the acts of love--kisses, caresses, soft words--as mere simulation of love.One goes through the motions, and, indeed, takes certain pleasures from doing so,yet the touching of soul to soul that love brings to those who are blessed by it isdenied by the very emotions that allow the soldier to take sword in hand, day afterday, and commit acts which to most of us only accompany the most extremepassion.

In fairness, we must add that not all soldiers have this experience with love.Indeed, many of them, sickened by being constantly surrounded by thoughts ofdeath, fall into love as an escape from the horror that surrounds them every day.Whether this is better or worse, we do not feel it our place to say, being merely themirror upon which truth is, however imperfectly, reflected.

Khaavren had, also, fallen into the trap we have described, though he had neverrealized it. But now, when a gentle but brave hand was laid upon his arm, he becamesuddenly aware that he was not immune to such tender thoughts, and shootingthrough his soul were lances both of the pleasure that unselfish love brings, and thepain that comes with the awakening of emotions long asleep. Needless to say, he feltgreat confusion in his mind even as he felt a beating in his heart and a trembling in hislimbs. Thoughts flitted through his mind too fast for his awareness to fasten on andpin down, yet they left their impressions in his clouded brow and shallow breath.

For her part, we should say that for years Daro had seen the Captain, andadmired him from a distance--both his form and his character, insofar as she couldsee that he held himself apart from the intrigues and petty maneuvers of the court,and always carried himself with the relaxed confidence of a warrior, and had,moreover, a smile that, though rare, brightened his countenance, and made her thinkhow pleasant it might be to cause the smile to appear. While she had neverentertained serious thoughts in his direction, to find him there, a strong arm when shefelt her strength exhausted, and a kind glance when she felt surrounded by malice,made her see him in a new way, and she was almost overwhelmed with bitterness at

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the thought that she had truly met him only now, when her life was ruined and shewas to be ignominiously driven away. In addition, Khaavren had revealed a side ofhimself hitherto hidden--he had shown that he had a heart, and one that could betouched, and could open up to another in need.

The Countess endeavored to keep these thoughts concealed, and to recoverherself as she walked, yet a part of herself cried out to reveal them, and so, as willsometimes happen when two souls develop a sudden sympathy, hints of her ideascommunicated themselves to Khaavren via the hand upon his arm, which, in turn,accounted in part for the reactions that she felt from him.

By the time they reached the set of chambers where the maids of honor slept andkept their clothing, the Countess had recovered herself, and put up once more thebarriers that prevent deep emotion from revealing itself too soon, before the heart isconvinced that opening will not simply bring a fresh onslaught of pain without anylikelihood of reward.

Daro's room was, by chance, unoccupied. She let go of Khaavren's arm with abow, opened her wardrobe, removed a tall valise, and began filling it with herclothing.

"Tell me, Captain," she said as she haphazardly threw her clothing into the valise(charmingly, thought Khaavren), "what brought you to Her Majesty's room? For itcould not have been for the pleasure of seeing me."

"And why could it not?" said Khaavren. "Shards! I can think of few betterreasons to walk a few paces, or even a hundred leagues."

She laughed. "You are becoming a courtier. But it could not be, because youcould not have known I would be there."

"Well, that is a reason, at any rate, with which I cannot argue."

"Well then?"

"Madam, I came to see the Consort."

"Ah. Well, why did you not?"

"Because I saw you instead, and--"

"Flatterer!" she cried, although she did not seem displeased. "You said, 'and'?"

"And I heard you as well."

Daro stopped what she was doing, turned, and frowned. "You say you heard?"

"Every word, madam."

"I see. And therefore--?"

"I wished to pay you a thousand compliments, for I am a soldier, and soldiersknow what courage is."

For the first time, Daro blushed, turning bright red for a moment and lookingdown. "Thank you, Captain. But you perceive, if you heard our conversation, that Ihave no time. And that is why it might be best for you not to be seen with me lest

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your light be stolen by my shadow. Indeed, I should not, for your sake, haveallowed you to walk with me, but I was weak, and needed your arm. Forgive me."

"Cha," said Khaavren. "I will be seen with you whenever I can, madam, and holdmyself honored."

She gave him a gentle smile and extended a soft hand, upon which Khaavrenplaced a reverent kiss. "You are kind, Captain. But it is the case that I am ruined, andyour compliments, as well as the whisperings of my heart, are as nothing before thewhims of the Consort."

"The whisperings of your heart, did you say?" cried Khaavren, falling to hisknees. "Ah, do not say aloud what your heart whispers, because if it speaks as mine,then, by the Halls of Judgment, I will cast every curse I know at the fates whichdecreed that I should be a Tiassa while you are a Lyorn!"

Has the reader ever found himself wondering, as he was engaged in some activityor another, "What else is happening in the world?" Or perhaps, upon hearing ofsome momentous event, has the reader ever wondered, "What was I doing at theexact moment when that occurred?" It is, without doubt, one of the charms of thehistorical account that these questions can be answered, at least for some people atsome times.

By way of example, we will mention that shortly after the third hour after noon, aweek and a day nearly to the minute from when we opened this history with amessenger asking to see His Majesty, another messenger was asking for the samefavor, this messenger coming from none other than Adron e'Kieron.

At this same moment, the Consort, having positively run from her rooms after theinterview with her maid of honor that we, as well as Khaavren, have just overheard,was closeted with His Majesty, and was begging of him certain boons.

Tazendra, who had been wandering the labyrinthine Palace for some hours, hadat last managed to locate the Academy of Discretion, and was asking after Pel.

Aliera and Sethra, who had been closeted with Jurabin for most of the day wereat last emerging, having learned what they wished to know, but still uncertain what todo with the knowledge.

Aerich was contemplating the Duke of Eastmanswatch while, at the same time,the Duke was contemplating his mosaic of purple stones and dreaming of inflictingcountless humiliations on the Emperor in vengeance for those His Majesty hadinflicted upon Aliera.

And, at this same time, Daro said, "How, a Lyorn? Not in the least, my friend. Imerely chose these colors because they suit me, and I will not be bound by sillytraditions. No, no, do you see my eyes, the shape of my ears, the form on thissignet? I am as much a Tiassa as you, good Captain."

After which revelation our old friend Khaavren, unable to speak for the poundingin his ears, rose unsteadily to his feet and took Daro, Countess of Whitecrest, intohis arms.

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BOOK

TWO

Chapter the Eighteenth

Which Treats of Several Persons

Who, for Various Reasons,

Decide They Ought to Speak at Once

To Our Friend, the Captain.

«^»HISTORY IS NOT WHAT MEN could have done, or should have done, but,rather, what they did. It is unquestionably the case that, had the author chosen towrite a romance, the ending of the last chapter would have been a rude andunpleasant shock to the reader. That is, the requisite element of classicromance--lovers of different houses finding each other at court but knowing theirlove is doomed--appeared, only to be set aside in a single, hasty moment ofrevelation, devoid of the intricacies of plot and counter-plot through which theauthor would cleverly prevent his characters from learning the truth about each otheruntil either the last moment before the tragedy, or at the first moment after it was toolate, depending on whether the author was of the romantic school of LordWrenchilde or the more ironic disposition of Lady Hopston.

But if history, though containing, we believe, enough true drama to satisfyanyone's cravings, rarely follows the formulae outlined by the subscribers to this orthat school of history, still less, then, is she willing to follow anyone's notion ofliterature. She is a piece of wood afloat in the tide, and will go where the winds andwaves bring her, caring nothing for the artist who stands, crayon poised, to draw herfrom the shore. Should he study her image as it is, she may be willing to fetch upnear him long enough to allow some of the secrets of her form to be revealed by anhonest canvas; if he insists she conform to his preconceived artistic laws, his workwill never enfold her, and truth will always run before him, a step out of reach forever, like the chreotha in Lady Neloy's fable.

We insist, then, that, the conventions of romances notwithstanding, we haverelated what actually occurred between Daro and Khaavren, and we have placed it intime and space as accurately as our meager talents permit. Furthermore, we believe

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the drama is stronger because it has the resonance of truth, rather than the artifice offiction; yet the reader is, of course, free to draw his own conclusions about literatureversus history, as about anything else we have discussed during the time when hehas done us the honor to allow us to spend an evening with him.

With this understood, it is time to move on to the rest of the Palace, where eventshave not stood still while Khaavren and Daro discovered one another. On thecontrary, the sudden and unexpected complication between Captain and Countess,though of great importance to this history (and, we dare to hope, to our readers),was so unimportant to the rest of the court as to pass entirely unremarked.

Lest the reader fear that, in following this "sudden and unexpected complication,"as we have called it, we have lost track of the others whose actions we are obliged tofollow, let us declare that nothing could be further from the truth. And the proof, ifmore proof is needed than the summary provided near the end of the previouschapter, is that we are now prepared to look in on Sethra and Aliera, as they leaveJurabin's council chamber.

"Well," said Sethra. "So, it is true that it was Jurabin who has saved you fromarrest."

"There can be no further doubt on that score," said Aliera. "He confessed it withevery gesture, every glance--"

"Every glance, that is, at me," said Sethra, smiling. "For, as you no doubtobserved, he could not bring himself to look directly at your countenance."

"Well," said Aliera, shrugging, "there is some truth in what you say."

"And yet, we are no closer than we were to knowing who is behind theassassinations--both failed and successful--that have broken out like a plague overthis last week and more."

"That is true," said Aliera. "For, though he was confused, and could concealnothing, he gave no indication of guilty knowledge on this subject."

"And yet--" said Sethra.

"Yes?"

"There is one matter to which my mind keeps returning."

"Well, if you will tell me what it is, my mind will turn to it as well, and your mindshall have company on its journey, which will, no doubt, be as pleasant for ourminds as the company we keep on our journey along this corridor is pleasant to us."

"You reason like an Athyra, my dear friend."

"Well, go on."

"This is it, then."

"I am listening."

"The way he spoke of the Consort. The quiver, if you will, in his voice, and theway his eyes shifted away from me."

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"Ah! I had not remarked this! What do you make of it?"

"That he knew something he would not tell us."

"About the Consort?"

"Precisely."

"There is gossip about the two of them."

"That is certainly the case, my dear Aliera."

"Then you suspect--?"

"That she is your enemy? Exactly."

"And she has the ear of His Majesty."

"And His Majesty has his Guards."

"And the Captain of the Guards?" said Aliera.

"Khaavren," said Sethra.

"Yes, Khaavren," said Aliera. "The order for my arrest, as we determined before,must go through him. But would he warn us first, if he were told to arrest me?"

"As to that, I cannot say."

"No," said Aliera, "but I can."

"Oh?"

"I need only a few words with him, and I will know if he has been given theseorders."

"Well?"

"Then let us find him, and at once."

Sethra laughed. "How, you have not remarked the direction we are traveling? Weare nearly to the Dragon Wing. Down these stairs, and we shall be at his offices."

"Then lead on," said Aliera. "And let us learn what we can from this Tiassa."

All of this took place in the Dragon Wing of the Palace, beginning on an upperfloor and winding down toward the Sub-wing of the Imperial Guard. Some distanceaway, near the Athyra Wing (although not, technically speaking, within it) another ofour friends had reached her destination.

Tazendra, as we have already mentioned, had, after several hours of diligentsearching, finally located the Institute of Discretion. She asked to see Pel. Thedoor-ward denied knowing any such person and persisted in this denial until,fortunately, at least for the door-ward, Tazendra remembered to ask for him as theDuke of Galstan, after which the Duke was sent for. After an interval of a fewminutes, he arrived.

Tazendra gave a cry upon seeing Pel, and embraced him with an exuberance thatsimultaneously raised the door-ward's eyebrows and threatened the Yendi's ribs. Henevertheless returned the embrace as well as he could before disengaging himself and

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paying Tazendra a thousand compliments.

"So," he said at last, "you have been seeking me?"

"More than seeking you," said Tazendra. "I have found you."

"Well, you have," said Pel. "And yet--"

"And yet?"

"Well, I wonder--"

"Ah! I recognize you so well in that!"

"Oh, to be sure."

"But tell me what you wonder."

"Oh, I am about to."

"Begin then."

"I wonder why you have been seeking me."

"Why else, but to find you?"

"Yes, yes, I understand that, only--"

"Only you wish to know why I wanted to find you?"

"Yes, Tazendra. You have guessed it. I wish to know why you wanted to findme."

"Oh, as to that--"

"Yes?"

"I will tell you."

"And at once, I hope."

"Why, this, this very instant."

"Then I am listening."

"I wished to find you because I wish to learn what you know."

"You wish to learn what I know? But surely you must understand--"

"Ah, ah! You know that understanding is not something I do well."

"Oh, but this is something you will understand."

"I am skeptical."

"I know you are, Tazendra, and I assure you that it is a mark of intelligence."

"Do you think so?"

"I am convinced of it."

"Well, what must I understand, then?"

"You must understand that the secrets of Discretion are not to be divulged toanyone who is not an initiate."

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"Oh, yes, I understand that."

"Well, you perceive I was right."

"Yes, yes. You are always right. Only--"

"Yes?"

"When I spoke of wanting to learn what you knew, I was not thinking about thesecrets of Discretion."

"But, my dear Tazendra, what else could I, locked away in this tower, know? Iassure you, it has been my whole life. No, no, don't answer yet. For I assure youthat I desire nothing more than conversation with you, so let us find a place wherewe can sit comfortably while we speak. Here, turn this corner, and now this one, andso through this portal. Here, you perceive, is a room that is empty save for somechairs, and one that has, moreover, good, thick walls. Now, of what do you pretendI have knowledge?"

"Well, of the assassination attempt on Lord Adron."

"Ah! I admit that I had some concerns on that score, but they seem to have beenmisplaced."

"Not at all."

"How, not at all? Was an attempt made?"

"Yes, only--"

"Well?"

Tazendra dropped her voice. "They made a mistake, and attempted to killKhaavren instead."

"How, Khaavren?" cried Pel, amazed.

"Yes. And they might have succeeded, except that, thanks to your warning,Aerich and I were there, and I was able to discharge a flashstone which, thanks tothe Gods, did not miss its mark."

"Your flashstones rarely miss their mark," said Pel.

"You are kind to say so," said Tazendra magnanimously.

"Yet," said Pel slowly, "I cannot believe they would have made such a mistake."

"Oh, they did, although, to be sure, neither Khaavren nor Aerich seem to think itwas a mistake."

"What do they think?"

"They think it was an attempt on Khaavren. But that would mean that you haderred in thinking that Adron was in danger, and I do not think--"

"When was an attempt made?"

"It was the evening of the riot. We had a hand in that, too, I should add. I mean,we helped to stop it; we did nothing to start it, I assure you."

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Pel seemed to be considering matters deeply. "You say an attempt was made onKhaavren?"

"No, no. On Adron. Only--"

"An attempt was made, was it not, Tazendra?"

"Yes."

"And Khaavren was its intended victim?"

"Without question."

"Then that is enough for now."

Tazendra shrugged as if she, having done her best to open his eyes, would wasteno more time pointing out the obvious. For his part. Pel did not seem distraught bythis. He said, "Do you know who made the attempt?"

Tazendra frowned. "I must confess something," said Tazendra.

"Well, as a Discreet, at least in training, there are few to whom you could moresafely make a confession."

"Listen, then."

"I am listening."

"I cannot remember what they said."

"What, who said, my dear Tazendra?"

"Khaavren and Aerich. They spoke at some length about the assassin, as if theyknew him. Yet all I can remember is that he was from the Underside. You rememberthe Underside, Pel? We went in there one day, the two of us, when there was adisturbance in a private home, where eight or nine rogues seemed determined toplunder it. When we arrived, they were holding the residents hostage, and we hadto--"

"Yes, yes, I recall, but--"

"Ah, that was hot work, that night! Some steel sang, and some blood was let!"

"Yes, yes, Tazendra. It was a fine night. Only--"

"Do you recall, after we had rescued the victims, they gave me a pewter goblet,with a ruby on the base?"

"I had forgotten that circumstance."

"I still have it, you know. I keep it on the mantel, near the dagger I broke whenKhaavren and I were set upon by--"

"Your pardon, Tazendra my dear, but I must ask you this: You say Khaavren andAerich knew the assassin?"

"No, no, Pel. They only seemed to. They spoke of his habits, and his House,and--"

"Well then, we need only ask Khaavren or Aerich who he is, and then we will

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know."

"Well, that is true. But what then?"

"What then? Why then, we will see if this information will help us track downthose who are attempting to kill Lord Adron."

"Oh, I should love to get my hands on whoever hired the assassin!"

"Let us find Khaavren or Aerich, then, and perhaps you will get your wish."

"An excellent plan, Pel. You always have good plans."

Pel bowed to this compliment and said, "Where, then, is Aerich?"

"Do you mean, at this moment?"

"Yes, exactly. At this moment."

"He is with Lord Adron, protecting him."

"That is good. His Highness could not be in better hands."

"That is my opinion," said Tazendra.

"But what of Khaavren?"

"Oh, Khaavren would also protect His Highness, only he is not there."

"Yes, but, where is he?"

"Where is he? Where else but here, in the Palace?"

"With His Majesty, do you think?"

"There, yes. There or elsewhere."

Pel shrugged like Aerich. "In that case, let us go find him."

"Yes, let's. Only, I do not know this part of the Palace. I am not entirely sure howI got here, and I do not, therefore, know how to get back."

"But I do," said Pel.

"Well then, you lead."

"I am doing so."

And so, with this, Pel and Tazendra set off to find Khaavren. While they are thusengaged, we will take the opportunity to discover something of how His Majesty hasbeen engaged.

The Emperor had been in jovial spirits for most of the day. He noticed theabsence of his Captain, but assumed that Khaavren was involved, along with SethraLavode, in the investigations associated with the assassinations. His day went by asusual until, in the middle of the afternoon, he was interrupted by the Consort, whourgently requested a private audience with him, an audience he granted at once. Theyrepaired, therefore, to the Seven Room, with Corporal Thack stationed outside ofthe door.

Need we dwell on the conversation? Can the reader not, from the information

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previously given and from his own imagination, supply the words, gestures, tears,and entreaties that fell, at first like flakes of snow, then like the floodwaters of theswollen Breaking River in spring, from Consort to Emperor, in an effort to see Alieraarrested and imprisoned? We can assure the reader that, for a least the first minutesof the conversation, there would be little deviation between the reader's hypothesisand the actuality.

Eventually, however, His Majesty ventured to say, "Madam, you have my entiresympathy, and yet--"

"Yes? And yet?" said the Consort, looking at him with reddened eyes.

"Surely, you must understand, there are reasons of state that make her arrest--"

"Reasons of state?" she cried. For a moment, she seemed about to launch anassault on his premise--that is, that reasons of state could take precedence over herdesires. But then she calmed herself and said, "Well, then, Sire, let us look at thesereasons of state which are so important they permit a dangerous criminal to walkfree, and to laugh at the laws of the Empire to which all save Your Majesty arebound."

"Yes, yes," said Tortaalik quickly, for he had cringed when he thought she wasabout to lose her temper, and was grateful that she was willing to discuss the matterrationally. "Yes, let us look at these reasons of state."

"Well, what are they?"

"In the first place--"

"Yes, Sire, in the first place?"

"There is her father."

"What about him?"

"What about him? Well, he is the Dragon Heir."

"Very well, he is the Dragon Heir."

"A proud, arrogant, and powerful man."

"I dispute none of these things."

"A man with considerable support among the Princes and Deputies who aregathering to determine the Imperial Tax."

"I begin to see your argument, Sire."

"Do you? Then I am gratified."

"Well, Sire, go on."

"Very well. We have the issue of the Imperial Tax, upon which depends thestability of the Empire, not to mention our comfort."

"Yes, yes, I understand that."

"So much, then, for the question of Adron."

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"Yes, I now comprehend the situation with Adron and the Imperial tax."

"Next, there is the matter of Aliera's friendship with Sethra Lavode."

"What is this?"

"I am told that they have become fast friends. And, you perceive--"

"Fast friends? And yet, Sire, I am told that they have threatened to murder oneanother no less often than once each day since they have met."

The Emperor shrugged. "Well? They are Dragonlords; wherefore does thismeans they are not friends?"

"Well, go on."

"Yes. Well, it is clear that there is some sort of conspiracy at work, which hasresulted in G'aereth's murder, the assassination of Smaller, the--"

"Yes, Sire, there is a conspiracy."

"Sethra is helping to investigate it. Should we offend Sethra--"

"Then she will no longer help in the investigation."

"Exactly."

"I understand, Sire."

"Not to mention any other ways in which Sethra Lavode could exercise herinfluence to our detriment."

"Well then, I understand the arguments about Adron and Sethra. What next?"

"Next, the people."

"The people?"

"Exactly."

"You perceive, Sire, that I fail to see what the people have to do with this."

"Ah, then you have not been informed of Aliera's influence among the people?How they formed an attachment to her after the incident of the bakery?"

"The incident of the bakery, Sire?"

"Yes, exactly."

"But I know nothing of this incident."

"Then I shall tell you of it."

"Go on, then. I await you."

"This is it: Two days ago she saw a crowd outside of a large bakery on the Streetof Six Fences. She became curious, and attempted to discover the reason behind thegathering."

"Well?"

"Well, the crowd had become angry because the baker had raised the price for

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bread, pretending that the new tax imposed on wheat entering the city had raised hiscosts. The crowd was debating breaking down the doors of the bakery and takingthe bread."

The Consort frowned. "Were they serious about this, Sire?"

"As I am informed, madam, the only remaining question was whether, after takingthe bread, they should hang the baker, or merely let him go with a beating."

"Rabble!" cried the Consort. "That an honest merchant should be treated so!Where were the Guard?"

"They had been sent for, but they were, as yet, some distance away."

"What happened, Sire?"

"You wish to know what happened, madam?"

"The Gods! It is an hour since I asked anything else!"

"Aliera, upon hearing the story, approached the baker and purchased hisbusiness."

"How, she purchased it?"

"On the spot."

"For a good price?"

"So I am informed."

"Well, and then?"

"And then she gave the bread away until it was gone."

The Consort shrugged. "It is a solution for a day only."

"Not at all."

"Well?"

"She then gave the bakery back to the baker, on the condition that he return hisprices to what they had been."

"And so?"

"And so the story has spread, and, no doubt, been exaggerated. The people loveAliera, and, if we should arrest her--"

"Bah! What can the people do, Sire?"

"What can the people do? And would you ask a sailor what the ocean can do?"

"No, for the ocean cannot be controlled."

"Ah, but it can, unless there is a storm."

"And you fear a storm?"

"A storm, or a flood, yes, madam. I am not ashamed to say that I fear it."

"Well, perhaps you are right to."

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"So let us review."

"Yes, yes. Let us act like careful intendants, and be certain our accounts are inorder."

"We have, then, first of all, Lord Adron, and the Princes and Deputies. Next, wehave Sethra Lavode. Third, we have the people. All of these argue strongly thatAliera must not be arrested except under the most pressing of circumstances."

"I perceive, Sire, that you have been carefully advised."

"Yes, madam, and by Jurabin, whose business it is to know and understand thesematters."

"Ah! By Jurabin."

"Yes, madam, exactly."

"Well then, I have no more to say about matters of state."

"Then you understand my position?"

"Entirely. Only--"

"Yes?"

"You might weigh these matters of state against personal matters."

"Personal matters, madam?"

"Exactly."

"I confess that I don't understand."

"Shall I explain, Sire?"

"If you would be so good."

"By personal matters I mean that, if you allow yourself to be moved by fear ofthe people, by fear of Sethra, and by fear of Adron, well, there are those who willthink you a coward."

His Majesty frowned. "Do you think so?"

"Sire, I am convinced of it."

"And yet, if I do not, there are those who will think me a fool, and I will be thefirst of these."

"Then being thought a coward does not disturb Your Majesty?"

"Well, I would not say that it does not disturb me, madam. Yet ever since I was achild, I have--"

We do not know how His Majesty intended to complete this intriguing sentence;he was interrupted by a clap at the door, to which he responded--gratefully, tojudge by the look on his countenance and the slight lightening of the Orb--by callingout, "Who is there?"

"Sire," said Thack from the other side of the door, "there is a messenger here

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who begs leave to speak with Your Majesty on a matter of some urgency."

"A messenger?" said the Emperor. "And for whom does he message?"

"His Highness, Lord Adron e'Kieron," said Thack.

His Majesty stared, half rose to feet, sat down again, and said, "Bid him enter."

"At once, Sire," said Thack, and the door was opened, admitting the messenger.Where the messenger with whom we opened our history was Teckla, this messengerwas a Dragonlord. Where the Teckla was dressed in the height of style, theDragonlord was dressed in simple military fashion. Where the Teckla was calledSeb, the Dragonlord was called Molric e'Drien, and was, in fact, Adron's nephewand chainman.

His Majesty directed a look at the Consort, indicating that, this being in the natureof Imperial Business, she ought to quit the room. Her Majesty directed a look at theceiling, as if studying the intricate floral patterns etched therein, indicating that shepreferred to stay and hear whatever communication Lord Adron had for HisMajesty. The Emperor frowned, thought about insisting, but in the end simply turnedto the messenger and nodded for him to begin.

The messenger bowed and opened his mouth, when he, in turn, was interruptedby sudden footsteps appearing at the door. He turned as His Majesty looked overthe messenger's shoulder at the still-open door.

"Ah, Jurabin!" cried His Majesty. "Your arrival is timely."

"Thanks, Sire," said the Prime Minister. "Word reached my ears that a messengerhad arrived from His Highness the Dragon Heir."

"Exactly."

"If I may, Sire, I should wish to hear the message."

"You may indeed, Jurabin. Please come in. His Highness's nephew, Lord Molric,was about to begin."

Jurabin entered, bowed respectfully to His Majesty and to the Consort, andseated himself at the far end of the room, where he folded his hands on the table andassumed an attitude of careful attention. Excepting only the bow to which we havejust alluded, Jurabin avoided looking at the Consort entirely--for her part, Jurabinmay as well not have existed for all the notice she paid to his presence.

"Now then," said His Majesty, who appeared oblivious to the interaction, or lackof interaction, between Jurabin and Noima. "You, Sir, were about to tell us what HisHighness does the honor of communicating to us."

"Yes, Sire," said the Messenger. "Here is the message."

"We are listening."

Molric began to recite the message, as if he had memorized every word, pause,and emphasis, which, we do not doubt, is exactly the case.

He began, "To His Imperial Majesty, Tortaalik, Emperor of Dragaera, from His

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Highness, Adron e'Kieron, greetings."

"Well," said His Majesty to himself. "He begins well enough. Where he will gofrom there?"

The messenger continued, "Your Majesty ought to know that malicious gossipsare spreading rumors injurious to Your Majesty as well as to me. In particular, Sire,there are those who claim that Your Majesty would so demean himself as to ordersearched the private chambers of my daughter, Aliera, the Countess of Limterak, onthe flimsy pretext that certain outmoded laws may have been violated.

"Sire, I know this is impossible, yet these rumors abound, wherefore I, as a loyalservant of Your Majesty, feel obliged to bring them to Your Majesty's attention.Should Your Majesty wish to discover more details about these rumors, he need butask his faithful and vigilant servant, Adron e'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch,Dragon Heir to the Throne."

After the messenger, falling silent, had bowed, there was nothing to do exceptwatch as the Orb grew darker and redder, and to speculate upon the nature of HisMajesty's outburst. Even Jurabin, who was normally the one who could caution HisMajesty against taking intemperate actions without thinking them through, dared notspeak. And Her Majesty could think of nothing except that she had been the onewho had cajoled and wheedled Tortaalik into having Aliera's rooms searched; shehad no desire to call any attention to herself whatsoever.

At last the messenger himself, displaying, indeed, all the courage of a Dragonlord,said, "Sire, is there a reply?"

His Majesty stared at him, the Orb so red it seemed to be burning. "You may tellHis Highness," he said at last, "that we have received his message."

Molric bowed low and backed away, taking himself out the Emperor's sight, and,no doubt, thanking his personal deity that none of His Majesty's wrath had been sentin his direction. Meanwhile, Tortaalik struggled in his mind to control the rage he felt.On the one hand were all of the arguments he had just outlined to the Consort, buton the other was a sting to his pride such as he had never felt.

Could matters have fallen out differently? Could someone have said somethingthat might have had a different result, and could the course of the Empire have beenchanged thereby? In the sober judgment of this historian: No. Had His Majestyswallowed the offense, there can be no doubt that Adron, who had nicely calculatedthe insult, would have merely regrouped and, as he did during the Defense of theGripping Ford, found a new line of attack, until he at last penetrated his enemy'sposition.

But such speculations, of course, are pointless, for history is not what men couldhave done, or should have done, but, rather, what they did. What His Majesty didwas take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turn to Thack, saying, "Bring me myCaptain of the Guards."

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Chapter the Nineteenth

Which Treats of a General and a Gentleman,

Or a Dragon and a Lyorn,

And the Interaction Between Them;

Comparing and Contrasting It

To the Interaction Between

Two Less Savory Characters.

«^»SINCE KHAAVREN IS, JUST AT the moment, unavailable, and it will be sometime before any of those looking for our brave Captain manage to find him, we willtake the opportunity to look in on Aerich and Adron, at the Duke's encampmentoutside of Dragaera. Following the departure of the messenger, whose errand Adronknew perfectly well and Aerich guessed, time had passed very slowly, though neitherof these gentlemen gave any indication of impatience. Adron busied himself withdispatches and the seemingly endless paperwork of his battalion, occasionallybreaking off to study his mosaic of purple stones, while Aerich worked with hiscrochet hook, creating a stylized Lyorn which he intended to put on a table in hislibrary.

After some hours, a fine meal arrived in Adron's tent--a meal which combinedthe most advanced studies of the culinary arts as practiced by the military with thesensibilities of Lord Adron, who had always believed in keeping a proud table. Theywere served by a young subaltern, who herself selected the wine and brought forththe dishes as they were required by her general and his guest, yet contrived to remainout of their way, and nearly out of their sight.

The two gentlemen set to work on the comestibles in their particular fashions:Adron attacked his food as if it were the enemy, and disposed his knife and his teethas if they were the forces with which he intended to rout the roasted duck, driveback the hard-crusted bread, scatter the long-bean and rice, and force the confectionof apple, cream, and plum wine to surrender unconditionally. Aerich, meanwhile,treated these same dishes as if each were an honored guest, and he did not so muchdevour them as hold conversation with them, treating each with the courtesy andrespect he thought it deserved. It is difficult to say which of them enjoyed his mealthe more, yet certainly Adron enjoyed his more quickly--he was sipping strong wineand wandering contentedly about the tent (if we may be permitted such unfortunateeuphony) while the Lyorn was contemplating the whipped, frothy confection wehave already mentioned, and wondering at the best way to address it with the sweetbiscuits at hand.

"A most laudable repast," he remarked and looked upon the dishes, full andempty, and recalled their contents.

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Adron bowed, and gave the subaltern an approving look that she would in duecourse take back to the chief of Adron's kitchen. When she had at last gathered upthe dishes, napkins, and wine bottles, Aerich sat back contentedly, sighed, and said,"Will Your Highness entertain a question?"

"Gladly, my dear Lyorn," said Adron, looking up from the patterns of purplestones upon which he had, perhaps as an aid to digestion, begun working oncemore.

"I must apologize that this question is not related to the duck who has given hislife for our palates, nor, indeed, to the elegant and thoroughly mysterious manner inwhich Your Highness's chef has managed to season and prepare it over the spit withonly the tools of a traveling army at his disposal."

"Well," said Adron. "Pleased as I am that you have enjoyed the refreshment, youneed not confine your conversation to it. Tell me, if you would, the subject thatoccupies your thoughts."

"What can it be, Your Highness, except politics, and the situation in which wefind ourselves?"

"Ah," said Adron. "Yes, I understand you may have some questions on thissubject."

"I do indeed."

"Begin then."

"Very well. How does Your Highness anticipate His Majesty will react to theinsult?"

Adron frowned. "Insult? I must beg you to explain yourself more fully, for I donot understand the question you have done me the honor to ask."

"I refer," said Aerich, "to the insult contained in the message Your Highness hasthis morning caused to be dispatched to His Majesty."

"Do you pretend I have insulted His Majesty?"

Aerich returned him a look of inquiry. "I had not realized the matter was in doubt.Had Your Highness wished to convey some other impression?"

Adron's frown deepened. "Has Molric been indiscreet?"

"Hardly," said Adron.

"Then how are you aware of what I have said to His Majesty?"

"I have the honor of knowing Your Highness."

Adron's countenance cleared, and he very nearly smiled. "Ah," he said.

"And as to my question?"

"Well, what is your opinion?"

"Does Your Highness wish to know my opinion of this message?"

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"Yes, exactly."

"I think Your Highness ought to follow it at once with another."

"Follow my first message with a second?"

"Precisely."

"And what ought this second message to contain?"

"An apology for the first."

Adron stared for some few moments at the Lyorn, as if deciding whether tobecome angry. Whether because Adron's anger was specific, and directed againstHis Majesty, or simply because Aerich had the natural dignity which permitted him tomake such statements with impunity, the Prince in the end decided that anger wasuncalled-for. He simply said, "And yet, why should I apologize, when the offensewas given by the Emperor?"

"Because," said Aerich, "he is the Emperor."

"And therefore his subjects ought to accept whatever treatment he chooses tobestow upon them?"

"Yes," said Aerich.

Adron looked carefully at the Lyorn while he apparently considered this novelattitude toward the person of the Emperor. At last he said, "Why?"

"Because if the nobility fails in respect for the Imperium, what cause have thepeasants to respect the nobility?"

"It seems that I have heard this argument before," admitted Adron. "And yet, itseems to me that if His Majesty fails to treat the nobility with the respect due ourrank, then does that not also encourage the peasantry to do so as well?"

"Is it better to show an example of obedience and respect, or of rebellion?"

Adron took a step forward, planting himself in front of the Lyorn, and cried,"You go too far, sir! Who spoke of rebellion?"

Aerich remained seated and shrugged. "If one insults one's sovereign, one maybe a fool who expects no response, or a martyr who expects to be arrested, or arebel who expects to resist. I know Your Highness is not a fool; I doubt YourHighness is a martyr."

Adron looked at him carefully, for a moment, then laughed. "You are no fooleither, Lyorn."

Aerich bowed his head.

"Well?" said the Duke of Eastmanswatch. "I have not rebelled yet, and HisMajesty may still apologize."

"Surely Your Highness does not expect His Majesty to do so, any more than Ido."

"Expect? Hardly, sir. And yet, I hope I am wrong. By all the Gods, he owes me

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an apology, or, at any rate, he owes my daughter one. To so treat the offspring ofthe Dragon Heir--but it is of no moment. You are right, I do not expect an apologyfrom His Majesty."

"And then?" said Aerich. "Can Your Highness resist the entire force of theEmpire?"

Adron smiled a little, glanced at the mosaic of purple stones, and said, "Perhaps Ican."

"But," said Aerich, "does Your Highness truly wish to do so?"

Adron frowned but did not answer.

As these matters of morals (or, as the Demon of Knightsford would have usbelieve, ethics) were being hinted at, although never directly addressed, in Adron'sencampment outside of the city, at this same time, within the city, other matters werebeing discussed; matters in which ethics (or morals) played no part, though there canbe no question that any gentleman would have been outraged by the very subject,which was nothing less than cold-blooded murder, assassination, killing by stealthrather than skill.

Let the reader not think that this discussion is occurring in the Underside, or,indeed, anywhere that resembles in the least the cabaret where the conspirators havebeen conspicuously conspiring; rather, this meeting took place in a well-appointedpublic house on the Street of the Arches, between the Flat Circle, where thebourgeois gathered to buy, sell, and exchange their products, and Silver ExchangeSquare, overlooked by the graceful and slender Silver Exchange Building itself,frequented by bourgeois and nobility alike, and entirely avoided by Teckla exceptthose servants, lackeys, and errand-runners whose duties brought them there.

The inn, called The Silver Shadow by virtue of its position below the SilverExchange, was one of the proudest of this proud district, frequented byDragonlords, Dzurlords, the highest Jhereg nobles, and even those of the House ofthe Phoenix. There had never, in the thousands of years of its existence (it had, infact, been erected just after the Silver Exchange Building itself) been a fight within thewalls of the Silver Shadow, and even harsh words were rare. The proprietor, anIssola named Wensil, stood always at the door, and greeted every guest with a bowappropriate to his House and the cut of his clothing, except for those to whom hepolitely bur firmly refused entrance--and this he would only do if the individual'sdress indicated someone who would stand out unpleasantly. It is a fact that, duringthe Teckla Republic, Wensil's ancestors had permitted Teckla within the walls,provided the Teckla in question displayed sufficient wealth.

Within, all was tasteful, and even somewhat reminiscent of Valabar's Restaurantin distant Adrilankha. There were four rooms, called the Big Room, the Oak Room,the Cherry Room, and the Long Room, each appointed differently, yet eachblending harmoniously with the next. We will not try our readers' patience withdescriptions of rooms we will never see, so we will content ourselves with brieflysketching the one in which we find ourselves, that being the Cherry Room,

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immediately to the right as one entered from the street into the Long Room. TheCherry Room, then, was distinguished by cherrywood booths, a cherrywood bar,and a large hearth in which burned, of course, cherrywood, filling the room with thegentle, sweet smell of this most prized of hardwoods.

The room was nearly empty as we look in on it; only one booth was occupied.This booth contained two Dragonlords and a Dzurlord, none of whom, we shouldpoint out, are those whom we have especially intended to look in on, and all ofwhom were sipping sweet wine and indulging in certain light, puffy confectionswhich were one of Wensil's most renowned dishes. As they ate and drank, theyengaged in conversation which, if it has no direct bearing on the events we havecome here to witness, will, we are convinced, nevertheless be of interest to ourreaders. One of them, the sharp-featured Baroness of Clover, remarked to hercompanions, "I speak only for myself, for I am neither Prince nor Deputy, yet Ishould not give the Orb a penny."

"How then?" said the wiry Baroness of Newhouse. "You would bankrupt thecourt?"

"And why not?" shrugged Clover. "There is not only the Whitecrest Uprising, forwhich we received nothing, but there is this latest insult to Lord Adron.Moreover--"

"Yes? Moreover?"

"If we have any wish to preserve the integrity of the Empire--and I do not say ofthe Imperium, for I feel the cycle must turn soon--we will be needed again, and thatwith all our forces."

"Indeed?" said Newhouse. "Where do you pretend we will be needed?"

The third member of the trio was the Dzurlord, a tall, handsome man known asthe Count of Tree-by-the-Sea, but whom we will call by his given name, Jaan,because his title is so unwieldy. He now spoke for the first time, saying, "In thestreets of Dragaera, my dear."

Clover nodded, and felt pleased that Jaan agreed with her, for she found him notunattractive and was considering ways of arranging a liaison with him. "That is itexactly. The Underside is worse than ever, and the Teckla are grumbling in a way Ihave never seen before. Two of them pulled their ears at me today, and ran off into aside street. I am convinced that, if I had followed, they would have attempted anambuscade."

"How, you didn't chase them?" said Newhouse.

Clover shrugged. "It would have meant abandoning my horse, which could nothave negotiated the street, and I do not consider insults from Teckla worthresponding to."

"Well, there is something in that," said Newhouse.

"And," added Jaan, "when Teckla dare to insult Dragonlords, there are darkcurrents in the stream."

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"Exactly my thought," said Clover, looking at Jaan fondly.

"But," said Newhouse, who found Clover rather more attractive than Jaan, "whatis the cause of their discontent?"

"What is the cause?" said Clover, startled. "Where have you been that you do notknow? I have received word from my steward that fifty Teckla had to be driven offmy estate, where they had come from the city because there is no bread there. Thehighways are filled with brigands, and an appalling number of them are desperateTeckla who have left the city. After thousands of years of the city getting bigger andbigger, Newhouse, now the Teckla are moving away from it, because they cannotafford bread. And whose fault is this, except His Majesty's, who taxes everything tobuy diamonds and--"

"Ah," said Jaan. "There I must disagree."

"How, His Majesty is not fond of diamonds?"

"Oh, to be sure, he is. But he has spent far less on this passion than manybelieve. I know this, because my cousin is in the Guard, and he has a close friendwhose niece, also a guardsman, has spent a great deal of time stationed outside theoffices of the intendant, Smaller, who has been killed, and this niece both spoke withhim and overheard his discussions with his clerks. There can be no doubt that onlythe tiniest fraction of the Imperial Funds have ever gone to indulge His Majesty'swhims."

"Well then," said Clover, who had no answer to this direct evidence, "what is thecause then?"

"As to that, dearest lady, I suspect a number of things at once. But if you will notthink me a mystic, then I would say it means just what you have alreadysuggested--it is time for the cycle to turn, and no more need be said. Lord Adronought to do something, and if he were here, I would tell him so directly. He must actbefore it is too late."

"Yes, yes, I agree completely," said Clove, delighted at being called "dearestlady."

"And there is more," said Jaan. "My cousin spoke of the blockades set at thegates, where all wagons are searched. He said that they found that a wagon, whichappeared to be full of Teckla entering the city, actually contained, in a hiddencompartment, several sacks of grain."

"Indeed?" said Newhouse and Clover together.

"The Teckla were hanged at once," said Jaan. "But consider how desperate theymust be to risk death to sneak grain past the tax collectors, not even consideringwhat they must have done to acquire it." He shook his head, as if to say that therewas nothing good to look forward to in the city, and, indeed, the Empire.

"And yet," said Newhouse, "if what you say is true, it would seem to be exactlythe wrong time to bankrupt the Imperium."

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Clover shrugged, as a pair of well-dressed Jhereg entered the room. "Let otherssupply the funds--we will have our work cut out for us." As she said others hereyes strayed significantly to the Jhereg we have just mentioned, and whom we willnow, abandoning the Dragonlords, follow to the last booth in the room. One ofthese, the reader will recognize instantly as our old acquaintance, Dunaan. The otherwas a young, small, quiet-looking Jhereg, with regular, handsome features andnothing to distinguish him save for his countenance, which was marked by bright,sparkling eyes, and a peculiar expression resembling a faint smile that seemed to bepermanently fixed on his features.

They seated themselves, and asked the obsequious waiter to bring them a goodred wine, a dish of kethna sauteed with green onions, mushrooms, and sage, and abowl of fruit. Then they sat quietly, speaking only of such innocuous subjects asfashion and the weather, until the plates of food arrived, and the waiter departed. Asthey began eating, Dunaan said, "You have, Mario, acquired a certain reputation."

"Have I?" the one addressed replied mildly. "I had not been aware of it."

"It is, nevertheless, true."

"Well I hope, then, that it is a good one."

"I think so. It is, in all events, the reason I wish to speak to you."

Mario stabbed a piece of kethna with his skewer in a motion precise and graceful,acquiring both an onion and a mushroom at the same time. He lifted these to hismouth and nodded for Dunaan to continue.

"We have a task for which we believe you are qualified. I should warn you atonce that it will not be easy."

Mario, having finished the piece of kethna, bit into a whitefruit, somehowcontriving to eat it without, as usually happens to victims of this fruit, finding that ithas exploded into his face or down his chin. He chewed thoughtfully, brought hisnapkin up to his lips and expelled a few seeds, then swallowed. "Very well," he said."I understand. It will not be easy."

"In fact, it will be very difficult."

"It will be very difficult; I am warned."

"We wish you to kill someone."

"Well," said Mario phlegmatically.

"We are offering a fee that is, I daresay, more than anyone has ever been offeredbefore."

Mario's forehead twitched in a peculiar manner, but he made no rejoinder.

"Yes," said Dunaan, nodding. "This is a very serious matter, and there is noquestion of joking. Our aim is high--very high, and we mean to hit what we aim at.Will you be our weapon?"

"How high?" said Mario.

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"Very high," said Dunaan.

"Could you be speaking of a minister?"

"Higher."

"Of a Prince?"

"Still higher."

"Of the--?"

"Exactly."

"I see," said Mario.

"Well?"

"Yes, I perceive that there is no question of joking."

"Have you any interest?"

"Have you any assurance that such a thing is possible?"

"Anything is possible," said Dunaan.

"That is not assurance."

"What troubles you? The Guard?"

"I can elude guards, and I can strike before they are aware, and I can be gonebefore they can recover."

"Well then?"

"The Orb."

"Ah, the Orb."

"Exactly. Will it not act to save the life of the Emperor?"

"Not if the cycle has turned."

Mario considered this, then nodded. "Very well," he said. "You need onlyconvince me that the cycle has turned, and no more need be said."

"Oh, as to that..."

"Yes?"

"I may not be able to convince you."

"Well, then--"

"But I can do something as good."

Mario nodded and waited patiently for Dunaan to continue.

Dunaan set a velvet pouch on the table before him, between a wineglass and ascrap-boat. Mario took the pouch, opened it, and a large pearl fell into his hand. Heconsidered it, and, realizing that, though worth a great deal, it was still less than heshould demand for killing His Majesty, turned a look of inquiry upon Dunaan.

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"Bring it into the presence of the Orb, and crush it beneath your foot. For thenext few minutes, the Orb will not act to save His Majesty's life."

Mario frowned. "How can this be?"

"The Orb will, for some minutes, believe that the cycle has turned."

"Shards!" said Mario, showing emotion for the first time. "This pearl you haveshown me, when crushed, can deceive the Orb itself?"

"Exactly."

"How can this be?"

"How was the Orb made?" said Dunaan.

"I am neither scientist nor historian."

"And yet, you know that some are."

"Yes."

"The work of scientists and historians has gone into the design of this object, aswell as the work of skilled sorcerers in producing it. How it was done, I know nomore than you."

"But you are certain it will work?"

"I am convinced."

"Yet I must be convinced, too."

"Consider," said Dunaan, "that if it fails, you will fail. If you fail, the PhoenixGuards will almost certainly attempt to capture you alive; if they succeed in this, theOrb will be used to interrogate you, and if the Orb is used to interrogate you, youwill, without doubt, reveal everything, including my name, appearance, and suchother information as will allow the Phoenix Guard to find me. I am, therefore, stakingmy life as well as your own."

"That is sufficient," said Mario after considering this argument.

"As to the fee..."

"Well?"

Dunaan named a prodigious amount of gold, and stated that half should berendered as soon as he, Mario, should agree to do what was asked of him, the otherhalf when the mission had been completed.

Dunaan said, "Do you need time to consider this proposal which I have had thehonor of making you?"

"A few moments only," said Mario. "A few moments that I will spend boilingthese rednuts in this liqueur before spooning them onto the cold fruit, and eatingthem before the temperatures have evened out. I suggest, My Lord, you busyyourself in the same way, and, before the bowl of nuts has exhausted itself, well, Ibelieve I will have an answer for you."

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This plan was instantly adopted, and Dunaan applied his full attention to therednuts, the liqueur, and the iced fruit, while Mario thought matters over.

We should explain that Mario, though he had scarcely seen his hundredth year,had already acquired a reputation within those hidden, illegal circles to which wehave been forced to introduce our readers. We should add that, in these circles,reputation was of supreme importance, and it was rare indeed for the rumors ofone's character or abilities to be incorrect. Mario was, by all accounts, as skilled inhis trade as anyone could desire.

And yet, to be sure, he was also young, and coincident with youth isinexperience. His head was not turned by the amount of money, nor, indeed, was itturned by anything like the idea of glory (for glory is an unknown concept in theworld-behind-the-world of a criminal organization), but he was susceptible tochallenges, and his extraordinary reflexes, his ability to make quick decisions, to payattention to every detail, and to carry out his plans with no hesitation or scruple madehim, he knew, one of very few who might have a chance to carry out such a mission.He was well aware that the Orb had never before been defeated, but Dunaan'sarguments were persuasive--at the very least, persuasive of Dunaan's faith in themagic of the pearl. And Dunaan had a reputation for being careful and not easilyfooled.

It was, reflected Mario, the greatest challenge that was ever likely to fall in hisway, and he knew that, if he passed it by, he would always wonder if he would havebeen able to carry it out.

So he was, we perceive, careful, thoughtful, and skilled well beyond hisyears--and inexperienced in the ways of the world, and even in the ways of theJhereg.

That Dunaan was deliberately betraying him never entered his thoughts.

"Very well," he said. "I will do it."

Chapter the Twentieth

Which Treats of the Translation of Orders

By Teckla and by Captains,

And the Translation of Looks and Phrases

By Ingenious Yendi.

«^»IT WAS STILL THE MIDDLE of the afternoon when Khaavren took his leave ofDaro, with soft words on both sides and a promise from the Countess that shewould not leave for her estates before the evening at the earliest, but would, in fact,arrive at the house on the Street of the Glass Cutters to continue the conversationswith the Captain that had provided them both with such great and unexpected

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pleasure. This established, she resumed her packing, which she finished withextraordinary speed. When each gown, petticoat, manteau, housecoat, scarf, wrap,glove, muff, boot, shoe, bonnet, hat, and various items we will not offend ourreaders' sensibilities by naming was stowed, or, more precisely, deposited in theappropriate satchel or portmanteau (there were no more than three all told), shecaused servants to bring them to the Waterspout Door of the Phoenix Wing, whereshe came herself to wait until the carriage arrived. This it did in due time, and shegave the address of the house on the Street of the Glass Cutters. She was,fortunately, preceded in her arrival at Khaavren's house by a messenger who handedSrahi a note, which we will hasten to divulge to our readers:

"Daro, Countess of Whitecrest, has condescended to honor our house with avisit. The terrace room ought to be suitable. You may expect me at the usual time, ifHis Majesty's orders do not interfere. Convey my respectful courtesy to theCountess upon her arrival, and be kind enough to convey to her also my welcome toour home." It was carefully signed, "Khaavren, Captain of the Guard."

Now Srahi, though a Teckla, was, at any rate, sharp enough to cut dry wool, asthe saying is. The first thing she noticed was that Khaavren did her the honor to signhis message with his title, and she knew that this indicated something of theimportance he attached to this visitor. Furthermore, the phrase, "ought to besuitable" was significant, because there could be no question that this room, whichhad once been Pel's, would suit a guest; the only question was, would the room beready. Khaavren, then, was informing her that, in brief, it had better be.

His remarks about being home at the same time as he was always home wouldseem to be wasted words, and Khaavren, as we have established, was notaccustomed to wasting words in speech, and still less was he accustomed to wastingwords on paper. This was an indication to Srahi that, when he returned, he would belooking at the state of the room in which this Countess was staying, and that hewould tolerate no slovenliness in this case--this notion was underscored by themention of His Majesty's orders, indicating that Khaavren expected his own ordersto be obeyed as if they came from the Orb itself.

As a whole, then, the letter showed that this guest was important to Khaavren,and that this was one of those occasions when Srahi ought to spare no effort to seeto it that his wishes were carried out.

Because of the excellence of her translation, and perhaps, because of theimprovement in Srahi's disposition since the arrival of Mica, and, indeed, becauseSrahi had Mica's cheerful help in all the preparations, Daro, upon her arrival, wastreated with smiling courtesy as well as efficiency. She settled into these rooms withthe ease of a woman used to sudden changes in her situation, and, we ought to add,with the energy and joy of a woman suddenly and unexpectedly in love.

Speaking of those suddenly and unexpectedly in love, Khaavren, after sendingthis message, returned to those areas of the Palace to which his duty called him, andwhere he was immediately spotted by a page sent by His Majesty (it will hardlysurprise our readers that, of those searching for Khaavren, it was His Majesty who

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found him first).

The Orb, when Khaavren saw it circling His Majesty's head in the Portrait Room,was a dark, brooding red; Khaavren thus prepared himself for his master'sdispleasure. He anticipated correctly, for, as the Captain made his way through thecourtiers, Tortaalik's eyes fell upon him angrily, and he said, "I perceive you are hereat last, Captain."

Khaavren bowed. "Yes, Sire; I have just received your message."

"You have been damnably hard to find to-day."

"I am sorry," said the Captain, "that Your Majesty has had trouble locating me."

"Well?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"What have you been about?"

"My duty, Sire," lied Khaavren, with a significant glance about him, asking if HisMajesty really wished Khaavren to discuss the exact nature of his activities beforethe assembled court.

The Emperor harrumphed, and gave into Khaavren's hand a piece of paper,adding the words, "Please see to this at once, if your duties will spare you longenough."

Khaavren ignored His Majesty's irony, and merely bowed and said, "Yes, Sire,"after which he backed away and retreated to the hall outside of the Portrait Room,where he broke the seal on the note and read it on the spot. As with Khaavren's noteto his servant, we will reproduce the text of it here:

"Order for Lord Khaavren, Captain of the Guard, to Arrest His Highness Adrone'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch, etc. etc., At Once and Confine him in a SecurePlace within the Iorich Wing, taking All Necessary Precautions against Escape orUndue Disturbance."

Khaavren read the message again, and then a third time. Khaavren had had muchexperience in performing the necessary translation from the ciphers in which themost apparently simple order was couched--that is, he understood that a great dealcould be conveyed in what was left unsaid, or in the precise wording of the ordersHis Majesty did him the honor to entrust to him, and what was said in this order was,indeed, enough to cause our Tiassa some unease.

By including his name, and even going so far as to use his title as well, Khaavrenwas being told that the responsibility for this order rested on his shoulders--hecould delegate as much as he chose--but his position, perhaps even his head, wouldanswer for the success or failure of this mission.

Next, there was the phrase, "At Once." All orders were to be carried out at once;that His Majesty deigned to make this explicit indicated something of His Majesty'sstate of mind, which would brook no delay for any reason.

Even more disturbing, however, was His Majesty's use of the phrase, "Secure

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Place." There was no reason to believe that any prison in the Iorich Wing was notsecure--what this meant was that Khaavren would be held responsible, not only forarresting Lord Adron, but for seeing to it that Adron remained arrested; Khaavrenhad been given the responsibility that normally fell to the jailer. This was emphasizedand even underlined by the remarks about escape and disturbance. His Majesty,then, feared an attempt would be made to rescue Lord Adron, or that social unrestmight break out because of his arrest, and Khaavren was to be held responsible forall of this, as well.

It was, to be sure, no small task, and the phrase "At Once" compounded thedifficulty, because it meant he had precious little time to make preparations for anytrouble that might ensue.

He stood for a moment, thinking, then carefully folded up his order and put it inhis pocket. After this, he continued, his contemplations. It was all very well for HisMajesty to say, "At Once," but certain matters had to be considered. In the firstplace, how many men would he need to make the arrest? If Adron did not choose toresist, then none would be needed, but if Adron did resist, then, shards! all of hismen at once, aye, and Stonemover's as well, would not be sufficient. Well, then, hewould assume Adron would not resist. If he guessed wrong, why, Adron wouldhave him, that is, Khaavren, killed, and Khaavren would then have fallen honorably,although his mission would not have succeeded.

"But, my dear Captain," he said to himself, "does that matter? Come, be honest,can you recall a mission you have set out upon with less joy in a hundred years?Arrest Lord Adron? Cha! I should more happily set him upon the--but stay, let usnot contemplate treason, even in our most private thoughts. We have our orders, andwe must carry them out, or fall nobly in the attempt; it is all one." He shruggedphilosophically, "Still, it is, without a doubt, a shame that, if I succeed, I shall bejailing, and, no doubt, helping to prepare the execution of, one of the first gentlemanin the Empire. And, by the Gods, as much a shame that, if I fail, I will be deniedfurther company of my Lady Daro."

As he sub-vocalized this name, he felt a certain peculiar constricting in his chest,a sensation that all lovers will recognize at once; and which sensation, along with thethoughts it carried in its wake, brought a happy, if slightly dazed, expression to ourTiassa's countenance. This expression, however, gradually changed to a frown, asthe thought he allowed to grow within himself became stronger, and he realized morefully what he would be giving up along with his life. This induced a certainmelancholy, which our brave Captain checked as soon as he became aware of it.

"Come now," he told himself sternly. "Is happiness to make me craven? Thiscannot be allowed. No, no I must set about my mission directly, or resign mycommission and become a hermit, which would be intolerable to one of mydisposition.

"Well then, Khaavren my friend, onward, and meet your fate with your chinpointed forward, if not with your heart light. But what is this? More old friendsapproach. Ah, temptation steps onto my path!"

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This was occasioned by the sight of Pel and Tazendra, who looked on him withexpressions of unalloyed pleasure--pleasure which faded, or, as the sailors say,moderated as they approached, no doubt on observing that Khaavren appeared tobe unhappy about something.

Nevertheless, Khaavren made an effort to be cordial. "Greetings, my goodfriends," he said. "What brings you to the Palace?"

"Why, you do," said Tazendra.

"You are looking for me?" said Khaavren.

"In fact," said Pel, "more than looking for you; we have found you."

"Come now," said Tazendra to herself. "I think I have heard that phrase before."

"And so you have," said Khaavren, speaking, we hasten to add, to Pel, ratherthan to Tazendra. "And yet," he continued, still speaking to Pel, "I confess, as muchpleasure as your company brings me, I have little enough time to spare, for dutycalls, and it is a duty that, if it affords me no joy, affords me even less time."

"Where does your duty take you?" asked Pel. "For if we can accompany you onits first steps, well, that will allow us a few moments to converse with you, and willcost you no time at all, while satisfying all we desire."

"It takes me," said Khaavren, "in the first place, back to my offices in the DragonWing, and I can think of no reason why you cannot accompany me at least that far."

"Then lead on," said Pel, bowing.

"Yes," said Tazendra. "For you always lead so charmingly."

To this, Khaavren had no rejoinder, so he began walking toward the DragonWing. As he did, Pel said, "Come now, tell me what you can about this poor fellowwho made an attempt on your life just two days ago."

"Two days ago?" said Khaavren. "Is that all it was? Shards and splinters, but thedays have been busy!"

"And like to become busier," said Pel.

"I have no doubt you are right," said Khaavren with a sigh.

"Nevertheless, I am interested in this circumstance, and, if you will relate all youknow and have surmised about this fellow, well, Tazendra and I will have a look andsee what we can learn about him."

"It is easily done," said Khaavren. "The more so because I was about to go toyou and ask for your help in precisely this matter when I was interrupted, first by theoutbreak of civil disorder, and then by other matters following quickly on the riot'sheels, so I am now delighted that you will agree to look into the matter, and I amanxious for any enlightenment you can bring me." And he quickly related theobservations and deductions he and Aerich had made with regard to the assassin,exactly as we have already had the honor of relating them to the reader, whereforewe will not take up the reader's time by unnecessary and redundant repetition.

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"Hmmm," said Pel. "You have, in any case, given me something to look for."

By this time, they had reached Khaavren's offices, and the Captain said, "Here Imust bid you farewell, for duty awaits, and it is a duty in which you cannot help me,nor, I think, would you wish to." He paused and looked carefully into Pel's eyes. "Avery unpleasant duty. And I am certain you would not wish to help."

"I see," said the Yendi. "Yes, I see. Well, in that case, allow me to wish you thebest of fortune, and we will be on our way."

As his two friends left, Khaavren sat down to begin considering and thencomposing the orders that might protect the city against any disturbance triggered bythe arrest of Lord Adron. But he had scarcely begun considering, and was nowherenear composing, when he was informed of visitors.

"Who?" he said laconically.

"The Lady Aliera and Sethra Lavode," said the corporal on duty.

"Ah," said Khaavren. "Well, they may enter."

"My dear Captain," said Sethra without preamble, speaking even as she crossedthe threshold a step before Aliera. "My dear Captain, you have led us a merrychase."

"In truth?"

"In truth. We have been here, and all the way back to the Imperial Wing, andaround the rooms you are known to frequent, and once more to the Imperial Wing,and at last back here to your office, whence we started our search."

"I am sorry," said Khaavren, "to have discommoded you. Yet, as you know, mytime is not my own. In fact, it is, at this moment, even less my own than usual,wherefore I'm afraid I can spare none of it for conversation, however pleasant thatconversation might be."

"Oh, we quite understand," said Aliera. "Duty waits for no one."

"Exactly."

"Yet, it is duty that brings us here--in fact, your duty. Or, perhaps we ought tosay, a certain duty you may have been assigned."

Khaavren felt the blow in his heart, yet he gave no sign of it on his countenance."A certain duty I may have been assigned? Come, what can you mean?"

"We will tell you," said Aliera.

"I ask nothing better," said Khaavren.

"Then attend."

Sethra said, "We wish to know, insofar as you are allowed to tell us--"

"For," put in Aliera, "you may not be allowed to tell us, and if you cannot speakof these matters, we understand and will not press you."

"Yes, yes," said Khaavren. "Go on."

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"You may have received certain orders," Sethra began again. "And we wish toknow--"

"If you are allowed to tell us," put in Aliera, with a glance at the Enchantress ofDzur Mountain.

"--If you have been given these orders."

"Well," said Khaavren, still struggling to maintain his composure. "You perceive Iam often given an order of which I am not allowed to speak--of which, in fact, itwould be nothing short of treasonous to speak."

"Yes," said Aliera. "And if such is the case with these orders, well, we shall notrequire that you reveal them."

"That... that is well," said Khaavren.

"Nevertheless," said Sethra, a trifle impatiently, "we wish to ask."

"Oh, by all means," said Khaavren. "Yes, certainly, you may ask."

"Then we shall," said Sethra.

"Do so," said Khaavren.

"Have you then," said Sethra, "been given any orders that--"

"Yes?" said Khaavren, who began to feel that the clasp of his uniform cloak,which was exactly as he'd worn it every day for five hundred and thirty years, wastoo tight. "Orders that--"

"Orders that have something to do with the Lady Aliera?"

Khaavren blinked and attempted to stall for time, hoping to think of some meansout of the uncomfortable situation in which he found himself. "How, with the LadyAliera?" said Khaavren. "Why, any orders might have something to do with the LadyAliera, for her interests could lie anywhere, and I cannot know what might havesomething to do with her."

"I meant," said Sethra sharply, "more directly."

"Well, that is--"

Aliera suddenly cut in, "Have you orders to arrest me, Captain? For, if so, I amhere, and I have no intention of resisting, but will instead appeal, first of all, to myfather, next to the Dragon Council, and then--"

Khaavren sprang to his feet. "Arrest you! That is what you think? You think Ihave been ordered to arrest you?"

"Why, we don't think so, Captain," said Sethra. "And yet, we know that Alierahas offended certain people, and we thought it possible--how, could it be, Captain,that you are laughing at me?"

Khaavren controlled himself and said, "Oh, not the least in the world, I assureyou. And, moreover, I assure you that I have been given no orders to arrest the LadyAliera. The Gods! If I had, I should have carried them out the instant you set foot in

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my office."

"Well," said Aliera, "I understand that."

"As do I," said Sethra.

"Then," said Khaavren, sinking back into his chair with a feeling of immeasurablerelief, "there is no more to be said, except that, indeed, there is much that needs tobe done, and precious little time to do it, wherefore I am forced, if you will excuseme, to bid you both a good day."

They bowed to the Captain, wished him well, promised to see him on anotheroccasion, and took their leave. As the Captain turned once more to considering theorders he must write, and how to couch them in terms that would produce exactlythe results he desired, allowing for the interpretations of Sergeant, subalterns, andcorporals, we will follow Aliera and Sethra out into the wide hall before the entranceto the Guard's sub-wing of the Dragon Wing, where they exchanged words thatcannot fail to be of interest.

"What did you think?" said Aliera.

"He would not lie," said Sethra. "Moreover, he was not lying. Nevertheless--"

"Yes, nevertheless, he was concealing something."

"Indeed he was," said Sethra. "And we should, no doubt, have discovered it ifyou had been less insistent on that point of courtesy to which you kept returning.Should such a matter come up in the future, you would be well advised--"

"Perhaps," said Aliera with a shrug. "And yet, you will admit that it was hardly amere point of courtesy. To an officer--"

"I give you my word," said Sethra, "that I have been an officer, and I know whatorders are. So, for that matter, does Lord Khaavren. He would have known perfectlywell when to keep mum without--"

"Oh, of a certainty he would have known," said Aliera. "But it seemed to me thathe must know we understood, and were not attempting--"

"To let him know," said Sethra. "Is one thing. Yet, by insisting, you prevented usfrom learning just what was on his mind, and I, for one, am curious. Just a fewwords from him would have been sufficient to have told me a great deal. I hope youremember this next time such a situation occurs."

Aliera, who began to grow somewhat warm, said, "Then, if I understand you, itwas all right to mention it, but not to continue repeating it to the point of becomingtedious?"

"Exactly."

"As you are becoming tedious with your lesson?"

"You say I am tedious?" said Sethra coldly.

"The very word," said Aliera.

"Perhaps it is required when dealing with a pupil who fails to understand what is

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so obvious--"

"I do not recall asking you to teach me anything."

"Yet, my dear, you so clearly require it."

"Then perhaps you would care to give me a lesson on another subject entirely?"

"I take your meaning," said Sethra. "And I would be delighted."

"Take care, however, that your pupil does not surpass you--the embarrassmentmight kill you."

"I accept the risk. Come, there is a courtyard just through these doors, not ahundred meters from this spot, paved with flat stonework and altogether suitable."

"I know it; a charming place. Let us find witnesses and a judge, neither of whomcan be far."

"I would think they'd abound in such a place."

"Indeed," said Aliera, "here are two acquaintances who will serve admirably.Greetings, my dear Tazendra. Pel, allow me to name Sethra Lavode."

For just a moment, the unflappable Yendi appeared taken aback. He recoveredquickly, however, bowed, and said, "I am honored to meet you, madam. Indeed, Iam."

"And I to meet you," said Sethra. "For all of your activities are not unknown tome, and those of which I have heard I honor."

Pel bowed deeply, and seemed about to speak, but Aliera broke in, saying,"Perhaps you could perform a service for us. If you, Pel, would act as my friend,and if the good Tazendra will stand for Sethra Lavode, we have a matter--"

"Alas," said Pel. "You have no time for such games; they must be postponed."

"How?" said Aliera. "We have no time?"

"You in particular, Lady Aliera."

"And yet, why not? I know of nothing that presses me so urgently that I cannotattend to the desires of my friend here for a few thrusts loyally given."

"You cannot?" said Pel. "But I can."

"Indeed? What is it, then?" said Aliera.

"Yes," said Sethra. "I am also curious."

"As am I," said Tazendra.

"Then I will satisfy your curiosity. But, before I do so, I must ask a question."

"If it will help," said Aliera shrugging, "you may ask ten."

"I have been waiting for you, Aliera, because, as I was leaving Khaavren's office,I noticed you enter, along with this lady," here he bowed, "whom I did not, I mustconfess, recognize."

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"Well, yes," said Aliera, "we have seen Lord Khaavren."

"And--forgive me if my question is indiscreet, but I assure you I have nochoice--he made no indication that he might have intentions toward you? Intentions,that is, that fall within his capacity as Captain of the Guard?"

"You are asking," stated Sethra, "if we are certain he has no intentions ofarresting the Lady Aliera."

"You are perspicacious," said Pel, bowing.

"Shards!" said Aliera. "That is the very subject about which we spoke to him!"

"And?" said Pel.

"He denied any such intention," said Aliera.

Pel nodded. "I feared as much."

"How," said Sethra. "You feared it?"

"Exactly."

"Can you now," said Aliera, "explain why we have no time to spare?"

"It is simple enough," said Pel. "You must, without delay, return to your fatherand explain to him that, in just a very few moments, Khaavren will be arriving toarrest him in the name of the Emperor."

Chapter the Twenty-first

Which Treats of Khaavren's Mission

And How He Carried It Out,

And of a Conversation with a Noble

Of the House of the Phoenix;

With Notes Pertaining to The Composition of Orchestras.

«^»KHAAVREN SPENT A FEW MOMENTS explaining to Thack the gist of hisorders regarding the placement of troops, the calling up of reserves, thereinforcement of Guard detachments at the Iorich Wing, and the other measures hethought would be helpful. Then he put into Thack's hand these same orders, writtenout in more detail and signed, after which he called for a horse to be brought roundto the door.

Though he was not happy about the delays forced on him by the interruptionsand by the need to write out and deliver the orders to which we have just alluded,our Tiassa was not the sort of man to allow himself to tangle his belt over what wasunavoidable. Nevertheless, he was keenly aware that time was continuing to flow at arate of sixty minutes each hour, and so, without wasting a single one of theseprecious minutes, he mounted upon the roan mare that had been brought for him,

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and set off at a good speed for the Gate of the Dragon.

As always, it was difficult to negotiate some of the streets, but his urgency helpedto clear the way--he charged groups of pedestrians as if he had no care aboutrunning them down, wherefore the pedestrians, somehow aware of this even whenthey were looking in another direction, hastened to give room to the galloping horsewhose rider, head bent over his horse's neck, glared ahead with such a fierceexpression.

Once past the gate and on the open road, Khaavren gave the mare her head,determined to reach Adron's encampment as soon as he could, even if it meantkilling his horse. As it happened, his horse, though foaming and sweating, was alivewhen it reached the road to the camp. This was a long, narrow path, and at themidpoint, Khaavren remembered, Adron had set up his guard post. In fact,Khaavren's sharp eyes could distinguish three figures waiting there. With gentlepressure of his knees, he caused his horse to slow just the least bit, while heconsidered what it meant that there were three soldiers, instead of the two he hadobserved on his previous visit. He caused his horse to slow still more as heapproached and considered. Though he arrived at no certain answer to his question,it did make him alert and watchful as he drew rein before the three Dragonlords in theuniforms of the Breath of Fire Battalion.

"I give you good day in the name of the Emperor," said Khaavren.

"And we give you good day as well," said one of the Dragonlords, a woman withshort hair and sharply hooked nose, "in the name of the Emperor, and in the name ofHis Highness, Adron e'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch, at whose camp you arenow arrived."

"This is the camp of Lord Adron?" said Khaavren.

"None other," said the Dragonlord.

"Well, this camp is then just what I have been seeking, for I have an errand to HisHighness that trembles with impatience and bites its lips with frustration at any delay;wherefore, good soldier, I ask that you let me by so that I and my errand can cometo an understanding with each other. I am called Khaavren of Castlerock, and I havethe honor to be Captain of His Majesty's Imperial Guard, and it is on His Majesty'sbehalf that I and my errand are come."

The soldier bowed, "I would like nothing more than to give you and your erranda good welcome, but, alas! His Highness has forbidden errands of any sort upon thesite of our camp, and my companions and I fear that you would have some troubleleaving your errand behind, wherefore we hope that you will take no offense if wecannot give way before you."

Khaavren looked at her, and at her two companions, one being a tall woman whoreminded Khaavren of Tazendra and had a short sword at either hip, the other agreat, burly man like a small mountain, with a sword as tall as Khaavren himself. TheCaptain then looked behind them, at the encampment half a kilometer further downthe road, and he could not fail to notice, even at that distance, that the camp was

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being struck, and preparations were being made for the entire battalion to move, andquickly at that. He also noticed that, stretching out to both sides as far as he couldsee, was a tall, sharp-edged wire fence, of the sort that could be set up in meremoments, and which effectively prevented him from riding around thecheck-post--he would have to go through this place, which meant through thosethree determined Dragonlords.

"Nevertheless," said Khaavren, "I must have words with His Highness."

"I am sorry," said soldier. "My orders absolutely forbid it."

"Well, I understand orders."

"That is well."

"I have some, too."

"That doesn't startle me."

"Mine require that I pass."

"Ours require us to bar your way."

"Then we shall have to fight."

"Of that, there can be no doubt. Yet, before we do so--"

"Yes? Before we do?"

"I have been instructed to give you a message."

"To hear, or to bear to another?"

"To bear to another."

"You wish me to have a second errand before I have completed my first?"

The Dragonlord shrugged. "It is hard, I know."

"Well, what is this message?"

"It is to His Majesty."

"Yes. And the text?"

"His Highness will submit to arrest--"

"Ah!"

"--upon receiving an apology from His Majesty for His Majesty's lack of respecttoward His Highness's daughter."

This time Khaavren shrugged. "What is your name," he said.

"I am Geb, and these are my companions, Dohert and Eftaan."

"Very well, my dear Geb. I hear your message, and will certainly undertake todeliver it, yet I can assure His Highness (and I will so assure him in person after youand I have finished our discussion), that His Majesty will not take kindly to beingspoken to in such terms."

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"You perceive," said Geb, "that, having done my duty, I have no concern forsuch matters."

"I understand."

"Well, in that case, unless you have more messages--"

"No, that was all."

"Nothing remains to be done, except for you and your cohorts to stand aside."

"It is impossible."

"Out of my way, in the name of the Emperor," said Khaavren. "You must standaside at once or be ridden down!"

"Stand aside? Never in the world, my love. You perceive we were not orderedhere so that we would step aside the first time we were asked."

"You will not be asked again," said Khaavren, preparing to spur his horse directlyinto them.

"So much the better," remarked the other woman, the one called Dohert, and asshe spoke, she threw a short javelin into Khaavren's horse, which reared, stumbled,and fell. When the horse reared, Khaavren slid off its back and, after rolling once,came to his feet.

"I regret having to slaughter your horse," remarked Dohert.

"You will come to regret it more," said Khaavren, drawing his sword with hisright hand while taking a flashstone into his left.

All three soldiers drew, but they had not even placed themselves on their guardbefore Khaavren discharged the stone into the face of the man called Eftaan, whowas half a step ahead of his companions. He screamed and fell backward, and beganmoaning. At the same time as Khaavren discharged the stone, he also delivered agood cut at Dohert, forcing her to take a backward step.

Geb thrust for Khaavren's head in an attack so quick that Khaavren was only ableto duck it in part--the point scraped along his temple, and for a moment his visionfailed. He stepped back, crying, "If you are acting under orders, this is high treason,if not, it is low rebellion. Think of what you are doing!"

"It's all the same to me," said Geb, as she stepped in again, striking Khaavren'ssword so hard that it was carried far out of line, as well as making his grip falter sothat he nearly dropped the weapon.

"It is as well for me that my flashstone has a second charge," remarkedKhaavren, as he set it off once more. Geb gave a sharp cry and then fell bothbackward and silent. The woman called Dohert, however, was now charging, andKhaavren, who had not yet managed to get a good grip on his sword, could think ofnothing to do except throw the stone at her head.

She ducked, and, at the same time, gave Khaavren a good cut in his side, whichhe answered with a cut that nearly severed her sword arm. She stepped back once

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more, showing no sign of discomfort, but, rather, grinning at him as if she likednothing better in the world than such a bloody battle, and said, "You ought to havebrought along some help--in truth, My Lord Adron expected you to." As shespoke, she also dropped the sword from her right hand, though she still held theother in her left.

"Then he expected you and your friends to be killed?"

"We volunteered," she said. "And now, prepare yourself, for I am about to havethe honor to charge you."

"Well," said Khaavren laconically.

She did, indeed, charge; Khaavren parried a vicious cut at his neck, butdiscovered that his legs felt weak, no doubt from the blow to his head, so that hewas obliged to take a step backward. Dohert stepped in again, but Khaavrenabruptly moved forward to meet her as she was preparing another cut, and found herunprepared for the sudden changes in distance and timing; he passed his swordthrough her body.

"Oh, well struck," she said admiringly, and cut once more for his head.

Again he ducked, and again it was too late: he felt a sick, horrid contact with theside of his head. Fortunately, his opponent was already falling, and, in falling, herarm twisted, so that only the flat of the blade struck Khaavren. Still, for a time hesaw only darkness and was certain that he had reached the end of the time allottedhim by the fates for this incarnation--he thought of Daro, and the thought broughthim more pain than his wounds, until he realized that all of his foes were fallen, andthat he was master of the field.

He sat down on the ground, breathing heavily. "I must bind my wounds," he toldhimself. "To die now, after surviving the battle, would be inconvenient. I must cutstrips from my cloak, and... but what is this? The ground against my face? Rise,Khaavren, rise! Has time slipped by? Is it dark night already? And what sounds arethese that bend my ears, so like the din of battle? Have I died in truth, and doesDeathgate Falls sound like steel as it crashes? Are these smooth hands my friendsand family, sending me over the Falls to my fate? I cannot recall my past lives, asone is supposed to in the River of Sleep.

"Ah, but surely these are the visions of paradise, for here, before my eyes, is myown beloved Daro, though stained with blood. Daro, Daro, if this be sleep, let menever waken, but let this vision remain before my eyes for eternity!"

"Hush, good Captain, and do not stir so."

"Daro! What? You? Here? Are you real, and not some phantasm conjured by mypoor, wounded body and poor, weakened mind?"

"Yes, my dear Captain, it is I, and I am real, and you must not move so much,for you have lost nearly all of your blood, and, alas, I have not the skill of aphysicker."

"But what brings you here? And, for all that, where is here?"

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"You lie amid the slain, outside of the city."

"Adron's encampment? Then I am still here?"

"You are here, but there is no encampment. In truth, there are signs that a goodtroop was quartered here not long ago, but now we are alone, save for a fewcorpses."

"Three, are there not, and all Dragonlords?"

"All Dragonlords indeed, my Captain, but they number closer to five than tothree."

"Five? Five? And yet I remember--"

"Hush now. Three of them are the work of your hand, the other two I will claimcredit for."

"You? Two of them?"

"Bah. It was nothing. One at a time."

"Yet they were Lord Adron's picked men!"

"Well, what of that? I am a Tiassa."

"So you are, my sweet one. I had thought myself dead, and now I find--"

"Your wounds are bound as well as I can bind them; now we must see if you canstand, and then if you can sit in a saddle. To be sure, I will sit in front of you, andyou need only hold onto me, and we will attempt to bring you back to the city,where you can be physicked."

"And yet, I still do not understand how you came to be here."

"You do not understand, my friend? Well, no more do I. Only, as I sat in yourhouse, so charmingly filled with trinkets that called you to mind and allowed me toread ever more deeply of your character, well, it came to me that you were in danger,and that I should borrow a horse without delay."

"But how did you find me?"

"In the same way--I took the path that seemed right to me, and I found you at itsend. And when I found you--up now, that's right. Here, let me... that is good. Nowyou must hold me about the waist, just so. When I found you, there was aDragonlord standing over your body, as if he were wondering what to do with you. Icalled upon him to move, and we had a discussion, after which I began to bind yourwounds, stopping only to attend to another Dragonlord who wished to conversewith me as I worked."

"Then, I owe you my life."

"Oh, as to that--"

"Well?"

"Not in the least. Dragonlords do not murder their wounded enemies."

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"Perhaps. But neither can they be relied upon to bind their wounds. And if, as Isuspect, they knew why I was there, they--"

"We will speak of it another time. Is the motion of the horse uncomfortable?"

"Not in the least. In truth, I cannot have lost much blood after all; I suspect I wasonly stunned by the blow to my head, for I feel better with each passing minute."

"That may be, and yet, the ground around you, as you lay, was covered--"

"Cha! Let us speak of it, as you say, another time."

"Then of what ought we to speak?"

"Of you, my dear Countess."

"There is little to say on that score, my brave Captain."

"Whatever the score, let us play it, for I wish to hear every note."

"Even if the melody is wearying?"

"What matters the melody? Melody is but the means whereby the soul of themusician is expressed."

"And if the musician is only average?"

"The means are always an average."

"Ah, you are pleased to jest."

"You object to jests?"

"Not in the least; to make the patient happy is the desire of the physicker, andjests, which can lead the patient to a more cheerful and complaisant disposition, areoften instrumental in that regard."

"There, you perceive that, having mentioned instruments, we are discussingmusic once more."

"If you like. But the instrument is not as important as the player."

"You think not?"

"I am convinced of it. An unskilled player--"

"Such an instrument as yours could bring forth no sounds but the mostharmonious, and no themes but the most enduring."

"Yet, what is harmonious to one is dissonant to the next, and a theme you findenduring, another might consider trite and overused."

"What could be more enduring than love? Yet name a theme more trite. It is all inthe rendering and orchestration."

"Well, and how would you have me orchestrate this theme?"

"Why, madam, you are the orchestra, as I will demonstrate, if you will allow me."

"Certainly, sir. You may attempt to prove your case, and I will listen closely toyour reasoning, though I warn you that I will accept no shoddy logic."

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"My logic will be as sharp as the sword with which you have lately delivered mefrom danger."

"We had agreed not to speak of that."

"Very well."

"Then begin."

"Listen: Your lips, first of all."

"My lips? Why do you mention my lips?"

"Because they are part of the orchestra."

"I perceive you are serious about this."

"Entirely."

"Very well, then, my lips. What part will they take?"

"They will be the reed pipes, with the humming of your voice as the reedsthemselves."

"Do you think so?"

"I am certain of it."

"Then I accept my lips as the reed pipes, since you insist upon it. But is there achanter-pipe in this orchestra, as well as the reed pipes?"

"There are chanter-pipes, reed-pipes, wood-pipes, and brass-pipes."

"What, then, are the chanter-pipes?"

"What could they be but your own sweet bosom, with the delicate, steadypulsing of each breath that so occupies my thoughts?"

"Did you learn such speech in the service of His Majesty? Well, what, then, of thewood-pipes?"

"Your eyes, my only. They flutter and trill the high notes, yet have a full, warm,deep timbre."

"I did not know you knew so much of music, Captain. What, then, are thebrass-pipes?"

"The set of your chin and the lines of your face provide the music with its power,and make the forceful statements without which the sweet refrains would be insipid,but against which they are played with such beauty that all eyes moisten when theears are so treated."

"I like these comparisons."

"I'm glad you do. And yet, you are laughing."

"That is true, but I hope my laughter does not wound you--you are alreadywounded enough. I laugh from pleasure, and because I must laugh in the face ofsuch compliments, lest they turn my head."

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"I am glad you are not laughing at me, at any rate, for my self-love could notstand the anguish."

"Be reassured."

"Well, what of the polychords? One cannot have an orchestra without them."

"Your hands will be the polychords, each finger ringing a different note."

"Well, what next? The idiophones, by which I mean the clappers, knockers, andcymbals?"

"These will be taken by the beating of your heart, which encloses my own in itsgentle rhythms."

"Ah, ah! You are a poet, sir."

"And are there, then, membranophones as well?"

"But surely, madam, your legs are the membranophones, for they support theorchestra, and can as well exhibit grace, elegance, and beauty."

"You are making me blush."

"You do so prettily."

"It seems we have nearly completed our orchestra, except for the organophone,which must only be played by a master, yet which can produce music which excites,terrifies, strupefies, or calls up any of countless other emotions, all with the subtlesttouch of the fingers."

"Oh, madam, no gentleman could be so crude as to detail the location of thismost sacred of all instruments."

"Ah, now I am blushing and laughing at once, and my dignity is gone forever. Iwill never forgive you."

"But have I convinced you, at least, that you are worthy of discussion?"

"I assure you, I surrender fully. What do you want to know?"

"What else but everything?"

"Everything is a great deal. Where shall I begin?"

"Tell me of your family."

"My mother was Countess of Whitecrest; now she lives in Adrilankha and willbecome Dowager upon my return, for she has never loved governing. Still, we haveinterest in shipping, and in certain insurance companies, and even in a small bank.Mother saw to my training with the sword, and what little magic I know."

"Well, that is your mother. What of your father?"

"He was Baron of Fourleaguewood, but he gave up his title to wed my mother,and now he lives with her in Adrilankha. His father once performed some service--Ido not know what--for Her Majesty, and it was upon this service that he calledwhen I expressed a desire to spend a few years at court, in order to come to

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understand better the workings of the Empire, so that I could better govern my fief.A plan," she added, sighing, "which I must now abandon."

"Have you brothers, sisters?"

"None at all."

"I shall be pleased to meet your mother and father."

"And I, too, shall be pleased for you to meet them. But what of you?"

"Come, remember our agreement. We will speak of me later, though there is littleenough to tell."

"You wish me to continue, then?"

"I should like nothing better."

"What else, then, do you wish to know?"

"What food do you enjoy?"

"Ah, I am from Adrilankha, which boasts Valabar's, with which even HisMajesty's greatest feasts cannot compare."

"In truth?"

"As I live and breathe. Every wine worthy of the name, from the Empire, from theisland kingdoms, from the Serioli, and even from the East--all are gathered in thecellars of Valabar's, and each is allotted its proper place as a companion to somespecialty of the house, all of which are treats to the senses. In truth, Valabar's hasspoiled me for most food, so you perceive it is a curse as well as a blessing."

"You must bring me to this house."

"I will do so."

"Tell me more."

"About food?"

"Or something else."

"What, then?"

"Your philosophy?"

"You pretend I have a philosophy?"

"Everyone has a philosophy."

"Well, you are right, but to describe mine would take more time than we have,for, see, here is your house before us."

"Ah, you are right, we are at our journey's end. Dismount, then, for I must returnto the Palace."

"How, to the Palace? But you are wounded!"

"On the contrary, though a little lightheaded, I am feeling more alive than I have inyears. I must see His Majesty and report on the results of the commission he gave

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me, after which, I promise, I will visit His Majesty's own physicker and return to youas soon as ever I can."

"Very well, I will not stand between you and your duty, but have a care for yourhealth, for I do not wish my work to be wasted."

"I will be careful. And you, what will you do?"

"I? Oh, I will put the orchestra in tune in preparation for the next concert."

After leaving Daro at the door, Khaavren turned toward the Palace. A certaineuphoria, with which all lovers will be familiar, remained with him as he rode. Yet ashe made his way closer to the Palace, the realizations both of the failure of hismission and of his duty to His Majesty, gained pre-eminence in his thoughts,wherefore this euphoria, though still present, fell into the background, as it were, ofhis thinking, replaced both by a certain disappointment, and a feeling of urgency andeven impatience.

We should say, in fact, that Khaavren's impatience upon leaving the Palace wasnothing to his impatience upon his return, for, whatever was to happen, he knew thatHis Majesty must be informed at once. Therefore, when he heard someone say, "Ibeg your pardon, my dear Captain," even as he was dismounting from his horse, abrown gelding called Champer, he could not help but feel a certain annoyance, whichat once transferred itself to the caller, whose voice Khaavren had not, we shouldadd, recognized by sound.

He did his best, however, to hide his impatience and assume a pleasingcountenance as he turned to see who beckoned him. It happened to be a certainLord Vernoi, a Phoenix noble whom Khaavren recognized from having seen him atcourt. Khaavren bowed, saying, "Yes, my lord? I believe you have called out tome?"

"Yes, my dear Khaavren, I have called out, for I wish two words with you beforeyou continue on your way."

"I will grant you two words," said Khaavren, handing his horse over to the careof the groom. "Yet, in good conscience, I can scarcely permit more. Not, youperceive, of my own will, but rather because of His Majesty's orders, which do notallow me any leisure, but, on the contrary, must be carried out without a moment'sdelay."

"I will be terse," said Vernoi, "for I have no wish to interfere with His Majesty'sorders."

"Very well," said Khaavren. "Then speak, for I am listening."

"And yet--Captain, you seem unusually pale."

"It is nothing, a mere scratch."

"Is that why you are pressing your hand to your side, and have that bandagearound your head?"

"The very reason. But, come, speak your question, for I promise you I can spare

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no time."

"Very well, since you will have it so."

"I will."

"This is it, then: Do you know the Princess Loudin?"

"That is your question?"

"Nearly. My question concerns her, which is why I ask."

"Well, I have seen her, if I am not mistaken. Was she not, some years ago, one ofHer Majesty's maids of honor, and is she not now the Phoenix Heir?"

"The very woman. She resigned some eighty years ago, upon the occasion of ourmarriage."

"How, you married one of Her Majesty's maids of honor?"

"Why, that is exactly what I did."

"Allow me to congratulate you, my lord; for the notion of marrying a maid ofhonor has, in my opinion, a great deal in its favor."

Vernoi bowed and said, "It is, however, my wife who is causing me a certainmeasure of concern."

"How, concern?"

"Exactly. And it is this concern which has led me to bespeak you and, what ismore, to take you into my confidence, if you will allow me to do so."

"Ah. You wish to take me into your confidence?"

"If I may, Captain."

"Then let us take two steps out of the door, and if you will speak in a low voice,well, I do not believe that anything we say will be overheard."

"It is good," said Vernoi as he followed Khaavren's advice, "'that you are awareof the danger of being overheard--for much is overheard in the Palace, and most ofit is overheard only in part, which leads to rumors, many of which are wrong."

"That is true," said Khaavren. "We breathe rumors every day, forsooth, andcatch whispers of the air."

"Exactly. And, my dear Captain, some of these rumors are nothing short ofterrifying to one in my position."

"In your position?"

"Yes."

"But, then, what is your position?"

"I should say, rather, in my wife's condition."

"Her--"

"She is with child, Captain."

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"How, she is with child? I give you joy, my lord, with all my heart!"

"Thank you, Captain."

"But, these rumors--"

"Ah! Yes. I have heard rumors of possible disturbances in the city."

"Oh, you have heard that?"

"Exactly. And, Captain, if anyone would know, it would be you, and I fear formy wife's safety. I would not normally nave such fears, Captain, for the Gods knowthere is nowhere a more deadly hand with a blade, or a woman more able to defendherself. Yet, she is not only with child, she is great with child, and may be taken tobed at any time. So, you perceive, if there is cause for fear, I wish to move her atonce. Yet. I do not wish to disturb her with such a move if there is no reason. So,come, Captain, I trust you. Tell me what I ought to do."

Khaavren looked into Vernoi's honest face, and remembered the look of theempty encampment, and the orders he had given, and the broadsheets he had read,and even the faces he had seen as he traversed the streets.

Then he dropped his voice and said, "My lord, if you care for your wife and yourunborn child, then lose not a moment, but send her out of the city at once."

Vernoi looked at him solemnly, then bowed once and walked back into thePalace. He was running by the time he reached the door.

Chapter the Twenty-second

Which Treats of How Pel Treats Investigation,

How Mica Treats Srahi to Dinner,

How His Majesty Treats with His Advisers,

And How the Physicker Treats Wounds.

«^»BY THE TIME KHAAVREN CAUGHT up with His Majesty, the Emperor hadfinished his supper, which Khaavren considered a stroke of luck; for the supper, andHer Majesty's annoyance, would not have prevented Khaavren from causing himselfto be announced at once, yet must have led to an unpleasantness that Khaavrenwould, to say the least, not have enjoyed--the more so because, after overhearingher conversation with Daro, he feared that he would have no small difficulty inrestraining his tongue should the Consort direct any ironic words in his direction.We should add, however, that this reflection, involving as it did the concept ofsupper, did make Khaavren realize that he had not eaten that day, and he resolved toremedy this omission as soon as possible. His Majesty, escorted by the Consort andby Thack, was on his way to the baths when Khaavren found him.

The Emperor, upon hearing Khaavren's gentle cough, turned, and cast his gaze

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over the Captain's grim countenance, dust- and blood-covered clothing, palecomplexion, and trembling posture. "Well, my dear Captain," he said. "You seem tohave met with some misfortune."

The Consort, turning at the same time as the Emperor, also looked uponKhaavren's worn visage and grim countenance, and she took a single step to theside, realizing, no doubt, that a matter of some urgency was about to be discussed,and that she should therefore stay out of the way; yet Noima was, for her ownreasons, unwilling to allow whatever intelligence was to pass between Emperor andsoldier to also pass out of range of her hearing.

Khaavren, we should add, paid no attention to the Consort except to bow to herbefore addressing His Majesty, which he did in these terms: "Yes, Sire, I have metwith a most grievous misfortune."

"And that is? If there is a question of misfortune, I wish to hear about it at once."

"Sire, I have failed in the task you did me the honor to assign me."

The Orb darkened, and with it, His Majesty's countenance. "How, you failed,Captain?"

"It gives me pain to confess it, Sire."

"And yet, you have never failed before to my mind."

"Sire, everything that happens must, on some occasion, happen for the first time,and there is little that will never happen at all."

"You are a philosopher, Captain?"

"Yes, Sire, or a soldier, if it please you; 'tis hard enough to choose betweenthem."

"How so? Please explain, for you perceive these observations interest meexceedingly."

"The soldier thinks with his sword, the philosopher kills with his pen, yet each isruthless enough."

"Well, I understand what you are saying."

"In fact, Sire, I am saying that, to-day, Your Majesty would have been better offwith a philosopher who could ride and fence, rather than a soldier with a ready wit."

"You say that because, there being an occasion for everything, on this occasionyou have failed."

"Yes, Sire."

His Majesty sighed, as if attempting to calm himself, although the Orb remained adark and brooding red. "Tell me how it happened."

"Sire, my thought was to proceed alone to effect Adron's arrest."

"Alone? And why alone, Captain?"

"Because, Sire, he is surrounded by an army."

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"Well, of this I am aware. And so?"

"Sire, it seemed to me that, should he wish to do battle, all of my battaliontogether would be insufficient, and if he did not, well, I would not require anyoneelse."

"Well, I understand. Then I take it that he did not choose to be arrested?"

"He did not, Sire. He posted soldiers at the entrance to his camp, and theyprevented me from passing."

"They prevented you?"

"Effectively, Sire."

"How many?"

"They numbered three."

"Well, I can hardly fault you for failing to defeat three of Lord Adron's bestsoldiery. And yet, it seems that if you had brought a good company, matters mighthave fallen out differently."

"That may be true, Sire. And yet, if I may be permitted to disagree with mysovereign, His Highness was expecting me to appear with support, and had postedthe three Dragonlords there only to give warning--Your Majesty may recall that theBreath of Fire Battalion, above all else, is skilled in moving and attacking quickly.Moreover--"

"Yes? Moreover?"

"Your Majesty did me the honor to say that I could not be expected to defeatthree of His Highness's soldiers."

"Yes, and if I did?"

"Alas, Sire, if my only goal was the defeat of these soldiers, I should feel naughtbut triumph."

"How is that?"

"Well, Sire, I still live, and they--"

"Yes, and they?"

"They do not."

"How, you killed all three of them?"

"I had that honor, Sire. Yet, in the course of the discussion, which I assure YourMajesty grew tolerably warm, they wounded me so that for several moments I knewnothing, and were it not for a friend who came to my aid as I lay on the ground, I donot doubt that I should still be there, dead or alive, as chance would have it."

"I see." His Majesty sighed once more. "So, we have been checked, and Adronis a rebel."

"Yes, Sire, Adron is a rebel. And it is true that we have been checked,

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although--"

"Yes?"

"I have only failed for the moment--the final throw has not yet been played."

"Indeed, Captain? Please expand on this statement, for you perceive I find it ofgreat interest."

"Sire, Adron has left with his entire battalion, and, moreover, I was, as I have hadthe honor to explain, attacked as I attempted to carry out Your Majesty's order.What I have not yet told Your Majesty is that I was given, in his name, a message todeliver to Your Majesty."

"A message?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And the message takes what form?"

"Sire, His Highness will submit to arrest, he says, when he is offered an apologyfrom Your Majesty for the insult he pretends you have done his daughter by havingher rooms searched and her property seized."

The Orb darkened still further, and Khaavren noticed that the Consort, who hadbeen listening intently to the conversation, took half a step backward and quicklydrew in her breath, while simultaneously covering her lips with her fingers, as if shehad committed an indiscretion at dinner.

"That is what he said?" demanded the Emperor, with a certain tone of amazeddisbelief.

"His very words, Sire, as they were relayed to me by the impudent soldiers whothen proceeded to so effectually puncture my epidermis, though not without cost tothemselves."

"Yes? And yet?"

"Sire, as Your Majesty has done me the honor to say, this is nothing short ofrebellion; hence, it would seem appropriate to engage the Warlord, and to call outImperial Troops. That is why I say the game is not yet over."

His Majesty pondered this for some few moments, while the Orb returned to acalmer hue. Then he said, "Give me your opinion, Captain: Does Adron think he cansurvive against the military might of the Empire?"

"Sire, His Highness is a military genius, and, moreover, a powerful sorcerer. I donot know what would be the final result of such a decision on Your Majesty's part,yet I cannot but believe Your Majesty would be unwilling to permit him to escapeImperial justice. He may well know this; in fact, he probably does. Perhaps it is tohim a matter of principle, or perhaps he is merely stubborn, or perhaps he expectsrescue from some source of which we are not aware, or perhaps he merely has suchconfidence in himself and his troops that he believes he can defeat the Empire. I donot know. And yet--"

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"Yes? And yet?"

"If it is a matter of confidence in his troops, well, I do myself the honor to believethat we have today somewhat shaken this confidence."

"Yes, I believe you are right." The Emperor considered for another moment, thensaid, "You are exactly right about one thing at least, my Captain. He will not beallowed to engage in such blatant rebellion while I still have the power to bring him toImperial Justice."

The Emperor waved to a servant, who attended him at once. "Find Jurabin andRollondar, and have them meet me and Lord Khaavren in the Seven Room in anhour."

The servant bowed and hurried off on his errand. The Emperor turned to his wifeand said, "My dear, I'm afraid--"

"Your Majesty need say no more," said the Consort. "I understand entirely, and Ishall not look for you until you have appeared."

The Emperor pressed her hand, after which she departed down the corridor. Asshe left, His Majesty looked at Khaavren, frowned, and said, "But, Captain, are youin any condition to sit through such a discussion as we must have? You arewounded, are you not?"

"Yes, Sire, though not grievously. If I may have leave to find something to eat, Ibelieve I will recover sufficient strength to survive two words of conversation on sovital a matter as we are facing, for, if we are to plan a campaign, there are things Imust say that will not wait."

"Let it be so," said His Majesty.

Khaavren bowed, and hurried off as quickly as his condition permitted to findvictuals with which to repair his long abstinence. He made his way to His Majesty'skitchen, a prodigious affair taking up three floors in back of the Imperial Wing. Here,after searching for only a few minutes, he found a servant, and, after making a fewdiscreet inquiries, Khaavren was shown where to find bread and cheese, of which heavailed himself with a fine passion.

"The bread," he remarked after swallowing the first bite, "is famous, warm as itis, though I admit that the color surprises me, and the cheese produces a sting uponthe back of the tongue that I find quite pleasing."

"I am glad the food pleases you, my lord," said the pastry chef, who had donehimself the honor of serving Khaavren personally, "for the bread is of my ownfashioning, and uses, in proportions which are my particular secret, rednuts whichhave been ground to a powder mixed with the wheat flour; it is these that account forthe color, as well as for the texture. As to the cheese, I can claim no credit save forselecting it. It comes from the vassals of Lord Dunn, and--my lord? Are you well?You seem pale and are pitching most alarmingly, and I beg you to--hullo? My lord?Help, someone! Help! The Captain has been taken ill!"

We cannot but think that the reader's imagination will adequately supply the

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confusion and consternation caused by Khaavren's unceremonious collapse--therunning of messengers in search of His Majesty's physicker, the excitement inKhaavren's offices caused by subordinates desperate to learn their Captain'scondition, the annoyance of His Majesty who had counted upon the Tiassa's coolhead and long experience in deciding how best to face the crisis brought about byAdron's abrupt rebellion. We will not, therefore, dwell on these matters, but will,instead, turn the reader's attention to certain events of which he must otherwiseremain ignorant--that is, to our old friend Pel, who was, just as Khaavren was beingcarried to a chamber commanded by the physicker, emerging from the Underside inthe company of Tazendra.

"And yet," said Tazendra as they walked toward the Palace at a speed thatseemed entirely out of character for Pel, who was dressed again in his cavalier'scostume, "I do not comprehend why our errand has such urgency."

"How, you do not?" said Pel, glancing at her in surprise without breaking stride.

"None in the world, I assure you."

"And yet, you were standing next to me when we entered the murchin-shop--"

"How, a murchin-shop? Is that what it was?"

"What you had thought it was, Tazendra?"

"Why, I hadn't any of my own thoughts; it was not, you perceive, my shop."

"Well, that is true," said Pel. "Nevertheless, you were there--"

"Oh, I do not deny that."

"--and you stood next to me while the shopmaster explained about the deceasedassassin, whose name appears to have been Chalar--"

"Certainly, I heard that."

"--and where he might be found--"

"That puzzled me, because, he being dead--"

"--you perceive we followed on his trail--"

"--it follows that where he was could not be of interest to us--"

"--finding at last a place he has been known to frequent--"

"--and, in fact, we never did find him--"

"--where we also learned with whom he has been seen--"

"--which is just as well, for I have seen corpses, and have never enjoyed lookingat them--"

"--and we received, eventually, very good descriptions of his cronies--"

"--so that I do not comprehend why we even went to those places--"

"--and learned that two of them were Jhereg--"

"--and spoke with Jhereg about I know not what--"

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"--after which we spoke with certain acquaintances of mine--"

"--although you seemed to be on good terms with them, which I wonder at--"

"--and gave these descriptions to them--"

"--and then they said two words about each--"

"--and when we learned that they were both known assassins--"

"--after which we set off at this furious pace--"

"--we set off as fast as we could, because there is no doubt--"

"--with you claiming--"

"--that Khaavren's life is in danger--"

"--that Khaavren's life is in danger--"

"--and you still do not comprehend why?"

"--and I still do not comprehend why."

"Tazendra, were you listening to me?"

"I beg your pardon, my dear Pel, I was muttering to myself, for I am stilltolerably confused. Attend--"

"Well, it is of no moment; you must trust me. Khaavren is in great danger."

"Bah! He? Impossible!"

Pel shook his head and gave up on the notion of attempting to convince hisfriend; on Tazendra's part, she knew, in spite of her protestations to Pel, that theYendi had a subtle and clever imagination, and could see into deep matters thatwould baffle ordinary minds, wherefore she matched him step for step as they racedtoward the Imperial Palace.

At the same time, some distance away, were taking place events that were not asunrelated to all of these other matters as the reader might, at first, suspect. In theHammerhead Inn--which, as the reader may recall from certain events whichoccurred there in our earlier volume, was located quite close to Khaavren'shouse--the next step in a romance was being played out: To wit, Mica, after takingcareful account of his personal treasury, was buying a good dinner for himself andfor Srahi, to whose company he had grown more and more attached as the dayswent by.

Mica's generosity extended to roasted fowl, dripping with fat and positivelysmothered with mushrooms, short-grain bread baked with sweet peppers andhalf-garlic, and a bottle of sweet white wine; all of which were treated by Srahi withthe reverence they deserved, both for their intrinsic quality and for what they cost(for, as the reader is doubtless aware, cost is not absolute, but relative--this samedinner, at the same price, would have been a mere trifle for Tazendra, yet it wasnearly a fortune for poor Mica, who habitually lived on the leavings from his master'splate).

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To complete the satisfaction provided by this veritable feast, Srahi endeavored tomake pleasant conversation. We use the word endeavored because at first she hadto make an effort to do so, yet we should add that, very quickly, because of thenatural agreement in the character of these two individuals, no effort was required,but, rather, the conversation proceeded across the table as smoothly as the victualsproceeded in the opposite direction.

It is not our intention to weary our readers with details of this conversation--it issufficient to say that it befit two worthy Teckla who were discovering, amid pleasantsurroundings, how agreeable they found one another's company (far more agreeable,we should add, than the servants of the Hammerhead found their presence, for it isan invariable law that the most unpleasant sorts of patrons to an inn are, in the firstplace, those with so much wealth and power that they believe everyone ought toanswer to their least whim, and, second, those who are so poor that they believe, asthey are spending so much of their hard-won money on their repast, that it ought tobe as important to the servants as it is to them).

As they neared the end of the meal, discussing their masters, those tasks theyfound most annoying as well as those they found most agreeable, the interestingcolor of each other's eyes and hair (all four samples of which were, in fact, a nearlyidentical nondescript brown), the value of white meat versus dark meat and theimportance, in the case of the former, of insuring it was sufficiently moist, and soon, Mica gave a loud, imperious call for bread, with which he intended to soak theremaining juice from the broad, wooden platter upon which the fowl had beenpresented. A servant brought a loaf of coarse black bread, and accompanied it withsuch a resentful look that Mica could not help but notice.

"Bah!" he said. "Did you mark the servant, and his ill-favored countenance."

"I did," said Srahi. "Cha! What manners they have!"

"Had I my bar-stool, well, I assure you I should have words with him."

Srahi gave him a puzzled look. "Had you your what?"

"My bar-stool. Surely you recall the stories good Lord Khaavren told, of--"

"Ah, yes! Indeed, I do recall. I was merely startled, for I had not realized that youstill thought of such implements as weapons."

"Well, I do not in general, but my own is different, for I am so used to it. Indeed,I assure you that, whenever I venture out upon a campaign, I would not think toleave it behind--it is, after all, the weapon with which I am most familiar."

"How, you bring a bar-stool with you?"

"Certainly. Have you not marked it, sitting in the corner by the door."

"Ah--ah! My dear Mica, I have done a terrible thing!"

Mica frowned. "What is it, my dear? Come you must tell me, for I perceive youare agitated, and I grow more so as you look at me with your countenance growingpale."

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"I did not realize what it was, I thought it was only refuse from your journey, andin cleaning I--"

"Yes?"

"I threw it away!"

Mica, in his turn, became pale. "How, you threw it away?"

"Yes, onto the rubbish heap, to be removed every alternate week by those whoare paid by the Empire to perform this service."

"Oh," said Mica, miserably.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

Mica swallowed, but, after several moments, he attempted, and managed, a palesmile. "Well, but it is only a bar-stool, after all. There must be others--"

"Bide," she said, suddenly sitting upright in her chair.

"Yes?"

"Something has occurred to me."

"And that is? I beg you to tell, for you perceive that I am most anxious to hear."

"The refuse will not be removed from its pile until tomorrow morning."

"Which means--"

"Unless someone has seen it, and decided to remove it--"

"It will still be there!"

"Exactly."

"Come, I will pay for our repast by leaving the exact amount required here on thetable where they cannot fail to find it, and we will help our digestion by hurrying tothe trash-heap."

"Which is, in fact, by the side of house, just outside of the kitchen window."

"Then, allow me to finish this last glass of wine--"

"And I, the same."

"And we are away. Give me your arm."

"Here it is."

His Majesty, meanwhile, had decided that, worried as he was about his Captainof the Guard, he must nevertheless come to a decision about Adron, and to this endhe had Jurabin and Rollondar e'Drien brought to him in the Seven Room. By the timethey were seated, the Orb had assumed a light, placid green. His Majesty gave thema brief summary of Adron's rebellion. While he did so, we should add, Jurabinremarked to himself (as, no doubt the reader has already remarked) upon the abruptchange in His Majesty's character in little more than a week: His Majesty, as he facedhis councilors, appeared to be truly an Emperor, as if, whatever his responsibilities inallowing matters to reach this crisis, he was determined to see it through at all costs.

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Jurabin wondered how it had happened that, in the blink of an eye, as it were, he,the Prime Minister, had become merely an adviser to the throne, whereas he hadbefore been the true power and mover behind all decisions of the Empire (with theexception, of course, of those decisions affecting only His Majesty's personal life).

Does the reader wonder as well? If so, we are only too happy to be able to say,as proudly and humbly as those great philosophers of antiquity, Prince Tapman andLady Tersa of Haynels, "Allow us to lay before you our theory on this question."We will not pretend to be philosophers such as those we have mentioned, yet, wetoo have a theory, and we hope our readers will allow us to lay it humbly at theirrespective and collective feet.

His Majesty, as we have already mentioned, had, over the course of his reign,become whimsical and morose, these alternating moods interrupted by occasionalflurries of interest in the Empire of which he was the nominal ruler. The reader oughtespecially to note our use of the word flurries, as it forms an essential part of thetheory we now have the honor to submit.

What, we wish to ask, is a flurry, except a mild rain-shower which encounters icywind, and so freezes as it descends? Well, as the shower is to the flurry, so, then, isthe downpour to the blizzard; in the same way, the occasional flurry of interest whichwe have just mentioned had become a blizzard of truly prodigious proportions.

For His Majesty the downpour was a combination of several factors, these beingthe disruption of his court by the entrance of Adron's daughter, the fears of financialcollapse because of enmity and confusion in the Council of Princes (of whomAdron figured as a prominent member), and, above all, by Adron's rebellion. Insimpler terms: by Adron e'Kieron.

But where was the icy wind that changes water into its light, flaky, crystallineequivalent? Wind is a more elusive element, blowing as it does hither and yon,leaving no tracks for the hunter to follow, and having no lair at whose mouth thehunter might wait; the wind is known only by its passing--that is, by its effects. Thehunter--by which we mean the historian--then, must listen to the hissing leaves ofrumor, look at the bent trees of letters and documents, and recall the lessons of thepast winds as described by previous historians in order to judge the quarter,strength, and temperature of his particular quarry.

Let us consider that the court was disrupted, not so much by Aliera, but by thechanges in the alliances of power and intrigue initiated by Aliera's arrival, and thatmost of these alliances revolved around--the Consort.

Let us consider that many, if not most, of the excesses so deplored by andworrisome to the various Heirs sprang from whims of--the Consort.

Let us consider that Adron's rebellion was instigated by an insult to his daughterand that this insult was delivered at the request of--the Consort.

In the opinion of this historian, then, although His Majesty didn't know it, it wasthe Consort herself who provided the blast of frigid air that turned the torrent of raininto a blizzard of snow, or, to abandon our metaphor before we ignominiously slip

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on it, that motivated the Emperor into assuming personal control of the affairs of theEmpire.

We cannot know how much of this Jurabin knew, suspected, or felt instinctively,but to the extent that His Majesty was in control of himself and of the Empire, so, tothat extent, was Jurabin puzzled and even put out by this change in his master'sattitude.

Rollondar e'Drien, as it happened, knew little or nothing of any of this. He hadbeen a soldier for nearly all of his one thousand and one hundred years, and mattersmilitary were his profession, passion, and recreation. He had married a few hundredyears earlier the woman who had defeated him in a skirmish during the ShallowValley Revolt, before he had been made Warlord, and there was no end of humor inthe barracks about how the two of them spent their leisure hours--humor which wefeel obliged to mention, but of which nothing could induce us to supply examples.

Rollondar sat stiffly at the table waiting for His Majesty to speak. The change wehave mentioned in Tortaalik's character, so disconcerting to Jurabin, was of so littleimportance to Rollondar that, as we have said, he scarcely noted it at all, and wouldnot have cared even had he noticed--Rollondar waited for the problem to be putbefore him so that he could suggest solutions.

As for His Majesty, he gave no thought to his own character, but only to theproblem they now confronted. He had chosen to have only three advisers present:the one, Jurabin, who understood the political situation in the Empire; another,Rollondar, because any military action would necessarily fall under Rollondar'sprovince; and the third, Khaavren, who was now under the care of His Majesty'sphysicker, but whom Tortaalik admired for his good common sense, clear vision,and occasional inspired suggestion. He was annoyed, then, that Khaavren wasabsent (and, to his credit, he was also worried about the health of his Captain), but,having made up his mind not to brook the insult offered him by the Duke ofEastmanswatch, he knew that no good could be accomplished by delaying.

"My Lords," he therefore began, "I have determined to punish the insolence ofHis Highness Adron e'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch and Dragon Heir to theThrone. You should know that his Breath of Fire Battalion is within striking distanceof the Palace, and we cannot be certain he will not carry his rebellion so far as toattack the Palace itself, in hopes of bringing about the turn of the cycle--which, asyou are no doubt aware, would turn his action from rebellion to merely theworking-out of destiny. It is not my intention to allow destiny to work out in this wayat this time. We must, therefore, protect the city, and in particular the Palace, whileattending to the capture of the Duke.

"Excellency, what is your opinion?"

"Sire," said the Dragonlord, "the Breath of Fire Battalion is known for speed aswell as skill and ferocity in open battle."

"Well?"

"Well, they have neither the forces nor the skill to beat down walls."

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"And therefore?"

"If all of the city gates are shut, and detachments of guardsmen are posted towatch for treachery, that should secure the city, and allow the Imperial Troops toconcentrate on bringing in the rebel."

"Very well. Jurabin?"

"Sire?"

"Have you anything to say?"

"I have, Sire."

"Then I am listening."

"There are clear signs of a plot of some sort, against your Majesty, or the Empireitself. I refer to the assassinations of recent days, and to disruptions in finance,and--"

"Well, of these things I am aware."

"Sire, I wonder if it could not be the case that, as we earlier suspected, LordAdron is behind it."

Rollondar drew in his breath sharply, seemed about to speak, but said nothing.

"It is possible," said His Majesty. "What then?"

"Sire, steps must be taken to guard us against attacks from within, as well asfrom without. Lord Adron has, by all accounts, a powerful and subtle mind, and Iam not ashamed to confess to Your Majesty that I fear him."

The Emperor frowned. "What is your opinion of this, Rollondar?"

The Warlord shrugged, as if to say that this was an area, outside of hisknowledge and interest. Then he said, "I do not believe Adron is involved in anyconspiracy, Sire. But, if Your Majesty is at all worried about it, the solution is simpleand easily had, at little cost."

"These are the sorts of solutions I like best, Warlord. Please explain."

"I will do so, Sire."

"I am listening."

"In the first place, do not let it be generally known that His Highness has takenarms against the Empire; this will delay the execution of any plot intended tocoincide with the actual rebellion. Second, call out the reserve Guard; double ortreble them in all vital areas. If the Lord Khaavren is healthy, so much the better; hehas shown his skill in such matters. If not, his second-in-command will act as best ashe can."

The Emperor nodded and said, "Jurabin?"

"I agree with the second, Sire. We can and should mount additional guards tosecure the city and the Palace, and such other strategic points as the Warlord and theCaptain might conceive of. As to the first, I doubt it is possible. The city is too

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large, and rumors fly too freely. It will be general knowledge within the day, if it isnot already, that Lord Adron rebels against the throne. We must keep a sharp eye allaround us, Sire, for I confess that, until we know who was behind theassassinations, and why, I will not sleep easily."

Rollondar bowed his head. The Emperor nodded slowly. "You are right, Jurabin,and we thank you for calling it to our attention."

Jurabin bowed.

The Emperor said, "Excellency."

"Sire?" said the Warlord.

"How long until you can field an army sufficient to destroy Lord Adron?"

"Sire, the Breath of Fire Battalion numbers about two thousand soldiers, all ofwhom are mounted, and all of whom are highly trained Dragonlords."

"I trust your intelligence," said His Majesty. Rollondar bowed his head. "Whatthen?"

"Then," continued the Warlord, "To be certain of victory, I should require someeight thousand foot soldiers, most of whom can be Teckla, and another threethousand mounted, who must all be skilled warriors."

"Well?"

"Sire, Your Majesty need but give the word, and they can be gathered byto-morrow, and be ready to march against His Highness before dawn the day after."

"'They can set off in two days, then?"

"If that is Your Majesty's wish."

"Well then, Rollondar, tell me frankly what you think of this plan."

The Warlord considered. "Sire, the more time Lord Adron is given, the moretime he will have to bring the horses that provide the basis of his tactics into betterpositions, wherefore I believe that not a day--not an hour--should be lost in settingout after him. And, moreover--"

"Yes?"

"I intend to be careful in constructing a snare through which he cannot slip, andthis must needs mean I will move slower than I should otherwise wish; thus, evenmore, we ought to hurry in setting out, to make up for the necessary delays in theforming of the attack. This is a case where, above all. speed is our ally, and we musttreat with her with all the diplomacy we can muster."

"Then you favor gathering our forces this very night?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Let it be so," said the Emperor.

Rollondar bowed his head.

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His Majesty continued, "We will see how fares the Lord Khaavren. If possible, heought to give his orders for the protection of the city, but set out with you, Warlord,for it is his mission to arrest Lord Adron, and none but he should carry it out."

"Very well, Sire," said the Warlord. "Have you anything to add, Jurabin?"

"Nothing, Sire."

"Then that is all."

Warlord and Minister took respectful leave of His Majesty, who sat alone in theSeven Room, reflecting. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing what wasnecessary, and moreover, what was right--yet he regretted extremely the words ofKhaavren, his wise Captain, and, moreover, His Majesty wondered if he had failed toaccount for something to which he ought to have paid attention.

After some few moments, he rose and, attended by the guardsman calledSergeant, went to look in on his Captain of the Guards, who was being attended inone of the spare bedchambers of the Imperial Wing. Attending him, we should add,was Navier, of the House of the Hawk, who was His Majesty's personal physicker.

His Majesty was announced, and then entered the chamber where Khaavrenappeared to sleep peacefully, while Lady Navier stood above him, holding out herfingers for him to breathe on and then rubbing her fingers together with a thoughtfulexpression on her face. She was a woman of nine hundred or a thousand years,whose hair was the color of the Redbrick Inn (by which, lest the reader never haveseen this structure, we mean dark brown); she had an unusually dark complexion forHawklords, so that her face, blending in with her hair, was often concealed when herhair fell forward as she worked, and she had, moreover, the sharp angular face thatHawklords share with Dragonlords. She had studied blood-work directly underBurdeen, who wrote the famous monograph published by Pamlar University duringthe last Teckla Republic, had studied sorcery with the Athrya Lady Waxen, and had,in addition, worked with Lord Clir on his monumental and definitive work onanatomy, all of which, taken together, made her qualified as none other could be tobe His Majesty's physicker.

Now she looked up and said in a whisper, "I beg Your Majesty to speak softly;above all else, he requires rest, and I fear to wake him."

"Very well," His Majesty whispered back. "What is his condition?"

"Sire, he has lost a great deal of blood, and, moreover, has received a sharpknock on the head. He is strong, however, and I have made him drink fortified wineto encourage his blood to replace itself as well as to help him sleep. Moreover, thereare certain spells which I have made use of to ensure that the new blood is clean andin harmony with the old, so there need be no fear on that score. Of course, thewound in his side is nothing, for no organs were touched, nor even any ribs, and Ihave sewn it up and placed an enchantment to cause the skin to grow--it will itchlike seven demons when he wakes, but it will knit with scarcely a scar."

"Well, but what of his head?"

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"Sire, I have studied this wound, and I believe that there is no danger. His pupilsdo not seem to have changed size, and, in the few words we had while he wasconscious, he did not complain of nausea."

The Emperor gave forth a sigh of relief and said, "Navier, you relieve my mind.When can I speak with him? For there are matters of state that make consultationwith him urgent, though I would not willingly risk his health."

"Sire, I think Your Majesty ought to send him home in a coach--and a good one,mind--and allow him a night's sleep in familiar surroundings. Then, if he feelshimself able to report for duty to-morrow, there is no reason why he should not beable to assume it, provided he regularly doses himself with the draught I ampreparing for him."

"All will be as you say, Navier."

The physicker bowed.

Tortaalik made his way out of the room, and resumed his interrupted walk to theImperial Baths. As he walked, he reflected once again on his discussion with hiscouncilors, and now he wished Lord Khaavren could have been there. He resolvedto speak with him as soon as could be on the morrow.

Khaavren, for his part, was aware of little of this. He was in sort of daze, andthrough this confusion he was dimly aware that he was being sent home, but notwhy, nor yet that he had succumbed to his wounds--in fact, he did not rememberbeing wounded. He did remember that there was something he had attempted to doat which he had failed, and even in his semiconscious state this grieved him; yet hewas also aware that he would soon be seeing Daro, which cheered him.

And beneath it all there was the notion that there was something he ought to havedone, or be doing, or have someone do, but he could neither concentrate hisattention sufficiently to think of what it was, nor, had he been able to, had he theability to wake enough for coherent speech.

He felt himself being placed in the coach that had been ordered for him, and bychance it was a good one, so that the rocking motion soon pitched him fully into adeep, restful sleep. At this same time, the Warlord of the Empire stood in his officescontemplating the maps of the terrain around the city, but thinking, instead, aboutAdron e'Kieron, about His Majesty, and about a thousand other matters that came tohis mind. After some few minutes of this, he sat down, took out a good, sharp pen,and wrote a hasty note to his wife, which he lost no time in putting into the hand of amessenger, with instructions to use the fastest posts His Majesty had.

The messenger accepted the note and the instructions, bowed, and said, "Am I toawait a reply before I return?"

Rollondar shook his head. "You will not be returning," he said. "Instead, you willbless me each day of your life, thanking me that you, and not another, had thiserrand of me. Now lose not a moment--you are to be there before dawn tomorrowday."

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Chapter the Twenty-third

Which Treats of the Uses of Repetition

And of the Nature of Heroics;

With Implied Comments on the Heroism

To Be Found in the Lower Classes,

As Compared to Those of the Very Highest.

«^»THE POWER OF REPETITION IS WELL well known and highly respectedamong jongleurs, sorcerers, playwrights, and physickers, to name but a few; that is,it has long been known that frequent repetition of words or actions can elicitlaughter, focus concentration, illuminate themes, or induce the painful and disablingMalady of the Tingling Hand. The author of these words is not unaware thatrepetition occurs in literature as well, yet he would be saddened if readers believedthat he was using the repetition of words, or, indeed, events, as a device to eitherentertain or enlighten--in fact, recurrences are so much a part of history in general,and Khaavren's history in particular, that it would be the most vulgar sort ofdishonesty to leave out a vital exchange or interaction simply because somethingsimilar, or something reflective, had been earlier presented in the narrative. Shouldthe reader choose to look for meaning, or, indeed, amusement in this repetition, weare powerless to prevent it (nor, indeed, would we wish to), but he is cautioned thatsuch is in no wise our intention.

This being said, we may go on to explain that, as full darkness came upon thecity, and as the carriage containing our brave but senseless Captain pulled up to thehouse on the Street of the Glass Cutters and, with the help of the coachman and aPalace servant, disgorged our ailing Tiassa, there was yet another attempt on his life.

It came about in this way: the carriage arrived, as we have already said, just as fulldusk had fallen. The coachman, who had felt a great sense of urgency because ofthe money he had been given and because of the tones in which his orders had beenexpressed, did not even pause to light his lamps, but rather leapt down from his seatand opened the door to assist the servant in carrying our Tiassa to the door of hishouse, whose location the coachman had been given in explicit detail by the selfsamesubaltern of the Guard who had transmitted His Majesty's orders in terms so clearand precise.

The coachman took one of Khaavren's arms, the servant took the other, and, withonly that help Khaavren was able to render in his condition--which was, as we havesaid, on the edge of consciousness (or, if the reader prefer, the edge ofunconsciousness)--they led the Captain two steps closer to the door, at which pointthe coachman let go of the arm he had been holding. Upon noticing this, the Tecklasaid, "My dear sir, I assure you that I cannot carry this gentlemen unassisted,wherefore I urge you to take the arm again before he falls to the ground and my back

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is called to answer for the failure of his legs."

The coachman did not answer, and the servant, upon attempting to discover why,saw that his companion was stretched out full length upon the ground and that,moreover, there appeared, in the uneven light cast by the nearest glowbulb, still somedistance away, a stream of blood flowing from a not inconsiderable gash in hisforehead.

Now this Teckla (whose name, we should add for the sake of completeness, ifnot euphony, was Klorynderata), had worked in the Imperial Palace for nearly all ofhis nine hundred years, and had often been assigned duties in the Dragon Wing ofcleaning or carrying or fetching, and, hence, had heard no few stories featuring war,battle, blood, and death as either central themes or recurring motifs--yet he hadnever before encountered violence in such a close, and, we might add, intimate way.He responded, then, in a manner that ought to surprise no one: He loosed his holdon Khaavren's shoulder and bolted down the street as fast as he could, leavingKhaavren to fall helpless next to the prostrate coachman, who, being either dead orrapidly dying, could be of no assistance to him whatsoever. The horses stamped andshifted as if aware that something was wrong, and this sound, along with the jinglingof their harnesses, was all that could be heard in the street.

Then it seemed as if a formless shadow grew from the larger shadow of thehouse and approached Khaavren's senseless body. A closer look would haverevealed, in the figure's hand, a dull black rod, about a meter in length, of the typeoften used by sorcerers to concentrate, or even contain, particularly potent spells. Astill closer look would have shown that the figure was, in fact, Laral, who quicklywalked up to Khaavren, holding the rod aloft. There can be no question that allwould have been up for Khaavren at that moment, except that, just then, the stillnesswas broken by Srahi, who cried out in her shrill, piercing, and abrasive voice, "Whatis this, a robbery in front of my master's door? Hey, you, what is it you are doing?Get away from there!"

Srahi had come around the corner, in the company of Mica, and seen just enoughto know that there was a crime taking place on the street outside of her house. NowSrahi was no stranger to crimes of one sort or another--in fact, if truth be told, shehad, before being hired by Khaavren, herself engaged in activities of dubious legality;she had no thought whatsoever of passing judgment in any moral sense. But she alsounderstood that the space in front of her master's house was no place for criminalaction, or violent crime in any case, and he Captain of His Majesty's Guard!

A sense of outrage not only filled her, but it positively carried her straight up tothe amazed Laral, who could not believe that a Teckla would be so foolish, not tomention insolent, as to interfere with Jhereg business. We should add that, for herpart, Srahi had no notion that this was a Jhereg before her, and whether she wouldhave behaved differently if she had known we cannot say.

Locked up in the rod in Laral's hand was the embodiment of that spell called TheQuick Road by those in the Jhereg who practiced assassination throughsorcery--the spell was so named because it was reputed to be one of the quickest

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known paths to the afterlife: It acted by instantly freezing all of the liquids within thefairly small radius of the spell's effect, wherefore it was only necessary to direct it atthe victim's heart for death to follow almost before the victim could be aware. Forjust the briefest of moments, it was directed at Srahi's heart, but Laral realized that itwould be ludicrous to use the spell she had carefully prepared for Khaavren on amere Teckla, who could hardly threaten her in any case. At the same time, however,she realized that this Teckla may have glimpsed her face, and thus had to die, andthat without any delay. Her solution to this problem was to bring forth a simpleflashstone which she had concealed in a convenient pocket, raise it, and discharge itfully into Srahi's face--a solution which she put into practice at once.

It happened, however, that instead of discharging it into Srahi's face, she ratherdischarged it into the space Srahi's face had occupied a moment before, for, just atthat moment, Mica, who had seen such devices in action often enough to recognizeone at once, pushed his own body into Srahi's in such a way that she was thrown tothe side and the flashstone went off into the air above Mica's head--Mica having,fortunately, the presence of mind to duck at the same time that he pushed. Thehorses, already made nervous by the commotion and the smell of blood, took thismoment to bolt, and, with no coachman to direct them, hurtled down the street (forthe sake of completeness, we ought to explain what became of the coach, but, inpoint of fact, we have not been able to learn of it).

After ducking the murderous power of the stone, Mica straightened up and,doing his best to imitate the tones his mistress was wont to use on such occasions,addressed Srahi in these terms: "Now, my dear, you shall see the use to which I canput a good bar-stool, and we will both be grateful that we were able to find it in thetrash-heap--it is true that it now smells of klava leavings, the peelings of vegetables,and the guts and heads of fish, but, what of that? The refuse before me will only feelmore at home therefrom."

To Laral, he said, "Now then, you, defend yourself, for I am well acquainted withthis weapon I bear, and if you are not at least equally familiar with your own, then,Shards and Splinters! I think you are a dead woman!"

Laral, for her part, felt no need to engage in conversation; moreover, she was fartoo angry to attempt words--the very idea of two Teckla happening by and ruiningher careful plan filled her with outrage. But she was a sorcerer both powerful andsubtle, as well as being a killer both fierce and heartless. She knew that, if she wereto have any chance of completing her mission, she could waste no time with theseTeckla; they had to be dispatched at once. She also knew that, with her flashstonehaving already sent its sharp, penetrating crack through the neighborhood, there wasno longer any reason to be quiet, wherefore, with no hesitation, she now aimed herflashstone a second time.

Mica, looking at the flat surface of the stone only inches from his nose, realized,in the first place, that it must have been prepared with a second charge--he knewsuch things were possible because he had assisted his Master, Tazendra, inpreparing such devices several score of times--and, in the second place, he knew

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that he was a dead man.

Or, to be more precise, we ought to say he thought he was a dead man, for hehad reckoned without Srahi who, though weaponless, had no intention of standingby while Mica, who was well on the way to becoming her lover, and who had,moreover, just saved her life, suffered the very fate from which he had latelypreserved her. Srahi let go an enraged cry that vied with the flashstone itself forvolume, and threw herself on the arm of Mica's assailant.

This time when the stone discharged, however, it was not without effect; Mica,who had once been kicked in the left shin by one of his master's colts, with whom hehad been disagreeing about the proper direction to move through the corral, felt for amoment as if this same colt had kicked him in the right shin; indeed, the crack of theflashstone even sounded in his ears very much as the crack of breaking bone had onthat occasion, and the shock to the limb--that particular shock which resemblesnumbness but which promises pain to follow in short order--was nearly identicalexcept that, on this occasion, it was accompanied by a searing heat which promisedeven more extreme pain and, half an instant later, by the smell of cooking meat--hadhe paused to consider that this smell came from his own tortured flesh, he may wellhave been so discomfited that he would have been unable to respond.

In the event, however, Mica did not pause to consider this, nor did he even pauseto consider that he had been hurt, perhaps disabled, and that both he and hismistress might soon be left helpless before their unknown assailant; rather, the instanthe felt the blow and the accompanying heat, he swung his faithful bar-stool with grimpurpose and deadly aim. He, was rewarded by the solid, satisfying feel of a goodstroke well placed; Laral fell back three steps with a hiss of pain or annoyance at thesame instant that Mica gave a scream that was, in fact, the loudest sound yet to ringout through that night, after which he fell, nearly senseless himself, next to Khaavrenwho slept, and the coachman who would never wake.

Laral, though stunned, was by no means finished; she dropped the now-uselessflashstone and drew from her side a long, slim dagger, and, with this in one hand (theother, the reader ought to remember, still held that rod containing the spell withwhich she was determined to dispatch Khaavren) she advanced on Srahi with theintention of quickly finishing her, and then completing her business with the fallenCaptain.

Srahi looked at the dagger, at the cold, heartless eyes behind the dagger, at herfallen lover, and felt a trembling in her knees and a weakness in her bowels the like ofwhich she had never imagined, and realized, in her turn, that she was about to die.

And die she certainly would have, had not Daro, Countess of Whitecrest,aroused by the sounds of battle coming from outside of the house, emerged at thatmoment, dressed in a housecoat of brilliant Lyorn-red and holding a naked sword inher hand. The Countess, attempting as best she could to see through the darknessand the shadows, said, "What is this? Who are you to threaten an unarmed Tecklawith a knife? And who are these people who lie, dead, dying, sleeping, or stricken,all about the doorstep of this good house?"

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As Laral turned, Srahi gave a small sigh and sank to her knees. It is true that onemight fault her for not having chosen that moment, when her assailant's back wasturned, to launch an attack, but one ought to remember, in the first place, that shewas weaponless, in the second that she was frightened out of her wits, and, in thethird, that, when she had earlier launched herself at Laral's arm, even as the Jheregwas about to strike down her lover, she had already been far, far braver than oneought to expect of any Teckla. It is the judgment of the historian that Srahi beallowed a moment's collapse in relief at her delivery, without censure from thereader.

In any case, Laral did not hesitate, but threw her knife at this new intruder withcareful aim and a strong arm. Daro had fought her share of duels, been involved in afew melees of one sort or another, and, on one occasion, had even been involved inwhat could only be called a battle (although, had Her Majesty known of this battleand the part the Countess had played therein, it is doubtful whether Daro would havebeen allowed any position whatever at court, much less that of maid of honor), butshe had never fought with anyone who could use a knife in the way Laral did--thatis, by throwing it. Daro had no means of repelling such an attack, and the knifestruck her full in the body. Daro gasped and, like Srahi had the instant before, sankto her knees.

Her sword fell to the ground with a clang, and she stared, gasping, at the knifewhich appeared to grow from her stomach--nearly four inches of blade hadpenetrated, testifying to Laral's skill and strength. The assassin, however, did notpause to congratulate herself on the skill and strength to which we have just alluded;she knew very well that time, a most valuable commodity to an assassin, was quicklyslipping away, and she must act at once if she were to complete her mission--or,indeed, if she were even to herself attempt the very thing that time was doing--thatis, slipping away.

And so, once more, for the last time, she turned back to the prostrate Tiassa,raising the black rod in her hand; and once more, for the last time, she wasinterrupted, this time by Tazendra, who cried, "What is this, a massacre onKhaavren's very doorstep?"

"An assassination, more like," said Pel through clenched teeth.

"How! Do you think so?"

"I am convinced of it, my dear Baroness. And if we are too late, then, by all thegods of the Paths, someone will pay dearly for our tardiness."

Laral turned at these voices, and seeing two warlike figures silhouetted against thelight from the slowly approaching glowbulb, decided that there was no longer timefor saving anything, but, rather, she must use her most potent weapons at once, andhope only to escape with her life. She therefore raised the rod, directed it at thelarger of the two, which looked to be a woman (and was, in fact, Tazendra), andcast the spell, while simultaneously drawing a rapier with which she intended toquickly dispatch the smaller (whom the reader will realize is Pel), after which shehoped to cut the throats of everyone present--certainly more of a bloodletting than

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she would have preferred; but, she decided, she had no choice.

Unfortunately for our Jhereg, Tazendra and Pel each had other ideas. AlthoughTazendra was not quick to comprehend the subtleties of intrigue, or the nuances ofcommunication, or the feints and deceptions behind the schemes of a Yendi, sheknew very well what the rod signified, and quickly cast a rune of protection over herand her friend, and such was her skill in the magical sciences that, although she felt amomentary chill, there was no other effect of the enchantment. Similarly, Pel hadnever in his life allowed anyone to pierce his skin with anything sharp if he could atall prevent it; in this case, he prevented it by drawing his own sword and neatlydeflecting Laral's hurried lunge, a maneuver he followed at once with a riposte thatcut her wrist, causing her to drop her sword.

We should say in Tazendra's defense that, had she noticed that the unknownsorcerer was weaponless, she (by which we mean Tazendra) would have held up onher own attack, but events proved too quick in the unfolding, and the light provedtoo dim in the shadows, so that Tazendra's massive sword was in her hand, and,indeed, the blade was embedded in Laral's skull, before the sound of Laral's ownsword striking the ground had reached Tazendra's ears.

In the silence that followed the clang of the sword onto the stone walkway beforeKhaavren's house, followed, as it was, by the muffled sound of the assassin's bodyfalling next to her own sword, Daro stared up at the two unknowns, grateful for theirpresence but wondering who they were. Pel stepped out of the way of the glowbulb,thus allowing the light to fall on the Countess's face, after which he said, "Well, mydear Whitecrest, our arrival seems to have been timely."

"I am convinced I have heard that before, too," murmured Tazendra.

"How, you know me?" said Daro.

"Indeed," said Pel, and turned so the light fell on his face (the glowbulb, weshould add, was only now moving into place above the ensemble, so quick had beenall of the action). "You are without doubt one of Her Majesty's maids of honor, andare called Daro, are you not?"

"Indeed, and I recall your face, yet I cannot think where I have seen you."

"I have been at court," said Pel, "though in other garb than this. Perhaps--"

"Ohhhhhhh," moaned Srahi.

"Help," suggested Mica.

"Countess, is that your voice I hear, or am I dreaming?" said the Captain. "Andwhy is it so cold?"

"Perhaps," said Pel, "we ought to bring everyone inside, and tend to thatunfortunate length of steel which seems to have embedded itself in your stomach,Countess, and attend, as well, to anyone else who is wounded."

"Which appears to be everyone," agreed Tazendra. "But who are they? Was that,indeed, Khaavren's voice?"

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"It is I," said Khaavren. "But why am I on the ground? And--"

"Questions later, my dear," said Pel.

"Who else is here?" said Tazendra, looking around.

"I am, Baroness my master," said Mica.

"Mica, is that you?"

"Most of him," said Mica.

"How, most of him? What then is missing?"

"Just about a foot," said the servant. "I hope I will not be less useful to you onthat account, however."

"Well, well, we shall see. Who is this?"

"I do not know, but he was killed by sorcery from that woman whose head youhave just parted like a ripe melon."

"I see," said Tazendra.

"No doubt the coachman," said Pel. "But who is this? Could it be Srahi?"

The reader will note that the above conversation had taken only two minutes, yetthis was time enough for Srahi to have recovered sufficiently to say, "Who elsemight it be, do you think? Here, after saving my brave master from the Gods knowwhat sort of violence, and him helpless, are we thanked? Are we even assistedindoors? No! The good Mica lies bleeding and freezing on the cold street, and--"

"By the Gods," said Pel. "It is Srahi."

"It could be no one else," agreed Tazendra.

"Let us bring them all inside, Khaavren first of all."

"Cha!" said Khaavren. "I am the healthiest present, save for you late arrivals.Attend to the Countess, then send for a physicker."

"Ought we," said Pel, "to move her at all before the physicker arrives?"

In answer, Tazendra at once bent over and conducted a brief but thoroughinspection of her wound. She then, using bits of cloth from Laral's costume,stanched the bleeding as best she could and said, "We must be careful, but we oughtto move her at once to a place where she can be kept warm; I cannot tell whatdamage this weapon has done, yet I fear... come, Pel, help me bring her inside."

The Countess was too weak from pain and shock to object to this plan, andallowed Pel and Tazendra to carry her inside. When she had been set on the sofa,they returned to find Khaavren standing up, and even assisting Srahi with Mica, whostill had his bar-stool clenched in his hand. They replaced both Khaavren and Srahi,and sent the latter off to find a physicker, which she claimed she could do in twominutes. Mica seemed unhappy at seeing her leave, but he bore his loss, like the painof his wound, as an old campaigner.

Soon they were all settled in the parlor in this fashion: Daro lay on the couch with

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cloth all about the knife which was still in her stomach, and with her head near thegrey armchair, upon which, we should add, was Khaavren, his feet propped upbefore him and his head tilted back. On the floor near him was Mica, sitting onseveral spare blankets, and using his master's pillow, while Pel and Tazendraoccupied two of the chairs (that is, one each). Even as Tazendra stretched out herlegs, tossed her hair, and opened her mouth to make a pronouncement on somesubject or another, Srahi came in.

"Well?" said Tazendra. "And the physicker?"

"He is behind me," said Srahi, "and will be here before you can draw abreath--he stopped only to pick up those supplies, he pretends he might need." Shethen seated herself before Mica, with her legs crossed netmaker-fashion and her faceset in a stern, forbidding look that discouraged questions about the physicker,requests for potables, or discussion of any other sort.

The physicker, a resolutely cheerful Chreotha with a Serioli name that was all butunpronounceable (wherefore we shall refer to him as "the physicker," trusting ourreaders will not object), did, in fact, arrive in scarcely more than the time Srahi hadmentioned--at any rate, few breaths were drawn and no more conversation tookplace before he arrived. Srahi sent an imperious glance around the room, but saidnothing except for giving the briefest greeting to the physicker (whose name shemassacred without apparent embarrassment), to which he responded by affablenods to all present, and after which he went around the room inspecting the patients,beginning with Daro, then Khaavren, and lastly Mica. No one spoke while he madehis examinations, but, rather, everyone watched his face, hoping for a clue to thecondition of the patient in question. No such clues were, however, forthcoming--heremained cheerful, and said nothing until he had examined all three, then, withoutconsultation (which consultation would necessarily have produced an argument) hebegan his treatment first with Mica, saying, "There is no question, my friend, but thatyou must lose that foot and a portion of the leg, but we shall certainly save the knee,which ought to be a comfort to you."

Mica closed his eyes tightly and did not seem especially comforted.

By chance, the physicker was not entirely unskilled, and had brought alongdreamgrass oil to ease pain, which he carefully measured out and administered onthin wafers. After urging two of these on the poor Teckla, who was so frightened hecould scarcely swallow and had to be assisted with long draughts of water, most ofwhich he spilled, the physicker commanded that a room be set aside for his surgery,with clean sheets and a bucket ready. By the time the room was ready, thedreamgrass had taken effect.

It is not our intention to pander to those of our readers who delight in blood;moreover, it is the belief of the author that there has been enough blood already inthis chapter of our history to satisfy all but most depraved of readers; we will, then,content ourselves with saying that the remainder of Mica's foot and ankle wereremoved without mishap, and after the stump was neatly tied, the physicker checkedall of the Teckla's vital signs and pronounced him out of danger.

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Daro's wound, though shallow, was, as Tazendra had observed, the mostdangerous, because the knife had come near to cutting open her intestines, whichmust surely have resulted in death unless extreme measures were taken. Butfortunately, after examining her, the physicker announced that, in fact, no seriousdamage had been done, and after dosing her with dreamgrass, he drew forth theknife in one easy motion; then, after cleaning the wound, he quickly closed it withfive stitches, which Daro bore quite complacently, the dreamgrass having done itswork.

After giving Khaavren a quick inspection, and announcing that he requirednothing more than rest, the physicker collected his fee, which was generouslycontributed by Tazendra, and departed. By the time he left, all three patients hadbeen moved back to the parlor, and all of them were able to speak without moaning,although, to be sure, two of them--by which we mean Daro and Mica--at times hadto struggle to concentrate on what they or their companions were saying.

Khaavren, upon hearing the door close, wasted no time in asking what hadhappened, with the result that several voices attempted to answer him at once. Aftersome few moments of this, he asked for and received silence, and required thestories to be told simply, clearly, and one at a time. The next several hours, then,were taken up in sorting through what had happened and attempting to reconstruct itand put it into some kind of coherent order, beginning with an account from Pel andTazendra of their recent activities (with which the reader is already familiar, except tosay that, upon reaching the Imperial Palace, they discovered that Khaavren had beentaken ill and sent home, and they had hastened there as quickly as they could),including Srahi's explanation of how she and Mica came to be there at that time(which, likewise, the reader has already heard except for certain portions which weare confident the reader can fill in himself), and concluding with an effort on all sidesto piece together exactly who had been wounded how and when, and, in turn, whohad done exactly what to the assassin (whose body, we should add, still remainedon the sidewalk, next to that of the coachman, because Khaavren felt too weak tosubject it to his usual scrutiny). In all, these activities continued (with, we should addsome measure of success) far into the night.

"Well," said Khaavren, when at last he understood the sequence of events, "itseems that, once again, I've been saved by the arrival of my friends--in this caseseveral of them. Moreover, this time there can be no doubt that the true heroes areMica and Srahi."

"For my part," said Tazendra, giving Mica a fond glance, "I could not agreemore."

"Bah," said Mica, blushing and wondering if he could contrive to be killed forboth Khaavren and his master at the same time and resolving to do so as soon as ameans could be found, "we were only too happy to be of any small service wecould, were we not?" He addressed this last to Srahi, who sniffed disdainfully, butalso smiled--a task to which the muscles of her face seemed unaccustomed.

Khaavren suggested they allow the servants a glass of wine, and, moreover,

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offered to drink to the health of the two of them, and this proposal was promptly putinto action--they were honored the more in that it was Pel who went to fetch thewine and Tazendra who poured it into the cups, waiting upon the servants, as ithappened.

After draining his glass, Khaavren said, "And now, my friends, I must sleep, for Ican scarcely keep my eyes open, and to-morrow promises to be a day of unusualinterest."

"What of to-morrow?" said Pel.

"Indeed," said Khaavren, who sounded (and was feeling) more than a littledrowsy. "What of to-morrow?"

"Will you be able to rise in the morning?"

"I must," said Khaavren. "There is something I must do. It is very important and,wounded or not, I must go at once to the Palace."

"What is it?" said Pel and Tazendra together.

"I do not remember," said Khaavren, "although, no doubt, I will when I wake up.For now, I believe that I can hold my eyes open no longer. Good night to you, myfriends, and to you, Countess."

They all, in turn, expressed their wishes that Khaavren would sleep well andcomfortably, except for Daro, whose eyes were closed and who was breathingevenly and deeply, and Srahi, who was audibly wondering who was going to cleanup the blood that had soaked into the floor, the sofa, three good sheets, and, itwould seem, every towel in the house.

We must, at this point, apologize to the reader, for we are not unaware that thiswould be a good time, with everyone drifting off to sleep, to end this chapter of ourhistory; yet it is our desire to inform the reader of all of the significant events beforeallowing the next day to begin with our next chapter, wherefore we must go back intime to when Khaavren was unceremoniously leaving the Palace, which was at justabout the same moment that His Majesty was ceremoniously closing up the Palace,by which, be it clearly understood, we mean that he was doing the rounds, afterwhich he retired to his bedchamber, which he did at about the same time thatKhaavren and his friends were being placed in chairs and sofas about the house, andsettling in for the evening's conversation which we have already had the honor ofsummarizing for our reader. His Majesty, too, was settling in for an evening'sconversation, but, there being no one there to converse with, he perforce spoke tohimself.

"It is not," he began, lying on his side, "as bad as it seems. Though there isrebellion, there is also an Imperial Army. Although there are conspiracies about thecourt, there is Jurabin. Although my Captain is injured, the good Navier believes hewill recover fully, and soon at that. Moreover, I have my health, and my hand isstrong upon the tiller of the Empire, and I have Noima, my Consort, a consolation intime of trouble--although, in fact, I really ought to see about a replacement for oldWellborn; I am unused to being without a Discreet.

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"But leave that--let us dwell on what we have, rather than what we do not have,for that way lies contentment, and the other way lies unhappiness. Yet, to the left,among the possessions we have been pleased to enumerate we must included anadmirable memory, which reminds us that Wellborn was wont to speak ofcontentment in the most disparaging of terms, pretending that contentment wasstagnation, and that it was the lot of Man to struggle ever higher.

"All of which is well enough, but what, then, ought I to be struggling against? Therebel Prince, certainly; but I have done all I can as far as he goes. What else?

"Bah! What an occupation for a grown man, and an Emperor no less! To lieawake attempting to find something to worry about! Next I shall come to mistrust theWarlord and the Captain, than which there are no more loyal souls in the Empire,even as I mistrust Jurabin, who..."

He stopped in the midst of this soliloquy, shifted onto his back, locked his handsbehind his head, and repeated this last phrase to himself. "What have I said? Imistrust Jurabin? Now, how did that thought come to take root? I have alwaystrusted him before. Well, but there can be no question but that he has changed,although I cannot fathom precisely in what manner he has changed."

He folded his hands on his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. "No, now that Ithink, I do know in manner he has changed--he is no longer so devoted to Noima ashe was. It is, to be sure, an odd thing for a husband to consider (for I am a husbandas well an Emperor), yet, after those devotions which, long years ago, gave me acertain unease (and of which I was once so jealous that I spent an entire day withWellborn speaking of nothing else), to now be disturbed that those smallattentions--which I was never certain existed--are now entirely absent.

"And what of Noima herself? Has she noticed the change? Of course shehas--why else would she be so angered at the Lady Aliera? This, then, is the answerto that mystery. But the first question still confronts us, and in as forceful a manneras ever: Can Jurabin still be trusted?

"For that matter, though it pains me to even ask the question, can Noima betrusted? Not her heart, of which I have never had cause to doubt, but her judgment?If not, and I fear that to ask the question is to answer it, I must be less hasty inagreeing to her wishes--my own words to her, in which I counterposed the needs ofEmpire to the desires of the husband, were prophetic. No, I must do what is best forthe Empire, and Jurabin certainly will agree; indeed, it was he who argued against thearrest of Aliera, which would have solved the domestic problem, at the cost of--"

His Majesty broke off abruptly, sat up in his bed, and cried, "The Gods! Ofcourse Jurabin argued against Aliera's arrest! He is in love with her, and this iscoloring all of his decisions, as, indeed, his reaction is coloring all of Noima's! What,then--is the court nothing more than a playground of romance, and the policies ofEmpire nothing more than tools of intrigue? This cannot be allowed. I will not allowit. If I have to dismiss every councilor in the Chambers and live like a celibate, I willnot allow it. I will not. Whatever pain I condemn myself or even my loved ones to, Iwill not."

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And repeating this phrase over and over to himself, he lay down once more,turned over onto his side, and at last, and at much the same time as those inKhaavren's house, drifted off to sleep.

Chapter the Twenty-fourth

Which Treats of the Philosophy of Conquest,

The Conquest of Philosophy,

And Several Instances of Pride.

«^»BY THIS TIME, WE DO not doubt, the reader is beginning to wonder about Alieraand Sethra, who were last seen in the Imperial Palace, where they learned thatKhaavren had been ordered to arrest Adron. The reader might presume that, in fact,they reached Adron, warned him, and that Adron had therefore broken camp atonce, leaving a patrol of three warriors to either stop Khaavren should he appearalone, or give warning should he appear in force. The reader who does make thesepresumptions is, we should say at once, correct on all counts. And, as it is wellknown that the Breath of Fire Battalion was famous, above all, for its speed, itshould come as no surprise that, as red dawn broke over Dragaera, the battalionshould be found encamped a good forty leagues from the city, having covered thisdistance in a single night and still had time, after making camp according to Adron'sparticular code, to get a good night's sleep (except for those who had guard duty,which was, under the circumstances, a fair number).

Aerich was awakened at dawn, and Fawnd, a good servant, woke even before hismaster and hastened to help him dress, while making certain that klava was availableand determining if any messages had arrived during the night. On this occasion, infact, one had, and Fawnd hastened to present it to the good Lyorn, who read it atonce, frowned, and said to himself, "I am to breakfast with His Highness thismorning, as well as certain others to whom he refers as guests--I assume these willinclude his daughter Aliera and, no doubt, Sethra Lavode; therefore I ought topresent myself in a fashion that will show the esteem in which I hold them."

To Fawnd, then, he said, "Ribbons for the belt, silver medallion, vambraces."

"Yes, Venerance," said the servant, and immediately set out the named items.

Aerich was not easily deceived, nor was he on this occasion--he arrived inAdron's tent to find Adron and Aliera already awaiting him; Sethra appeared even asAerich was greeting the first two.

We must, in all conscience, pause for a moment to utter yet another brief apologyto our reader; during what follows, which, we give our word, is entirely necessary toour history, we shall be spending time with four persons, three of whom, we admitto our sorrow, have names which begin with the same sound and are, moreover, ofroughly similar length, and even contain similar sounds within. We are not insensitive

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to the difficulty it may cause some readers to keep track of when a passing symbolrefers to Adron, when to Aliera, and when to Aerich. We shall, of course, do ourbest to help the reader by making reference, from time to time, to some characteristicby which the individual may be told from the others: "His Highness," for example, or"the Lyorn," or "Adron's daughter." Yet, it cannot be denied that a certain amount ofconfusion is inevitable under these circumstances, and we therefore tender ourapologies, offering as our only justification that, in the event, these people werethere, and to change their names for them would be to take liberties which nohistorian could justify, and for which those involved, some of whom live even as wewrite these words, would hardly thank us.

This said, let us pass on to consider the breakfast to which His Highness haddetermined to treat his daughter, the Lyorn, and the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain.

It was not large, as such breakfasts go--it was Adron's opinion that he, and, byextension, his troops, would fight better if not weighed down by a large meal,although some sustenance was certainly required. Hence, each guest was givenwarmed bread and butter, a ration of potatoes, a piece of dried whitefruit, and a sliceof roasted kethna. There was also blood-tea in good quantity (Adron, beingsuperstitious about the name, had forced himself to enjoy the acrid tang) and klava.

"So does Your Highness believe," said Aerich toward the end of the repast, "thatHis Majesty will attack today?"

"It is not unlikely," said Adron. "It is what I would do. The longer he delays, themore horses we will be able to move into position, and the faster and moreefficiently we will be able to strike. Rollondar cannot be unaware of this. In allhonesty, I am surprised that the attack did not come during the night, although wewould certainly have had the advantage in any battle in darkness."

Sethra looked at him sharply. "Your Highness cannot, even with all of your skillsand all of your forces, expect to defeat the Imperial Army in open battle."

"I do not fight in order to lose battles," said Adron quietly.

"Your Highness must perceive," said the Lyorn, "that, once battle is joined, Icannot support it--however much I revere Your Highness, I cannot countenancerebellion."

"It is not rebellion if the cycle has turned, my dear Lyorn."

"On the contrary," said Aerich. "Rebellion is exactly rebellion, until it succeeds,which is how one knows the cycle has turned."

"A pretty dilemma," agreed the Prince.

His daughter shrugged. "It is all well and good to discuss such matters of theory,but soon enough the battle will be joined and such arguments will no longer matter,being replaced by arguments of a more convincing sort."

"And you," remarked Sethra dryly, "are so impatient for the slaughter to beginthat you can barely contain yourself."

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"Well," said Aliera sharply. "And do you condemn me for this?"

"I have seen too much blood, too many battles, to take any joy in them."

"I," said Aliera, "have not."

"With the Favor, you never will."

"If you can find an honorable way to prevent this battle, my dear Sethra; you arewelcome to do so--moreover, I will even help you."

"Will you? Well, I have been considering exactly this question."

"Have you then?"

"Indeed I have."

"And?"

"It may be that I know a way."

Aerich studied her, but said nothing. Adron leaned forward in his chair. Alierasaid, "Well, let us hear it, for I am convinced it must be a good one. And, moreover,a quick one, for I do not doubt that the Warlord is, even now, advancing with all ofhis forces."

"It is unlikely," Sethra pronounced.

"Unlikely?" said father and daughter with one voice.

"You are, neither of you, as aware as I am of the state of the Imperial forces.Rollondar will not be able to attack before to-morrow's dawn at the soonest, unlesshe chooses to launch an attack in which, he will be outnumbered in both men andhorses, and I promise you he will not do so."

"The Imperial Army is not gathered?" said Adron.

"Not in the least."

"And yet, Jurabin and His Majesty must both have realized--"

"Jurabin," said Sethra with a smile and a covert glance at Aliera, "has beendistracted these past few days, and is not thinking clearly. And as for His Majesty,well, the reins of government are too new in his hands for him to yet feel thesubtleties."

"Yet the Warlord--"

"Will not have called for a general arming and preparation without explicit orders.It is never a wise move, and after several hundred years of a Phoenix Reign, with theDragon over the horizon, no Warlord would risk giving such advice unless asked inthe most explicit of terms."

"That is true," said Adron.

"Well then," said Aliera. "Let us hear this famous plan. And if I think it a goodone, well, I will subscribe to it as I promised."

"Then listen," said Sethra.

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"We are listening," said the others.

Sethra quickly described her plan, while the others listened attentively. When shehad finished, Adron blinked and said, "That is it?"

Aliera said, "That is your plan?"

Aerich said nothing.

"That is my plan," said Sethra.

"You will be arrested," said Adron.

"You will be killed," said Aliera.

Aerich said nothing.

"I will be neither killed nor arrested," said Sethra.

"His Majesty--"

"Knows that I am Captain of the Lavodes. He will not like it, but he will take noaction against me. And if he does--"

"Yes," said Adron. "If he does?"

"He will discover that he is unable to move against me."

"Well," said Aliera, "that may be true, but your plan cannot succeed."

"I will not dispute with you," said Sethra. "Yet, nevertheless, I will make theattempt, for it is the only way to avert civil war--and that on a scale that I am notashamed to say frightens me, who have seen such wars come and go for more yearsthan you, Aliera e'Kieron, can imagine."

Aliera seemed about to object, but evidently thought better of it. Adron, for hispart, nodded slowly. "It would, indeed, solve the problem, although I cannot believeit will work. Still, if it did, think of all the bloodshed we would avoid."

"So will you support me in this attempt?"

"With all my heart," said Adron, "though I think you are doomed to fail."

"And you will agree to your role in the plan?"

"Entirely, my friend, and without a second thought."

Sethra nodded, then turned to Aerich, saying, "And you, my good Lyorn?"

"I believe with His Highness that it cannot succeed, yet it is worth theattempt--none of us knows all the subtleties of the Orb, or of His Majesty'scharacter."

"And you, Aliera?"

"If you try, well, I will accompany you as I agreed."

"You? Never in life. The risks which I do not run, you most certainly will."

"And what of that? Do you think I care a thimble for what His Majesty mightthink to do to me?"

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"And yet, I cannot protect you."

Aliera rose to her feet, her hand upon the hilt of her sword. "How, did Isomehow convey the impression that I desired your protection?"

"Aliera!" said her father. "Not at breakfast!"

Aliera bowed and sat once more.

Sethra shrugged her shoulders. "You may accompany me, if you will permit. I donot think it wise."

"Nor do I," said Adron.

"I consider the entire affair unwise. Yet, if Sethra will have it so, I shallaccompany her."

"When will you set out?" said His Highness.

"At once," said Sethra. "The sooner begun--"

"Indeed. Then allow me to call for two horses."

"Very well."

Adron sent for two of his best horses, which, upon being delivered, were givenover to Sethra and Aliera. Sethra mounted at once. Adron stood before Aliera, tookboth of her hands and looked her in the eyes.

"Daughter--" he said.

"I know, father," said Aliera. "I will be careful. And you--"

"Yes?"

"Do nothing that you needn't."

"Of course."

"Then fare well."

"Fare well."

Adron and Aerich watched until the two riders were out of sight, then theyreturned to Adron's tent. Adron walked over to his mosaic of purple stones, studiedit, and sighed. Aerich stood next to him.

"I do not know what Your Highness is constructing," he said, "yet it frightensme."

"And well it should," said Adron. "It is now complete, and, should I draw powerthrough it, it would embody the most powerful spell this world has seen since thelost ages of the Jenoine."

Aerich looked at him. "So much?" he said in a whisper.

"So much," said the Dragonlord.

"But what use can you have for a spell so powerful?"

"I face a powerful foe," said Adron. "The most powerful of my life, or, indeed,

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the life of any sorcerer."

"Would Your Highness care to tell his servant of what foe he is speaking?"

"Who else, my friend? The Orb."

"Your Highness would set elder sorcery against the Orb itself?"

"I would."

"For pride?"

Adron turned to the Lyorn sharply. "So it may seem," he said. "Yet it is not so."

The Lyorn raised his eyebrows and waited. For a while, he thought theDragonlord had nothing more to say, but then Adron seemed to sigh. "My dearfriend, you must consider, first of all, the state of the Empire. Then there is the stateof the court. Then there are those signs and portents by which one can, sometimes,receive hints about what the Gods and fate have in store for us. All of these must betaken into account, yet of none of them can we be certain. Therefore, we must allowourselves every possible option, until the moment of crisis, when our choices arenecessarily narrowed, and the only possible action becomes clear."

"Well," said Aerich, "I understand what Your Highness does me the honor oftelling me, yet I do not comprehend--"

"I will explain, Duke, for I value your friendship, and, even if you think I amchoosing wrong, well, I would still wish for your esteem, and thus I would have youinformed of my thinking in this matter."

Aerich bowed and signified that he was listening.

"I am in rebellion against the Empire," he said.

"Well, that is true."

"I have decided that I cannot suffer the insult he has done me, and thereforeeverything that follows must follow."

Aerich nodded.

"Yet, there are several possibilities from which I can choose, and several ways inwhich events may play themselves out in spite of any choices I may make."

"Your Highness is as clear as the water of Libedu."

"In the first place, it is possible that I shall simply win against His Majesty--amilitary victory brought about by mistakes on the part of the Warlord Rollondar, oron the part of His Majesty, or by circumstances unforeseen. Do you know what thiswould signify?"

"That the cycle has turned, and Your Highness is meant to have the Orb."

"Exactly."

"Well, I understand."

"Next, I may be defeated militarily, which would result in either my death or my

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capture--and, as I am certain you know, capture would mean death, only somewhatdelayed and more ignominious, being upon the Executioner's Star rather than on thefield of battle. What, then, would this signify?"

"That the cycle has not turned."

"We understand each other perfectly."

"Well?"

"Well, Duke, I give you my word that, in the latter case, I should accept defeat,and the decrees of fate, and not risk unleashing the powers of elder sorcery againstthe Orb."

"How, you would not?"

"Never in the world."

"But then, if I may do myself the honor of putting a question to YourHighness--"

"You may."

"Why create the spell at all?"

Adron nodded, as if this question were not unexpected. "To begin, I built it inanger--I have been studying these patterns for more years than I can count, yet theidea that such power could be a weapon even against the Orb only occurred to mythoughts when I learned of the insult His Majesty had offered my daughter. Iconstructed the spell, and then, as it were, I came to my senses; or my rage cooled,as you would have it; and I realized that, insult or no, I would not use such means totake the throne."

Aerich bowed. "That seems well thought, Your Highness."

"I have not finished."

"Well?"

"Consider the issues I first mentioned, those being the state of the Empire, thestate of the court, and the signs and portents with which one might be acquainted."

"Yes, I am considering them, Highness. I am, in the first place, not sufficientlyfamiliar with signs and portents."

"Well, leave them. What next?"

"The Empire is troubled: The Council of Princes is due to meet, and there is noagreement among any of the Houses about the Imperial Allotment; there are foodshortages in the city such that fortunes are being made smuggling grain past thegates, while food sits rotting in the harbors; there is such discontent in the city thatthe Guard have been alerted to prepare for riots at any time; in the North, themines--"

"That is sufficient, Duke. What of the court?"

"His Majesty is attempting to rule his own court, but assassinations and

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conspiracies have deprived him of much of the knowledge he requires to makedecisions. Furthermore, he allows the Consort to influence him in matters regardingthe welfare of the Empire."

"Well, we are in agreement regarding the state of the Empire and the state of thecourt."

"I am pleased to be in agreement with Your Highness."

"What can this mean except that the cycle has, indeed, turned, and I must takethe throne?"

"It could mean that we must do our best to rally behind the Emperor in this timeof trouble, Your Highness. And it may mean nothing at all."

Adron sighed. "Both true," he said. "And exactly my point. That is, you perceive,the difficulty: There are too many possibilities. And yet--"

"Yes? And yet?"

"One possibility, and one that I cannot overlook, is that everything is just as itseems, no more, no less."

Aerich stared at the Prince, waiting for him to continue. After a moment he did.

"The appearances are that the Empire is in a shambles, the court is in confusion,and His Majesty is turning into the worst sort of tyrant--for it is a tyranny built onignorance and foolishness, rather than selfishness or even malevolence. If thingscontinue as they are there will be famine in the city while food rots in the harbors ofthe South, there will be war in the East and rebellion in the West, there will bedivision and strife in all layers of society, the Imperium insulting the noble, while thenoble suppresses the bourgeois, and the bourgeois cheats the commoner. That is thedirection in which we are heading, and all evidence that the cycle has turned isspeculation, and perhaps nothing more than desire turned to belief. Do youunderstand what I am saying, Duke?"

"I understand, but--"

"Then consider what it means that I have the power to prevent all of this--thatcircumstances have worked so that I can prevent great evil--if evil is to come. Or ifcatastrophe looms--and, Duke, with the anger of the people, the fear of thebourgeois, and the pride of the noble all mixing in the pot which no hand stirs, canyou doubt that catastrophe looms?--might this not be the working-out of fate, that Ihave the chance to prevent it? Could it not be that I am fate's tool in this?"

"Has Your Highness considered," said Aerich slowly, "that your efforts toprevent catastrophe may bring it about? For fate, as Your Highness knows, cannotbe denied."

"Fate cannot be denied, but what has ever been accomplished, that is worth theaccomplishment, except in spite of or against fate? The struggle is alwaysworthwhile, if the end be worthwhile and the means honorable; foreknowledge ofdefeat is not sufficient reason to withdraw from the contest. Nevertheless, what you

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say is true; it may be that the nobler act is to have this power and not use it."

Aerich said, "I think I understand."

Adron nodded. "So, to summarize, if the cycle has turned, the spell will never beused, except insofar as it can be used as a threat--which use is not inconsiderable.But if the cycle has not turned, then I shall not use this spell in any case, unless--"

"Yes, Your Highness? Unless?"

"Unless matters become so desperate that I must force it to turn, because oneman, Emperor or no, cannot be permitted to cause such destruction as I foresee if itcan at all be stopped; and, Duke, I apply this rule to myself as much as to HisMajesty--more so, in fact."

"Will Your Highness then allow yourself to be defeated, without using thosepowers?"

"I will," said Adron, looking steadily at the Lyorn.

"Yet Your Highness will keep this spell in readiness against a circumstancescarcely subject to definition, and which, if it occurs, will cause Your Highness tounleash a spell which might risk the existence of the Orb itself?"

"I will."

"Will Your Highness deign to explain why? For I do not yet understand."

"It is because I fear, Duke. I fear that this Emperor, unable to face theconsequences of his actions, and his inactions, will threaten such tyranny that anyrisk will be justified, and, moreover, he will do so with such strength anddetermination that great effort will be required to prevent his success. If, at themoment of decision, I have seen no evidence, than I shall not use the spell, even if itmeans my own death."

"Do you truly think him so evil?"

"I fear he is so weak."

"But who will decide when the petty injustices of a monarch become the evil of atyrant, or when circumstances have reached the point where such desperatemeasures are required?"

"I will," said Adron. "I can trust no one else."

Aerich looked at the round, neat, glossy purple stones, and said, "Pride."

Adron looked at him for a long moment, then turned his own eyes to the mosaic."Perhaps," he said.

These purple stones were also the subject of a brief discussion between Alieraand Sethra, as they rode, knee to knee, toward the Imperial Palace. They had just leftthe first post-station when Sethra said, "You are aware of the mosaic of purplestones your father has constructed?"

"I am indeed."

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"Do you know how they work?"

"I am not unacquainted with elder sorcery."

"Do you know what the spell is intended to do?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

"How, that is all you have to say?"

"Yes. That is all."

They rode at a good speed to the next post-station, where, after exchanging signswith the officer, they were given fresh horses, and so continued.

"Ahead of us," remarked Aliera, "is the Flower Road, though I've never seen anyflowers on it. In any case, it leads to the Gate of the Dragon, and so we are nearlythere."

"You do not know how the road came to be named?"

"Not the least in the world."

"If you like, I will tell you."

"I should like nothing better."

"Here it is, then."

"I am listening."

"It is said that in the Ninth Reign of the Issola, the Warlord, Markon e'Lanya, hadjust won a decisive battle upon the Lockhair Plains, through which we have justpassed, during the Smallflute Uprising. The people of the village of Lockhair linedthis road and covered him with flowers to mark his passage. He slowed down toacknowledge them, which gave other citizens of the region time to gather flowerswith which to perform the same courtesy, so that he was addressed in this manner allthe way to the gate of Dragaera City, which was, by the way, then named the DragonGate in his honor."

"It is a good story."

"Is it not?"

"But I heard you say, 'It is said.'"

"Well, and if I did?"

"It makes me wonder what truth there is in the story."

Sethra smiled. "Very little. In fact, there was a cart of flowers on the road, and, intrying to move it hastily, the owner, a Jhegaala whose home had been saved byMarkon's army, tipped it over, and to cover his embarrassment he made someremarks about how honored he was that Markon should ride over theflowers--remarks that would have served better had he not stuttered so horribly indelivering the speech. Still, it is true that Markon did win the battle--and cleverly at

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that--and that the Dragon Gate was named in his honor. The road did not change itsname for some years, until the story had grown enough that even those who hadseen the event believed the story rather than their own memories."

Aliera smiled. "He won the battle, you say--and yet, in truth, did he do sowithout your help?"

Sethra laughed. "Entirely. I was on the other side, though in no importantcapacity."

"How, you took arms against the Empire?"

"I've taken arms against the Empire, my love, nearly as often as I've taken armsfor the Empire."

"Well, then, why will you not help my father on this occasion? You could do so,you know. It may be that the Lavodes would decide the issue."

Sethra was silent for some few minutes, then she said, "It is true that I have takenarms against the Empire, but I have never taken arms against the Cycle."

"I do not understand the difference."

"I am not certain I do either, Aliera e'Kieron. Yet I know that, in this case, Icannot but oppose him. If that makes me your enemy, we can now dismount andsettle matters, as we have come close to doing so often this last five-day."

Now it was Aliera who fell silent, and so they rode for some distance, until she atlast said, "No, for my part, this is no cause to quarrel. When you make a remark thatannoys me, or when you laugh at a time that displeases me, or when you give me alook that seems to hide a sneer, then I can fight you, and still might. But I cannotfight when you speak of your duty and your willingness to act in the way that seemsright to you. But come, are there not an appalling number of Teckla on the road?What does this mean?"

"They are not only Teckla; I see some bourgeois. It means, I think, that all is farfrom well in the city--you perceive how many wagons there are? Many of thesecitizens consider this a good time to be away from the city; and, come, do you thinkthem wrong?"

"Not in the least. Is that not the post-station ahead? The last one, I think, whichmeans that we shall be in the Imperial Palace in an hour, and see what we shall see."

We will allow Sethra and Aliera to continue their ride, while we turn our attentionback to Khaavren, who is, just at this moment, arriving at the Palace. We should notethat we have no rigorous policy regarding chronology--that is, having decided torelate this history, we have determined to do so in a way that, without evercompromising the truth, makes for as pleasurable an experience for our readers aspossible. If, therefore, we are required by the logic of our history to move about intime, well, we are perfectly willing to do so. To the left, however, we must insist thatwhen it happens that events fall out in such a way that we can relate them precisely inthe order in which they occurred, nothing in the world will prevent us from doing so.

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We have exactly such an occasion here, for Khaavren, upon waking up at hisaccustomed hour, still felt a certain weakness caused by the blood he had lost, and,moreover, he recalled Navier's orders--yet not his intention to arise early in order toaddress His Majesty on certain subjects; wherefore he at once went back to sleep.

He awoke a second time some hours later and only then recalled that there wassomething upon which he ought to speak to His Majesty, and so, hastily throwing onhis clothes and buckling on his sword (which Srahi, to her credit, had placed inexactly its proper place, that being on a peg at the top of the stairs), he rushed to thePalace as quickly as he could, not even entering through the Dragon Wing, but,rather, passing directly into the Imperial Wing, where he found His Majesty while thelatter was sitting down to break his fast.

His Majesty looked up, and his face glowed with pleasure. "Ah, ah, Captain! Youare well, I perceive?"

"Indeed, Sire, though shamefully late, for which I hope Your Majesty can forgiveme--I plead my recent wounds as an excuse."

"A worthy excuse, without doubt, good Captain, and you are forgiven."

"Thanks, Sire. But I have not interrupted Your Majesty's breakfast withoutcause--on the contrary, there are issues that will not wait."

The Emperor, who was eating a smoked fish which had been covered withwhipped and fried hen's eggs, put down his utensils, wiped his chin, and said,"Speak, then, for I am listening."

"Your Majesty may remember that I was ordered to arrest Lord Adron, and that,moreover, I was ordered to ensure his safety after his presumed arrest."

"Yes, I remember that, Captain."

"Your Majesty may also remember that I failed to arrest him."

"That is not something I am likely to forget."

"Yes, Sire. Well, Your Majesty must understand that, although I did not arresthim, I did make preparations for ensuring that, if I had, he would remain incaptivity."

"Well?"

"Sire, nearly all of my guards are dispersed around the Iorich Wing, and in otherkey places around the city, and have been on duty with little or no sleep most of aday."

"Then they ought to be recalled, don't you think, Captain?"

"I am entirely in accord with Your Majesty on this point. However--"

"Yes, Captain? However?"

"If Your Majesty is contemplating military action against His Highness--"

"Action you recommended," recalled the Emperor.

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"Yes, Sire. If Your Majesty is contemplating action of this sort--"

"I am more than contemplating it, Captain, I am resolved upon it."

"Then Your Majesty ought to be aware we are in no position to oppose the riotsin the city that must necessarily accompany any such action."

"How, riots?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Among the people?"

"Exactly, Sire."

"Why is this?"

"For several reasons, Sire. First of all, Lord Adron is extremely popular--indeed,the people, and those in the city most of all, perceive him as their protector, becauseof his daughter's action at the bakery, and because he is the Heir, and Your Majestyis not, at this time, popular with the masses because of the food shortages and thetaxes, and--"

"Captain! How could such a state occur and I remain ignorant of it?"

"Sire, it is because some of those with a duty to keep you informed have beenassassinated, and others have been distracted, and yet others--by this last, Sire, Imean myself--have been, first busy, and then wounded. This has all happenedsuddenly, and much of it bears the marks of conspiracy."

The Orb had darkened steadily to the point where Khaavren feared an outburst,but Tortaalik, barely master of the Empire, scarcely master of his house, was ablethis time to master his emotions. He said, "How much time will be required for youto make arrangements to keep order in the city?"

"A day, Sire. It cannot be done in less time."

"Well, Rollondar will not be setting out after Adron before to-morrow's dawn."

"That is true, Sire, but the army will be gathering, and the army will know why,and so the people will learn why, and, Sire, I cannot be responsible for the next thirtyhours if the people learn that Your Majesty intends to send the Imperial Army afterHis Highness."

The Orb darkened again, and His Majesty glared and said through clenched teeth,"What, then, do you propose, Captain?"

"Sire, Your Majesty must at once cancel the attack on His Highness."

"Cancel it, you say?"

"Yes, Sire."

The Emperor's mouth worked, and he said, "His Highness is a friend of yours, ishe not?"

Khaavren bowed and said coolly, "I have the honor of calling him a friend, yes,Sire."

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The Emperor met the Captain's gaze, then dropped his eyes. "Very well," he said."I will suspend the attack until such a time as we believe it to be safe."

"Sire--"

"I will announce to everyone--including Rollondar--that it is to be canceled. Butwe will maintain the army in the city. I assume that, should there be disorder, youwould have some use for the army?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Then it will be so. And yet, Rollondar said that each day that passes allowsAdron to move more horses into position."

"Sire, the Breath of Fire Battalion cannot face all the forces Lord Rollondarcommands, however much preparation His Highness has."

"You are certain of this?"

"Entirely, Sire."

"Well then--what is it?"

This last was addressed to a servant who appeared suddenly at the doorway.

"Sire, Sethra Lavode and Aliera e'Kieron beg the honor of an audience with YourMajesty."

The Emperor looked at the Captain, as if expecting an explanation from him, andthen looked down at his unfinished breakfast with an expression of distaste, andsaid. "I shall see them in the Portrait Room."

"Yes, Sire," said the servant.

Chapter the Twenty-fifth

Which Treats of Two Very Different Persons,

Each of Whom Reveals Plans

For the Benefit of a Very Different Audience,

And for the Reader.

«^»HIS MAJESTY ARRIVED IN THE Portrait Room and took his seat (by which, beit clearly understood, we mean the throne, for, insofar as there was a throne in theImperial Palace, it was the tall, soft, gilded chair which sat at the head of the PortraitRoom on a slightly raised dais). Khaavren took his position at the Emperor's elbow,after which His Majesty commanded that the visitors be admitted. He had arrived, asit happened, only two or three minutes before the time normally set aside for meetingwith High Lords and Princes, which allowed him to pretend that he was not, in fact,making an exception to established protocol--it was important to Tortaalik thateverything at court appear to proceed normally; that no sign of the turmoil beneath

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the surface should show in the functioning of the court or in his own countenance.Therefore, when Jurabin entered just before tenth hour was signaled, and glanced insurprise at the already-occupied throne, the Emperor responded by giving him a lookof reprobation, as if it were Jurabin who was late rather than himself who was, infact, early.

Jurabin, detecting this comedy, bowed as if in apology, and took his positionbehind the throne just as Sethra and Aliera, having been announced, made first theirappearance in the Hall, then their way to the throne.

They both executed deep courtesies, as befit nobles come before their Emperor;courtesies which His Majesty graciously acknowledged with lowered head andsweep of hand and which he punctuated with the words, "We welcome you both toour presence, and hope that you have had a journey hither that was neither too tiringnor too difficult, and that, moreover, you will both enjoy your visit to our home andthat your errand, if any, will have a satisfactory conclusion."

Sethra, speaking for both, said, "The journey, Sire, was not tiring, and was onlydifficult when we confronted the throngs at the Dragon Gate itself. Yet, Sire, wecame with all speed, and we thank Your Majesty for the alacrity, as well as for thekindness and courtesy, with which we have been received."

"You came, you say, with all speed," said Tortaalik. "From this, then, may wepresume that you have an errand to us?"

"We have the honor of coming before Your Majesty with certain proposals," saidSethra. "Proposals to which we humbly beseech Your Majesty to condescend tolisten."

"I shall indeed be only too happy to listen to any proposals delivered by twosuch messengers--one famous through all of history, the other a High Lord of themost esteemed line of the House of the Dragon. But tell us, first--on whose behalfcome these proposals?"

As Tortaalik gave this speech, Khaavren, standing in his accustomed place nextto and slightly behind the throne, stroked his cheeks with his hand. If, as hesuspected, the "proposals" they were about to hear came from Lord Adron, then hemight have work to do at once. (We should note, for those who are worried aboutguardsmen still uselessly on duty, that, as they walked to the hall, Khaavren hadwritten out a note to his corporal, Thack, in which he commanded that theextraordinary forces he had called out be relieved at once.) Aliera, we should note,had still not said a word, but rather had remained mute, and had looked at HisMajesty with a gaze that only barely indicated the respect due her Sovereign.

"Sire," said Sethra, "I come on no one's behalf but my own. The Lady Alieraaccompanies me from choice, and to indicate support for the proposals I am aboutto have the honor of laying before Your Majesty."

"Very well," said the Emperor, who seemed to Khaavren a little disappointed withthe answer, as if he had expected to hear Adron's name, and had prepared a scathingreply should this name be pronounced. "We are ready to listen; let us hear these

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proposals. What is it they address?"

"They address many issues, Sire."

"Well?"

"Among them the food shortages in the city, the taxes upon the merchants, therebellion on the part of His Highness, Adron, the Dragon Heir--"

"Ah!" said Tortaalik. "Pardon me, but I believe you have pronounced the word,rebellion."

"Yes, Sire, that is the very word."

"And you, Lady Aliera--do you also use this word?"

"I do, Sire, for it describes the case admirably. Your Majesty ought to note,however, that in my mind, I do not condemn the act by so naming it, but, rather, Ionly identify it accurately."

The Emperor looked at her carefully, as if undecided whether to become angry,but the Orb didn't change from its neutral, placid, pale rose, and His Majesty merelysaid, "Very well, continue."

"Yes, Sire," said Sethra, after a brief glance at her companion.

"I wonder what it is they are doing," said Khaavren to himself. "Have they trueproposals, are they about to effect an elaborate insult, or is it part of some deepstrategy? And, whatever they think they are doing, how will it be received? Cha!What point speculation? I will find out soon enough, I think."

Sethra continued, saying, "These problems, in addition to those I have alreadyhad the honor of enumerating, include the confusion, assassinations, andconspiracies at court which were the reason I was first asked to temporarily forsakemy home in exchange for taking up residence in Your Majesty's."

"Very well," said His Majesty. "Those are the problems you wish to address: Tobe sure, they are no small issues, but, rather, are deep, broad, and powerful. And yetyou say you have proposals which will cure all of these ills?"

"To cure all of these ills, Sire, is too much to ask of anyone, or any one idea. YetI believe that, should Your Majesty take the step I have the honor of suggesting, itwill make a good start to finding remedies for them all."

"In that case, I can hardly contain my impatience to learn of what this stepconsists, and I beg you will do me the honor of informing me this very instant."

"I am about to do so, Sire."

"Well?"

"This is it: I suggest that Your Majesty at once abdicate the throne and give theOrb to the House of the Dragon, accepting that the Cycle has turned and the Houseof the Phoenix has honorably fulfilled its destiny."

His Majesty stared at her, as if unable to believe what he had heard. Meanwhile,Sethra continued speaking as coolly as if she were explaining to His Majesty the best

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weather in which to hunt the brightbird.

"I have reached agreement with His Highness Lord Adron that, should YourMajesty agree to step down as Emperor, he will at once step down as Dragon Heir,so that no rebel will sit upon the throne, which I know may cause Your Majestysome concern. Moreover--"

"That will do," cried His Majesty. The Orb was a bright, pulsating red--sobright, in fact, that Khaavren found that he was squinting against its glare. TheEmperor's hands gripped the ornate gold filigree on the arms of the throne, andKhaavren, though he was behind His Majesty, could imagine the flared nostrils, andthe eyes that managed to widen and narrow at the same time.

"You dare," said His Majesty. "You dare to suggest that I--that I step downfrom the throne? That the way to treat with rebels is to give in to their demands? Andto give in, moreover, when I have the power to crush them? You dare to suggest thatI will be so weak, so cowardly, as to run from the first hint of trouble in the realm?You dare to say that the rebel will be willing--willing--to relinquish his claim, whenwith a single order I can cause him to relinquish his head?"

Sethra remained mute; the Emperor continued.

"And come to that, Sethra Lavode, are you aware that I can perform this sameservice for you and your companion? What you have suggested amounts totreason--can you give me a reason why you should not both be arrested forthwith?"

Khaavren, standing behind the throne and reckoning that he could, by strippingthe Palace of everyone with a guard post and emptying the Sub-wing of the RedBoot Battalion, have produced perhaps a score of guardsmen, could have foundseveral good reasons why Sethra Lavode and Aliera e'Kieron ought not to bearrested just at that moment, but, as he was not asked for his opinion, he did notventure to speak.

Sethra said, "I had expected no other answer from Your Majesty, wherefore I amnot disappointed."

"Disappointed? Your disappointment, or lack, is not at issue. The question iswhether the two. of you are to be arrested."

At this point, Sergeant (who, as we recall, was not, in fact, a sergeant) entered theroom looking both nervous and tired (he, as it happened, was one of the unluckyones who had not yet had a chance to sleep); being on duty, he was able to ignoreboth protocol and His Majesty, which he did in the course of making his way aroundthe side of the room, clearly intending to speak to Khaavren.

Meanwhile, Sethra said, "That is Your Majesty's decision, and, as Your Majestyhas not deigned to listen to my advice on matters of far more importance, well, Ishall offer no advice on this question, but, rather, leave it to Your Majesty's bestjudgment."

As the reader might imagine, this did nothing to calm Tortaalik's temper; heturned to Aliera and said, "Well? And what have you to say, daughter of a rebel?"

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Aliera gave him deep courtesy, smiling the while, and said, "I am pleased, Sire, tosee everything my father has said confirmed, and to know that I now have an easyconscience regarding the choices he has made. Your Majesty may, of course, arrestwhomever Your Majesty wishes to arrest; and, Sire, I am convinced that YourMajesty needs no lesson from me on living with consequences."

As she was speaking, Khaavren had noticed Jurabin, who, in turn, was staring atAliera in rapt fascination--fascination so obvious that Khaavren becameembarrassed for him. He was considering the implications of this unhealthy andpossibly dangerous obsession on Jurabin's part when Sergeant reached him, andwhispered in his ear, "Captain, there are some nineteen or twenty persons gatheredoutside the several doors of the hall, all of them wearing black, armed with swordand dagger, and carrying the sort of rods one might associate with wizards. Thegroup seems to be of no one single House, though many of them appear to beDzurlords, and one or two are without doubt Dragonlords."

"Very well," said Khaavren.

"But, Captain, what shall we do?"

"Nothing," said Khaavren, who understood that, should the Lavodes descend inforce to rescue their leader, nothing that the Red Boot Battalion did could make anydifference in the fray. He looked at Sethra, speculating.

Sergeant said, "Nothing, Captain?"

"Exactly. Continue with your duties. They will leave presently."

"But, Captain, they have picked up Sethra's weapon, and Aliera's, and seemready to enter the Hall of Portraits, where weapons are forbidden."

"Should they attempt to enter the room, you will allow them to do so, but, in anycase, they will not, I assure you--soon they will put down the weapons they havepicked up and walk away, peaceful as monks, silent as Discreets."

"Yes, Captain," whispered Sergeant doubtfully, and went back the way he'dcome. Khaavren, meanwhile, was thinking, "If they do, in fact, just go away, I shallimprove my reputation among my command for wisdom, coolness, andperspicacity; if they do not, then I shall at least have saved the lives of severalguardsmen who would have fallen trying to arrest Sethra and Aliera; and for my owntask, that of protecting His Majesty, I have, at any rate, the Orb on my side, and thatis no ally to take lightly."

As these thoughts were flitting through the Captain's head, the Emperor had beenranting at Aliera--a rant of which Khaavren had perforce missed the bulk, althoughhe did not believe there was likely to have been any vital information containedtherein--and he had not yet, in any case, been given the order to make the arrest.Aliera, for her part, appeared to be listening to the Emperor with great attention. HisMajesty was saying, "I shall not arrest you now, either one of you; but if you haveany wisdom, you will remove yourselves from my presence, from the Palace, andfrom the city, for I warn you that I am holding my temper in check only with greatdifficulty, and you have both set your feet upon the road that leads to Justicer's

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Square."

Aliera said nothing, acknowledging His Majesty's words with only the slightestbow of her head.

Sethra said, "Sire, Your Majesty cannot believe I am frightened, wherefore I amnot worried that Your Majesty will take my words in any but the manner in which Imean them: Because Your Majesty has not attempted to have us arrested, and inspite of Your Majesty's attitude toward my suggestion, in the coming confrontation,which my experience tells me will entail the greatest threat to the Cycle and to theOrb our Empire has ever seen, I, as Captain once more, offer the Lavodes to theEmpire during the crisis. I do this, not for Your Majesty, but for the Empire; and ifYour Majesty believes I make this offer for any reason but conviction that it is in thebest interest of the Empire, Your Majesty makes a grave error.

"Sire," she continued, "I shall be remaining here, in the Palace, in those quartersin the Dragon Wing that were lately occupied by Gyorg--should Your Majesty takeit in mind to arrest me, well, it is there Your Majesty shall find me. Should YourMajesty wish to accept my offer, it is still there that Your Majesty shall find me. Ileave this choice, with my respects, at Your Majesty's feet."

With this she bowed respectfully, as did Aliera, and they backed away from thethrone, still bowing; then, after seventeen steps, they turned and walked coollytogether out of the Hall of Portraits.

Khaavren remained where he was, saying nothing. Jurabin, said, "Sire, YourMajesty ought to consider--"

"Keep still, Beespatch," said His Majesty. "I shall ask for your advice when Irequire it."

Jurabin straightened with a start, started to speak, sputtered, and ended bysaying, "Yes, Sire," in a small, choked voice.

At this point, we can almost hear the reader saying to himself, "How, that was it?That was Sethra Lavode's plan, to ask His Majesty to abdicate? Impossible! Therewas something deeper concealed within that calculating mind, and we shall see, byand by, what it was."

Lest we leave the reader with false expectations, we must, with all the authority ofthe historian (who is, after all, relating this history, and thus has control of all theknowledge the reader has available, at least during the process of reading), assertthat, in fact, there was no deep plan within the mind or heart of the Enchantress; shebelieved that the Emperor deserved a chance to step down on his own, before hewas forcibly removed, which she suspected would happen soon.

But, if she so believed, why did she then give him her loyalty, rather than giving itto Adron? Because it was only a belief--she was in no wise certain that the Cyclehad turned. Let those who, even today, pretend expertise on that great wheel ofdestiny recall that Sethra Lavode, most powerful of wizards, deepest of seers, andwisest of sages, in that great moment of crisis that occurred in the five hundred andthirty-second year of the Eighteenth Reign of the Phoenix, did not know if the Cycle

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had turned; and, in her doubt (which, in the event, proved well-founded, for, as thehistorian writes these words, the Eighteenth Reign of the Phoenix has only just cometo a close with the peaceful and well-ordered beginning of the Eighteenth DragonReign) chose preservation of the Empire over her personal loyalties and thevicissitudes of fortune.

Sethra had made a difficult choice, but she had made it with her eyes open--shewould, insofar as she could, work to preserve the Empire and the Cycle, but shewould first give His Majesty the chance to step down, knowing that, if he did, itwould be proof that the Cycle had turned, and that, if he did not, it would meaneither that the Cycle had not turned, or that Adron was right on all counts--HisMajesty had overstayed the welcome of the fates, and catastrophe beckoned if hemaintained his grip on the Orb. She did not know how she would determine whichof these possibilities was true, but she knew that she would know best if sheremained near him, which is why, after making her proposal, she then offered theLavodes to defend his reign.

It had never occurred to her (or, in fact, to anyone else, with the exception ofcertain mystics to whom no one listened) that, of the two possibilities--the Cyclestill pointing to the Phoenix, and Tortaalik guiding the Empire toward disaster--bothcould be true.

Certainly, this possibility, or, in fact, any of the possibilities, were of no concernto Greycat, who sat in the common room of the cabaret in the Underside where weare accustomed to see him--he was filled only with his own plans and schemes,tending and nurturing them as a deranged gardener might tend and nurse a noxiousweed, with no thought of those around him, or of the broader consequence of hisactions.

The cabaret was nearly empty, save for a sleeping drunk and the host, both ofwhom were at the far end; with the house so empty, Greycat saw no reason to usethe private room. Dunaan entered, found him at once, and sat beside him.

"Well?" said Greycat. "Does fortune smile upon us?"

"She smiles," said Dunaan. "And she frowns."

"How, at the same time?"

"Yes."

"Fortune has a very flexible countenance."

"That is well known."

"Well, let us hear from fortune, then."

"Do you wish first to know how she smiles, or how she frowns?"

"Tell me first what causes her to smile, which will make her frown the morebearable."

"Very well, this is it:"

"I am listening."

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"The assassin is recruited, is ready, and awaits but your word to strike."

"Excellent. You answer for him?"

"He is skilled, brave, and too trusting--he will do all you wish."

"Excellent. Well, then, it but remains to let me know in what way fortune frownson our endeavors."

"It is quickly done; two words will inform you."

"Let us have them."

"Laral has failed in her mission."

"How, Laral has failed?"

"Exactly."

"Was she caught?"

"She was killed."

"By the Captain?"

"No, as far as I can learn, by nearly everyone in the city except the Captain."

After a moment's consideration, Greycat said, "What of her body? For he wasable to learn far, far, too much from Chalar, and could learn, perhaps, even morefrom Laral."

"He will learn nothing from Laral. Her body was left on the street, and is nowgone."

"That is something, then."

"I hope so."

"But, Dunaan, what happened? How did she fail?"

"She trusted her spells against a sorcerer and her blade against a swordsman,while trusting her sense of timing against that of a very punctual lackey."

"You observed all of this?"

"I observed the scene after it was over, and I questioned those who lived nearbyand heard the sounds, and I spoke with those in the Palace who knew what hadbecome, of Khaavren and who, for various reasons, will speak with me."

"Well, but Dunaan, you should know that Khaavren, if not dead, is, at least,wounded."

"So I learned from my friends in the Palace. Who wounded him? It could nothave been Laral."

"No, another performed that service for us."

"Ah, another. Who?"

"Soldiers of His Highness, Adron." Greycat smiled, as if he thought this a greatjest.

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Dunaan, who rarely jested, gave a slow nod and said, "What then?"

"When can your assassin act?"

"At once, if you so decide."

"At once, meaning--"

"He will be in place within an hour, and will strike--if we may call it that--on thisvery evening."

Greycat nodded, considering. "Everything seems to be working in our favor," hesaid, as if to himself. "The Emperor could not be doing a better job if he were partof our plan, and the same is true of Adron--indeed, I believe this is working betterthan if we had succeeded in killing him. And the decision to leave Jurabin in placehas also proven a good one--Aliera's arrival at court has rendered him entirelyuseless. The only problem is--"

"Yes. The Tiassa, Lord Khaavren. You ought to have let me solve that problemmyself."

"Well," said Greycat. "If you wish--"

"Of course," said Dunaan.

"Yet, he is now alerted."

"That is of no consequence."

"Very well. And your pay will be what I paid Laral. There is, fortunately, no lackof funds."

"That will be satisfactory."

"And, as for your assassin, you may tell him to be about his task, for nothing elseis needed."

Dunaan nodded, but, instead of rising at once to his feet, he remained where hewas, contemplating the nail of his right thumb as it rested on the table. After allowingthe Jhereg a few moments for this contemplation, Greycat came to the conclusionthat there was, in fact, nothing inherently interesting about the hail, but, rather,Dunaan had something on his mind which prevented his directly being about hisbusiness, wherefore he, by which we mean Greycat, said, "Come, is there somethingabout which you have some questions? If so, you need but ask, and I will do all Ican to answer you."

"You have," said Dunaan, "spoken of all the factors aligning themselves in ourfavor."

"Well, that is true, I have said that. What of it?"

"Those factors you have outlined speak of an Empire in turmoil and a court inconfusion."

"That is very well expressed," said Greycat. "'An Empire in turmoil and a court inconfusion.' Yes, they speak of these things--they even shout of them, so that onemust be deaf not to hear."

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"I am not deaf," said Dunaan, "and I hear."

"And then?"

"Your plan is to present to His Majesty solutions to these problems, with the aimof being placed into a powerful position at court."

"That is exactly it. Do you see a weakness in the plan?"

"I see one way in which it might fail, and yet another way in which, even if it doesnot, there may be some cause to worry."

"Let me then hear these ideas, and I will answer them if I can, and if I cannot,then we will consider what is to be done."

"I ask for nothing else."

"Then I am listening."

"In the first place, will your ideas on how to solve the problems facing the Empireconvince His Majesty?"

"That is one question, and it is a good one. What is the next?"

"If they serve to convince His Majesty, and they are then put into practice, willthey, in fact, solve the problems? And if they do not, will you not be dismissed aseasily as you were accepted, and, moreover, must you not suffer, as everyone else,from the disruptions in the Empire and the court?"

"That is another good question."

"I am pleased you think so. Can you answer them?"

"To answer them requires that I reveal my plan for solving the problems of theEmpire."

"And are you willing to do so?"

"To you, Dunaan, I am, for your cooperation is important, and you must beconvinced that I know what I am about, both now, and after the plan hassucceeded."

"Very well, then, if you will tell me, I am listening."

"In the first place, we need not worry about His Highness."

"How, we need not?"

"No, for the Imperial Army will remove him handily. He has made himself a rebel,for which he deserves our thanks. Nothing more need be said."

"Very well," said Dunaan after some consideration. "I agree about His Highness.But what of the disorder in the streets?"

"His Majesty will not see this as a problem, because His Majesty thinks of thepopulace as mindless rabble, and cannot believe there is any threat from them."

"Well, you may be right about His Majesty. But you and I, my friend, know thisis not the case. How, then, do you propose to solve it?"

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"I have, in the first place, certain connections among the people, which can do noharm. In the second, I have a force at my command which will, when added to theImperial Guard, know how to deal with 'rabble.' In the third, where there is anuprising, there are leaders. Where there are leaders, there are weaknesses--with yourhelp, and that of your friends, my dear Jhereg, we will subvert whom we can and kill,whom we cannot subvert."

Dunaan nodded slowly. "Yes, that will work--if you have, indeed, these forcesof which you speak."

"I have sent for them, and they are even now making their way to the city."

"Very well. But what of the disruptions at court?"

"If I have His Majesty's ear, half of these disruptions can be solved withdismissals."

"Well, and the other half?"

"For the other half, the Emperor's ear will not serve--but the Consort's bed will."

Dunaan stared. "How, you think--"

"There are pressures, my dear Jhereg, of which you have no idea. But I knowthings about the Consort which will have her doing what I wish her to do--in allmatters. You need have no fear of a disturbed court, my dear Dunaan."

Dunaan swallowed carefully, as if this idea shocked him--hardened killer that hewas. But he said, "But what, then, of the Meeting of Principalities and the ImperialAllottment, which I assure you has His Majesty more worried than anything except,perhaps, the rebellious Prince?"

"I shall have an answer to make him on that score at once, my dearJhereg--indeed, I count upon this answer, more than anything else, to secure for methe post I seek."

"Tell of what this answer shall consist, for you perceive I am most anxious tolearn."

"This is it: I will tell him I have arranged an agreement between the House of theJhereg, the House of the Dragon, and the House of the Dzur, whereby they agree topay the bulk of the assessment; with this done, the others Houses can hardly fail toagree, don't you think?"

Dunaan shook his head. "It is a pretty story, but what makes you think HisMajesty will believe it? I, for one, assure you that it sounds entirely unconvincing tome."

"Does it?" said Greycat with a smile. "That is odd, my friend, for it is true--or,rather, it will be true before two days have gone by."

"Impossible!" cried Dunaan so loudly the host turned to look at the twogentlemen in the corner who had hitherto been so quiet. Dunaan glared at him, and hequickly returned to wiping mugs with a dirty towel. "Impossible," repeated Dunaanin a softer voice.

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"Not in the least," said Greycat with utmost calm.

"How, the Dragon come to an agreement with the Jhereg? The Jhereg with theDzur? The Dzur with the Dragon? Any two of these seem impossible--how will youmanage all three?"

"I am not inexperienced as a diplomatist, though this may startle you."

"Well, so you are experienced. Nevertheless--"

"Attend me."

"I am attending."

"We conclude the arrangement with the House of the Dragon in the simplestway--we tell them that, far from needing to pay anything into the Imperial Treasury,they will be sent to attack the Pepperfields, and will, furthermore, use it as a stagingpoint for an invasion of the East, in which they may keep whatever they wish."

"Bah! We have an agreement with the Easterners over the Pepperfields."

"A score of generations of Easterners have lived and died since that agreementwas made--they will not remember it."

"But His Majesty will."

"His Majesty will not be told until it is too late--he will be presented with theagreement among the Houses, and that will be that."

"I would assume," said Dunaan, who did not yet appear convinced, "that you willrequire something of the House of the Dragon in exchange for this service you willbe rendering them?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," said Greycat. "The House of the Dragon will aid the ImperialArmy in putting down the rebel, Adron, and selecting a new Heir; as well, of course,as agreeing to the proposals put forward by the Jhereg and the Dzur, who betweenthem will be paying the bulk of the allotment--the House of the Dragon will agree."

Dunaan nodded slowly. "Very well. But what of the House of the Dzur?"

"They will agree to anything I say."

"How is that?"

"Do you know who Princess Sennya is?"

"Of course: the Duchess of Blackbirdriver, Dzur Heir to the Throne."

"Then you know she has not appeared."

"Many delegates have not appeared."

"In her case, it is by my orders."

"How, your orders?"

"Exactly."

"You give orders to the Dzur Heir?"

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Greycat nodded.

"How can this be?"

"Does it matter? She'll do what she is told, and she will be told to support ourbargain."

"Yet, I cannot believe--"

"Pah! It is easy to control a Dzurlord--no one is more sensitive to appearances;threaten to publicly shame one and he is yours."

Again, Dunaan nodded. "Well, I am convinced about the Dragons, and even theDzur. But I will not believe you have a hold over the House of the Jhereg, myfriend."

"The House of the Jhereg, as you know better than I, is a fiction. That group ofentrepreneurs of which you are a member controls the House, and runs it like abusiness."

"Well? What of it?"

"Through you, my friend, I shall make the Jhereg a business proposal."

"Well, let us see; but I warn you, it will have to be a good one."

"It is."

"I am listening."

"And remember, there is no need for His Majesty to ever learn the details of ourtransaction--he need only see the documents which attest to the agreement amongthe Houses."

"Yes, but if you have any illusions of cheating the Jhereg--"

"I assure you, I do not. I will make a bargain, and hold to it--the more sobecause I know what will become of me if I do not."

"Very well, then, let us hear this proposal."

"We find a pretext--"

"A pretext is easily found. What sort of pretext?"

"What does it matter? Some popular and innocent person will die accidentally--"

"How, accidentally?"

"Yes. Perhaps a Dragonlord. Aliera might do, if she survives the coming events.Or Tuorli, if she does not become Heir--perhaps even if she does; she is popular."

"Well, then, an innocent dies accidentally."

"Yes, from a mishap caused by dreamgrass."

"These things happen," said Dunaan.

"Yes. It clouds the perceptions, and causes accidents. We have all seen it anynumber of times. Perhaps a fall from a tower, or during a swim--"

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"This can be arranged. Yet I do not--"

"There will be great sorrow at the loss of this person, who was so popular."

"Very well."

"I will direct this sorrow through the same means I will be using to help put downthe riot, and I will turn this sorrow into outrage."

"How, outrage? At whom?"

"Not whom, my friend--what."

"At--?"

"Dreamgrass."

"Outrage at dreamgrass?"

"Exactly."

"But I do not see--"

"With pressure from the masses, and from me, and from the Consort, we willthen prevail upon His Majesty to pass edicts forbidding the growth, sale, or use ofdreamgrass anywhere in the Empire."

Dunaan stared at him, his eyes growing wider. Eventually, when he spoke, it wasin a whisper. "The prices..."

"Indeed. And, not only the prices, but consider that all of the honest merchantswho sell it will be forced into other lines of work, so that--"

"Yes! Only the Jhereg will be selling it!"

"Exactly. And, of course, we need not stop with dreamgrass. There isfreeze-powder--"

"Leads to public brawling."

"--murchin--"

"Highly addictive, eventually fatal."

"--luck drops--"

"A fire hazard in the preparation."

"--wine--"

"Clouds judgment."

"--bear's teeth--"

"Causes madness. The Gods, my friend! That such a thing should never haveoccurred to us!"

"Well, can you answer for the approval of the Jhereg?"

"Answer for it? I nearly think I can!"

"Well, then, you know the entirety of my scheme; what do you think of it?"

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Dunaan, his eyes dripping gold, said, "It is an excellent plan; I've never heard abetter."

"Well then, nothing more need be said. Commence the entertainment we havearranged for His Majesty, dispatch our annoying Tiassa, then make contact withthose in the Jhereg with whom we must treat."

"Yes, yes," said Dunaan, speaking as if in a dream. "The Emperor, the Tiassa,the Jhereg."

"Exactly. I will see you soon."

Dunaan stood up, still appearing to be in a daze, and walked out of the cabaretwithout another word. When he had gone, Greycat stood and retired to the privateroom, where he sat down and said, "Well?"

"I heard," said Grita from the shadows.

"And?"

"There are times when I am ashamed to know you."

"How, you refer to my plan to appease the Jhereg?"

"No."

"Then you refer--"

"Yes."

"I had not known you cared."

"I do not."

"Well, then?"

"Nevertheless, that you would use--"

"I have not asked for your opinion."

Grita laughed--a laugh in which there was little humor, and no humanity--andstepped out of the shadows. The two of them looked at each other, as opposingcommanders will study each other for weaknesses. At last, by some means whichwould have been unfathomable to anyone else, they seemed to agree that the contest,if so it was, could be ended without resolution.

Grita spoke as if nothing had passed between them, saying, "I attempted to carryout the mission you assigned me."

"And?"

"I was able to gain entrance, but the battalion moved out before I could strike,and I was unable to match their pace. Therefore I returned, and, from what I havejust heard, you are even pleased that Adron still lives."

"It is true, I am."

"I did learn something, however."

"Oh, and what is that?"

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"He has a guest."

"That being?"

"The Duke of Arylle."

Greycat's eyes narrowed, and he said, "Indeed. You saw him?"

"With these eyes."

"Well, well." He paused to consider, then said, "I do not see that this changesanything--on the contrary, it may simplify certain matters in the future. But for now,though it is good to know, there is nothing that needs to be done as far as Adron orhis guest are concerned."

"Well, what then?"

"Can you arrange another riot for the evening of the day after to-morrow?"

"Perhaps."

"How, perhaps?"

"It may be that I can."

"And yet, on the last occasion, there was no uncertainty."

"That was before."

"Something has, then, changed?"

"You are perspicacious."

"Your irony is useless. What has changed?"

"Before it was a question of starting a riot at a certain time--now it is a questionof preventing an uprising from breaking out beforehand."

"I see. Then you think--"

"The entire city but awaits a spark, and who knows when it will come?"

"Hmmm. Well then, if it comes early, so much the better. If nothing hashappened before the time I have named--"

"Then I shall provide the spark."

"Excellent. Then, I believe, there is nothing more to be said."

"On the contrary," said Grita. "There is a great deal to be said, but I do notbelieve we will say any of it. I have no wish to, at all events. Have you?"

By way of answering her, Greycat stood and walked out of the room and out ofthe cabaret, where he studied the street and the faces that seemed, for a moment, tofloat above it, unattached to any bodies. He watched the crowds, who seemed to berunning about faster and in greater numbers even than usual. After a moment, herealized that many of these were people who had chosen this moment to take ajourney away from the city, as if afraid what they might find if they woke up hereto-morrow. Yes, Grita might very well be right, he decided. It could be that the citywas close to detonating--he could almost see it himself.

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But that was of no moment; indeed, it might work to his advantage; everythingappeared to be working to his advantage. He permitted himself a small chuckle andwalked easily about the Underside, which had almost become home to him; hewondered if he would miss it after he began dwelling in the Imperial Palace.

Chapter the Twenty-sixth

Which Treats of Dzurlords.

«^»SO THIS, THEN, WAS HOW matters stood at the Imperial Palace: Sethra returnedto the Dragon Wing to take possession of the chambers left vacant by GyorgLavode; Aliera accompanied her. His Majesty, still seething, sat upon his thronebiting his lips until they bled and waiting for the hour of relaxation, which wouldallow him a certain respite--which hour, we should add, had still some few minutesbefore it began. Khaavren stood at His Majesty's elbow, considering the severalproblems that faced him, with the disharmony in the city, the rebellion of Adron, andthe evident conspiracies within and around the court. Jurabin stood on the other sideof the throne, unable to speak, and wishing desperately for a pretext to leave.Unfortunately for the Prime Minister, he was stuck in his spot as thoroughly as ajhegaala in a chreotha's net--as, in fact, were His Majesty, Khaavren, and those fewcourtiers who had chosen to make an appearance in the Portrait Room that day.

It could not but be a trial for the reader to sit with these persons until thelonged-for stroke of the bell should signal that all present might take their ease; weshall, therefore, leave them, confident that they will be doing nothing that couldexcite our interest; instead we will follow Sethra and Aliera through the Dragon Wingand toward the room where Sethra had chosen to take her quarters. They had not, infact, gone far into the wing when they saw two familiar figures coming the other wayand perforce stopped to greet them.

In order to explain how these figures, who were none other than Pel andTazendra, came to be at the Palace at that time, we must go backward in time a fewhours, trusting the reader to recall the warning we have just recently advancedregarding our willingness to engage in such time-hopping whenever the appropriateoccasion shall arise.

Tazendra, then, upon rising, had been rather surprised to discover that Khaavrenwas not at home. Upon questioning Srahi (who resented the questioning, butsubmitted to it under urging from Mica) she learned that the Tiassa, when he hadappeared an hour ago, had seemed to be in a great hurry, and had rushed out thedoor, yelling for a coach.

"I am pleased, at any rate, that he took a coach," said Tazendra.

"And yet he was rushing," said Pel.

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"What of it?" said Tazendra. "He has duties. You remember that he mentionedlast night--"

"I remember that he said he would arise early and leave for the Palace."

"Well?"

"Well, he did not, as it happened, leave early, but rather late; which indicates thathe still felt some fatigue. In truth, I did not think he would leave at all--I had thoughthe would be overcome by his wounds, and must therefore sleep."

"Bah! And yet you have known him these five hundred years."

"That is true."

"I do not see any reason to worry."

"And yet, he has been wounded."

"Well, that is true, he has been wounded."

"I am worried about him."

"Bah! You were worried yester-day."

"Well, and was I wrong to be?"

"Come to think of it, Pel, you were not Do you fear another attack?"

"Not so soon, I think. But, considering his health, I should be glad to see him,and glad, too, to return to the Palace and learn what is afoot there."

"And, no doubt, to return to your normal attire."

"Bah, as you would say. I find I am well suited to the garb I am now affecting.The robes of a Discreet are too constricting in their looseness; I prefer somethingthat binds tighter in its freedom. And besides, why listen to another's gossip, whenone can become gossip?"

"I do not comprehend--"

"It is unimportant, my dear Tazendra. I was speaking in hyperbole."

"Ah! Well, that explains it, for I have never had a head for foreign tongues."

"But you agree, at any rate, that we ought to check on our friend?"

"Oh, entirely. But what of the Countess?" The Countess, we ought to add, hadnot yet risen.

"What of her?"

"Might she also wish to know what has become of Khaavren? Perhaps you didnot notice--"

"I noticed, my dear Tazendra."

"Well, then--"

"You must know, however, that she is banned from the Palace."

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"How, banned from the Palace? I've never heard of such a thing! Oh, do youmean barred from the Imperial Wing? For, if so--"

"No, I mean, in fact, that she has been exiled from the city."

"How, exiled from the city? Impossible!"

"Not in the least."

"Why was she exiled?"

"She was one of Her Majesty's maids of honor, and quarreled with her mistressover some issue or another."

"Come, how can you know all of this?"

"Tazendra, you know that I hear many things."

"Well, that is true."

"Then believe me."

"Very well, I believe you."

"We will, in any case, write her a note in which we will explain that we have goneoff to visit Khaavren, which will ease her mind."

"You are very thoughtful," said Tazendra.

"Then let us be off, my good friend, for time waits for no one."

After this profound reckoning, then, Pel wrote a carefully worded note for Darowhich he entrusted to Srahi's care, after which he and Tazendra walked out to theStreet of the Dragon, hailed a coach which happened to be passing by, and directedthe coachman to bring them to the Dragon Wing, where they expected to findKhaavren in his offices and where they could, therefore, reassure themselves as tothe state of his health.

The coach delivered them to the Sub-wing of the Imperial Guard, where theywere admitted at once upon claiming business with the Captain, but they discovered,to their surprise, that not only was Khaavren absent, but he had not yet been seenthat morning. As the reader can imagine, this filled our friends with worry, althoughthe reader is well aware that Khaavren is entirely safe, and standing comfortably, ifnervously, at the elbow of His Majesty.

"Where can he have gone?" said Tazendra as they stood in the hall once more.

"Perhaps," said Pel, "his business did not take him to the Palace. Or perhaps ittook him directly to His Majesty."

"Well, then, what should we do?"

"It would seem to me," said Pel, "that if we were to go to the Imperial Wing, wemight inquire of the guardsmen on duty if they have seen their Captain, and weshould be almost assured of an answer, for there cannot be any reason for them todissemble to us."

"Well thought, my dear friend," said Tazendra.

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Without another word, then, they set off for the Imperial Wing, and had nearlyreached it when they were confronted by two familiar figures--which familiar figureof speech ought to alert the reader that we are now, albeit from the oppositedirection, returned to the very time and place from which we departed when we leftSethra and Aliera.

"Well met," said Sethra, bowing, "clever Pel and brave Tazendra."

"And well met to you," said Pel, returning her courtesy, "wise Sethra and nobleAliera."

Tazendra and Aliera also added their own greetings, and they spent a fewmoments in polite conversation, discussing the exodus from the city and other suchmatters, until Pel, who had not for an instant forgotten his mission, said, "Youappear to have come from the Imperial Wing."

"Well, that is true."

"Have you, then, seen our dear Khaavren? He has been wounded, you know, andwe are concerned for him."

"Khaavren, wounded?" said Sethra.

"Indeed," said Aliera, "he was there with His Majesty, with whom we have justconcluded a visit, but the Captain seemed entirely healthy so far as we could see."

"So much the better," said Tazendra.

"How did he come to be wounded?" said Sethra. "Has there been anotherattempt on his life?"

"That is to say, yes and no," said Tazendra.

"How, yes and no?" said Sethra.

"There was an attempt on his life," said Pel.

"But that is not how he came to be wounded," added Tazendra.

"It would seem," said Aliera, "that there is a tale to be told."

"Indeed," said Pel. "And one that, in fact, I am surprised that you do not know,for, at the time he was wounded, you could not have been two steps away."

"I?" said Aliera.

"Indeed," said Pel.

"Is there a hint of reprobation in your words, my good Discreet?"

"Not in the least," said Pel. "If you would hear all of the details, you may comewith me while I look in on my friend Khaavren, and I will explain it to you--I giveyou my word that I hold you blameless in the affair."

"I should like nothing better," said Aliera, a certain tension going out of her voice."But I have just seen Khaavren in the audience chamber with His Majesty, and Ishould not care to make another appearance there--if for no other reason," sheadded, laughing slightly, "because it would soften the impact of a truly grand exit."

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She bowed to Sethra as she made this remark, then added, "I will, however, walkwith you as far as the doors, if you will have it so, and listen to your story--and thenI can tell you of our interview with His Majesty, which I promise will amuse you."

"Nothing would please me more," said the Yendi.

"Sethra, I shall meet up with you later, no doubt, either in your new quarters, orelsewhere."

"Very well," said Sethra. "If you, my dear Dzur, would be so good as toaccompany me, perhaps you could inform me of these circumstances even as Pel isexplaining to Aliera."

"I will do my best," said Tazendra, who was, in fact, doing her best not to beintimidated at the thought of a one-to-one conversation with the Enchantress of DzurMountain. "Although I am not good at explanations."

"I am certain that we will get along together splendidly," said Sethra.

"Come then," said Aliera, taking Pel's arm. "Sethra and Tazendra, until later."

"Until later," said Tazendra and Sethra.

In the event, it took Tazendra very little time to explain, with the help of Sethra'sastute and precise questions, what had befallen Khaavren. Sethra appeared to besaddened by the events, but before she had a chance to make any comment, ifindeed, there were a comment on her mind, they had reached the third-floor roomwhere Gyorg Lavode had had his quarters. The first thing Sethra did upon openingthe door was to stop on the threshold and slowly exhale.

Tazendra said carefully, "Had you thought it would already have been emptied ofhis possessions?"

"No," said Sethra in an unnaturally harsh voice. "I had thought that I would notmind so much." She entered the room; Tazendra held back for a moment out ofrespect either for Sethra's feelings or for the dead man she had not known. Sethradid not speak, but rather looked around the room, carefully studying thedecorations, possessions, and artifacts that had remained undisturbed since hisdeath.

Tazendra cleared her throat and, said, "My lady, would you like to tell me abouthim?"

Sethra turned and studied the Dzurlord, noting the discomfort on hercountenance, and noting as well the sympathy that lay beneath it. "No," said Sethra."Come, you tell me about him."

Tazendra opened her mouth, closed it, and said, "My lady, comprehension isnot--"

"There has never been a stupid sorcerer who has lived past his five hundredthyear. Come in."

Tazendra obediently stepped into the room, where she said, "I don't--"

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"Look," said Sethra with an intensity that Tazendra found surprising, intriguing,and even disturbing. "Look about you," she said. "Who was he?"

Tazendra gave a bemused glance about the room, filled as it was with variousarticles of black clothing in discreet piles as if plugging up holes in the floor;occasional works of art depicting outdoor scenes and done in soft colors; scribblednotes stuck up on walls with such notations as, "too far frwrd mks r slid off end,"or, "12 factd crstl not engh, try 16 and cvr w/gel--WATCH FOR FLASH!!!" threepotted plants near the window, all of which seemed to have been dead for years; anda disheveled bed with pale yellow sheets which were still stained with blood. Onceagain she started to speak, stopped, and instead walked slowly through the chamber,occasionally stopping to look more closely at something that caught her eye.

Presently, Tazendra realized that she was crying.

"What is it?" Sethra asked softly.

Despite her tears, Tazendra spoke in an even, unbroken voice. "It is the wateringpail beside the flowerpots."

"What of it?"

"There is still water in it, yet the plants--"

"Yes," said Sethra Lavode. "What else?"

Tazendra gestured with her chin toward the bedside table, upon which rested anotepad, quill, ink, and blotter; on the notebook were scrawled several lines,unevenly, as if written when coming out of sleep. "He was not..."

"That is true," said Sethra. "He was not a skilled poet. What else?"

"Who is Diess?"

"A lady who occupied his thoughts for some years. Does the poem mentionher?"

"No, no. But there is a note from her glued to the lamp near his bed."

"Yes, I see it. What does it say?"

"That she values his friendship."

"Ah. Which means, of course, not his love."

"So I would take it. And yet--"

"And yet it is glued to the lamp by his bed."

"What else?"

Tazendra pointed to a grey chair in the corner, a stuffed chair that seemed to befalling apart; one leg was missing and was propped up by books, while the stuffingon one side had burst from its bounds and the headrest was loose on the other side."That is where he would sit betimes," she said, "and look at that picture," here shepointed to the opposite wall, "and contemplate the ruined side of the castle, and howhe would someday repair it, for," she indicated the painting again, "that cannot be

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other than his home, and," here she indicated a whetstone by the side of the chair,"he would, I am convinced, sharpen his sword as he did so. I believe it must havebeen a form of meditation; I, myself--" she broke off abruptly, and blushed.

"Of course," said Sethra. "You are a Dzurlord, as was he. To the Dzur, there is aritual to the sharpening of the sword--so warlike and yet so soothing; a preparationfor the future, a defiance, a threat, and, at the same time, it is rhythmical, and, whileso engaged, one is given to dream, and to think about the blade, its history anddestiny; and to contemplate and wonder, above all, for what one strives--andalways one finds answers to this question, for finding those answers is what it meansto be a Dzur.

"Sometimes," she continued softly, staring at the painting which Gyorg must havehimself spent so much time gazing upon, "those of other Houses laugh, or call theDzur foolish, stupid, or blind, and there is no good answer to such charges, for tokill for such an insult is often beneath the Dzurlord; yet there is always the sword,whose sharpening breathes of the future, and the glory which is not only in beingremembered, but in knowing one has defied the entire world, and pitted one's selfagainst the impossible, and proven, to all who are not Dzur, that there is value andglory in the battle, regardless of the outcome. All of these thoughts come to mindwhen the Dzurlord sharpens his sword, and looks upon some token of the past untilhe can feel the wind that blows to the future."

For some time, it had seemed as if Sethra were speaking to herself, but at last shefell silent. "You understand," said Tazendra in a whisper.

"I have lived a long time, comrade," said Sethra, smiling. "And moreover, he wasmy friend; he said to me things a Dzurlord would not ordinarily tell someone ofanother House."

"I believe that," said Tazendra, looking upon the Enchantress of Dzur Mountainas if for the first time. "Yes, I believe that he would."

Tazendra paused, then, and, after a moment, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't knowhim."

"Yes," said Sethra. "You would have liked him. Come. I have seen what I cameto see, and must now have the servants pack away his belongings, which his kin maywant. Then I will have the room cleaned, and fresh bedding put in, after which I shalltake up residence, and remember him when I go to take my rest. We shall find theservants, then see if we can rejoin our friends, who are no doubt in the ImperialWing with the good Lord Khaavren."

"My lady," said Tazendra, bowing toward the door.

"My lady," said Sethra, also bowing toward the door.

Tazendra went out first, and they walked down the hallway together, even as, notfar away, the assassin, Mario, set foot in the Imperial Wing of the Palace.

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Chapter the Twenty-seventh

Which Treats of Regicide,

For the First, But Not the Last Time.

«^»SHOULD ONE TAKE THE TIME to look at Volume Four of Dentrub's ImperialWing of the Old Palace, one would learn that there were ninety-one entrances to thewing; and for each of them one will find cataloged its location, size, function, uses,and history. If, instead, one should peruse Burrin's Overview of the Architecture ofthe Old Imperial Palace, one will find reference, in the third chapter of volumeeight, to "The ninety-four entrances to the Imperial Wing," although only a few ofthese are discussed in detail. Kairu, to pick still another example, in the sixth volumeof his History of Doors and Windows, which can be found in manuscript in theVallista Library of the Imperial Palace, points to no fewer than one hundred and sixdoors into the Imperial Wing, and, indeed, describes each one with the passion of aconnoisseur. We need not worry about the precise number for two reasons: First,because G'aereth, in certain letters, makes reference to the need to guard six differentmeans of approach from the outside world to the areas where His Majesty might, atdifferent times of the day, be found, and this is the number in which we areinterested; and second, because we know how Mario entered, and that is what ismost important to our history.

It is worth noting that, in fact, it would have been absurdly easy for Mario to havegained entrance on that day because of the condition of the Guard--Khaavren'scommand were tired to a man, and any number of ruses, tricks, or bluffs would havesufficed to get past them. Yet Mario, in formulating his plan, had not known of thiscircumstance, and when he learned of it he did not choose to deviate from hisintentions. Therefore, some three hours before noon, he arrived at the main entranceto the Imperial Wing dressed in a dirty brown woolen tunic, loose pantaloons thatsmelled of offal, plain boots, a sort of cap, and even a pack over his shoulder; and,in this garb, looking as if making the request took all of his courage, he demanded tosee His Majesty. The guard on duty, though tired, out of sorts, and disposed to sendthe beggar on his way with a beating, knew perfectly well that this beggar was withinhis rights, and knew, furthermore, how the Captain felt about guardsmenadministering casual beatings; therefore he gave the clapper the particular pullassociated with this request--a request which had been used to occur some two orthree times a month, but which had lately become a daily event.

"Someone will be with you in a moment," said the guard.

"Thank you, my lord," said Mario in a tone of great humility.

Soon, there appeared a minor functionary named Dinb, who held the positioncalled, "Master of the First Gate," and whose task, among other things, was to admitthose of the lower classes who wished to exercise their right to an audience with HisMajesty, and attempt to discourage them. It must be denied in the most emphaticterms that Teckla were beaten, as many claimed was the case; there has never been a

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good reason to believe such tales, and every reason to believe that beatings were, infact, unnecessary--the methods actually used were sufficient to discourage nearly allof those who appeared, and if His Majesty had to face the one or two Teckla ortradesmen in a year who were able to pass through all of the intimidation, well, thiswas not considered too irksome by those who determined who would and whowould not have the privilege of a face-to-face meeting with the Emperor.

Dinb was well-suited to the task, both physically and, if we may be permitted theexpression, spiritually; he was a burly Iorich, with the rippling muscles of his upperarms visible through the thin blouses he affected, and a large head of curly lightbrown hair which concealed his noble's point as well as concealing most of hisforehead, but left revealed his cold, dark eyes. He had previously been employed bythe notorious publisher, Lord F------, in the task of meeting with authors andanswering any questions they might have of His Lordship concerning publicationschedules and payments. In spite of his imposing looks, and his ability to assume athreatening demeanor, he was in fact a cold, emotionless man who, with theexception of certain fishes he kept in a glass bowl in his chambers and to whom hespoke often and at great length, was not known to have any affection for or interestin anything except his duty, which he pursued with an uninspired rigor.

He escorted Mario to the room which had been set aside for this purpose--avery large, imposing room with no furniture at all, and decorated only with oilsdepicting prisoners in chains, prisoners being executed, and His Majesty lookingentirely regal. Here, as was his custom, Dinb asked the supplicant his business, and,upon being informed that it was His Majesty's ear that was sought, proceeded tolecture the visitor about the importance of His Majesty's time and the vital nature ofthe matters with which His Majesty was currently contending. After this he added, ina tone suggesting that he was revealing secrets, that His Majesty was notwell-disposed to anyone to-day; that a previous visitor, who had slipped on a.minorpoint of court etiquette, had been hauled off at once to the Justicers; and that anotherday would certainly be preferable.

Should the supplicant, though by this time undoubtedly displaying signs of fear,insist that he was adamant about seeing His Majesty to-day, Dinb would turn hispalms up as if to say that he acquitted his conscience in advance, and then wouldproceed to inform the supplicant in gruesome detail of the search of his person thatwould necessarily take place to insure His Majesty's safety, and that the supplicantwould be summoned when it was time. After this, Dinb would walk out of the roomby the great double doors that, Dinb implied, would lead to His Majesty. The otherdoor, the small, friendly door through which the supplicant had arrived, wouldremain invitingly open, and it was the rare Teckla who would not slink away duringthe three- or four-hour wait that invariably followed.

We should note that there were other means of handling those who did wait, andthat the road to see His Majesty was by no means as simple as we have implied (or,in fact, as the law required), but we shall have no cause to follow these proceduresany further, for Mario did what was expected--he slipped out of the door he hadentered by, which put him, all alone, in a short, narrow hallway which let out into the

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anteroom where Dinb had first appeared, and where a guard still waited. Thishallway, we should add, had no features except doorways on either end, and awindow high on either side.

Mario, now that he was alone and unobserved, wasted no time in scaling the wallwith the help of certain hooks that he fastened to the wall and ropes with which hescaled it--the reader ought to understand that he had carried these in his satchel,from which the reader may correctly deduce that Mario knew exactly what he wasdoing, and had planned out every step. Once he reached the top of the wall, Mariopried open one of the windows to which we have just alluded and slipped through it,thus landing in a small, rarely used garden that was entirely enclosed by the ImperialWing, and was, in addition, completely unguarded. He contrived to remove hishooks and to close the window--no simple task in that it had to be done quicklywhile he perched atop a wall--and then dropped down to the garden.

He hastened, then, to divest himself of his too-conspicuous clothing, leaving onlyplain, tight-fitting garments of black and grey and a leather harness about which werehung the weapons and tools of his trade, all of which he had carried in his satchel.The satchel now being empty, he concealed it, along with his discarded clothing,behind a heart-pear bush. He then checked the time, and having discovered that hewas nearly a minute early, he waited where he was, moving no more than one of thestatues that dotted the garden, until the minute had passed, after which he made hisway along the wall, keeping to the shadows, until, after having turned a corner to hisleft, he reached the third window, which, being opened, admitted him to an old roomthat Tortaalik had turned into a clothes-closet, and which contained a small keyhole.This keyhole, when the lock was carefully and silently removed, provided him with agood view of the well-guarded door to the Hall of Portraits--the door through whichHis Majesty, if on schedule, ought, according to Mario's calculations, be passing outof in the next two minutes.

His Majesty, as we know, had no intention of remaining in the Hall of Portraits aninstant longer than he had to; in fact Mario had barely time to take a breath before thedoors opened and His Majesty came forth, preceded by Khaavren and followed byJurabin, as well as by the two guards who had been watching the door but who now,their task completed, set off to be at hand wherever His Majesty decided to spendthe next hour and a quarter.

At just about this same time, the guardsmen Mario had first seen ought to berelieved by another; in the unlikely event that Dinb had left word of the "Teckla" whowas expected to slink away from the Palace, each guard would assume the other sawhim leave--the chances that Dinb or anyone else would make a careful check werealmost nonexistent; Mario, at any rate, reckoned this one of the safest of thenecessary gambles he had to make in order to effect the assassination of HisMajesty, followed by a safe escape.

An instant after His Majesty, His Majesty's Guards, and the courtiers had left theroom, they were replaced by the omnipresent and inconspicuous Teckla whoentered to ensure that the room was clean, polished, and stocked with whatever His

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Majesty might require when he returned later that day. This process took someforty-five or fifty minutes, after which time the room was locked.

It took Mario only a few seconds to defeat this lock, and scarcely more to lock itagain, after which, alone in the Portrait Room and with nearly an hour at his disposalbefore His Majesty would return, Mario carefully made his preparations.

That there be no confusion later, when time and place will assume greaterimportance, let us now--while there remains yet a certain amount of time before thespeed of events will catch up, and even overtake, the urgency of the historian torecord them--take a moment to consider the precise placement within the Palace ofthe principal actors in this unfolding drama, at the point when it yet lacked fifteenminutes of the thirteenth hour of the morning.

To begin, as one ought, at the apex of our social pyramid, His Majesty, afterchanging his wardrobe to a martial costume, reclined in the small Lounge of Fursonly a few steps from the Portrait Room. Khaavren, as was his custom, inspectedthe room carefully; his recent wound in no way hindered his ability to use his eyes.Upon being certain that there was no danger, he then took a position outside thedoor to await those who would replace him. His Majesty gave no thought to theseprecautions, for he had become quite used to them, and they seemed as normal tohim as breathing. He sat himself down, then, in a comfortable chair and read from abook of traditional stories from the Kanefthali Mountains which had been collectedand transcribed by Baroness Summer and was a book of which His Majesty hadbeen fond since childhood.

Her Majesty was in her chamber. After the ordeal of her morning bath, she wasresting by playing quions-of-fours with several of her maids of honor.

Jurabin, after escaping the Portrait Room, retired to the Seven Room where hecaused the fire to be lighted. He then stared into the fire, and went over the events ofthe last few days in his mind, attempting to ease the turmoil therein, and, if possible,to discover what he could and should do to restore to himself Their Majesties'favor--unfortunately, he found he was able to think only of Aliera's eyes, which wasof no help in this instance.

Khaavren, as we have indicated, stood outside of the Lounge of Furs, until, aftersome few minutes, Menia appeared to take his place, which gave Khaavren thechance to make his way to His Majesty's kitchen, where he gorged himself in goodstyle. The staff, we ought to say, looked upon him suspiciously, recalling the lasttime he had eaten there, but as he seemed, this time, to have no intention ofcollapsing before them, they eventually relaxed into their accustomed good humors.After finishing the meal (which consisted of bread and a large portion of a certaincold fowl which had been prepared in the Elde Island manner, with a sauce of tartfruit and handshoot seeds), he set about personally inspecting each guard post in theImperial Wing, pausing to have a few words with each guardsman to make certain noone was about to fall asleep.

Sethra and Tazendra were making their way from the Dragon Wing to theImperial Wing, walking slowly, and stopping to look at the scenes of battles

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depicted on the walls--Sethra would describe the inaccuracies of the depiction andpoint out for her companion's benefit where Dzurlords appeared, or where they didnot appear but, to be accurate, ought to. For her part, Tazendra had quite forgottenthat she was in the company of the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain and chatted onmerrily, speaking of battles she had fought and adventures she had had, and ofcertain spells she had been attempting to duplicate from certain ill-kept notebookshanded down from her family. Eventually they reached the Imperial Wing, and beganto conduct an unhurried search for Pel and Aliera.

Pel and Aliera had begun a discussion of Khaavren's injury and Sethra'sproposal, which discussion had become so absorbing that they had forgotten theirintentions, and had wandered aimlessly about the Imperial Wing until, by chance,they came upon Khaavren, who had just completed the inspection of his guardpositions and was about to return to his offices in the Dragon Wing to see ifanything had occurred which required his attention.

"Well met, my friends," he said.

"And to you!" cried Pel. "I had worried about you, and upon my oath it gives mejoy to see your firm step and hear your strong voice."

"How, you had worried about me?" said Khaavren.

"Your injuries," said Pel.

"What of them? You know that we soldiers are made of rednut wood, and,should our bark be punctured, we may lose a little sap, but we will send out our fullcomplement of leaves nevertheless, while digging our roots a little deeper."

"I am pleased, too," said Aliera, bowing. "The more so because I know how youcame to be injured, and I assure you that I regret the fate that has placed you and myfather in opposition to one another."

Khaavren turned his palms up. "It is an honor to have a good enemy, and oldfriends make the best enemies. But come, where are the two of you bound?"

"Why--I hardly know," said Pel. "In fact, we were conversing, and letting ourfeet carry us where they would--is that not so, Aliera?"

"It is exactly the case. And what of you, Khaavren? Whither are you bound?"

"I have no urgent destination," said Khaavren. "In fact, for the next twenty orthirty minutes, why, I am entirely at your service."

"Then," said Pel, "let us find a place where we can sit comfortably andconverse."

"I should like nothing better," said Khaavren.

"An admirable idea," said Aliera.

"Then let us walk this way, for I know a place where His Majesty is wont to holdconversations, and, although the walls, as I have learned, are sufficiently thin that nosecrets ought to be told, well, I am certain we will find a great deal to say to oneanother of matters about which we need have no fear of being overheard."

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Aliera and Pel at once agreed to this plan, wherefore Khaavren led them to theSeven Room which, as it happened, was not far from where they had met; theyreached the room in good season, and were about to clap in order to ascertain if itwas in use, when the door saved them this trouble by opening, as it were, in theirvery faces and revealing the troubled countenance of the Prime Minister, who lookedon Khaavren's expression, which, because the Captain had been startled, appearedeven more stern and forbidding than usual, which caused Jurabin to blanch and cryout, "What, has it come to this already? Am I then to be arrested and forgotten, likepoor Bellor? There is no cause, I assure you, I give you my word as a gentleman,my dear Captain, that I am innocence itself! Why--ah, is that the Lady Aliera behindyou? Alas! Then all is known. It is too late! I am undone!"

Khaavren, although surprised, felt a certain amount of pity for the Prime Minister,who had changed in such a sort time from being the true decision-maker of theEmpire to a weak, vacillating courtier desperate to hold favor; wherefore Khaavrenwas on the verge of explaining that they were only there to make use of the room forconversation, and had even opened his mouth and drawn breath to make thisexplanation when he felt a grip on his arm and heard Pel whisper in his ear, "Silence,my friend--let him speak, let him speak!"

But Jurabin seemed to have done with speaking, and wished to do nothing exceptkneel before Khaavren and entreat him with sounds from which no distinct wordscould be discerned. Khaavren looked at Pel, wondering what the clever Yendi hadon his mind. In answer, Pel stepped up and said, "Come, come, it it not as bad as allthat, my friend."

"How," said Jurabin, looking up at hearing the strange voice. "Who are you?"

"What does it matter?" said Pel mysteriously. "What matters is that it is not toolate to save yourself from disgrace and arrest."

"How, it is not too late?"

"Not in the least," said Pel. "We merely wish to ask you a few questions, and,should you answer them honestly, well, it may be that no more need be said on this,and you will return to His Majesty's side none the worse for having spoken with us."

Jurabin frowned, rose unsteadily to his feet, and appeared to be thinking. Pel,however, urged him back into the Seven Room, sat him in a chair, and said, "Comenow, let us waste no time. You know what we wish to discuss. What, then, have youto say?"

"How, I? You pretend I have something to say?"

"You perceive that we are here," said Pel.

Jurabin looked at Aliera, then at the others, and, though he made certain sounds,some of which approximated words, nothing he said could be construed to be ananswer.

Khaavren leaned over to Pel and said, "What are you trying to find out?"

"Everything he knows," whispered Pel.

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"Cha! He is the Prime Minister; why should he know anything?"

Pel glared at him.

Let us say, at this point, that we sympathize with the reader, who is very muchaware that there is an assassin hiding in the room where His Majesty will beappearing in a very few minutes, and, no doubt, the reader would very much wish todiscover exactly what will happen. As we have already had the honor to say, wesympathize with this desire, but we must insist that if the reader is to understandwhat happened, as well as merely know what happened, (and by "what happened"we mean both in the Portrait Room and for the duration of our history), then thereader must be informed of the events in the Seven Room that occurred amongKhaavren, Pel, Aliera, and Jurabin.

This said, we will continue, and mention that Pel--secretive, careful, aloofPel--was frustrated. Once he was informed that someone was conspiring at court toimpair its efficiency, he at once set himself the task of discovering who, and why. Hedid this, we should add, for several reasons: for one, he was sincerely Khaavren'sfriend and was pleased to do his friend a service; for another, he enjoyed thechallenge of discovering who was pulling the ropes that made the court dance; foryet another, there was a certain measure of genuine worry for the Empire--he knewhow fragile were the threads of policy, and how, at times, the smallest slip couldhave repercussions that would last for generations. But, above all, his own schemeshad been dealt a severe blow by the decision to cut the funding for the Institute ofDiscretion, because it was through the Institute that he reckoned on moving upthrough the ranks of society as part of fulfilling his own ambition--Pel was nothing ifnot ambitious. Both the reduction of funds, then, and the general disorder around thecourt, made Pel realize that the stairs he had planned on climbing were, in the firstplace, covered with ice, in the second, cracked and pitted in unlikely places, and, inthe third, unstable at their foundations. Therefore, before he could continue with hisown schemes, so long in the design and so precise in the execution as they hadbeen, he must be certain of the balance of influence and power at court, and it wasexactly this balance that had gone awry as a result of the conspiracy that Pel haddetected, but was unable to track down.

Khaavren, though he did not know most of this, realized that Pel was frustrated,and this knowledge shocked him as he had scarcely been shocked in all of hisyears--of everyone he knew, it seemed, Pel was the one who always had a plan, andalways knew exactly what was going on, or, at any rate, how to find out. Khaavren,himself, was perfectly comfortable turning over every rock he came to until hediscovered the one under which someone had buried a key, and then trying everylock he came to until he found one it fit; but Khaavren was disturbed, and evenfrightened to realize that Pel was working in just this way.

This discovery effectively silenced Khaavren, who could only stare at his friendwith all the expression of a wall from which the lone painting has just been removed.Aliera, though clever, did not know Pel; she did not, therefore, realize what wasgoing on. She was convinced that the Yendi was playing some sort of deep game,

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and resolved to help him in any way she could, for, although she did not trust himany more than she would ever trust a Yendi, she nevertheless felt that his interestscoincided with her own, at least on this occasion.

Jurabin was far too confused to have any opinions on anything; he simply knewthat his love for Aliera had been discovered, and that he was facing ruin. To a mansuch as Jurabin, who, as we have endeavored to show, was, in fact, a conscientiousadministrator and one who took sincere pleasure in seeing the Empire function assmoothly as it could be made to, and who was, moreover, the sort of administerwho gloried in crises, because then more than ever was his presence required,removal from his position was no small matter. He had been, he thought, making thebest of a difficult situation when the assassination of Smaller had led to suchconfusion in the finances that it had become necessary to dismiss theSuperintendent, appoint another, and hope accounts could be made to balance sothat the state of the treasury would at least be known. And then, with Aliera's arrival,it had been as if he were thrown into a maelstrom, and for a while he could not seewhere to plant his feet, but, rather, he found himself pushed hither and yon by hisoverwhelming urge to attract Aliera's attention while simultaneously keeping hispassion hidden from the Consort, who reckoned him her ally in the court and whowould turn from him if she could not count on his affection, which translated to hissupport.

And, as if all of this were not bad enough, there was the outbreak of rebellionconjoined with His Majesty suddenly waking up, as it were, and taking control of theEmpire itself. Had the Prime Minister been in full possession of his faculties, hecould have either convinced His Majesty to allow him, Jurabin, to continue guidingmatters, or at least have made certain His Majesty was fully informed about all of thesignificant issues; in the event, however, Jurabin effectively collapsed, and now to beconfronted with Aliera, a representative of His Majesty, and (for so he assumed) arepresentative of the Consort, left him weighted down by the double burden of fearand of his own guilt--that is, his conviction that he deserved ruin and disgrace. And,if this wasn't enough, by having all three parties represented, as he thought, he didnot dare attempt to play one off against the other; which he assumed was the reasonfor sending them, and further proof that all was known.

That, then, was the situation when Pel turned back to Jurabin and said, "Come,the court is in a shambles, and His Majesty is acting with neither reliable knowledgenor dependable advice, and this is because you, who have these duties, have failed inthem. Is this not true?"

Jurabin could only nod miserably.

"If you would save yourself, then, your only hope is to tell everything."

"I will do so," said Jurabin in a hushed voice, for, under the circumstances, hecould not think of holding anything back.

"Then tell me this: Who is behind this conspiracy?"

Jurabin looked up in amazement. "Who is behind it?"

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"Yes, you must tell us at once. The assassinations, the disruption, thehastily-made decisions--who has planned all of this, and, moreover, for whatreason?"

This question so surprised Jurabin that, for a moment,, he could only stare inwonder. Then he said, "But, I assure you, I have no idea in the world, and my onlywish is to find out."

"But you--"

"I? I have hardly been working with a conspirator--I have been helplesslyengulfed in love such as no man has ever before known. It has bent my mind, andturned my muscles to water, and--"

"How, love?" cried Pel. "For Aliera?"

Jurabin looked down again, for he could not look upon Aliera, and he nodded.

Pel shook his head. "Could someone plan on him falling in love? It is hardlycredible. It must be coincidence. Unless--"

He paused, considering, and turned to Aliera. "Could he be the victim of alove-spell?"

"How, I?" cried Jurabin, outraged. "You think what I am feeling could be--"

"Be quiet," said Pel. "You annoy me."

Jurabin, however, was far too angry to be silenced so easily. "It is preposterous,"he said. "And absurd on the face of it--how, a victim of a spell, who stands underthe Orb every day, and the Orb not detect it?"

"The Orb," said Pel, "would not have been looking."

"No," said Aliera suddenly. "He is right. The Orb would know if anyone nearbywas acting under the influence of magic--it is part of the system for protecting theEmperor that was built into the Orb. Sethra told me so."

"But," said Pel, who did not wish to abandon his idea so easily. "Could not theOrb have been tampered with?"

"It is unlikely," said Aliera.

"But is it impossible?"

"It is unlikely," she repeated.

At this point Khaavren seemed to wake up, and he said, "If there is even a smallpossibility of it, we must discover at once if it has happened."

Aliera began, "And yet--"

Khaavren shook his head. "This falls within my duties, and I say it must beinvestigated."

"Well, but how?" said Aliera.

"His Majesty will, in a very few minutes, be entering the Portrait Room. We shall

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meet him there, and you will inspect the Orb."

"Who, I? I have no part in this. Moreover, I have not the skill to do so."

"Well, but who does?"

"Nyleth, the Court Wizard, perhaps. And certainly Sethra Lavode."

"Well, you and Pel find Sethra and have her meet us there."

"I will do that," said Aliera.

"As will I," said Pel. Then, as an afterthought, he turned to Jurabin and said, "Fornow, resume your duties as if nothing had happened."

"Very well," said Jurabin, to whom anger had restored poise, allowing him amodicum of dignity in spite of all that had befallen him.

"Come," said Khaavren. "We must hurry."

He and Jurabin, therefore, made their way back to the Portrait Room, Aliera wentback to the Dragon Wing to look in Sethra's chamber, and Pel set off on a searchthrough the Imperial Wing in case Sethra had returned.

It so happened that Khaavren and Jurabin reached the Portrait Room just at thesame time as His Majesty, and so, after Khaavren looked over the room, in which hesaw nothing wrong (Mario had been careful), His Majesty entered and took histhrone, after which the doors were opened to admit any courtier who wished tospeak to or be seen with His Majesty. The first to be admitted was Sethra Lavode.Upon seeing her, His Majesty's countenance darkened, but Khaavren said, "Sire, sheis here at my request--there is an issue of Imperial security."

"How, is there a danger?"

"Sire, I do not think so, and yet I am loath to take the chance."

"Very well. What must be done?"

"Sire, we must inspect the Orb, to be certain that it has not been tampered with."

"How, the Orb tampered with?"

"Sire, it is unlikely, yet I should feel better if Sethra were allowed to ascertain."

His Majesty looked at Khaavren, as if wondering what the Captain knew orsuspected that he was not saying; but then he said, "Very well, carry on."

"Thank you, Sire." Then bowed to Sethra and said, "My lady, did Aliera findyou?"

"No, it was Pel who said you desired my presence, although he did not explainwhy. Yet, having overheard your discussion with His Majesty, I now understand."

"And are you willing to help?"

"Most willing, although I think it unlikely that an enchantment could have beenplaced on the Orb itself without every sorcerer in the Empire being aware of it.Indeed," she added in a low voice, keeping her back to the courtiers, "the Orb will

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always protect itself by protecting His Majesty; the reverse is true as well.Therefore--"

"Yes?" said Khaavren. "Therefore?"

"The only way to disrupt the working of the Orb is to hide His Majesty fromit--that is, to make His Majesty invisible to the Orb."

"Could this be done?"

"Zerika was clever," said Sethra, still speaking softly and. moreover, keeping herback to the room, so that no one behind her could overhear. "It can only be doneby, in turn, psychically hiding the Orb from His Majesty--in other words, bysevering the psychic link between Emperor and Orb."

"That sounds impossible," said the Emperor, with a glance up at the Orb--whichwas still placidly revolving around his head, now emitting a rosy glow--and seemingnot at all self-conscious.

"Very nearly," said Sethra. "It would require an immense amount of energy--analmost inconceivable amount to break the connection between Your Majesty and theOrb. And even then, I think it would fail."

"Why would it then fail, if sufficient power were used: to penetrate its defenses?"

Sethra smiled. "Zerika, as I said, was clever; when the Orb detects enough energyin its presence to be a threat, well, it will, in a sense, pull into itself--that is, it willclose itself off entirely."

"Well," said Khaavren, "but that would break the connection with His Majesty."

"True," said Sethra. "But, you perceive, it could not be tampered with; it wouldremain in that state as long as it felt the energy in its vicinity. And if this were tohappen--"

"Yes," said Khaavren, paying the strictest attention. "If this were to happen?"

"Then, as I said, every sorcerer in the Empire would know it at once, so that HisMajesty would be alerted, as would you, and you would then be able to guardagainst it."

"Well, I understand," said Khaavren. "It would, therefore, be impossible to planta spell within the Orb ahead of time."

"I can think of no way to do such a thing--the Orb was designed to preventexactly this. Now, if it is the case that someone has circumvented the Orb's defensesin this way, well, I should like nothing better than to meet the wizard who could doso, and until I have met him, or seen the results of his work, I shall continue tobelieve such a thing impossible."

"And so," said Khaavren, "it is unlikely that we have anything to worry about onthat score."

"That is precisely the case."

"Nevertheless," said Khaavren, "to be certain, I would be happy if you could

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reassure me that all is as it ought to be."

"Yes. If Your Majesty will allow me?"

His Majesty would, and Sethra approached the Orb. She reached out her handsand seemed to cup the Orb without actually touching it; and she stared into it.Khaavren watched her closely, but was able to see nothing on her countenanceexcept great concentration, and, after a few minutes, some beads of perspiration.The Orb maintained a light brown color during this time, which lasted for some fewminutes. At last Sethra, frowning, said, "There is no spell upon the Orb, and yet--"

"Yes?" said Khaavren.

"There is something."

"How, there is something? What can this mean?"

"I do not know. And yet, there is sorcery present--a strong spell, and one of atype I am unfamiliar with; and, moreover, it is, if my skills have not utterly desertedme, only a potential--nothing has been done, but there is magic present, waiting tobe released." She frowned, and Khaavren took a step closer to His Majesty, whilelooking carefully around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, and yet helooked again, and this time his eye fastened on the wall behind His Majesty, whichwas, as we have had the honor to mention, covered with a large tapestry. Thistapestry, as it happened, depicted Zerika the First and Kieron the Conquerorclasping hands amid slain Easterners while the victorious army cheered, jhereg sat onnearby trees, and a Phoenix flew overhead.

Khaavren's eyes had fastened on one of the trees, which seemed to him tocontain a flaw he had not noticed before. He drew his sword.

"Captain, what--"

"Bide a moment, Sire. It may be nothing, and yet--"

And yet it was, indeed, something--for, at that instant, Mario, realizing that fatehad played him a cruel trick, and realizing, moreover, that his choices were to staywhere he was and be captured or to move at once, moved. The first thing he did wasto drop the pearl and crush it beneath his heal, thinking that he would have sufficientdifficulty with Khaavren and Sethra Lavode, and at least, he thought, he couldprevent the Orb from coming to His Majesty's aid. At the same time, he sprang fromhis position behind the tapestry, in which he had carefully cut a slit that was nearlyinvisible, and leapt out at Khaavren holding a sword in one hand and a dagger in theother.

Sethra, for her part, had noticed the crushing of the pearl, and, although she didnot know what sort of spell it was, nevertheless put forth her power to prevent itfrom taking effect. Khaavren stood between the assassin and His Majesty andprepared to cross blades with the small, wiry man wearing grey and black. Mario,wanting to reach Tortaalik, attempted to force Khaavren back with a fury of thrustsand cuts, but the Captain, not retreating a step, parried each attack, and, after just afew passes, forced the assassin up to the wall, at which point Khaavren said, "If

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someone will send for a few of my guards, well, I believe we will have this fellowchained up and safe in good time."

The assassin still held his sword and his dagger, but Khaavren had both of theselocked against the wall, rendering him essentially helpless. To Khaavren he seemed aquiet, almost uninteresting sort, without even the cold, heartless eyes that usuallymark those who kill for pay--although, as he stood backed up to the wall, heallowed no trace of expression to cross his countenance.

Sethra, who had finished her work, remarked, "A peculiar spell to use in anattack."

His Majesty had stepped from the throne, and discovering that he had noweapon, had contented himself with standing up and glaring at his attacker. Now heturned to Sethra and said, "What was it intended to do?"

"Sire, it is nothing I would wish to have done if I were launching an attack--nowthat I have defeated it, I have also identified it, and, had it succeeded, it would havedone nothing except destroy the memory of him who released it--that is, of thisJhereg."

Khaavren, who had not taken his eyes off the assassin, noticed something likeshock cross the Jhereg's features, to be quickly replaced by the empty, stony lookhe had been affecting before.

"Certainly," said His Majesty, "it is an unusual spell for an assassin to carry,unless he is a fanatic of some sort. But we shall find out soon enough, I think."

"Your Majesty," said Khaavren, "is correct on that score, for here are the guardscome to help take him away. Do you, sirs, each take an arm, removing the weaponas you do, while I--the Gods!"

This ejaculation was caused by Mario suddenly striking out with a foot andcatching Khaavren's leg below the knee, which, in turn, caused Khaavren's leg tobuckle; it may be that, had the Captain been unwounded, the trick would not haveworked, and who can know how history would have been different? But, forwhatever reason, Khaavren's grip on the assassin's right hand loosened, and Mariobrought the hilt of his rapier down on Khaavren's head, momentarily stunning him.

It is to the credit of the guards that their first thought was for His Majesty--theyat once stepped between the assassin and the Emperor. This, while certainly theirduty, left a clear path to the door--a path which Mario lost no time in taking; he wasgone before Khaavren had regained his feet.

Khaavren, for his part, said coolly, "Raise the alarm--we must catch him. Turnout every guardsman who can be roused. Seal the Dragon, Athyra, Iorich, andImperial Wings at once."

Menia, one of those who had arrived to take Mario away, rushed off to carry outthe Captain's orders. Khaavren, meanwhile, picked up his sword, bowed to HisMajesty, and said, "Sire, I have business that will not wait. If my Lady Sethra willconsent to guard Your Majesty--"

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"Gladly," said Sethra.

"--I will be about my task, knowing that Your Majesty is in good hands."

Without another word, then, he turned and was out the door in pursuit of theassassin.

More than once the historian has read such words as, "The deplorable state ofPalace security," or, "No one had ever thought of the need to protect the Emperor,"in works that discuss the events that occurred around this time. None of thesemention Khaavren by name, without doubt because none of the authors know thename of Tortaalik's Captain of the Imperial Guard. Yet his name and his deeds arematters of public record, even if, perhaps, the motivations behind his deeds, or theinformation that can lead one to discern the motivations behind his deeds, requires acertain amount of effort to discover. What could cause an historian (and, in manycases, an historian who is otherwise not incapable) to engage in such inept work?This we cannot say. Happily, it is not our duty to explain the errors of our brothers,but, rather, to insist upon the truth--which, in fact, we are now about to do.

Thought had, indeed, been given to His Majesty's safety--G'aereth haddemanded it, being all of his life suspicious of the Orb's abilities in this regard, andKhaavren had inherited this duty with the shoulder-pin that identified him as theCaptain; and we have been inexcusably remiss in our duty if we have not given thereader to understand that our Tiassa was not one to take duty lightly.

But there are additional points that ought to be made. In the first place, whereas inour own happy era, under such circumstances the Captain need only wish for moreguardsmen, in effect, and they would arrive, there was no such instantaneouscommunication then, or, at any rate, very little. Hence, when Khaavren gave theurgent command for help in securing the assassin, the only guards who were nearbywere those guarding the door--to have sent for others would have taken, at the least,three or four minutes. The reader (and any future historian who wishes to addressthis matter) also ought to remember that, because of his wounds, he was not at thepeak of his powers that day; and, for the same reason, most of his command wereeither sound asleep, or on duty even though they should have been asleep.

To be sure, Mario had found, and exploited, a true weakness in Khaavren'sdefenses, and even without the wounds and weaknesses, there can be no doubt butthat the assassin would have gained entry to the throne room; but it is likely--in fact,it is all but certain--that, had there been better means of communications, and hadKhaavren's troops been better rested and more numerous, and had Khaavren himselfbeen uninjured, Mario would either never have escaped the Portrait Room, or, havingescaped, would have been caught at once.

But with circumstances as they were, it was not so easy. Mario led them on achase throughout the Imperial Wing, while Khaavren, after sending a messenger formore guards, directed the search, using two score of messengers to inform himselfof the progress of the search, and deploying his forces as best he could.

Who can follow Mario's path through the Imperial Wing? From the reports of

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cooks, we know that he passed through the kitchen; from the reports of gardeners,we know he passed over one of the low roofs near the Athyra Wing; from Menia,who took a thrown knife in her left thigh and a severe knock on the head, we knowthat he ventured into the tunnels connecting the Imperial Wing with the Lyorn Wing;from a report by Brudik, Lord of the Chimes, we know that, wearing Menia's stolencloak, he walked boldly and calmly into the Dragon Wing--the last place anyonewould have expected; and that he was nearly out of the door of this wing--would, infact, have escaped by simply walking out of the Sub-wing of the Guard, had he notbeen seen by Thack, who knew everyone who belonged to the uniform, and who,upon seeing the back of a head that he did not recognize above a cloak that he did,gave the alert in an instant.

Mario was almost captured then and there, but, it seemed, the assassin knew thewing better than any had thought--better even than many of his pursuers, andentered what looked to be a closet on the second story of the Warlord's Sub-wingbut which actually opened in back, putting him near a stairway up to the third level,which housed the Lavodes--who, having been alerted by Sethra, were none of themthere, but were all off searching for him.

By this time he had abandoned the cloak, and was dressed simply in histight-fitting black and grey garments, hung about with weapons, and he was alsobleeding slightly from his left arm where Khaavren had nicked him, when he steppedout of a hidden doorway, into the hall, and practically into the lap, as it were, ofAliera e'Kieron.

They stared at each other for a moment, Aliera appearing not at all worried by thenaked sword, and Mario not certain if such beauty as he was seeing could actuallyexist, or if perchance he had been killed during the chase, and was now meeting hisreward in the Paths of the Dead--in fact, for an instant, he rather hoped he was; butthen he recalled that he had matters to finish that required he live a bit longer, so, onreflection, he hoped he was not.

Aliera said, "You are a Jhereg."

Mario said, "You are the most beautiful woman who has ever lived, or ever willlive, in the Empire or anywhere else."

"Well," said Aliera.

"I am," remarked Mario, "confronted by a difficult decision."

"Life seems to be full of them," agreed Aliera. "What is yours?"

"Whether to continue running for my life, or to stay here and look at you."

Aliera allowed herself a smile. "Were it I," she said, "I should choose life."

"And yet--"

"Who is after you?"

Mario laughed. "Ask rather, who is not?"

"Well, what have you done?"

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"They believe I tried to kill His Majesty."

"Kill His Majesty?" said Aliera, her eyes widening. "That is an excellent thought;His Majesty ought to die."

"How, you think so?"

"Entirely. And yet you said, 'they think.'"

"And so I did."

"Is it not true?"

"Oh, it is true in part."

"In part?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to explain?"

"I thought I was to kill His Majesty, and, in my own mind, I even attempted to doso."

"Well?"

"But those for whom I made the attempt--"

"You made the attempt for others?"

"For money."

For an instant Aliera's face darkened, then she said, "Well, but you are a Jhereg."

"That is true. And you are beautiful."

"You have already said that."

"And you have already--"

"Yes. But, then, continue with your history."

"It seems that I was not to actually kill him, only to appear to make the attempt,after which my mind was to be destroyed so that I could not identify those who hadinstigated this plan."

Aliera frowned. "They must be paying you an exorbitant amount of money."

"Not enough."

"But then--"

"They have betrayed me, you see; it is clear that someone wanted anunsuccessful attempt on His Majesty's life, and I was to be used to carry it out, andthen I was to be thrown away."

"Ah. Only--"

"Yes. Only I have lived, and my mind is not destroyed, and I may yet escape."

"And if you do, will you attempt once more to kill His Majesty?"

"I will not."

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"Oh," said Aliera, sounding disappointed.

"But I will certainly speak with those who gave me this mission, and I will speakto them in terms which allow for no doubt about my opinions."

"Well, I understand that. But if, as you say, they are searching for you, ought younot to be on your way?"

"It is, as I have said, a difficult choice."

"What, can you be serious? To escape with your life or to stare at me? A difficultchoice?"

"Yes."

"You are mad."

"Certainly I am mad, in a particular way."

"And yet--"

"Well, I have chosen."

"And what is your choice?"

"I will stand here and look at you until they take me away, for each second morethan I can absorb every nuance of your form will be hours of pleasure in the future,so that--"

"Come with me."

"How, where are we going?"

"First, around this corridor, then down these stairs."

"Well, and then?"

"To this window, which we will open, like this."

"And yet, I do not--"

"After that, into this room, which, as daughter of the Heir, is still mine. Do youstay here while I stand by the doorway, so that if anyone should attempt to gainentrance, well, I will kill him."

Mario swallowed. "But you are a Dragonlord," he said at last.

"Yes," said Aliera. "And you are beautiful."

The effect these words had on Mario can scarcely be exaggerated. He took twosteps backward and ended, fortunately, by sitting in a chair, after which he sat in adaze, not really hearing Aliera's conversation with Thack, who, in the company oftwo other guardsmen, arrived in time to see Aliera staring at the window at the farend of the hall.

"My lady!" they cried.

She said, "Are you looking for a slender man in grey and black, bleeding slightlyfrom the arm?"

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"We are indeed; has he been here?"

"I nearly think he has," said Aliera, still staring intently at the open window.

The guardsmen thanked her profusely and went through the window themselves,following the only possible path, which led over some roofs toward the Lyorn Wing,while Aliera returned to the room and shut the door.

"What is your name?" she said.

"Mario, my Lady."

"I am Aliera e'Kieron. You will remain here for an hour, after which time I willshow you how to escape the Palace."

"My lady--"

"Well?"

"I don't know how to thank you."

"I know a way," said Aliera.

For Khaavren, the next two hours were among the most active in a life filled withactivity--he spoke with thirty-one people who had, or may have, seen Mario; hestudied the marks around eleven pried-open windows; he consulted six drawings ofthe Palace; he found blood stains in three places where he did not expect to, andfailed to find them in another four where he suspected he would; he also gave ordersfor more searchers here or for abandoning searches there, and, in the end, hediscovered a significant footprint, followed the most obvious path, and was forcedto conclude that his quarry had escaped.

This, however, did not end his activities, for there were certain puzzles that hewas determined to solve: a window left open where Mario had not gone, a windowthat was closed through which he seemed to have gone, and the lack of marks andsigns, especially the blood stain we have already mentioned, where there ought to besome. He therefore spent yet another hour questioning and cross-questioningwitnesses, until, at last, a suspicion began to grow.

He spent still another hour, much of it on his hands and knees on the groundsoutside of the Dragon Wing or squinting over diagrams of the Palace, until, althoughhe disliked the conclusion he had perforce reached, he could no longer deny it. Itwas then that he came to His Majesty (once again interrupting his dinner), andexplained what he had discovered and how he had proved it.

His Majesty gave the only orders possible under the circumstances, and, on thisoccasion, Khaavren, even to himself, had no objection to make. And so it was that,at the fifth hour after noon on the sixteenth day of the month of Vallista, in the fivehundred and thirty-second year of the Reign of His Imperial Majesty Tortaalik theFirst, Khaavren, his face pale with fury, presented himself at the chamber of Alierae'Kieron and, upon being admitted, said, "Madam, I have the honor to arrest you inthe name of the Emperor; please give me your sword and come with me at once."

Aliera bowed her head slightly and handed him her sword. "What delayed you?"

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she said.

Chapter the Twenty-eighth

Which Treats of the State of the Empire

On the Very Eve of Crisis.

«^»WE MUST NOW TURN OUR attention back to Adron's encampment, which wasfilled with soldiers ready to ride, to kill, or to be killed at the least wish of HisHighness, Prince Adron e'Kieron, Duke of Eastmanswatch and Dragon Heir to thethrone. The camp was in such a state as anyone who has been a soldier willrecognize at once--a camp ready to move, to attack, or to defend at the first wordor the least sign of trouble. The call to action had been sounded, without an officialword being spoken, by yester-day's sudden departure from the city, and now, againwith no orders issued, everyone knew that battle was coming, and would not be longdelayed.

Some whispered that His Majesty had unleashed an army, and it would bearriving over the crest in moments. Others claimed to have heard Adron order hisdaughter and Sethra Lavode to steal the Orb from over His Majesty's head, and thatLord Adron would be taking possession of the city as soon as he received word thatthis had been accomplished. Still others insisted that Adron was waiting forintelligence indicating that the exact moment was right to launch an assault on thecity. In any case, the horizon was scanned constantly for signs of spies ormessengers, and, as there were a good number of spies (Adron's) and messengers(again, Adron's) each day, there were also a good number of false alarms; yet itshould be clearly understood that these in no sense discouraged those who watched.

The messenger who arrived from the Palace at around the seventh hour afternoon, having ridden by the fastest post, was, therefore, watched eagerly and assistedeven more eagerly; and when he was admitted to Adron's tent, the tent was itself thenwatched with the greatest possible eagerness, in hopes of learning somewhat fromLord Adron's countenance whenever he should emerge.

Within the tent itself, Aerich, who had been conversing with His Highness whenthe message arrived, watched Adron, who was staring at the yellow parchment in hishand as if willing it to burn--although he could not really be doing so, because hadhe actually so willed, it would have. One might say that, rather than the note, it wasthe Lyorn who burned--who burned, that is, to know what was written upon it thathad caused His Highness to at first pale, and then flush, and now merely stare fixedlyat the parchment, reading it over and over again. Aerich, though uncharacteristicallyimpatient to know what it contained, would certainly not ask.

At last Adron looked up at him, and at first it seemed that he had mastered hisemotions, but, on a closer look, Aerich saw that this was not the case. The reader

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may be familiar with the peculiar smelters that fill some of the towns along theTwindle River with their stenches; these smelters use a method of generating heatthat requires an attendant to regulate the air flow into the furnace in such a way thatthe fires do not become so hot as to melt the furnace, which would cause a generalconflagration, and yet enough air is let out so that the entire furnace does notexplode from the heated air trapped within. In the parlance of that profession, this iscalled, "stroking the vent," and requires a gentle touch combined with nerves thatresemble the exact sort of high-grade steel the furnaces produce. We mention thisbecause it seemed to Aerich that this was exactly what His Highness wasdoing--attempting to release enough of his anger so that he would not erupt intoirrationality, yet not so much as to unleash the very fires he sought to control. In thiscontext, we hope the metaphor, striking as it was to Aerich, is also sufficiently clearto the reader.

Adron, without a word, handed the note to Aerich. The note took this form:"Your Highness is informed that Aliera e'Kieron has today been arrested for HighTreason, and is confined to the Imperial Prisons in the Iorich Wing to await trial."That was all, except for the signature, which was the mark of Liseter, the CourtScribe, and contained the appendix: "By the wishes of His Majesty, Tortaalik theFirst, Emperor of Dragaera."

Aerich wordlessly handed the note back to His Highness, unable to find anythingto say.

"Well, Duke?" said His Highness.

Aerich said, "I should wish, above all, Highness, to learn the details."

"And so I shall, Duke," said Adron. "I shall go to His Majesty and inquire afterparticulars. But I shall bring my army with me."

"Your Highness--"

"For now, I will give orders that the spell wagon be loaded with the argument Ihave prepared for His Majesty."

"Sire--"

"The army will set out in the morning. The city will be mine in the afternoon. TheOrb will revolve around my head before nightfall."

"Then Your Highness has made up his mind?"

"Irrevocably."

Aerich bowed. "Your Highness perceives, no doubt, that I cannot remain."

Adron nodded. "May the best of fortune be yours, Duke."

"And Your Highness's as well."

"Perhaps we shall meet again."

"Perhaps we shall," said Aerich. And so it was Aerich, not Adron, who emergedat last from the tent. At first, this was disappointing, for nothing could be learned

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from the Lyorn's countenance; yet, in only a short time, he and his servant weremounted, and were departing the encampment at a good speed, which led to endlessspeculation: Some believed that Aerich was a diplomatist, attempting to reconcile HisHighness with the court; of these, a few believed his departure signaled success, butmost were convinced that he had failed. Still others believed that Aerich was apowerful sorcerer, who would be in advance of the battalion when the attack waslaunched. A few maintained that he had offered His Highness an army to help themagainst the Imperial Army. Some suggested that he was a close friend of HisHighness's, but that, being a Lyorn, he would not take arms against His Majesty(these last were, we should add, essentially correct).

In any case, speculation ended just a few minutes later when Lord Adronemerged and ordered his spell-wagon prepared. It was not his custom to announcehis decisions, or even to let his troops know that action was planned, but, from theorders he gave, and from the meeting he held with his officers far into the night, therecould be no possible doubt this time.

Aerich informed Fawnd that they would be leaving at once and traveling quickly;such was the Lyorn's expression, communicated by voice and gesture, that hisservant, although just lately recovered from the first such journey, and althoughdreading another as he dreaded fire, allowed neither whimper nor sigh to escape hislips, and allowed neither frown nor scowl to cross his countenance.

Aerich and Fawnd rode fast and hard, using the Imperial posts, Fawnd keepingup the rugged pace of the journey without complaint; and so they reached theDragon Gate shortly after dark. Aerich wasted no time by stopping at the house onthe Street of the Glass Cutters, but, rather, gave certain explicit instructions toFawnd, after which he turned at once toward the Imperial Palace.

Fawnd was warmly greeted by Srahi and Mica, who were speaking in low tonesnear the fire that Srahi had built, pretending that Mica's injury required warmth; shewas also making certain that he drank Covaath cider in great quantities, both to easehis pain and to help him gain strength. Neither of these treatments, we should say,had been particularly recommended by the physicker, but Srahi insisted upon them,claiming that they had been used by her family for generations and had never failed.Mica, for his part, had no thought of resisting her ministrations, although he wascareful not to allow the cider to intoxicate him.

Fawnd appeared, then, in this domestic scene, and, addressing both of them,said, "Pack."

They looked at him, understandably startled. "I beg your pardon," said Mica,imitating Tazendra as best he could. "But I do not understand what you do me thehonor of telling me."

"Pack," repeated Fawnd.

"Well," said Mica. "But, pack for what?"

"To leave."

"How, we are leaving?"

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"Yes," said Fawnd.

Srahi turned a worried look upon Mica, and said, "But you are not fit to travel."

"Nevertheless," intoned Fawnd. Then he added to Srahi, "You, too."

"How me?"

"Yes."

"By whose orders?"

"My master's."

"I--" Srahi stopped before certain words were out of her mouth, remembering,in the first place, how intimidating the Lyorn could be, and second, realizing that, ifMica were to be traveling, there was good reason to be traveling with him.

"But why?" said Mica.

Fawnd shrugged.

At this point, Daro appeared, leaning on the nearest wall, and looking pale, forshe, of them all, was in considerable pain, and after having read the messagethoughtfully provided by Pel and promptly delivered by Srahi, she had returned toher bed and remained there until this moment. Now she said, "What is this I hear?"

Fawnd bowed low to this woman, who, though he did not know her, and thoughshe was dressed only in a housecoat, was clearly a noblewoman. "My lady," he said,"I have been instructed by my master to see to it that we--by which I mean Srahi,Mica, and I--leave the house, and the city, and even the district, within the hour."

"Within the hour!" cried Srahi and Mica together.

"Yes," said Fawnd.

"But," said Daro, "who is your master?"

"Duke Arylle," said Fawnd.

"I do not know him," said Daro suspiciously.

Mica said, "My lady, the Lord Khaavren speaks of him as Aerich."

"Ah, yes," she said. "I have, indeed, heard him pronounce this name, and thatwith the greatest respect and affection. But, has he given a reason for these strangeorders?"

"No, madam, he has not."

Daro made her way to a couch and eased herself into it. After breathing deeplyfor a moment, she said, "Have you, yourself, any guess about why he gave theseorders?"

"No, madam."

"Well." She pondered for a moment, then said, "Was he at the Palace beforeissuing these orders?"

"No, madam."

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"But then, where was he?"

"At Lord Adron's encampment."

"Oh," said Daro. "That may explain everything." She frowned, then, and said,"Well, you had best be about it."

"And yet," said Srahi, "if my master returns, and I am not here--"

"I will explain," said Daro.

"Thank you, my lady."

"But there is something you must do for me."

"Yes, my lady?"

"You must pack quickly, and you must, in addition, pack up everything of yourmaster's which he would want preserved, and that you can put on a wagon in thetime you have. Do not waste a moment."

"I will do so, my lady," said Srahi, who was beginning to understand that thematter, whatever it was, was entirely serious.

"You," said Daro. "What is your name?"

"Fawnd, my lady."

"You must nearly be packed already, for you have come from a journey."

"That is true, my lady."

"So you find a wagon--here, take this purse, pay whatever you have to. A wagonwith a good team--can any of you drive a team?"

"I can," said Mica.

"Good. Find a wagon and a team and bring them here at once."

"My lady," said Fawnd, "I will do all you ask."

"Where are we to go?" said Mica.

"Bra-moor," said Fawnd.

"Which is?" said Daro.

"My master's estate, near the Collier Hills."

"Very well," said Daro. "You had best be about your business, then."

"Yes, my lady," said Srahi and Mica. Mica then looked at the heavily bandagedstump of his leg and scowled, but said nothing. Srahi gifted him with a tender look,which he returned in full measure.

"We must," remarked Srahi, "be certain to bring your bar-stool."

The reader may be wondering about Tazendra, who was last seen in the companyof Sethra, but who did not, in fact, appear in the Portrait Room with theEnchantress. When Sethra had been summoned, Tazendra thought it a good time toattend to certain matters, wherefore she took herself to the Dzur Wing of the

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Palace--that great, lofty, dark, empty hall where hung oils of only the greatest of thegreat and which was dominated by the mammoth dzur sculpted in the depths of timeby Pitra himself; from there she followed one of the side wings, along the passagewhere the Lists were kept, stopping, from time to time, to find the name of a relative.On each side of this hall were sitting rooms done each of them in stone, and eachfeaturing a different weapon made famous by some great warrior, and named, insome cases for the warrior, in others for the weapon. Eventually, she chose one thatwas named for Arylle, who had led the expedition which had discovered, amongother things, Tazendra's homeland; Arylle was also renowned for being the lonesurvivor of an ill-fated foray against a pirate stronghold on an island in the far west(this was unusual, because, to get one of these rooms in the Dzur Wing named afterone, it was generally a requirement that the hero not survive).

Tazendra, after assuring herself that the room was empty, sat in front of the fire,removed the necessary items from her pocket, and began to sharpen her sword,where we will leave her with her sword and her thoughts.

Khaavren, upon receiving Aliera's sword, made her his accustomed offer--thatis, that she might pack a valise.

"I have done so," she said. "I am ready."

"We may," said the Captain, "arrive at the Imperial Prisons by any reasonableroute you choose. Have you a preference?"

"Not in the least," said Aliera. "Everyone will know of my arrest in any case, andI am hardly ashamed of it, so it matters not the least in the world."

"Very well, then if my lady will follow me."

"I am at your service, Captain."

Other than this, there was no conversation between them, for Khaavren was stilltoo angry, and Aliera too proud; as the rest of the walk was conducted in silence, wesee no need to inform the reader in any great detail of the hollow sounds their bootsmade on the Ringway Stairs, or the odors of fresh paint in the Blue Corridor, or thestartling, almost painful light that struck their eyes as they passed by the windowabove the Warding Gate into the Iorich Wing, or any of the other details of theirjourney. Suffice it to say that, in due time, Aliera was turned over to Guinn and hisjailers, and Khaavren returned to tell His Majesty, who was playing at shereba (for,we should add, stakes that were so small as to be only tokens) with certain courtiers,that his mission had been accomplished. His Majesty responded with a simple nod,and Khaavren repaired to his offices to see if anything of moment had happenedduring his long absence.

He looked through the correspondence that had accumulated during his absence,and had not gotten far when he stood and called for Thack, who presented himselfat once, appearing, thanks to a brief nap, to be somewhat refreshed. He bowed uponentering and said, "Yes, Captain? Is there some matter upon which you desire tospeak to me?"

"I nearly think so," said Khaavren.

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"What is it, Captain? For you perceive I am entirely at your service."

"This," said Khaavren, waving a note about.

"The note, Captain?"

"Yes. Unless my eyes have failed me at last, it has your mark upon the bottom."

"Why, so it does," said Thack. "Have I erred in some way? For I observe fromyour countenance, Captain, that something his displeased you."

"Never mind that," said the Captain. "Are you aware of what it says?"

"Yes, Captain, it speaks of a certain movement among the population--"

"Movement! You say, movement?"

"Why, yes, Captain--"

"When every Gate to the city is filled with a constant stream of people--andpeople of all classes, I might add--desperate to leave the city, so that fights havebroken out, and Baroness Stonemover has been forced to activate her reserves, andsome citizens have been trampled to death in their urgency to leave, well, you call itmovement? And if the entire Palace were on fire--which is not as hard to imagine asyou might think--would you then say, 'there is a certain warmth'?"

"Well, Captain, I--"

"I should very much like to ask why I was not informed of this before, but Icannot, for I know very well why; it is because I have been wounded, and,moreover, because I have been seeing to the aftermath of the attempt against HisMajesty."

"Captain, I--"

"No, I am not blaming you, Thack; it is only that I am annoyed, and now I mustdecide what action to take."

"It would seem, Captain, if I may be permitted an opinion, that BaronessStonemover is doing what has to be done."

Khaavren shook his head. "Thack, have you spent any time in forests where thereare dangerous animals, such as dzur, or tiassa, or bear, or wolves, or evendragons?"

"Why, yes, Captain, I have."

"Have you ever seen all of the birds fly away suddenly, while the smaller animalsare seen scurrying into their holes, or in some other direction?"

"I am familiar with this, yes, Captain."

"Well, and if you were to make certain that these birds escaped safely, and thesmall animals reached shelter, well, would you then feel, as you seem to feel aboutthe exodus from the city, that nothing more needed to be done?"

"I take your meaning, Captain."

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"I am glad you do."

"But, Captain, have you any orders for me?"

Khaavren sighed. "None yet, my good Thack, for I will not know what to do untilI have finished reading all of these cursed reports. But be prepared for anything."

"Yes, Captain."

Khaavren read the reports, forcing himself to take his time so as not to miss anydetail, and, at the same time, allowing himself to build a picture of the city as itstood; and, more important, to attempt to feel how it was moving. The change in themood and character of the city even from that morning, when he had come to thePalace, was shocking; and again he cursed his wounds, which had forced him totake a coach--what he would have seen walking, instead of driving by, would havetold him a great deal that he could not deduce even from the most accurate ofreports.

As he worked, the notion began to grow that, if things were falling out as theyseemed to be, there was nothing to be done. If the full force of the Imperial Armywere called in, then, perhaps, a semblance of order could be kept in the city; but,failing that, he could find no plan, even one involving all of his forces, BaronessStonemover's, and even the Lavodes, providing they could be persuaded to help,that would, in the event of a fully fledged riot, have any chance at all of preventing anequally fully fledged conflagration. His only choice, as he saw it, was to concentratehis forces around the Palace, with the idea of protecting His Majesty, whilesimultaneously hoping His Majesty would find a way to appease the populace.

He sighed. When word got out that Aliera had been arrested, well, this would notease the situation.

However, Khaavren had not reached his position because he was one to give upeasily; on the contrary, he sat and racked his brains, going over and over the reports,for several hours. He was still thinking when it came time to escort His Majesty onhis rounds, which occurred just before the twelfth hour after noon. As they wentthrough the familiar ritual, Khaavren took a certain pleasure in pacing out the paththrough the quiet Palace, as if the troubles they faced were, at any rate, over for theday.

His Majesty said, "Captain, I have received word that Lord Adron is preparing tomove against me in the morning."

"I am surprised, Sire."

"How, you did not think that, with his daughter arrested, he would attack atonce?"

"No, Sire, it is not that."

"Well?"

"I am surprised that he would give warning. The Breath of Fire Battalion movesso quickly that it would seem that, to attack in the morning, he needed do nothing

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before the very moment of the attack."

"Well, that is true, except, according to Lord Rollondar's intelligence, he hasmade certain magical preparations, and these require time to bring into position."

"Ah. Magical preparations."

"I have alerted those Athyra wizards on whom we can depend."

"Yes, Sire."

"Are you still worried about the populace?"

"I am, Sire."

"Well, do not."

"How, do not?"

"I have given the problem over to Baroness Stonemover."

"And, yet--"

"You will have another task on the morrow, and one that will allow no time toconcern yourself with rebellious Teckla."

"Sire?"

"In the first place, you must protect Noima."

"I understand. And Your Majesty as well."

The Emperor shrugged, as if he could not argue, but was not pleased to considerhimself in need of protection.

Khaavren said, "Your Majesty has done me the honor of mentioning one task;what, then is the second?"

"You must arrest Lord Adron."

"Yes, Sire," said Khaavren.

"You perceive that it is your duty."

"I believe, Sire, that I had the honor of informing Your Majesty some days agothat this was my opinion; I am pleased that it coincides with Your Majesty's."

"Have you any questions?"

"No, Sire; everything is clear to me."

"That is good, Captain, for I am tired, and it seems we have arrived at the end ofthe rounds for this evening."

"Yes, Sire, and allow me to wish Your Majesty a good night."

"And a good night to you as well, my dear Captain. I will see you in themorning."

"No, Sire, another will be here; for to-morrow I must prepare to carry out YourMajesty's orders."

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"Ah. Yes. Then I will no doubt see you later in the day."

"Yes, Sire. No doubt Your Majesty will."

In spite of his coolness when answering the Emperor, Khaavren was certainlysurprised by these orders, although, he reflected as he walked back to the DragonWing, he need not have been--what could be more natural than to assign theImperial Guard the task of protecting Their Majesties? And what could be morenatural than assigning their Captain the task of arresting the rebel?

To the right, the task annoyed him, for he was not convinced that BaronessStonemover was equal to the task. Yet, to the left, he felt a certain relief, for in hisconsidering the exodus from the city, and all it implied, he had realized that there wasno way to reliably keep order in the streets--not with Adron attacking from withoutas the forces of disorder had their way within; Khaavren was pleased to cede thistask to Stonemover. And, as for protecting Their Majesties, well, there were certainsteps to be taken, and that was that--if they were overwhelmed, then there was nomore to be said, except that each guardsman must do his best. As for arresting LordAdron, well, that was a mere formality. If the Imperial Army were victorious, all heneed do was find Adron and take his sword; if the Imperial Army were notvictorious, there could be no arrest.

Although, to be sure, it would be something to be remembered if, while the battleraged, he could penetrate the lines and lay hands on His Highness, carrying out thearrest of the general while the troops fought on. As he had this thought, he smiled,and within him the Khaavren of years ago whispered it was just such chances as thisthat he had longed for.

He shrugged. The Khaavren of years ago may have longed for such chances,and, to be sure, would have gone through fire and blood for just such anopportunity; but the Khaavren of today was older, perhaps wiser, and, above all,without his friends--indeed, was not Aerich even now keeping company with HisHighness? No, thought Khaavren, the chance for such heroics comes, at the most,but once in a lifetime, and he had had his five hundred years before, and had taken it,and there was no more to be said on the subject. These, at any rate, were histhoughts when he stepped into his office.

"Ah, my dear Khaavren, there you are! I have been awaiting you."

"Aerich!"

"Yes, it is Aerich. Why, what is it? What accounts for that look on your face?"

"I have been thinking, Aerich, and you were very much in my thoughts."

"How, I? Well, I cannot but be pleased to be thought of by my good friend.What were you thinking?"

"Tell me first, Aerich, where are Pel and Tazendra?"

"Pel was here with me for some time, but has now returned to the house, wherehe awaits us."

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"And Tazendra?"

"She spent an hour in the Dzur Wing, and has now gone to join Pel. Why, is theresomething for us to do?"

Khaavren laughed. "I nearly think there is. Go now and join them, my friend, andtell them to sharpen their weapons, for to-morrow, we shall have a task to perform."

"Very well. You know I never ask questions."

"I know it well. And, Aerich, we ought to send the servants out of the city."

"I have done so."

"How, you? You know what is going to happen tomorrow? Ah, but I haveforgotten; you have just come from His Highness. Apropos, has he your loyalty?"

"He has my friendship, but if he had my loyalty I would not now be here."

"Good, good," said Khaavren.

Aerich smiled. "It is a pleasure to hear you laugh."

"It is a pleasure to have again something about which to laugh. Go now, myfriend. The morning will see blood, but to-night will see scratches on parchment; Iwill be hard at work for some hours."

"Till to-morrow, then."

"Till to-morrow."

Chapter the Twenty-ninth

Which Treats of Khaavren's

Peculiar Interactions with

An Assassin or Two.

«^»EVENTUALLY THE LAST OF KHAAVREN'S instructions were written out--andwritten out, we should add, so clearly and precisely that he had no fear of alieutenant misinterpreting them. He made certain each document was signed andplaced in its proper receptacle, after which, rubbing his eyes, he permitted himself tomake his way home.

It was, by this time, quite late, yet the streets were still alive--more than alive, itseemed to Khaavren, they were awake and aware. There were, in the first place,more people out than he was accustomed to see at such an hour. In the secondplace, many of these people were clearly abandoning their homes--taking whatpossessions they could and leaving as quickly as they could manage by foot, horse,wagon, or coach, depending on the person's wealth. In the third place, there was anattitude among those who remained--an attitude of watchful expectation, and ofalertness, and of fear, and even of anger. Indeed, there were some who openly

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sneered upon seeing the Captain's uniform, although none of these were close, and,after giving him such a look, sometimes accompanied by a gesture, each one at oncetook to his heels.

As he passed the Avenue of Seven Swans Park, he noticed a figure huddledagainst a store advertising preserved fruit. Realizing that there was something familiarabout this figure, Khaavren looked; looking he recognized Raf, the pastry vendor."My dear Raf," said Khaavren, approaching. "How do you fare?"

"Ah, ah," said Raf, looking up bleakly. "Is it you, my dear Captain?"

"Indeed it is, my friend, indeed it is. But come, what accounts for the sorrow Iread upon your countenance?"

"You ask me that!" cried Raf.

"Yes, I ask you that; I even think I ask you twice. What is the matter, my friend?"

"Ruined, Captain! I am ruined!"

"How, ruined? And yet, it was less than two weeks ago that you wereflourishing!"

"That has ever been the fortune of man," agreed Raf. "From the highest to thelowest in an instant."

"But come, what has happened? Will no one buy your pastries?"

"Buy my pastries?" said Raf. "And what pastries have I to sell?"

"How is this, no pastries?"

"Indeed, none."

"But, it seemed to me that you had a cart, and--"

"The cart is gone," sobbed the Teckla. "Destroyed by ruffians, who pretendedthey could use it to pack their belongings so they could leave the city."

"Cha! In truth?"

"But what of that?" continued Raf. "For the last three days I have been unable toafford the flour my pastries require, and so I have made none."

"You could not afford flour, my dear Raf? How can this be? I had thought younear to being a wealthy man!"

"The price of wheat, my dear Captain, it is abominable. And if no one can affordbread, well, can anyone afford pastries? And my wife--"

"Well, your wife?"

"There is no one to buy her pottery. We may lose our home because we cannotpay the note, if, indeed, it is not destroyed outright."

"How, destroyed?"

"Everyone speaks of marching on the Palace, Captain."

"Everyone? Who is everyone?"

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"Everyone! And if they march on the Palace, well, the Palace will march back,and what will be left of our city?"

"Come, come," said Khaavren, "it cannot be as bad as that. There is alwayshope."

But the Teckla would not be reconciled, and, after trying for some few moments,Khaavren gave him a few silver orbs to help him over these trying times. Raf wastearfully grateful, but Khaavren still left a sad and bitter man behind him as hecontinued on his way home.

Khaavren was considering the implications of this conversation, as well asthinking of his plans for the morrow, when, as he stepped onto the Street of theGlass Cutters, he was attacked by Dunaan.

We apologize if this seems abrupt, but, as history is a recapitulation of life, andas the history we are relating is Khaavren's and not Dunaan's, it seems appropriate toallow our narrative to reflect, as it were, Khaavren's reaction to the event, asopposed to Dunaan's, for, in fairness, as far as the Jhereg was concerned, there wasno trace of abruptness whatsoever. On the contrary, he had, having learnedKhaavren's route home, spent many hours in picking his spot, and then, not knowingprecisely when Khaavren would be there, had spent several more hours waiting. Hehad three assistants who, on the one hand, were to warn him of Khaavren'sapproach, and, on the other, were to make sure there were neither police nor friendsof Khaavren nearby when the Captain approached.

We should add that, although these three nameless assistants performed theirfunctions, they were not expected to be in sight when the attack took place, nor werethey ever informed in so many words what was happening; this was by invariableJhereg custom, and was done so that, should any of these three be caught andforced to testify under the Orb, each would be able to state that he had not seenDunaan kill anyone, nor had he known that Dunaan was going to do so--the Orbwould recognize these as truths, which would make it more difficult to convict, notonly Dunaan, but the assistants as well.

On this occasion, Dunaan waited between two buildings next to which Khaavreninvariably walked, and had, moreover, disabled the one glowbulb that operated in thevicinity (otherwise, of course, it would have helpfully lighted him up and alertedeveryone in the area that someone was crouching in an alley). He was informed bycertain signs that the Captain approached, and was informed in a like manner thatthere were neither police nor agents of the Captain anywhere in sight. Khaavren thenstepped past the narrow gap between the buildings and Dunaan, utterly silent, andwith a long, wicked poniard naked in his hand, glided up behind him.

Khaavren, guided by some warrior's instinct, or perhaps by the half-heard soundof Dunaan's heartbeat, turned in time to see the knife flashing down for his throat,and to feel the annoyance that he had, again, been taken by surprise, and even (forthe reader ought to understand that the mind works much faster than the body insuch circumstances) to berate himself for lack of caution, after surviving no fewerthan three earlier attempts. This time, there could be no reprieve; this time the

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assassin was in perfect position, and Khaavren's friends, though scarcely a hundredmeters away, might as well have been at Redface for all they could help the Captain.

Khaavren had only time to begin a curse before the knife flashed down, continuedpast his shoulder, and hit the ground with a clang an instant before Dunaan, gaspingand stumbling, landed on his knees. At this point Khaavren's body reacted fasterthan his mind, for, before he had time to realize he had somehow been given exactlythe reprieve he could not expect, his sword was in his hand.

Dunaan fell face first to the ground. The Captain noticed an object, such as a dartor a small knife, protruding from the exact center of the assassin's back; there was,in fact, very little blood, yet the effect on the Jhereg seemed profound. "I cannotmove my legs," he said conversationally.

"Well," said Khaavren.

"I believe I have been poisoned."

Khaavren endeavored to keep an eye on his assailant, who could have been onlyfeigning an injury (although for what purpose, when he could have easily killedKhaavren, wasn't clear), and at the same time look around to find his deliverer, who,for all Khaavren knew, might have only accidentally struck down the assassin. TheCaptain remarked, "If you have indeed been poisoned, my dear fellow, I give youmy word that it was not my doing. Come, let me ask you a few questions."

"Ask your questions to the air, if you wish; you'll get no answers from me--atleast, not until I have learned who has so treated me; for I cannot imagine how youcould have struck me in the back while I was facing you."

"Were you asking about me, my good Dunaan?" said someone who could not beseen, but whose voice appeared to come from the same shadows the Jhereg hadlately quitted.

Khaavren's eyes strained in that direction, while the assassin remarked, "I do notknow who you are, for I am no longer able to turn my head. I believe, in fact, that Ishall soon be unable to talk, and, no doubt, an inability to breathe will followshortly."

"You are perspicacious," said the unknown.

"You have killed me, then," said Dunaan.

"Exactly."

"How did you find me?"

"I found the location where you would necessarily kill the Captain, for I knewyou intended to do so, and then I waited until you revealed yourself. Come, what doyou think?"

"An entirely admirable plan, I tell you so. But I cannot help but wonder--"

"Yes?"

"Who are you, and why have you done this? I confess that your voice sounds

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familiar, and yet--"

"How, you ask who I am? And why I have killed you? Come, your mind is notyet paralyzed; a moment's thought should answer your question. Whom have youlately betrayed?"

"The Gods! Are you Mario?"

"None other."

"But you were taken!"

"Obviously not; you ought to have assured yourself on the success of yourscheme."

"And yet, I heard an attempt was made on His Majesty, and that, in fact, therehad been an arrest."

"I cannot speak to that," said the unknown, still hiding in the shadows. "But, well,here I am."

"Captain," said Dunaan, "you should be ashamed of letting a dangerous assassinloose--how is someone to be able to make an attempt on His Majesty and yet walkthe streets? You are only a poor sort of officer after all."

"Maybe," said Khaavren. "Maybe I am as poor an officer as you are an assassin.Yet consider that His Majesty yet lives, and that so do I, whereas you--"

"Well, I cannot dispute you there. Ah! When I consider the chance that wasbefore me, the opportunity that is now gone, it is enough to make me gnash myteeth, yet they will scarcely respond to commands. I perceive my speech is slurring.My breath is going. I cannot speak! I die, I die."

"Well," said Khaavren.

"Well," said Mario.

Khaavren stood over the one called Dunaan, and discovered that, indeed, he wasno longer breathing. He addressed the shadows, saying, "I perceive from certainthings you have said that you, who seem to be called Mario, are the very one I spentso many hours looking for today."

"Indeed I am. But what is this about an arrest being made? Have you taken thewrong man?"

"Hardly. I have taken the right woman."

"The right woman? Come, sir; I have just saved your life. In exchange, tell mewhat you mean."

"That is only fair," judged Khaavren.

"And so?"

"I today arrested the Lady Aliera, who, for reasons I cannot guess, helped you toescape from the Palace, while I and all of my guardsmen were searching for you."

"How, you have arrested Aliera?"

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"I had that honor."

"My dear Captain, having saved your life, I confess that I am now of a mind tokill you."

"My blade is out, my dear assassin, and I am ready. You may try your best."

"Oh, my best is sufficient, I promise you, for you are not protected by the Orb.If you are not convinced, you may ask Dunaan there."

"As you would, then. I am ready."

"Well, remain ready, then, and let us speak for a moment."

"As you wish; you have, indeed, saved my life, and, though I long to get myhands on you, well, I cannot deny you a few minutes of conversation, at least."

"Then tell me this: What is the charge against Aliera?"

"High treason."

"And the evidence?"

"Irrefutable; the more so because she has made no effort to deny it; she pretendsshe hates His Majesty, and that anyone attempting to kill him has her favor."

"She does not deny it?"

"Not in the least."

"Will there be a trial?"

"A mere formality, unless she changes her mind and chooses to deny what shedid; but even in that case there can be little doubt that His Majesty, who was, Iassure you, displeased by the attempt on his life, will surely find her guilty."

"And then?"

"And then, I'm afraid she must be executed."

"Executed!"

"Yes."

"By what means?"

"She will be taken to the Executioner's Star, and there each of her appendageswill be removed, in order, by a single blow of the ax. It may be that His Majesty willbe kindly disposed, and will thus order the executioner to begin with her head; but itmay be otherwise."

"Well, I understand. Tell me, Captain: If I let you go, will you pursue me? For Imust admit that I am inclined to let you live, if for no other reason than to avoidgiving Dunaan's shade the satisfaction of knowing that you were killed, should thisshade come to hear of it. And yet, I will not allow myself to be arrested--I havematters to attend to and issues to resolve."

Khaavren shrugged. "You have, as I said, saved my life, even if you did so foryour own reasons, so I will tell you this: I will not now pursue you. And to-morrow

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my time will be so taken up that I will not have a moment to spare. But, beginning theday after that, I will bend all of my efforts to tracking you down."

"Agreed. Perhaps I will see you again, Captain."

"Perhaps so, assassin."

"For now, farewell, Khaavren."

"And fare you well, Mario. When we next meet, one of us will die."

Khaavren heard no sounds, but somehow he knew that Mario had vanished intothe shadows. He bent then, to inspect the body as well as he could in the dim lightthat emerged from the buildings across the way. He made as good an inspection ashe could, although, in truth, standing alone on the street where he had lately beenattacked caused him a certain amount of worry; still, he finished his investigation ingood order (the results of which investigation we will spare our readers, as they playno material part in our history) and then walked the hundred meters to his house,where, as he lighted a lamp and poured himself a small glass of wine and sat on thecouch, he was pleased to see Daro appear next to him.

She seated herself with some effort, which Khaavren noticed. "Madam, are youstill in pain?"

"I confess, I do feel a certain discomfort when I endeavor to move."

"And yet, was there not a dose?"

"Perhaps I will take it later; for now I wish my mind entirely clear. Do you knowthat your friend, Aerich, has ordered the servants out of the house, out of the city,and even out of the district?"

"Yes, so he told me. I was going to do the same, but he acted first, Apropos--"

"Yes?"

"You should leave the city as well, madam."

"How, I? You think I am in some danger?"

"The city is going mad and Lord Adron is attacking, and a madman believed hecould assassinate His Majesty in spite of the Orb, only I am convinced he was notmad; yes, madam, you are in danger, as is everyone who stays here."

"And you pretend that I should run from this danger?"

"You pretend that, wounded as you are, you can fight?"

"Well, there is some truth in what you say, yet this very wound makes travelunlikely."

"A coach--"

"How, is there a coach to be found? Aerich's servant, Fawnd, took every minuteof the hour he was allotted to find a mere wagon, and he returned covered withblood and bruises, so that I do not believe he had an easy time of it."

"I can find you a coach."

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"His Majesty's?"

"What of it?"

"I no longer hold the position at court I once did; hence I no longer have a rightto ride in His Majesty's coach, my dear Captain."

"Would that stop you from doing so?"

"It would."

"Hmmm. You are stubborn."

"Well, I am a Tiassa, and moreover, I am from Adrilankha, where each day wemust contend with the sea; we must give way now and then, it is true, but we learn toalways return to our position, and to build our walls the stronger for the batteringthey must endure."

"I take your point, madam. And yet, to merely use one of Their Majesty'scoaches, and a coach which otherwise--"

"No, Captain."

"Well, I have a thought."

"Then share it with me."

"If we were affianced, that is, if you were to consent to marry me, well, then youcould ride in the Coach as the fiancée of the Captain of the Guard and no one couldhave reason to object; what do you say to that?"

Daro had nothing to say to that for some few seconds, after which she said, "Iwill admit, Captain, that, in the first place, marriage had never occurred to me."

"Well, and in the second place?"

"If it had, I do not believe I should have anticipated a proposal such as you haveoffered."

"Is it any the less welcome for that? Come, you know that I love you, for I havesaid so; do you love me a little?"

"You know that I do."

"Will you permit me to kiss you?"

"Willingly."

"Well?"

"Here, then. Ah!"

"Yes?"

"Be careful of my wound."

"Oh, Countess. I am sorry."

"Think nothing of it. Once more, but carefully."

"There."

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"That was better."

"What, then, is my lady's opinion?"

"You kiss well."

"Cha! You are laughing at me; you know that was not the question."

"You wish to know my opinion?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I wish."

"Very well, here it is."

"I am listening."

"I believe, in the first place--"

"Yes, in the first place?"

"That we ought to get married, and have some number of children."

"Yes, we shall make boys as pretty as their mother."

"And girls as brave as their father."

"How, you deny you are brave?"

"Well, you deny you are pretty?"

"You confuse me, Countess."

"Does that make me less attractive?"

"Not in the least."

"Well, then."

"But what about the second place?"

"Oh, in the second place, I believe that, marriage or no, I wish to stay here withyou, whatever may happen."

"Madam, I am going into danger to-morrow."

"I know. I wish--"

"Yes. But you cannot. You know that your wounds prohibit it. And,moreover--"

"Yes?"

"You know that I love you."

"Yes. Take my hand."

"Here it is."

"When then?"

"If I go into battle to-morrow worried about you--"

"Ah, my brave Captain, that is unfair!"

"I know. Yet, it is true; I would be worried for you, and, worrying, I--"

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"Well, I understand."

"And then?"

After an interval of silence large enough to hold a small conversation, Darosighed. "Where shall I go, and for how long?" she said.

"Follow the servants to Aerich's estate, and I will join you there when this is over;I shall request of His Majesty a leave of absence, which he cannot fail to grant me,and then we shall be married."

"Very well. When must I leave?"

"To-night."

"How, to-night?"

"I shall send for the coach, for, if you are to leave, you must be out of the citybefore the first light breaks."

"If anything happens to you--"

"I think that nothing will."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because I love you, and you will be waiting for me, and we will be married;nothing will happen to change that."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"I take you at your word."

"You may do so."

"Then send for the coach, and we shall spend the time until it arrives in holdinghands, and speaking of the future."

"That is an admirable plan, Countess."

"I am glad you think so, Captain."

As they put this plan into practice, we trust the reader will not need to intrude onthese few moments of privacy, but will allow us to follow Mario as he walks throughthe streets toward the small hotel where he makes his home. He did not, in fact,arrive at his destination.

Contrary to any expectations this phrasing might give the reader, it was notbecause he, in turn, was set upon an assailant; rather, it was because he was set uponby an idea. No doubt the reader, whether because of a familiarity with history, orbecause of a close reading of this very work, is ahead of the historian--that is, thereader knows already the idea that has just occurred to Mario as he makes his waytoward home after killing Dunaan and choosing not to kill Khaavren. If so, thehistorian is rather pleased than otherwise; while there is, without question, a certainjoy in surprising the reader with a revelation, we cannot fail to take pleasure inknowing that we have provided the reader sufficient clues to remove the possibility

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of surprise. Or, to put it another way, whether the reader at this moment knows whatMario intends to do, or whether the reader will only discover this when the timecomes to reveal it, in either case, we beg to submit that we have done our job.

To return, then, to Mario--he stopped at a particular street corner upon beingstruck with this sudden notion, paused for some few minutes, during which time theidea, dropped some minutes earlier on ground which had been tilled in the Palace,sprouted at that moment and grew like a veritable jumpweed. When it had matured, aprocess which took, as we have implied, only a-few minutes, he abruptly turned onhis heel and went off in an entirely different direction from the one he had beentaking before. This brought him, after traversing streets still relatively crowded withthose who were, because of prescience, gossip, or just good sense, fleeing the city,to an unprepossessing leather-goods store, and through it, to a door in back, wherehe at once clapped.

Soon enough the door was opened a crack, revealing a small woman of about athousand years, with close-cropped light hair and the round, pleasant face of aTeckla, save for the excessively dark eyebrows and large nose. She wore the greyand black of the House of the Jhereg.

She said, "It is late; what do you want?"

Mario wordlessly held out a small piece of paper. The woman, whose name wasCariss, studied the paper carefully, her eyes growing somewhat wide, then openedthe door fully and stood aside for Mario to enter. The apartment, though notspacious, was cluttered with cut glass, strands of jewels, and small sculptures donein ivory or bronze, as well as plush furniture, and the whole of the floor was coveredby a thick, dark carpet--the room spoke of comfort, luxury, and wealth. Wealth, asit happened, was the subject that was first discussed after Mario had been seated in asoft chair near a burning lamp, so that the light made his face appear to glow in itsluminance.

"I perceive," said Cariss, "that you are in funds."

"The bill," said Mario, "is negotiable, in whole or in part, and can be drawn onthe Jhereg treasury."

"So I perceive. It is not a small amount."

"I require but a tenth part of it; the rest can be yours."

Cariss nodded slowly. "I will not pretend that I am uninterested. What do youwant?"

"First, you must answer me a question or two."

"Very well. Will you have klava?"

"It would keep me awake."

"Tea? Wine?"

"Have you water?"

"I have a well; the water is sweet."

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"Excellent."

"A moment."

She returned with the water, sat, and said, "Now, ask your questions."

"How much power can you summon?"

"Power?"

"Yes."

"The question is meaningless."

"Excuse me, it is not."

"But... power to do what?"

"Nothing."

"Power to do nothing?"

"Exactly."

"I do not understand."

"I am not surprised, for it is unlikely anyone has ever before asked such aquestion."

"Then you must explain."

"Attend me."

"I am attending."

"The pure power through which sorcery works, the power which the sorcerershapes and controls in order to work the changes in matter that the sorcererdesires--that is the power I wish to summon at a certain time and a certain place.But it is important that there be a great deal of it, hence, I wish to know how much ofit you can cause to be summoned."

Cariss considered. "Well, you want to know how much undirected power can bepulled through the Orb--"

"Not through the Orb."

"Not through the Orb? But how else--"

"Elder sorcery, of course."

"Elder sorcery?"

"Exactly."

"You know more than I would have thought, young man."

"It is necessary for me to know a little of everything. Yes, I am speaking of eldersorcery."

"Such a thing would be illegal."

Mario gave her a look impossible to describe.

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"If," she said at last, "you would explain exactly what you are trying to do--"

"No," said Mario.

A look of impatience crossed Cariss's features; Mario touched the pouch intowhich he had put the bill; Cariss shrugged.

"I will tell you this much," said Mario. "I need to be able to summon an immenseamount of power, using elder sorcery, and I need to put it into a certain area andkeep it there, though only for a few seconds."

"You speak of power as if it were a glass of water that you could simply putsomewhere."

Mario set his glass on a table near his elbow. "Well?" he said.

"This power will do nothing," said Cariss, shaking her head.

"That is what I wish."

"And you want to do it yourself?"

"Exactly."

"Even more difficult."

"I am not offering a small sum of money," said Mario. "Nor are you unskilled."

"Are you attempting to flatter me?"

"No, madam, I am attempting to purchase your services."

"To do what?" she said, beginning to sound a little vexed.

"To fill an area with power," said Mario, who was, himself, becoming annoyed athaving to repeat himself. "Is it possible?"

"Possible? Anything is possible. There would need to be a medium, and--"

"A what?"

"Something upon which to lay the power."

"Would the air not work?"

"Too insubstantial--too thin."

"What then?"

"Thick air."

Mario frowned. "I do not understand."

"Fog. Mist. Air with a great deal of water mixed in, so that the energy can attachitself to the water."

"How much energy can you supply?"

She shook her head. "You still do not comprehend--it doesn't matter how much,because it won't be doing anything."

"Good," said Mario. "Then I wish for a great deal of power. A great deal."

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"If your wish is to attract the attention of every sorcerer in a thousand-mileradius, well, I assure you there are easier ways to go about it."

"That is not my wish."

"It will happen, nevertheless."

"Then let it."

Cariss stared at him, as if trying to see into his mind to discover the use to whichhe intended to put this unusual spell. Then she sighed and said, "Does it matter whatform it takes?"

"I do not understand."

"The spell must be invested into an object if you, rather than I, are to use it. Doesit matter what object?"

"No. Something small."

"Will you be setting it off, or will another? If it might be another, I will instruct itto release upon a word or a sign. If it is to be you, then we can arrange for it torespond to your will. Or, if you prefer, I can arrange it so you simply open it likecracking an egg."

"That would be best."

"That is how it shall be."

"Then you can do it?"

"I can do it."

"How much power?"

"There is no limit to the amount of power available, only to the amount oneperson can control. When the energy isn't doing anything, it need not be controlled."

"And so?"

"And so we will summon more power than, I think, has ever been seen before inone place--and all of this power will do nothing except to exist, alerting eversorcerer for a thousand miles in all directions, and then it will be as if it had neverhappened."

"Excellent."

"How long do you wish it to hold together? A few seconds is easy; after that, Imust find power to hold it together, and this power can only come from the Orb, orfrom itself; and I have no wish to attempt to control that sort of power even forsomething trivial--especially for something trivial."

"Ten seconds would be good, five seconds may well be enough."

Cariss considered for a moment, then said, "Eight seconds, then; or perhaps alittle more. I can do that safely enough."

"So be it. Eight seconds. How, precisely, will it work?"

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"It will be a small glass ball. You will shatter the glass, and the area--how big anarea?"

"A fifty-foot diameter will be sufficient."

"Very well. The area will fill with fog--"

"How long will it take to fill?"

"Do you wish it to happen quickly?"

"Yes."

"Less than the drawing of a breath, then."

"Very well."

"It will fill with fog, and each particle of this fog will be charged with immensepower, which will do nothing, and everyone within the circle will be bathed in power,which will do nothing, although," she frowned, "it may feel a trifle odd, I don'tknow. In any case, after eight seconds, the power and the fog will dissipate, andnothing will have changed."

"Good. That is what I wish. Apropos the fog--"

"Yes?"

"Can it be made thick, so that a person might hide in it?"

"That is easily done. It can be made so thick you will not be able to see yourhand, though it be six inches in front of your eyes."

"Perfect."

Cariss shook her head, as though resigning herself to remaining mystified. "Whendo you need it?"

"When can I have it?"

"You can have it in an hour."

"Then that is when I need it."

"It will be ready."

"I will wait here."

"Very well. Oh, have you a preference for the mist?"

"A preference in what way?"

"Its color. Black, or red, or grey, or--"

"Grey," said Mario. "The color of death. Let it be grey."

"It shall be grey," said the sorceress.

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Chapter the Thirtieth

Which Treats of Dawn

On the Day of Battle.

«^»THE MORNING OF THE SEVENTEENTH day of the month of the Vallista of the532nd year of the Reign of Tortaalik the First was cool if one considered it to be latesummer, but warm if one thought of it as early autumn. Even before dawn, while theDragon Gate, with its high stone walls and strong iron bars, stood open to the world,there was a promise of a breeze from the east, bringing with it the sweet aroma thelast of the blossoming late-apples, and a promise, as well, of that perfect weatherwhere one is comfortable in a heavy cloak if one is standing still, in a lighter cloak forthose walking about, or in a simple jerkin for those engaged in heavy exercise.

Should the reader realize with sudden dismay or annoyance that the weather hasbeen all but ignored by the historian, we will point out that, according to ouralmanac, the weather had remained, with the least variation, slightly warm, but notforbiddingly so, with a little wind, and only a sprinkle of rain upon one or two of thenine days which comprise our history; there has been, in a word, little of interestabout the weather, and therefore no reason to take up our reader's valuable time bydescribing it.

Indeed, the only reason for mentioning it upon this occasion is, as the astutereader has no doubt realized, by way of making an ironic contrast between theconditions of the day and the events destined to take place upon it--a comparisonthat may be unnecessary in a strictly historical sense, but which, because of itsappropriateness, the historian finds irresistible. Moreover, as great events are aboutto unfold, we consider it a pleasing device to begin with facts which are, in essence,unimportant--that is, to turn our reader's attention to matters unrelated to ourhistory, after which, the reader may be assured, we will gradually begin to revealthose momentous events, as well as the no less interesting personal events, thereader's interest in which has, no doubt, caused him to remain with us to this point inour history.

The Dragon Gate, as we have already said, was built of iron and stone; the stonewas in the form of a pair of towers which were built as part of the city wall itself; theiron consisted of bars three-quarters of a meter in thickness and separated by half ameter. It was, we should add, very difficult to see through these bars when the gatewas closed. Should it happen that the Warlord wished to close the gate, this couldbe accomplished by releasing the single massive rope that worked an intricate seriesof wheels, gears, and pulleys which held the grid poised above the gateway.Dragons' heads adorned each tower (or, rather, a sculptor's rendering of suchheads--to use real dragons' heads would have been disrespectful).

Some few hours before the first light of morning filtered through the overcast thestreets had emptied themselves of citizens--all of those who wished to leave hadeither done so, or realized, now that the Warlord had had the gates of the city closed

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against the expected attack of His Highness, they would be unable to do so; andthose who remained tucked themselves into their homes where they hoped theywould be safe. Daro, the Countess of Whitecrest, was, in fact, among the last toleave. We should add, as an aside, that this, while true for the district near theDragon Gate, where we have placed ourselves, was not true everywhere--theUnderside, for example, was quite active, and many historians place the beginning ofthe Uprising as during the night we have just skipped over; to be sure, there wereisolated fires, and some shops had been broken into.

All of which is not to say that the streets near the Dragon Gate were empty--wewere careful above to say the streets were empty of citizens; in fact, had we wishedto indulge in low humor, we might have made a remark to the effect that there was averitable army of people within the Gate, the supposed humor being found, ofcourse, in the fact there was an army within the Gate--to wit, the Imperial Army,which flooded the square to overflowing with the regiment of the Calivor Pike-menled by Lord Tross, followed by the cavalry regiment of Sorett, led by Lady Glass,which was almost contained in the square, and filling the streets around the squareon both sides was the cavalry brigade of Lookfor, still commanded by the Duke ofLookfor who had founded it. In the streets behind them, awaiting their command tomove into place, were remaining infantry divisions too numerous to mention.

The Warlord was mounted in the middle of the Sorett Regiment; on one side ofhim was Lady Glass, on the other was Nyleth who commanded the Wizards of theImperial Army. Other soldiers and wizards had manned the towers, awaiting thecommand, should it come, to lower the gate, and waiting as well to give word thatAdron's army had been sighted.

"Upon you," said Rollondar to Nyleth, "falls the chief burden. You must, first ofall, evaluate the threat contained by this spell-wagon he is reported to have; you mustdetermine if it is a real threat. You perceive, if it is a bluff, I will close the gate and wewill defend it, while I disperse the troops to the other gates of the city, and we willfight defensively. If the threat is real, we must make destroying it the center of ourstrategy, wherefore we will leave the gate open and attack them through it, with theintention of leading you and your assistants against the spell-wagon."

"I understand," said Nyleth, an Athyra with large, brilliant eyes and a perpetualsmile, giving him the appearance of a madman, which some thought he was. "Butwhat if Lord Adron appears at another gate?"

"He will not," said Rollondar. "Oh, he may end by attacking another gate if itlooks best to him, but the Breath of Fire Battalion will appear first at the DragonGate--Adron would die rather than miss an opportunity for such theatrics. I giveyou my word that he hopes to give battle here and enter beneath this arch."

"I understand, my lord."

"Do you then, my good Nyleth, understand what your task is to be?"

"Yes, but--"

"But?"

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Nyleth continued smiling, as he leaned forward; Rollondar resolutely remindedhimself that, mad or not, the Athyra had proven himself in a score of battles. Thewizard said, "If the threat does prove real--and, my lord, if there is elder sorceryinvolved it is almost certainly real--I will need a guard of fighters to help reach thespell-wagon."

"You will have one," said Rollondar, "for, should it prove necessary, and shouldnothing else present itself, I will send my personal guard to aid you against thosewho guard the spell-wagon."

Nyleth looked around him at Rollondar's legion of grim, powerful fighters, andhis smile grew broader. "That will certainly do, my lord."

"You understand, then?"

"Entirely."

"Very well. Then no more need be said; now we await Lord Adron's pleasure."He did not seem entirely happy as he said it, for one rarely enjoys time spent waitingfor another's pleasure--certainly Greycat did not, as he paced the floor of thecabaret in the Underside, occasionally stopping to look outside to see if the one forwhom he was waiting was arriving, or if violence had yet erupted in the streets. Bychance, in that area, there had been as yet neither looting nor burning, and soGreycat returned to his pacing.

The cabaret was nominally closed, but one would not have guessed it to lookupon it, for it appeared to have a sizable contingent of patrons--no fewer than ascore of men and women were there, sitting, drinking, talking quietly, andoccasionally glancing at Greycat with expressions of trust and confidence. They allof them affected garb that would have been appropriate in the mountains, and theyall of them had the look of those who spend a great deal of time out of doors; forthese were none other than the advance guard of the army of brigands of whomGreycat had earlier spoken to Dunaan; they had arrived the day before, and beentold to meet at the cabaret in the early hours of the morning. Now they were here,armed head to toe, and they awaited Greycat's orders, while he waited for someonewho, unaccountably, was late.

The door opened, but it was Grita who walked in. She glanced at the assembledbrigands, appeared to dismiss them with a glance, and said, "We must speak."

"Well, speak," said Greycat, who, though surprised to see her, did not wish toacknowledge this fact.

"In private."

"Very well. In back?"

"Outside."

"If that is your desire," said Greycat, shrugging.

"I will."

"Here we are, then."

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"Yes."

"Well, what have you to say?"

"He for whom you are waiting will not appear."

"How, Dunaan will not appear?"

"That is correct."

"What could keep him? He knows that I but await word of his mission's successbefore going to His Majesty."

"His mission did not succeed."

"What? The Jhereg refused?"

Grita frowned. "I know nothing of any Jhereg refusing anything."

"But then, of what do you speak?"

"I assumed he was to kill the annoying Tiassa."

"Yes, yes. And then, afterwards, he was to go to the Jhereg and--"

"There was no afterwards."

Greycat stared. "How, he failed to kill the Tiassa?"

"Exactly."

"Are the Gods protecting this guardsman?" Greycat, we should add, pronouncedthe word guardsman in a tone of utmost contempt.

Grita shrugged. "In this case, it seems an assassin was protecting him; or, atleast, that is how it seems from what I was able to learn."

"An assassin? Do you mean--"

"Yes. Dunaan is dead."

"Dead!"

"Killed by a Jhereg assassin."

"And the Tiassa yet lives!"

"Exactly."

For the first time, Greycat's eyes now held doubt and confusion.

"Well?" said Grita. "Do we continue?"

"How, you mean continue to His Majesty? Not for the world! We can do nothinguntil we have killed the Tiassa."

"But still, one man--"

"He will denounce me to His Majesty."

"Well, but does not His Majesty know you already?"

"I know how to play to His Majesty's weaknesses; I cannot do so while the

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Tiassa lives, for he has His Majesty's ear."

Grita shrugged. "What then?"

"We must kill him ourselves."

"What, you and me?"

"You and me, and our friends in there." He gestured toward the cabaret where hisband of cutthroats waited.

"Do you think there are enough of us?"

"Do not jest; it is no laughing matter. Yes, I think there are enough of us."

"Then let us be about it."

"We must find him, first."

"That is taken care of," said Grita with a peculiar smile.

"Taken care of? How?"

"He is at home, and I have set spies there; when he leaves, we will be informed."

Greycat smiled for the first time--a smile reminiscent of Grita's. "Excellent. Thenwe must return to waiting, but now, at least, I know why I am waiting."

"Shall we go inside?"

"By all means."

"After you."

"I am leading."

The first haze of morning light, so deceptive and ambiguous, had still, perhaps,not quite touched the Palace walls when Sethra stood in the hall which had onceborne her name but which was now, after the Lavode Scandal, called the NorthRoom, high in the Dragon Wing. The hall was not overly large, being crowded whenmore than a hundred were present, and the hearth, which filled most of the west wall,seemed almost absurd for such a small room. There was now a fire upon it,however, and the two score or so assembled there were grateful for it; the furnaceswhich heated the Palace had not yet been tested for the season, and none wereignited--and the high reaches of the Dragon Wing were but ill-heated at the best oftimes.

All of those assembled, including Sethra, affected black garb without a speck ofcolor anywhere, save for the chance gleam, here and there, of a weapon's hilt, or ared or blue jewel that might glitter from a sheath or a belt. There were hard woodenchairs in the room, set in a large circle, and every chair was occupied. Sethra's voicewas not loud, but it was penetrating. "Our task," she said, "is the protection of theImperial Wing, and especially of His Majesty. We will be aiding the Red BootBattalion, but not working with them. I have chosen this course because, while itmay be that the Imperial Guard have the skill to protect His Majesty from throngs ofrioting citizens, we cannot depend on them to protect His Majesty from well-formedand -trained Dragon warriors; furthermore, while I cannot support the rebellion,

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neither do I wish to attack Lord Adron, and, so far as I can see, duty requires nosuch attack. Has anyone anything to say?"

"I do," said a thin woman who, to look at her, one would think too retiring toever speak in a gathering of more than three; yet her voice was strong and confident.

"What is it, Dreen?"

"My sympathies, such as they are, are with Lord Adron; this Emperor is a fool,as I think we all know, and he is only reaping what he has sown, as the Teckla say.Why do we not support him entirely?"

"For my part, Sethra," said an older man named Tuvo, "I agree with Dreen. Ihave no respect for His Majesty; why should we defend him?"

There were nods around the room, and some looks of doubt. Sethra said, "Goodquestions, to be sure. The reason is that Lord Adron has been studying eldersorcery--studying it deeply, and, more than studying it, has been working with it. Tomy knowledge, he is prepared to invoke powers that threaten the Empire, even theCycle itself. This causes me some unease, but it would cause me more to considerhim as Emperor. He would make a gifted Warlord, but I cannot countenance him asEmperor--not a man who would use such means either to gain the throne or to gainrevenge--or, indeed, for any other reason."

"And yet," said a short, attractive woman with curly dark hair, "you will notdirectly oppose him?"

"I cannot, Roila Lavode," said Sethra. "He is too close a friend."

"Well," said Tuvo, "then do you, Sethra, remain here and defend His Majesty; therest of us, under some captain upon whom we will agree, will go find His Highnessand attack him on the spot. Come, what do you think of my plan?"

"For my part," said Roila, "I am entirely in accord with Tuvo; if there is a chanceHis Highness may employ elder sorcery against the Orb--"

"He may indeed," said Sethra.

"Then who better to face him than us?"

"There is a great deal of truth in what you say, Roila, and your plan is good,Tuvo, but I will not stay behind. If the will of the Lavodes is to attack Adron, well,my place will be to lead the attack."

"Not in the least," said a woman called Nett. "Why should you be asked to dobattle against a friend? We all know what that means--and, in truth, it is to have thechoice to refuse such battles that many of us, who desired military service, haveaccepted the black garments of our corps. Moreover, Sethra, there is no need foryou to be there. Consider that His Majesty does, indeed, require protection, and whobetter to supply it than you? And consider that, though it may be that your presenceon the field could be decisive, it is just as likely that your presence in the Palacecould save His Majesty's life--unlike Dreen and Tuvo, I should like to see HisMajesty preserved if possible, for the continuity of the Orb; I do not feel the Cycle

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has turned. No, Sethra Lavode, follow your heart, and we will follow ours; you tothe Palace and His Majesty's side, we to the gate and His Highness's flank."

There were murmurs of "well spoken" about the room, and Sethra nodded. "Ifthat is the will of the Lavodes," she said, "so be it. I recommend Roila to lead youinto battle; does anyone object?"

There were no objections.

"Very well," said Sethra standing. "If you are to reach the gate before the battlecommences, there is no time to lose. Go with the Favor, and I hope to see you allagain this side of the Falls."

The Lavodes stood as one, presented their compliments to their Captain, filedout of the room and, stopping only to secure their weapons and tools, but of thePalace and so out along the Street of the Dragon toward the gate.

They arrived as the first, tentative, very faint light began to drape the city inmorning. They worked their way to the gate itself (annoying no few of Lady Glass'scavalry) in time to hear, "A rider!"

The rider, who was in fact a lookout placed by Rollondar to watch Adron'smovements, came to the gate in good time, and a path was opened to the Warlord.Roila Lavode, while too far away to hear the report, was able to determine that LordAdron had been spotted and would soon be over the hill. She worked her way closeto Rollondar, and said, "Warlord, the Lavodes are ready to help you."

Rollondar looked at her, forcing aside the soldier's instinctive distrust of such anundisciplined corps, and said, "Good."

"Have you instructions?"

"Will you follow them?"

"If they suit us."

Rollondar scowled but said nothing. He had the authority to order them awayfrom the battle; anything else he must convince them to do. As he was consideringthis, he learned that the Breath of Fire Battalion, though moving uncharacteristicallyslowly, was now in sight, and a great battle-wagon had been sighted behind thewaves of horsemen.

"What do you think, Warlord?" said Nyleth.

"I think that, as things stand, we can crush the Breath of Fire Battalion likeclosing our hand."

"Well?"

"Well, Lord Adron is not one to put himself in such a position."

"Therefore?" said Nyleth.

"I think the spell is real."

"You do not think they will turn and attack the other gates?"

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"It will be no small task for them to break the gates that are closed--they cannotdo it before we reach them; I have troops keeping the paths clear, and our road isshorter."

"Well, Excellency?"

Rollondar stared grimly out of the open gate. "As we said before, you mustdiscover what the spell is and if, as I am now convinced, it is a threat, destroy it."

"Very well."

Rollondar turned to Roila. "Have you been listening?"

"Yes."

"Can you beat a path through the battalion to reach the battle-wagon? Which is, Iam certain, actually a spell-wagon."

"Yes."

"Then that will be your task."

"Very well," said Roila, and she returned to where the Lavodes waited, and said,"We have our task."

Even as she spoke, a scant two hundred meters away Lord Adron e'Kieron, therebel Prince, drew his forces up before the Dragon Gate and watched theapproaching dawn. He stood before his spell-wagon--a wagon so large that it could,and, in fact, did, contain his tent; so large that sixteen horses were required to pull it.His officers were assembled before him, and he addressed them in these terms: "Wecannot, in fact, achieve a direct victory here, but, fortunately, we do not need to.Now that we have stopped, and are within the correct distance, I will begin workingmy spell, which will take control of the Orb--in effect, making me Emperor, thoughwe ought not to depend on our enemies laying down their arms upon this occasion."

He accompanied this remark with a grim smile--a smile that was echoed by allthe officers. He then continued, "Unlike His Majesty, I shall not be afraid to use thepower of the Orb in battle, and I shall begin to do so at once. For, even as the Orbcomes to me, bursting through walls in the Palace, flying over the city wall, I will beable to turn its power against our enemies--the closer the Orb comes to me, themore of its abilities I will be able to use. By the time it reaches me, the battle will beover."

He took a breath. "There is some danger, to be sure; that is why the battalionmust be ready, for we will be attacked the instant the enemy sorcerers realize what Iam doing, and, if I am disturbed while I am working, we will lose everything."

"How dangerous is it?" asked an officer.

Adron paused, as if considering whether to answer this question, or how muchhe ought to tell his officers. At last he said, "I have studied a great deal, and I knowwhat I am doing, though, to be sure, there are always unknown elements in a spell ofthis magnitude. Yet I do not believe the spell itself will be dangerous--the energiesof the spell will be directed at the Orb, which is, as you all know, a device designed,

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more than anything else, to accept and direct immense energies; indeed, the verymethod by which I hope to take control of it requires directing great energy straightat it, rather than at His Majesty or around the Orb, and so I will get past the defensesbuilt into the Orb; in the same way, then, there will be, I believe, little danger from thespell itself.

"Yet that is not the only danger, for should the battalion fail, and should I bedistracted before the spell takes effect, it will mean defeat for us, and capture andexecution for me and, perhaps, for you as well, my officers. You perceive that I donot disguise the risks." He shrugged. "Beyond that, unless something unexpectedhappens, well, I do not believe there is grave danger.

"But," he added, "there is always the possibility of the unexpected happening,wherefore we must necessarily keep our guard up at all times. Do you all clearlyunderstand what I am saying?"

They all did.

He took another breath. "Good. Are there, then, any more questions?"

One of the younger officers cleared his throat.

"Well?" said Adron.

"How long must we hold them?" said the officer. "That is, in order for you tohave time--"

Adron frowned. "You must hold the enemy as long as possible. How could yourtask be anything else?"

The officer looked uncomfortable. "And yet--"

"Very well," said Adron, giving forth a sigh. He calculated briefly, and his glancestrayed to the battle-wagon behind him. At last he said, "Before the spell is ready, Ishall need, I think, four and a half hours, or perhaps less."

The officers looked uncomfortable, and many of them allowed themselvessignificant looks at the Gate where Rollondar's forces waited. Adron, seeing this,added, "It may be that they will not attack us before that time."

"Your Highness thinks not?" said one of the older officers.

Adron shrugged. "Rollondar is cagey and wise, but he does not know what I amdoing. He may wait and try to discover what I have here, in which case there will beno attack until the spell begins to take effect."

"Well, and then?" said another officer.

"And then it will already be too late. Perhaps half an hour, perhaps more, until allis over."

"That is not so long," said the officer.

Adron shrugged. "Any more questions?"

There were none.

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"Then let us form ranks," he said. "When all is ready, I shall begin theenchantment."

At about this same time, Tazendra said, "It is demeaning to have to make one'sown klava."

"How," said Aerich, frowning. "Demeaning?"

"She means," said Pel, "that it is humiliating."

"I do not comprehend," said Aerich.

"It is humiliating," said Pel, smiling, "because it has been so long since she wasrequired to do so that she has forgotten how."

Tazendra grunted. "Well, that may be."

"However," added the Yendi. "I have not, and so if you will permit me--"

"Gladly," said Tazendra.

As it happened, it was Aerich who ground the beans while Pel boiled the water.Some time later, then, Khaavren came down the stairs to the smell of good, freshklava. For a moment he was confused to find no one there, until he realized from thesoft sounds of conversation above that his friends were gathered in what had oncebeen Aerich's room.

"Hullo, my friends," he called. "I will join you when I have poured a cup ofklava."

"Bah!" said Tazendra. "We have the pot warm up here, and a cup ready foryou."

There could be no answer to this argument, so Khaavren at once went back upthe stairs to Aerich's room, where he gratefully accepted his cup and sat in the chairthat, by custom, had been his in the old days. He said, "My friends, do you knowthat it has been five hundred years since we have all been gathered together in thesame place?"

Aerich nodded, "Let it not be five hundred years before we are so gatheredagain."

Tazendra said, "These pleasantries are all very well, but I am burning to hearKhaavren's plan."

"How," said Khaavren, "you pretend I have a plan?"

"You always have a plan," said Tazendra sagaciously.

"And moreover," said Pel, "Aerich indicated that you had one when he returnedlast night."

"It is impossible to fool our Aerich," said Khaavren.

"Well?" said Tazendra.

"Yes, I have a plan."

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"Ah, so much the better," said Tazendra.

"Then let us hear it," said Pel. "For I confess that I am as anxious as Tazendra toknow what you wish us to do."

Khaavren nodded, then paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. At last hesaid, "There will be a battle this morning."

"Of this," said Pel, "I am not unaware."

"Nor am I," said Aerich.

"Nor I," added Tazendra.

"Well, that is where I wish to go."

"That is your plan?" said Tazendra. "To fight in a battle? Well, I am entirely inaccord with this idea. Yet, as a plan, I hardly think--"

"Hush, Tazendra," said Pel amiably. "That is not Khaavren's plan."

"Oh," said Tazendra, sounding disappointed.

Aerich maintained his habitual silence.

"What are you smiling about?" said Pel.

Khaavren shook his head, "It seems as if five centuries have simply vanished, andwe are here as we always were."

Aerich gave the smallest smile, Pel saluted, and Tazendra threw her head backand laughed.

"But go on," said Pel. "Let us hear this famous plan."

"Yes, yes," said Tazendra. "Let us hear it."

"It is very simple," said Khaavren. "In the first place, you must know that LordAdron is a rebel."

"That is clear," said Pel.

"And that, if he is defeated, he must be arrested."

"That follows naturally," said Pel.

"As Captain of the Guard, it is my duty to arrest him."

They all nodded.

"His Majesty, in fact, has told me that I am responsible for this."

They waited.

"What I do not understand," said Khaavren, "is why it is necessary to await theend of the battle before arresting our friend the Prince."

"Bah!" said Tazendra. "Does one arrest one's friends?"

"Sometimes," said Aerich.

"And yet," said Tazendra. "To make an arrest, well, it is not much of a plan."

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"Tazendra does not comprehend," pronounced Pel.

"My dear," said Khaavren, "I speak of arresting him in the midst of a battle. Thatis, of finding a way past the lines of fine Dragonlords bent on slaughtering oneanother, and Teckla waiting to be slaughtered, and then meeting up with Lord Adron,and taking him away."

"Oh," said Tazendra. She considered. "That is rather different."

"Indeed," said Pel. He smiled. "It will certainly make an adventure, if we can doit."

"If we can do it?" said Khaavren. "Cha! We are all of us together. What couldstop us?"

"Well, I nearly think I agree with you," said Pel.

"Come, Aerich, what do you think?"

"In truth," said the Lyorn, "it does not please me to arrest His Highness, a man Irevere, and a friend for whom I have no small regard. And yet--"

"Well, and yet?"

"For reasons that I cannot speak of, even to you my friends, I think we not onlyshould, but must get to Adron. and arrest him, before he can--that is, as soon aspossible. Indeed, I'd have proposed something like it myself, only, as I am no longera guardsman, I have no authority to make arrests. But in Khaavren's company, andwith Khaavren as our Captain, well, I no longer have any objection to make."

Khaavren nodded. Though he wondered at the dire hints contained in the Lyorn'sspeech, he knew better than to ask about matters concerning which Aerich preferredto remain mute. He said, "And you, Tazendra?"

"How, me?"

"Yes. Do you like the plan?"

"My dear Khaavren, five hundred years ago, the four of us were near to facing anarmy of Easterners. Do you remember?"

"Why, yes," said Khaavren. "As it happens, this event has not escaped mymemory. What of it?"

"Well, since that time, I have often regretted that we did not have the opportunityto fight that army; it would have been a glorious thing."

"And then?"

"This time, instead of an army of Easterners, it is                    an   army   ofDragonlords--moreover, an army of His Highness's crack troops."

"And so you are for it?"

"With my whole heart."

"Then we are agreed?" said Khaavren.

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"Agreed," said Aerich.

"Agreed," said Pel.

"Agreed," said Tazendra.

"In that case," said Khaavren, standing, "we must be on our way at once. It isdawn, and we must be past the wall before the battle is joined."

As the Breath of Fire Battalion forms its ranks, we will turn our attention to adistrict of the City called Catchman Tower; so called because it was dominated bythe slender spire of a tower built during the Twelfth Chreotha Reign by LordCatchman. The tower, in fact, served no useful purpose, but, made of pale whitestone polished smooth as glass, it was not unattractive. The district was not, in fact,in the Underside, but was rather just to the east, bounded by the Street of theTsalmoth, and it was a short distance from the Street of the Tsalmoth that a group ofurchins from the Underside, having ventured out of their district in the excitement ofthe night, were amusing themselves by throwing stones and other objects at asquadron of four guardsmen of the White Sash Battalion. We are not unaware of theironic resonance that the contrived riot and the real uprising were instigatedsimilarly--that is, by young people throwing things at the police. Yet it is significantthat, in one case, it was the humiliation of rotten vegetables, while in the other, it wasthe far deeper humiliation of death, for, by chance, one of these stones, thrown byan unusually burly Teckla youth with a good eye, struck a guardsman named Hethsquare in the forehead with such force that he was killed on the spot.

Without consultation, the other three guardsmen left him there and set off inpursuit of the urchins, who had begun running upon seeing Heth fall. The guardsmenwere faster and the distance was not great, but, turning into an alley, the urchinsducked into the first house they came to, which was shared by six families ofTeckla, who worked at the clothing mill by the canal. It happened that the clothingmill had been shut down two days before, and so all of the Teckla were bothfrightened and angry. Upon hearing the commotion, they opened their door in timeto see, not the urchins (who were hiding in a basement storage room) but threeguardsmen with weapons drawn and blood in their eyes.

The Teckla, as will happen on occasion, were angrier at the intrusion than theywere frightened at the guardsmen, and moreover, counting only those of areasonable age, they outnumbered the guardsmen by some twenty-eight tothree--they greeted the guardsmen, then, with sticks, brooms, kitchen knives, andwhatever else was to hand.

The guardsmen, chased into the street, called for help, and it happened that helpwas available, for there were two other squadrons of four within earshot.

The Teckla called for help as well, and there were some hundreds of Teckla, aswell as no small number of tradesmen of other houses, who were also within earshot.

The Five Hour Uprising had begun.

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Chapter the Thirty-first

Which Treats of Uprisings

In General and Specific

With Special Emphasis on Their Effects

On Heroes and Brigands

In Providing Distractions, and

In Making It Difficult to Cross the Street.

«^»IT IS COMMONLY BELIEVED BY the shallow and the ignorant that humanattitude, character, and opinion is immutable. Even those who, in their own lifetimes,observe the wearing away of stone, the eroding of mountains, and the shifting ofrivers, will go so far as to say that an entire group of people--a thousand times morevolatile than our stone, mountain, or river--is this way or that way, holds theseopinions or subscribes to those beliefs; thus not only committing the error of seeinga populace as an organism not made up of countless and vital divisions anddifferences, but also failing to see that the opinions of masses of people, whensubjected to sudden changes in their circumstances, can alter more quickly than thecolor of the Orb can respond to a change in the spirits of the Emperor. Needless tosay, such people have only the most absurd and foolish explanations for the FiveHour Uprising that occurred on the seventeenth day of the month of the Vallista inDragaera City and her surrounding districts.

For example, we have heard from one that it was a vast conspiracy on the part ofthe Jhereg--certain proof that that historian, who shall remain nameless, has yet tobecome acquainted with the Cycle. Another has suggested certain intoxicantsaccidentally making their way into the water supply--which gives us to wonder:Where exists this water supply unanimously drunk by Teckla and tradesmen, yetnever tasted by the nobility? We have even heard it suggested that Adron himselfdeliberately worked for this end--Adron, be it understood, who had only thevaguest notion that there even was such a thing as a populace.

But leaving aside such theories, it is certainly the case that to see such a drasticchange occur so quickly, and with so little warning, will, no doubt, surprise manyreaders; in fact, we should not be surprised to learn that some readers have thoughtthat we ought to have better prepared them for so shocking a revelation, and thatthere are facts of which we have kept the reader ignorant, and that, in effect, we haveill-used the reader by withholding these statistics. To any such reader we tender oursincere regrets.

Yet those who hold these opinions ought to remember, in the first place, thatnearly to a man, all of those who dwelt in the city at that time, even those whohad--like the drops from the two-minute clock-fountain in the Lyorn Court--beenpredicting exactly such occurrences for centuries--and predicting them, be it

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understood, always for some day in the nebulous future--were taken entirely bysurprise. Khaavren, in fact, who made it a matter of policy to be in touch with thepulse, as it were, of the city, had not expected the eruption as soon as, or with theviolence with which, it actually occurred. The one exception, in fact, was Grita, wholived in the worst area of the city and consorted with all manner of shady characters,and had been working for some time to bring about exactly this result; although, asthe reader will discover, even she was amazed at the suddenness and ferocity of thespontaneous outburst against order and decency that took hold of the minds of thepopulation.

In the second place, we beg any of our readers who may be annoyed toremember that we have, in fact, been forecasting exactly this occurrence; beginningwith Khaavren's first conversation with the pastry-vendor, who discussed the effectof the wheat-tax on the citizens, to his latest discussion with this samepastry-vendor, who spoke of the collapse of his hopes in terms that Khaavren, atleast, understood to be symbolic of the collapse of the world around him.

These, then, are our excuses, should the reader feel himself to have been misled.As for those who were involved in the Five Hour Uprising, either attempting to quellit or adding fuel, as it were, to the fire, no one was as befuddled as the participants;which circumstance is, in fact, inevitable. There are some historians who, evento-day, lay the blame at the feet of the short-lived leaders; yet according to all of theevidence, these leaders, as amazed as anyone, were catapulted to the top of theUprising as it progressed, because, like Plumtree, they expressed themselves inpublic a little better than their compatriots; or, like Tibrock, they had been expressingthemselves in writing and were thus in the public eye; or, like Hithaguard, they madeone or two suggestions that were well-received by their fellows and thus were calledupon to make more. Certainly, none of the leaders had planned on such an Uprising,or, indeed, had the least idea of where it ought to go; it had, as it were, its own mind,and there was little anyone could do once it had been set on its destructive, andultimately futile course. To lay the blame on such "leaders" as these is to blind one'sself to the logic of the Uprising.

What was the logic of the Uprising? Or, if the reader prefers, who was actually toblame? Pleasant as it might be, for the value of surprise if for no other reason, to laythe blame at anyone's feet but Tortaalik's, it is difficult to do so. That is, thoughothers may have erred, certainly it was His Majesty's failure to address the problemsof the very city in which he lived that was the direct cause of the people'sexasperation. And yet, one might fairly ask: What could he have done? It is aninarguable fact that, with every day that passed, wheat became scarcer. To replacethe wheat with rice from the South would have meant unblocking the harbor andproviding the pirates of Elde Island with choice targets upon which to practice theirtrade; and, even if the Orca had taken it upon itself to rid the seas of these pirates,the cost in transport of the rice would have been greater even than the wheat; all ofwhich does not even consider whether the populace would have been willing tosubstitute rice patties for bread, a proposition the historian finds dubious at best.

The price of wheat is, then, as much a culprit as anything, and for this we can lay

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the blame on--the weather, for had the drought broken, the prices of wheat, flax,maize, harbrand, and lockbean would necessarily have fallen. But, then, why was notthe end of the drought brought about by sorcery, as even then lay within the skills ofwizards of the House of the Athyra? And here, once more, we are forced toconclude that His Majesty erred--erred in remaining ignorant too long, erred inrequesting rather than requiring the Athyra to address the problem, and finally, erredin placing so much import on the Imperial Treasury that he allowed the Athyra, theDragon, and the Dzur to intimidate him into requesting, rather than requiring, actionwhich he ought to have known was necessary.

In any event, however, the people of the city began to fear that they wereabandoned; that their daily bread was, more than threatened, actually denied to them.As their fear grew, so did the degree to which they listened to the least rumor whichoffered a hope, or a hero, or, failing these, at least a culprit. Aliera's action at thebakery had provided a hope; the rumors of Her Majesty siding with the greedymerchants to artificially raise prices (which was never true) provided a culprit. Therebel Prince, through his grievances, in point of fact, had little to do with the dangerof famine in the city, became another hero. And thus when rumors abounded that theEmperor was sending the Imperial Army against him, the Emperor became anotherculprit.

The day before the Uprising--that is, the 16th day of the Month of the Vallista,matters reached a certain height; it was impossible to walk half a league anywhere inthe city without seeing someone on a street corner declaiming loudly, and publicly,against His Majesty, against Her Majesty, against Jurabin, and against the Guard,who arrested those who so declaimed, which arrests became fresh grievances.Some, frightened by these demonstrations, left the city that day; others left for fearof Adron, whom they were afraid might, in his justified (so they thought) wrathagainst His Majesty, slaughter every citizen without regard for politics (indeed,among those who stayed, many put up placards with crude drawings of Adron'sseal, hoping to convince his supposed hundreds of thousands of troops to leavethem in peace, and it was these placards, as much as anything else, which drove thefatigued and harassed Baroness Stonemover to such harsh measures against the leastsign of disloyalty); still others left out of vague, ill-formed notions that all was notright in the city and would only get worse.

These last were, we must insist, exactly right, as the events of the 17th proved,although, in two different ways, it was that very panic that indirectly provided whatGrita had called "the spark," as we now propose to demonstrate.

In the first place, with such a sizable portion of the population gone (andestimates have ranged as high as ten out of every hundred citizens), undisciplinedyouth, especially Teckla, felt free to roam the streets and engage in mischief in a waythey would never have dared if the population had not been so diminished.

And in the second, the final impetus that exasperated the population beyondendurance was the closing of the gates, of the city before dawn on the 17th. To besure, there was no other choice--Rollondar knew what he had to work with, and

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knew the speed of the Breath of Fire Battalion--by leaving any gate open except thatwithin which his army assembled was to invite the Prince to attack the ImperialArmy's flank. But, to the people, this was not seen as a military maneuver, but,rather, as a petty, tyrannical gesture intended to prevent them from leaving the citywhere they faced conditions of starvation and repression. Does the reader wonderthat they reacted to this development with either rage or panic--which two reactions,we should say, were indistinguishable by dawn? Here, again, we find the curiousinevitability which seems to have followed the Uprising from its beginning to itstragic conclusion.

Does the reader wish to know details of the Uprising? Does the reader wish toknow how much of Dragaera burned that day? Which buildings were looted? Whosehomes was invaded, and what became of the dwellers therein? In fact, there were notas many incidents of this type, nor were they as destructive, as many believe;certainly any institution representing the Empire in any way was attacked, and manycounting-houses looted and burned; and of course some areas of the Palace,especially the Jhegaala Wing with its long exposed neck, and the isolated pagodasthat formed part of the Yendi Wing, were burned and battered. But for the mostpart, it was the worst portions of the city, such as the Underside, which bothprovided the berserkers and took most of the damage.

In all, the Five Hour Uprising went through most of the stages of a normaluprising in a compressed time--the sudden, uncontrolled riot, the rising of leaders,the refusal of the Empire to treat with those leaders, the consolidation of theinsurgents and their leaders into what Lord Mikric has termed an "alternateImperium"--a second, but almost equally effective ruling body, which took as itshome, instead of the Imperial Palace, the short, elegant, and practical PamlarUniversity Administration Building--a fact which some historians have attempted tomake symbolic. The Uprising, we should add, was spared the inevitable quarrelsover power and policy that accompany success, just as it was spared the inevitableexecutions and repressions that accompany failure; yet, for all of that, it was afull-scale uprising, complete in nearly every detail and carried through in just underfive hours.

We have said this to be certain that the reader has some understanding of thesituation in which those we have been following throughout our history foundthemselves--the background, if we may, against which our history is painted. Theprecise details of this Uprising, as we hope we have shown, are an endless source offascination and speculation, but we have no intention of actually spending thereader's time on any of it beyond this point--in other words, it is only to the degreeto which the Five Hour Uprising has an effect on our history that we have chosen tointroduce and give a brief synopsis of its life and death.

For our purposes, then, it is sufficient to say that, as the light of day grew on themorning of the 17th a haze of smoke was already beginning to form over the city. Itwas beneath this haze, in the first hours of dawn, that Mario made his way oncemore to the Imperial Wing of the Palace. This time his methods weredifferent--faster, less elegant, but just as effective. It is not hard to imagine where he

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found one of the uniform cloaks of the Phoenix Guard--he removed it from acorpse. Whether he found the corpse or whether, if the reader will permit, he createdthe corpse, we cannot know, but certainly with a few dabs of dirt cleverly applied tohis face to both conceal his identity and make his features appear more Dragon-like,and with the uniform cloak of the White Sash Battalion, he had no difficultypresenting himself as a guardsman just come from facing the angry rabble; and whenhe claimed to have an urgent message from Baroness Stonemover to His Majesty, hewas treated with every courtesy, and asked, moreover, if the message could not waituntil the Palace was open, some two hours hence.

"How," said Mario, pretending dismay, "two hours? And yet I am told themessage is urgent."

"Well," said a well-meaning guardsman, "you must convince me it is urgentenough to disturb His Majesty, who is only now rising from his bed."

"That decision," said Mario, "I am loath to make. But come, perhaps I canexplain to Lord Khaavren; surely he will be able to advise me."

"He would," agreed the guardsman, "but he is not here, nor will he be heretoday."

"How, not here?" cried Mario, pretending surprise, although he had determinedalready that the Captain must, of necessity, be near to the battlefield. "But then, whois in charge of your corps?"

"Who else but Thack?"

"Well, and where do I find him?"

"Do you know the Sub-wing of the Red Boot Battalion?"

"Know it? I nearly think so. Is not my own brother married to a Redboot's sister(although, come to that, I do not recall the guardsman's name)? Nevertheless, I havebeen there on two occasions, and know it well."

"And can you, without help, find your way to the sub-wing from here?"

"Well, I can indeed, for in my youth I ran messages from Jurabin to Khaavren, inhopes of learning the routes and paths, for, I freely confess, it was my hope to haveyour uniform, rather than that of a mere policeman."

"Well," said the guard, giving him a friendly smile. "Do not give up hope; whoknows, it may be, after all of this is over, that the Captain and His Majesty willdecide to expand the guard, and you may yet effect a transfer, and I will call youcomrade."

"Ah, ah! I promise you, nothing would make me happier."

"Well, until then, if you know the paths, you need but take them, and ask afterThack."

"I will do so. But might it be that I cannot find him?"

"That is true, for his duty takes him about the Palace, and he must perform His

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Majesty's rounds this morning, as the Captain is away."

"Well, but then?"

"Bah! You are a good sort; if you cannot find him, seek him in the ImperialWing."

"I will not fail to do so. And yet--"

"Well?"

"Is it not true that I will need a safe-conduct to pass through the halls?"

"Not in the least, unless you venture into the Imperial Wing itself."

"But might my errand not take me there, as you have just said?"

"Well, that is true. Here, take mine, only promise to return it to me when yourbusiness is completed."

"I will not fail to do so; and yet, between looking for Thack, and awaiting HisMajesty, it may be some time."

"Well, what of it? I am on duty until the first hour after noon."

"Shards and splinters! A long watch!"

"It is the day for it."

"That is the truth; I have only just barely escaped with my life from a crowd ofruffians, and the day promises to become wanner before it cools. In truth, I confessI was not sorry to be given this errand, if only to be for two minutes off the streets,which is to say, off the front lines of battle!"

"Given the errand?" said the guard with a conspiratorial smile. "Come, the truthnow: Did you not, in fact, request the errand?"

"Ah, well, I don't say that I didn't. But come, consider: There are monsters outthere; they hate the uniform and they do not know rules of combat, but attack in anynumbers and with whatever comes to hand. In all honesty, do you blame me?"

"Not the least in the world, I assure you, and to prove it, here is yoursafe-conduct."

"You are a good fellow!"

"Allow me to pin it on your cloak."

"Very good."

"There it is."

"I thank you."

"Good luck on your errand."

"And the Favor to you; I will see you when my errand is complete."

With this, Mario gave a humble bow, turned, and walked past the guard post,down a short corridor toward the Dragon Wing, through which he continued coolly,

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as if having no fear of being recognized, and, from there, he came to the Iorich wing,his first destination. There he asked after Guinn, the jailer, who happened to bepresent.

"Greetings," he said. "We shall be bringing a good number of citizens to theirnew homes here."

"Well," said Guinn. "We can accommodate them."

"Are you certain? For, you perceive, the Baroness insists that we ascertain howmuch room you have before we bring them in."

"Well, to be sure, we cannot contain them all. But should they be commoncitizens, we can certainly take another two or three score."

"And noblemen, by which I mean a count?"

"Another four or five will present us with no difficulty."

"Excellent. But, forgive me, what of the accommodations? We are dealing withmatters of High Treason by an aristocrat, and thus we must be certain, on the onehand, that the cell is secure, and, on the other, that no disrespect is shown bytreating the prisoner as if he were common."

"Well, I understand, and, I assure you, this is a matter upon which we prideourselves. Come, if you like; we happen to have a prisoner now, a certainDragonlord who has been arrested for High Treason exactly, and, if you like, we willvisit her, and you will see for yourself what the accommodations will be like forthose with whom the Baroness chooses to honor us."

"How, you have such a person here?"

"Indeed, we do."

"And convicted on a charge of High Treason?"

"Oh, no, not at all."

"Pardon me, good Guinn?"

"Arrested only; there are other quarters for those who are convicted, where theyare shown every possible comfort while awaiting execution. Yet the chambers forthose who are merely awaiting trial on such charges are, while entirely secure,perfectly comfortable, so that, however nice an aristocrat's sensibilities, he shall havenothing of which to complain."

"I think the Baroness will be pleased, if the arrangements are as good as yousay."

"Let us then go and look," said Guinn.

"I should like nothing better," said Mario calmly.

It was, by the this time, ten minutes after the seventh hour of the morning.

A few minutes later, Khaavren, Aerich, Tazendra, and Pel left the house, andbegan making their way toward the Dragon Gate, which was not far away. It was, in

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fact, so close that they soon realized that they would have to fight their way throughranks of infantry to reach it.

"Bah!" said Tazendra. "There must be another way."

"There may be," said Pel, stopping as if to recall something.

"Indeed?" said Khaavren doubtfully. "I do not know another way."

"I did not either, but I have recently heard that, if one takes the Toehold Bridgefrom the Paved Road, one arrives at the Gate of the Seven Flags, which is, as youknow, not far from the Dragon Gate."

"Ah," said Khaavren, considering. "That may be true; I had not known of it."

"But," said Tazendra, frowning. "Will not the Gate of the Seven Flags beclosed?"

"Khaavren is Captain of the Guard," said Pel gently.

"So he is," said Tazendra in wonder. "I had forgotten that circumstance."

"Well, what do you think, Khaavren?" said Pel.

"I do not know," said Khaavren. "Let us, at any rate, attempt it."

"Certainly," said Tazendra, "if it allows us any more room."

"Indeed," said Khaavren; "we could even risk horses on the paved road, andperhaps all the way to the gate."

"Let us then do so," said Aerich calmly. "For I believe there is no time to spare."

They at once ran to the Hammerhead Inn, where horses were always stabled.Khaavren suggested the others see to equipping the horses, while he, Khaavren,arranged matters with the landlord. They at once agreed to this plan, and Khaavrenentered the inn.

"Greetings, Tukko, old friend," he said.

"And to you," said the aged Jhereg. "Is there something you wish?"

"Certainly, for you perceive I am on duty."

"Of that there can be no question. Come, what do you wish to know?"

"Simply this: Were all of your horses stolen during last night's festivities?"

Tukko smiled. "I am a Jhereg," he replied.

"So I had thought. But have they been used?"

"Not all of them; I still have six that I have been holding back against my owndesire to escape or someone so rich and so desperate to leave that one horse mightmean my fortune."

"Ah, I knew I could count on you."

"What, then? Does His Majesty require a horse?"

"Four of them," said the Captain. "I will return them when I can."

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"The Imperial treasury, I have heard, is in dire straits; nevertheless, I amconvinced it can withstand the cost of four horses, should it come to that."

"Indeed it can," said Khaavren.

"Very well, then."

Khaavren gave the Jhereg an imperial for his trouble and repaired to the stables,where he found that Aerich, as skilled as any groom, was just completing, with helpfrom Pel, Tazendra, and the stable-boy, the work of equipping the horses. Khaavrentossed the stable-boy an orb.

As they mounted, Khaavren addressed Tazendra, saying, "This reminds me--"

"Well?"

"I have here two flashstones; do you have any similar arguments? And have youany for Pel and Aerich?"

"I have one," said Pel.

"I have three," said Tazendra.

Aerich shrugged, and accepted one from Tazendra, which he put into his pocket.

"And then?" said Tazendra.

"Let us ride," said Khaavren, and they rode from the inn as if the Breath of FireBattalion were behind, rather than before them.

As they rode, Pel said, "Have you a plan?"

"But, didn't I tell you my plan? And did you not agree to it?"

"Not in the least," said Pel. "You told me an intention, and I agreed to it. Buthave you a plan for carrying out your intention?"

"Ah, you argue like a casuist."

"'Tis true, I mark things into discrete categories."

"A touch," said Khaavren.

"Well?"

"No, I have no plan."

"Ah."

"Does that worry you?"

"A little, perhaps," said Pel.

"You, Tazendra?"

"Oh, if you wish to have a plan, well, I do not mind."

"Aerich?"

The Lyorn shrugged.

Pel said, "Consider that we are, after all, about to, in essence, attack Adron's

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army--just the four of us; I do not think that a plan would do us any harm."

"Well, I agree. Have you one to offer?"

"As it happens, I do not."

"Then let us get as far as the Gate of the Seven Flags, past it, and see howmatters stand; then we can discuss plans."

"With this, I agree," said Pel.

"Bother," said Tazendra suddenly.

"What is it, my dear?" said Khaavren.

"The battle has begun without us and I am vexed at it."

"How, it has begun?" said Khaavren, straining his eyes toward the Dragon Gate,which was obstructed by buildings and distance. "Do you think so?"

"Well, look you. Do you not see the smoke?"

"Why no, in fact, I do not."

"Bah, you do not? But look, there it is! No, where I am pointing."

"I see it now."

"I am glad you do."

"But, Tazendra, that is not the battle."

"How, it is not?"

"No, the Dragon Gate is that way."

"But, what is that way?"

"The Imperial Palace, the Underside, the Morning Green, the--"

"How, you mean, the city?"

"Exactly."

"But, then, why is it burning?"

"I believe the citizens are rioting, Tazendra."

Tazendra's eyes grew wide. "The Horse! Are they?"

"So it would seem. Do you not agree, Pel?"

"Entirely, my dear Khaavren."

"And you, Aerich?"

Aerich looked sad, and nodded.

"But, what should we do?" said Tazendra.

"Continue," said Khaavren. "And hope, if we defeat Adron, that there is still ahouse to return to. Or, for that matter, a Palace."

They continued further, and discovered that either they had reached the Uprising,

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or the Uprising had caught up with them, for they found themselves among gangs ofTeckla and merchants of various Houses, who were busying themselves in the mostdestructive of ways--the few glass windows in the area were soon all smashed, andtwo or three buildings were burning; indeed, the entire area would certainly havegone up in flames (as, to be sure, certain other areas did) had there not been a goodamount of stonework that would not burn.

Khaavren's uniform, to be sure, attracted a certain amount of attention from theangry populace, but his martial air and his calm demeanor made those who lookedupon him think that perhaps there would be better targets upon which to vent theirfrustration. And moreover, there rode next to him a woman with a large sword slungover her back, and the colors of a Dzurlord in her clothing, and with a haughty,challenging gleam in her eye; as well as a man wearing the costume as well as thecool countenance of a Lyorn warrior; and a cavalier upon whose fierce, angry eyenone could look--in other words, they were not set upon as they rode through thecrowd.

It was, nevertheless, a crowd, and they were on horseback, so it took them sometime to reach the Toehold Bridge, although after they had passed it there were nomore delays, and soon they arrived at the Gate of the Seven Flags, which was builtof thick mortar and had a single tower from which the gate could be worked--whichgate, we should add, was, in fact, three separate slabs of hard, lacquered wood,each one eight or nine centimeters thick. And which gate was, as Tazendra hadpredicted, closed.

"Well?" she said.

Khaavren shrugged. "Open the gate," he called.

There were ten or twelve soldiers on duty, as well as a mounted messenger whoremained on the alert to run for help in the case of trouble. "How, open the gate?"they called back. "Impossible."

Khaavren shrugged and rode forward so that, when he spoke, they could not failto hear him. "I am," he said in a conversational tone, "Khaavren of Castlerock and,by His Majesty's will, Captain of the Imperial Guard, Redboot Battalion. Some ofyou should recognize me. My friends and I are required to pass through this gate onImperial business. If, therefore, this gate is not open in one minute, I will open itmyself, treating any who oppose me however I must. Those who survive will bereported to His Majesty, with what results I am certain your imagination will tell you.The minute," he concluded, "begins now."

It took perhaps twenty seconds to open the gate. They rode through and heard itclose behind them.

"The Dragon Gate," remarked Khaavren, "is this way."

"I hope the battle has not yet started," remarked Tazendra.

"Well, in fact," said Khaavren, "though perhaps for a different reason, so do I."

It was twenty minutes past the eighth hour of the morning as Greycat, standing

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before his score of cutthroats, remarked, "I had no idea they would attempt to takehorses through the throng of soldiery."

"Well," said Grita, "but they did, and we have lost them."

"Unless," said Greycat, "we can determine whither they are bound, in which case,you perceive, it matters not in the least if we are following them or not, for we willnevertheless be able to arrive where they are."

"But can you make this determination?"

"Perhaps. Consider, they are not going toward the Palace."

"Well, that is true, they are not going toward the Palace."

"And neither are they going toward where the Uprising is at its peak."

"That is also true. What then?"

"Well, where else could they be going?"

"Only to the battle."

"Exactly."

"But--"

"Yes?" said Greycat.

"The battle, when it begins, and if it has not already begun, will be at the DragonGate, and we saw them riding away from the Dragon Gate."

"That is only natural; they could not have ridden horses through the infantrymenassembled on the street."

"Well, but what then?"

"They must have another means of arriving at the battle."

"What means is that?"

"I do not know. Perhaps they think to arrive by way of the Gate of the SevenFlags."

Grita shrugged. "It is near to the Dragon Gate, but it will be closed, or Rollondaris a fool."

"It will not be closed to the Captain of the Guard."

"Maybe," admitted Grita. "And yet, even if they open it to him, well, we have noCaptain of the Guard with us."

"But do you agree that this is how they have gone?"

"It seems not unlikely."

"Then we know that they have gone, for some reason, to the battle, perhaps toassist the Warlord. So much the better for us."

"How?"

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"Because, should his throat be cut in the midst of battle, no one will thinkanything of it."

"Well, that is true. But how do we get there? The gate they are using, as I've said,must be closed, and the Gate of the Dragon is filled with soldiery."

"Ah, that is a question. Let me think."

Greycat considered for some few moments, then called, "This way!" His troop,if it may be dignified by such a term, followed him, although they did not do so inanything like a military fashion. Still, they followed.

After a time, Grita said, "We seem to be approaching the Gate of the SevenFlags."

"You are perspicacious."

"And yet, it is closed."

"I will convince them to open it."

"How?"

"You will see."

When they reached the gate, which had been closed behind our friends, Greycatpaused some distance away to study the situation. He turned to Grita and said, "Doyou see the fellow on the horse?"

"Well?"

"Kill him."

Grita shrugged. "Very well," she said.

She walked over to him, calling out, "My dear sir, a moment of your time please,for there is trouble in the city and I am worried."

As he turned to consider her, Greycat turned to his band and said, "Take thetower."

The brigands charged the tower. The soldier on the horse turned, startled, andthen was startled yet again as Grita grasped his saddle and, using it as a handhold,vaulted up and neatly cut his throat.

The battle at the tower lasted scarcely longer than it had taken them to open thegate to Khaavren's command. A few more minutes, and the gate stood open.

Grita said, "Should we not close it behind us?"

"A good idea," Greycat acknowledged, and gave the order. The rope was cut byone of the band who was skilled at scaling walls, after which he rejoined them.

"What now?" said Grita.

"We have just sealed ourselves out of the city," said Greycat. "And yet, I confessthis does not worry me overmuch, for soon I will be able to send to His Majesty tobring me an escort to the Palace. But first--"

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"Yes," said Grita. "First we must kill the Tiassa."

"This way," said Greycat.

It yet lacked a few minutes of the ninth hour of the morning.

Chapter the Thirty-second

Which Treats of the Meeting

of Khaavren and Greycat,

And the Discussion Which Took Place

Between Them.

«^»KHAAVREN DREW REIN A THE top of Flag Hill and looked down at the scenespread out below.

"They are not attacking," remarked Tazendra.

"Who?" said Khaavren.

"Why, neither of them are attacking," explained Tazendra.

"That is true," said Khaavren. "But I wondered which of them you had expectedto attack."

"Ah. I see." She frowned. "Both of them, I should think."

"Well, that is not unreasonable."

"I am glad you think so."

"What now?" said Pel.

"In fact," said Khaavren, "I am uncertain. Aerich?"

"The Tiassa asks the Lyorn for an idea?" said Aerich with a smile. Then heshrugged. "We must find Adron. He is, no doubt in the battle-wagon."

"Spell-wagon," said Tazendra.

The others looked at her.

"What is the difference?" said Khaavren.

"A spell-wagon carries spells into a battle," said Tazendra.

"Well," said Khaavren. "And a battle-wagon carries battles into spells?"

"Not in the least," said Tazendra patiently. "A battle-wagon carries spellsintended to be used in battle against the enemy, whereas a spell-wagon may carryany sort of spell whatsoever; that is, a battle-wagon is necessarily a spell-wagon,while the reverse is not true. Do you see?"

"In truth," said Khaavren, "I do not; the difference appears to be trivial."

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"Perhaps it is," said Tazendra doubtfully. "And yet, it seems to me--"

"I beg your pardon," said Aerich. "Tazendra is right; it is an important difference,and one we ought to bear in mind."

"How, do you mean it?"

"I have never been more serious."

"And yet--"

"Were that--" said Aerich, indicating the large wagon below, "a battle-wagon, itwould hold sorcerers and artifacts and would be used against Lord Rollondar'stroops."

"Well?"

"Well, I can say little more, for some of what I know was told to me inconfidence."

"But," said Pel softly, "you, Tazendra, say the spells in the wagon are not to beused against the Imperial Army?"

"Oh," said Tazendra, confident now that she had unexpectedly been supportedby the Lyorn. "I don't say that at all."

"But then, what are you saying?" said Khaavren with some exasperation.

"That we don't know what spells it contains, and that, therefore, we ought notassume--"

"Ah," said Pel. "I begin to comprehend the difference. Should we attack with thenotion that it is a battle-wagon, then we might--"

"Yes, yes," said Khaavren impatiently. "I understand." He looked down at it, and,moreover, at the grim warriors who stood around it. "In any case, we must climbonto the wagon, and enter the tent, for there can be no doubt that Adron is there."He sighed. "Why do they not attack?" he murmured.

"Who?" said Tazendra.

Some hundreds of yards away, Rollondar said, for the seventeenth time, "Whydo they not attack?"

Lady Glass, who stood next to him, shrugged. "He wishes to fight a defensivebattle, that is all; he wants you to attack, so that he can use his greater mobility."

Rollondar shook his head. "What is your opinion?" he asked Roila.

"I haven't one," said the Lavode, but she was frowning and looking out at theneatly formed lines of the Breath of Fire Battalion.

Nyleth appeared at the moment, returning from the front ranks. "Well?" snappedthe Warlord.

Nyleth shook his head, "I can tell you nothing," he said, smiling as if it were thegreatest joke in the world.

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"How, nothing?"

"Exactly. Counter-spells, illusions, blinders, cloaks, baffles--whatever it is, if it isanything, more work has gone into concealing it than I have seen go into the actualityof most spells."

At this moment, a messenger, wearing the livery of the Imperial Army, rode upthe Warlord, saluted, and said, "Your Excellency."

"Well?"

"There has been a massacre at the Gate of the Seven Flags."

"How, a massacre?"

"No one is guarding it, Excellency."

"Is it open or closed?"

"Closed."

Rollondar nodded grimly, then frowned. "A clever maneuver, but why does henot take advantage of it by storming the city through that gate?"

The messenger said, "Excellency, it may be that he had nothing to do with it. Thestreets--"

"Well?"

"The streets are filled with rioters."

"Rioters?"

"Everywhere, Excellency."

"Then there are no longer clear paths to the other gates?"

"I fear there are not--certainly the streets between here and the Gate of the SevenFlags is not clear."

Rollondar stared once more through the Dragon Gate, as if trying to find hisenemy and read his mind. "So," he said, as if to himself. "His spell is either a bluff ornot, and he is either behind the rioting or not, and he either intends to assault anothergate or not."

"This lack of intelligence is insupportable."

Rollondar fell silent, scowled, and took counsel with himself. After a moment hethen straightened up. "I must gamble, it seems," he said. "It is an elaborate bluff, or aprofound threat. If it is a bluff, it is intended to make us attack him and leave the gateundefended. If a threat, he wants time to prepare it. I believe the threat is real, and soI make my throw. But I will hedge in these ways: First, I will send a brigade ofinfantry to each of the other gates, who will sweep aside any opposition on the way;second, because our forces are thus reduced, we will not attempt to surround them,but will attack on three sides, and Lookfor will hold a division ready to defend thegate should Adron charge it. Oraani," he added, addressing his commander ofinfantry, "attend to the gates as I have said."

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This order was acknowledged, and Rollondar continued looking forward, but hiscountenance was clear and strong, and there was even something like a smile uponhis lips, now that the waiting was over and the time for action had arrived. "Weattack at once," he said. "Glass, prepare to charge them. Tross, pike-men behind.Lookfor, you will guard both flanks as well as the gate behind us when it clears.Lavodes, go with Nyleth, break through, and destroy Adron's spell."

There were echoes all around as officers acknowledged orders. Lady Glass said,"Well?"

"Now," said the Warlord.

Glass gave the signal to charge. It was, at this moment, almost exactly the tenthhour of the morning; and, at the Palace, His Majesty had just refused to treat with, oreven to see, the delegation headed by Plumtree. His schedule now called for him tobe in the Portrait Room, so that is where he took himself, still refusing to deviatefrom his agenda. Thack walked before him, Sethra Lavode behind.

We will now turn our attention to the other side of the wall, a scant minute later,where Molric e'Drien poked his head, threw the entry flap of Adron's tent and, withsome hesitation said, "Highness?"

"What is it?" snapped Lord Adron, not looking up from his work.

"They are charging."

"Well?"

"The Lavodes are in the vanguard, and seem determined to push their waythrough."

Adron looked up, then, and a certain doubt appeared in his eyes. "Is Sethrathere?"

"No, Highness."

"Ah." He returned to his work. "Stop them," he said. "Hold them for an hour."

"Yes, Highness."

At this same time, Khaavren said, "There!"

"Where?" said Pel and Tazendra together.

"Between the near flank, and the file headed by the woman with her headshaved."

"Well," said Pel, "I see the place; what of it?"

"When battle is joined, the flank must move that way, while the long file has to goforward."

"Why is that?" said Tazendra.

Khaavren, who had seen more than a few battles, just shook his head. "It must bethat way."

"What of it?" said Pel.

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"That will allow us to slip past the lines and reach the battle-wagon."

"Spell-wagon."

"Yes, the spell-wagon."

"They clash!" cried Tazendra. "Ah, what are they doing?"

"Rollondar," said Khaavren, "is hoping to use his pike-men to make the horsesshy, so that his cavalry can find purchase against their line--clever, but I do notbelieve it will work against warriors--and horses--trained by His Highness."

"Time presses," said Aerich.

"We must wait until the line--ah, there, you see how that division is moving? Letus dismount at once, our chance is coming soon."

"Very well," said the others.

They dismounted, and, in fact, it was only a short time later that Khaavren,calculating carefully how long it would take them to close the gap, said, "Now is thetime to move."

"I am forced to disagree," said someone behind him.

Khaavren and his friends turned.

"In fact," continued Greycat coolly, "I think it is time for you to stay where youare. You perceive, you cannot flee without being cut down as you run. so you mayas well attempt to nick a few of us with your sticks, which will, no doubt, provideyou some consolation in the Paths of the Dead."

Khaavren looked at the assembled ruffians and cutthroats, and, having had timeduring Greycat's speech to recover himself, said, "I am glad that you have allowedus the chance to have this pleasant conversation, sir, before I spit you like roastingfowl."

The other bowed. "I am called Greycat," he said. "This is Grita, and these are myfriends. If you wish, you may draw; it all comes to the same thing, but, no doubt,you shall feel better holding a weapon when the end comes."

"When the end comes," said Khaavren, drawing and placing himself on guard, "Ihave no doubt I shall be holding a weapon, but I think that, to bring about this end, itwill take someone more skilled than you, Greycat, or Garland, or whatever you arepleased to call yourself."

"Garland," said Tazendra, frowning, as she also drew her weapon. "It seems tome I know that name."

"It has been a while, my dear," said Pel. "Think nothing of it." He carefullyremoved the grey gloves from his belt and deliberately drew them on, after which hetook his sword into his hand and cut the air once or twice before saluting hisadversaries and taking a guard position.

Aerich did not speak, nor had he yet drawn his blade.

"It has, indeed, been a long time," said he who had been Lord Garland and who

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was now called Greycat.

"It would seem," said Khaavren to Aerich, "that there are five of them to eachone of us. I do not consider this a problem, especially when we recall the games weplayed near Bengloarafurd. And yet, should you choose not to fight, well, then it iscloser to seven to one, which I confess would worry me a bit--I might bescratched."

Aerich barely smiled. "I will fight," he said. "But. first, Lord Garland--"

"Call me Greycat," said the other, with a glint of hatred in his eye. "I renouncedmy name when you ruined me. I shall take it back when I have restored myself to HisMajesty's favor, which should happen soon after we have dispatched you.Wherefore, as much as I am relishing this conversation, I wish to make a quick endof it so I can be about my business."

"Restore himself?" said Tazendra. "In fact, I believe I begin to recall thecowardly fellow."

"And I," said Pel, whose polite demeanor began to turn grim, "believe I knowwho is behind the riot of last week, and the assassination of Smaller, as well as thedeath of Gyorg Lavode, and--"

"And Captain G'aereth," finished Khaavren, in whose eyes the light of anger wasbeginning to burn. "Yes, I nearly think you have the right of it, Pel. But, Aerich, Ibelieve you were doing this gentleman the honor of speaking to him. Come,complete your thought, then, when you have finished, why, we will begin theslaughter."

"I merely wish to know," said Aerich, bowing, "if--Greycat--is entirely certainhe wishes to begin this battle, which, I promise, can have only one result. For, I giveyou my word, I hold no more animosity toward you, and should you choose to giveover--"

Greycat smiled. "Of course you hold no animosity toward me; you won last time.Yes, I am certain."

"Very well."

"Bah," said Tazendra. "This conversation wearies me. Let us begin the game."

"As you will," said Khaavren.

Aerich now drew his sword and his poniard, and took his accustomed guardposition, arms crossed near the wrists, both of which faced him, and vambracesguarding his upper chest and neck. Expecting to be surrounded, the four friends putthemselves into a position to guard each other's backs, thus forming a circle in whichthey all faced outward: Khaavren faced the distant battle; Aerich waited at his righthand; Tazendra stood at his left; Pel was at his back, facing Greycat and Grita, whostood a little apart from the others. Pel leaned back and whispered to Khaavren, "Itmay be that, with my flashstone, I can dispatch Lord Garland, as, I believe, weought to have done five hundred years ago."

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"No," Khaavren whispered back. "I think we ought to save those for making thisfight a little more even; besides, at such a distance you could miss, and that wouldbe an embarrassment to me."

"So be it," whispered Pel, shrugging.

The brigands, indeed, formed a circle around them, staying just a fraction out ofreach of their blades. As the cutthroats took their own guards, Greycat laughed."This should be short work," he said. Then, addressing his troop, he said, "Have atthem, and an imperial to everyone for each of them who dies screaming."

"Do you know," remarked Tazendra, "I live for moments like this."

The historian might, in order to build tension in the reader, the release of whichwould provide a certain aesthetic pleasure, claim that our friends were, even apartfrom the discrepancy of numbers, in a bad place, for Khaavren had not fought a duelin more years than he could remember; Aerich had hardly touched a blade, even inpractice, since he had left the Guard; Tazendra's efforts had been mostly given overto sorcery; and Pel had been training, of all things, in the Art of Discretion.

But such a statement, while literally true, would be, in essence, dishonest; forKhaavren had never stopped training, and, moreover, had fought in a score ofpitched battles; Aerich had learned in the traditional school of the Lyorn warrior, andso could not, even if he wished to, lose the skills so acquired: He practiced each daysimply by walking, breathing, and moving; Tazendra was a Dzurlord in every sense,and, sorcery or no, would never consider leaving off her practice with the blade; andPel, of them all, had fought perhaps a hundred times since entering the Institute ofDiscretion. Moreover, they knew each other of old, so that hardly a word of gesturewas needed to know when one might move, or to indicate an opening or warn of afresh attack.

And yet, the odds were, indeed, five to one, and the four friends knew they couldnot afford a mistake. And so, when Tazendra dropped her dagger, took out herflashstone, and discharged it with such authority that three of the enemy fell at once,one of them, indeed, being dead before she landed, Khaavren said, "My dear, youought to have waited."

"Bah," said Tazendra, throwing the now-useless stone over her shoulder (luckilymissing Pel) and quickly picking up her poniard. "I have another." Several of theenemy, upon hearing these words, turned pale. Indeed, one of them, who stood infront of Aerich, allowed his concentration to drop, which proved an error: before hewas aware, Aerich had darted out and delivered a blow which very nearly separatedhis head from his shoulders, after which the Lyorn returned to his guard positionbefore anyone could react.

"What now?" said Pel. "It is only four to one. Come, I like this game."

"Time presses," reminded Khaavren.

"Well, that is true," said Pel. "And so?"

"Shall we make it three to one?"

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"That would be better."

"On my call then. Ready--now!"

On the call, as their enemies flinched, they dropped their daggers, took out theirflashstones, and discharged them at the nearest of their foes. It happened that eachhad been charged carefully, and so, in all, four more of the enemy dropped, one ofthem dead, the other three merely injured, but certainly taken out of combat.

"Now!" called Greycat. "Quickly, attack them!"

Had the entire band done so at once, there is no doubt the issue would have beenquickly settled--but in the mountains they had had little experience with determined,skilled, and organized resistance, still less with seeing eight of their number fall in asmany seconds, and at that all without having so much as scratched the enemy; inshort, they were demoralized, which, as anyone experienced in melee knows, is morethan half the battle won. What happened was that, of the twelve who remained, sevenof them attacked, while the other five held back for a moment. It happened to fallout, then, that for that instant, Aerich had three opponents. Tazendra had threeopponents, Pel had one, and Khaavren had none at all.

Pel parried the attack of his enemy easily, and, though he counterattacked, didnot score a hit; Aerich contented himself with parrying all three attacks with hisvambraces--he, of them all, had no real use for his poniard except as an extraattack--and did not attempt a riposte. Tazendra, like the others, had not had time topick up her dagger, and she might indeed have been wounded by one of herattackers--for three, all attacking at once, might well have been beyond herabilities--had not Khaavren, realizing in an instant that he had time, lunged to his leftand driven his rapier through the heart of one of Tazendra's foes, who responded bydropping his blade and sinking to his knees, in which position, oddly, he remainedfor the course of the battle.

Khaavren's movement, however, had been seen by those whose duty it was toattack him, and they both did so at once, with such haste, driven, perhaps, by acertain guilt at not having responded to their leader's order with more alacrity, that, infact, they interfered with each other for just long enough that Khaavren was able toreturn to his position, although he still, like the others, was without a poniard.

"Oh, now, that was well done," remarked Tazendra.

"You think so?" said Khaavren. "Cha! You've saved me often enough."

"Perhaps I shall again," said the Dzurlord.

Khaavren's two attackers recovered, and, without delay, struck at himsimultaneously. There are certain schools of swordplay practiced among Easterners(we will not dignify their practices with the word "fencing") which teach anempty-handed parry. It is, by all accounts, a difficult and dangerous maneuver, yetwe daresay there was never a better time for it to be put into practice. Unfortunately,Khaavren had never heard of any such technique, and so, while deflecting one of hisenemies' blades with his sword, all he could do about the other attack, which tookthe form of a thrust for his neck, was to slice at the blade with his left hand, using the

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hand as if it were a knife, which, in point of fact, it was not; the move could,therefore, have no other result but to give him a deep cut on the outside of his lefthand; although, to be sure, he did deflect the thrust and prevent his throat from beingcut.

Khaavren winced, which caused his enemy, who had just cut him (or rather, whohad just allowed Khaavren to cut himself), to believe that he could end the fray atonce by making an instant attack on the injured Captain. Khaavren, however, was notone to allow a wound to distract him; he noted the too-hasty attack, and seeing that itwas a wild cut aimed at his head, took the opportunity to fall to his knees whilegiving his enemy a good cut in the side. The brigand, a quick man with dark eyessomewhat reminiscent of Pel's, cursed and brought his blade at once down at thetop of Khaavren's head, while his comrade, whose thrust had also missed thanks toKhaavren's abrupt loss of altitude, attempted to cut at Khaavren's head. It happened,however, that, when Khaavren dropped, his injured hand landed on the poniard hehad earlier dropped; without taking time to adjust his grip (he was, in fact, holdingthe knife on the forte of the blade)

he drove up and forward, avoiding the head cut, and stuck his dagger into theneck of the already-injured brigand, who, apparently, considered two woundssufficient cause for him to leave off the engagement; he stepped back and spent theremainder of the battle (and, as it happened, his life) holding his neck and wanderingaimlessly about the field, gasping and choking.

By now the fray was general--Khaavren, again with both weapons, anddeterminedly ignoring the pain that throbbed from his maimed hand as the bloodpositively spurted from it, had all he could do to hold off two attackers; Aerich wasengaging three at once, and, with the skill of which only a Lyorn is capable, wascontriving to force them to get in each other's way, so that, although he still had notmanaged a counterstrike, he was solidly holding his own. Pel's fierce expression, asmuch as anything, counted for keeping two of his attackers at bay, yet the thirdwould certainly have scored against him except that Tazendra, who was veritablydancing with her two opponents, took a step forward, then a step back, and said,"Do you know, I have forgotten my third flashstone," and raised her stone at one ofthose who was attacking Pel.

The burly ruffian froze in place for an instant, and an instant was all that wasrequired before the nimble Yendi had given him a good thrust through the eye, whichcaused him to drop to the ground without a word or a sound.

"Perhaps," said Tazendra, as she turned back to her opponents, "I was wrongabout the third flashstone; it seems I gave it to Aerich."

"Such a mistake," remarked Pel.

"I am ashamed," said Tazendra, aiming a cut at one of her enemies, which thebrigand only avoided by a hair's breadth.

"However," she added, "this one has a second charge," at which point sheproved that she did not always bluff, by laying one of Khaavren's opponents full

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length upon the ground.

"Blood of the Horse," said Pel. "So does mine!" His opponents quickly steppedback as Pel raised his empty hand (he had, in fact, dropped his useless flashstone),but he took the opportunity to recover his poniard, which lay at his feet, provingthat, since the first pass, they had exactly held their ground.

Khaavren, already wounded, felt himself begin to grow faint from the blood hewas losing from his left hand; however, he now had only a single opponent. He drewhimself up, smiled, raised his weapon, and said, "What is your name, my friend?"

The brigand, a young man of perhaps three or four hundred, who appeared to bea Jhegaala, looked at his dead comrades. Seeing the Tiassa's cool smile andreddened sword, he now carefully licked his lips, cleared his throat, and said, "I amcalled Theen."

"Well, Theen," remarked Khaavren, "Perhaps you had best leave now, for if youremain you will die."

Theen did not need to be asked twice; he took to his heels, heading away fromthe battle and the city as fast as his feet could carry him.

Khaavren took a breath and turned to help Aerich, who was still holding his ownagainst three determined brigands.

"This is insupportable," said Greycat, drawing his blade.

"Well," shrugged Grita, who, not having a sword of her own, took a long, curvedsaber from one of the dead men.

"My dear Tiassa," said Greycat. "Come, I will dispatch you myself."

Khaavren, who had been about to engage one of Aerich's opponents, turned toGreycat and Grita; he wordlessly took his guard, although he felt his kneestrembling. He clenched his teeth, and saw, rather than felt, the poniard drop from hisweakened hand.

"A shame," remarked he who had been Lord Garland, and took a guard position,while Grita, next to him, raised her sword. Khaavren felt himself weaving as hestood. Aerich was still closely engaged with three of the enemy, Tazendra and Peleach with two; there was no help for him.

Khaavren stepped forward, half stumbling, and, as Grita and Greycat smiled, theTiassa swept his left hand at them, covering their faces with his own blood. Both ofthem winced, and both attempted to wipe the blood from their eyes, and, beforeeither of them could react, the Tiassa's sword had exactly pierced Garland's heart.Khaavren at once drew his sword from the wound and took a guard position, facingGrita; Garland stared in amazement, then fell heavily and began clutching the ground.Grita, upon clearing her eyes and looking around, screamed, dropped her saber, andfell to her knees at Greycat's side.

At the same time, one of Aerich's opponents, startled, dropped her guard for aninstant--and an instant later her head was swept from her body, which motion, in

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turn, distracted one of those fighting Pel, who paid for this error with a wound in thethigh that caused him to fall to the ground, holding his leg. Tazendra's opponentsboth stepped back, watching.

Grita, taking Greycat's hand in hers, screamed again, and then began sobbingnoisily.

Tazendra took a quick look around, and said, "Your leader has fallen, but you arestill five to four; come, what do you say? Shall we have at it? Ah, you are useless,"this last because the five of them, as if by consensus, turned and followed Theen,the one of Khaavren's enemies who, if the reader recalls, had been allowed to run. Atabout this time, the brigand who had been kneeling during the entire contest at lastsighed and pitched forward onto his face.

Khaavren's friends gathered around the Captain, who stood, panting andwatching Greycat and Grita. Not a word was spoken among them, but Khaavren wasmade to sit while Tazendra poured water into his mouth and Pel bound up his hand.

Aerich cleaned his weapons and sheathed them, then knelt next to Grita, who wasnow crying silently, and said, "Your father?"

She nodded.

"You are a half-breed, aren't you? He was a Tsalmoth; of what House is yourmother?"

She didn't answer, but she didn't have to; when she glanced up at the Lyorn, hewas able to see. "A Dzurlord," he remarked.

"How!" said Tazendra, standing up and approaching them. "Her mother aDzurlord?"

"Look at her chin, at her eyebrows, at her ears."

Grita said nothing.

"Who?" said Tazendra. "Who is your mother?"

Grita did not speak.

Greycat, or, if the reader prefers, Garland, opened his mouth as if to saysomething, but only blood came forth. He then glanced at Khaavren, giving him alook of hatred impossible to describe, looked up at Grita, and, after coughing for amoment, took his last bloody breath and died.

Grita dropped his hand, stood up slowly, gave a long, slow, careful look, as fullof hatred as her father's had been, and then turned and walked away. She took oneof the horses upon which Khaavren and his friends had arrived, untethered it,mounted, and rode quickly away in the same direction as the brigands.

Tazendra took a step toward her, but Aerich held out his hand. "We don't needthem; let her go."

Tazendra shrugged. "Very well," she said.

"Khaavren, can you walk?" said Pel.

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The Tiassa took a deep breath and rose shakily to his feet. "Yes," he announced."Of course I can walk. I have an arrest to make."

Chapter the Thirty-third

Which Treats, Once Again, of Regicide,

With Special Emphasis on Its Consequences.

«^»THE READER OUGHT TO UNDERSTAND that the entire battle took less time inthe event than it takes to read it--and, indeed, far, far less time than it took thehistorian to set it down; all of which is to say that it was but a quarter of an hourafter the tenth hour of the morning, which is when we should, once again, look inupon His Majesty.

Tortaalik set about his business with a high hand, first rejecting yet anotherentreaty to meet with a representative of the citizens, then ordering the representative,Hithaguard, summarily thrown into the prison of the Iorich Wing; and he had givenorders for the Guard to be issued flashstones to use against any gathering ofcitizens.

When Jurabin attempted to dissuade him, he ordered Jurabin from the hall. WhenSethra attempted to speak on Jurabin's behalf, she was also told to leave. Even asshe stormed out of the Hall of Portraits, Brudik, the Lord of Chimes, intoned, in onebreath, "Messenger from Lord Guinn the jailer," and, "Messenger from BaronessStonemover."

"Ah, ah," remarked His Majesty. "What is all this? Out of room in the prisons tothe right, and another defeat for my Guard to the left? Well, bring them both inanyway, and we shall hear yet more messages, and may they bring better news thanwe have heard hitherto."

The first messenger was dressed in the colors of the Iorich Prison Guards; thesecond, a man in the cloak of the White Sash Battalion, looked as if he had seenbattle that day. Each, upon showing his respective safe-conduct, was admitted in tothe presence of His Majesty.

From his position in front of the gate and just behind the front lines, LordRollondar e'Drien sat upon his horse and directed another cavalry division to attemptto breach Adron's line of defense, noting that, while his pike-man had been cut topieces, and each infantry division he engaged seemed to break almost at once, theLavodes were having some success on their own in escorting Nyleth ever closer tothe spell-wagon.

"It is taking too long," he murmured, and studied the battlefield, his ears deaf tothe clash of steel, the discharge of flashstones, and the cries of the wounded.

Roila Lavode had spent most of the time too busy to think--spell, counter-spell,

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thrust, cut, parry; indeed, it was undeniable that Sethra had created the Lavodes,taking the name from a Serioli word that meant "versatile," or, pronounced slightlydifferently, "of mountains," for just such occasions as this. Yet Roila and hercomrades were unused to being checked; the more effectively her efforts wereresisted, the more convinced she was that the entire battle had been arranged byAdron with nothing more in mind than to keep wizards and warriors away from hisspell-wagon. This thought, as the reader can readily understand, filled her with fearabout what the wagon might contain, and this fear, in turn, redoubled her urgency toreach the wagon at all cost. When a chance breathing space in the fray allowed her tolook at the tent, she wondered if she had erred in not accepting Sethra's suggestionto accompany them; if Sethra had been there, surely they would have reached it bynow. She wondered what Gyorg would have done, then, cursing herself forvacillating, discharged another ferocious spell of the sort that only the Lavodesknew, hefted her blade once more, cried to her comrades, and continued.

She pressed on, often over bodies; as she did so, she tried not to dwell on thefact that sometimes they were the bodies of Lavodes.

Close enough now to see Roila and her compatriots fighting, Khaavren, Aerich,Tazendra, and Pel watched events unfold, and waited.

"Stay low," said Khaavren.

"Bah," said Tazendra. "This sneaking around is--"

"Necessary," interrupted Pel. "Did you not see that even the Lavodes were notable to penetrate? And yet, they have the same destination that we do. If we areseen--"

"I know, I know," grumbled Tazendra. "Yes, yes, I shall crawl. But still--"

"How are you, Khaavren?" asked Aerich gently.

"I shall not slow us down," said Khaavren, though his voice sounded weak.

"And your hand, how is it?"

"It is not bleeding as much."

"So much the better," said Pel.

"I should like another flashstone," remarked Khaavren. "For then we couldquickly remove that annoying fellow who seems to be the only one watching in thisdirection."

"But," said Tazendra, "the sentry would be spotted as he fell."

"Indeed," said the Tiassa. "Yet, while the sentry was being replaced, there wouldbe nearly a minute during which a path from there, to, do you see? there, would notbe observed; a minute, then, during which we could cross this last cursed fortyyards that separates us from the line, and once inside the line, well, we can simplywalk to the spell-wagon."

"The noise would attract others," said Pel.

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Tazendra said, "What have you been saying? I cannot hear for this battle."

"I said--but it is of no moment," amended Pel. "Come, Aerich, they must knowyou, can you convince them to let us past?"

Aerich looked at him, but gave no other answer.

Pel shrugged, "Have it so, then. But I wonder--look!"

None of them required this suggestion; a chance spell from Roila Lavode, ofwhat sort none could say, had caught the sentry, who was flung backward, andlay--senseless or dead--on the ground. Now Adron was not careless in anything hedid; he was certainly not careless in the placing of sentries; each could be seen fromtwo other positions, and the instant one fell, another was dispatched to take hisplace. But it would take a certain amount of time for the new sentry to reach theproper position, and, during that time, by working from rock to tree to gully, theycould make it.

Without a word needing to be spoken, then, the four of them raced across theopen ground, past a line of riderless horses, and found they were within theperimeters of Adron's defenses. "It is as well," remarked Khaavren, gasping, "thatRollondar did not attempt to surround them, or we should never have gottenthrough."

"Come," said Aerich, and indicated the way to the spell-wagon.

In an instant they were behind the wagon, and only two Dragonlords stood guardthere to watch against exactly such attacks. Their eyes fell on Aerich, and for aninstant they hesitated; an instant was all they had, for Pel dispatched one with a goodthrust, while Tazendra's blade nearly split the other's head. Aerich looked unhappy,but said nothing as they assisted Khaavren onto the bed of the wagon. Khaavrengasped, teetered, and nodded.

Pel drew his poniard and, with three quick slashes, had opened up the back ofthe tent. Khaavren entered first, sword in hand, followed at once by the others.

Adron, hands outstretched, was before the array of purple stones that Aerich hadseen so many times, only now the stones were glowing, and lights were rippling backand forth among them. As they entered, Adron turned, and his eyes seemed to gleamto match the stones, and dance in time to the flickering lights that raced amongthem--indeed, it seemed to Khaavren, who was faint and befuddled, that the gloworiginated within Adron, rather than from the board.

Khaavren paused only a moment, before stepping forward and laying his hand,still leaking blood despite the bandages, lightly on Adron's shoulder. He spokecarefully and distinctly, saying, "Your Highness, I have the honor to arrest you in thename of His Majesty; please give me your sword and come with me."

Tazendra, who knew no little about sorcery, gazed at the board with growingunderstanding, accompanied by growing horror. Adron smiled, and his eyesgleamed even more. "I'm sorry," he said. "You have, no doubt, performedheroically, and your project was as well conceived as it was, I am certain, brilliantly

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executed."

"Well?" said Khaavren, staring at him fixedly.

Adron shrugged, attempting--and we say it to his credit--to conceal some of thetriumph he felt. "But you are two minutes too late; the spell has taken effect."

The Orb told them, and any who thought to ask, that in ten minutes the eleventhhour of the morning would be upon them.

Strictly speaking, Adron was not telling the truth. That is, the spell had begun itswork, but it had not finished. Indeed, there was nothing any of them could havedone to have interrupted its working, which is what Adron meant; the spell wouldcontinue shaping itself for twenty or thirty minutes, and, when ready, it would,without warning, strike out over the leagues that separated the spell-wagon from theImperial Palace and seize the Orb, wrest it out of His Majesty's control, and put itunder the control of Adron--this would happen, whether Adron or anyone else nowwished it. But, for the moment, the Orb still responded to His Majesty's commands;in fact, there was as yet nothing outside of Adron's tent affected in any way,wherefore we can say that the spell had not, in reality, "taken effect."

The Orb, then, entirely unaware of the powers about to be directed against it, stillcircled His Majesty's head, and was emitting an icy blue as His Majesty heard, nowan arrogant demand from the "Provisional Government" headquartered at theUniversity of Pamlar (by which, be it understood, we mean the old PamlarUniversity, in Dragaera, not our fine institution of the same name in Adrilankha), nowa report of the undecided battle outside of the Dragon Gate, and now word ofanother district of the city into which the Guard dared not go.

We should say, for the sake of completeness, that the Provisional Government,while failing to impress Baroness Stonemover or Rollondar with its legitimacy(Stonemover had arrested the messengers and Rollondar had refused to even acceptthe message), it had, in its own name, arranged for certain shipments of wheat toenter the city (once the gates were reopened) and was speaking to a representativefrom Elde Island on the subject of permitting certain ships to pass freely; moreover,the Provisional Government had created up its own militia, which militia hadre-established order in the Morning Green district and the Clubfoot area--neither ofwhich Stonemover had been able to do, and all of which, as the reader can no doubtunderstand, exasperated His Majesty more than Stonemover's failure to quell thedisturbances in the rest of the city--Tortaalik did not understand why the rioterswere still not either dead or imprisoned.

His Majesty, then, looked upon these latest messengers--from Guinn and fromStonemover--with a barely concealed scowl, wondering what fresh annoyance hewould have to contend with. The messengers advanced together, the jailer nervous,eyes averted, the guardsman humble, head bowed. "You first, jailer," said theEmperor. "Sire, it grieves us to report an escaped prisoner."

"What?" he said, wide-eyed. "Who has escaped?"

"The Lady Aliera, so please Your Majesty."

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"Aliera!" cried the Emperor, springing out of his chair, and nearly turning white."Aliera? It does not please me. Where is Guinn? Why did he not come himself,rather than send a messenger? That such a thing should happen to-day, why, it isenough to..." he did not finish his sentence, but merely sat down again.

"Sire, Guinn is injured, for he was wounded during the escape. The Iorich Wing,the Dragon Wing, the Athyra Wing, and the Imperial Wing have been sealed so thatnone can escape, and--"

"That was what I was told about the assassin," said the Emperor bitterly. "Come,how did it happen?"

"I do not know, Sire. Guinn could only say two words to send to Your Majesty;it is doubted that he will live through the day, and--"

"Never mind," said His Majesty. "We must find her, that is all. Let me hear therest of the bad news first."

He addressed this to the other messenger, who had not moved from his bowedposition, kneeling before the throne. "Well, what is it?" snapped His Majesty. "Ihaven't an eternity to wait."

Something fell from the messenger's hand, which His Majesty at first thought tobe the message. He glared at the messenger in the uniform of a guardsman, who wasno longer bowing his head, but, rather, was now staring into His Majesty's eyes withan expression of cold ferocity.

The Emperor recognized the assassin, even as the glass broke and, before theEmperor had time to speak, a thick, grey mist filled the room, flooding the chamberwith energy, flooding the Orb with energy, and breaking, for a moment, the Orb'sconnection with His Majesty. And yet, as quickly as the mist filled the room,something happened even more quickly--so fast, in point of fact, that every courtierwas able to see it: The Orb lost all of its color and became a plain, clear, crystallineglobe; and at the same time, it fell to the floor, hitting with a sharp, dreadful crackthat sounded through the room and in the heart of every guardsman and courtierpresent.

And in that instant, Mario struck--the first thrust from his needle-sharp poniardwent directly into the Emperor's heart; the next, an instant later, cut his throat. Only asecond passed before the last assault, which afterward became known as the "blowto the Orb," a phrase used so extensively that its origin has been all butforgotten--the third and final knife wound, this time the edge of a heavywoodsman's knife to the back of Tortaalik's neck, severing his spine.

It was, perhaps, fortunate for Roila that   she was not engaged in combat in theinstant when Mario's spell took effect in the   Palace--for, though she did not knowwhat it was, she knew that something was        very wrong, somewhere. She tried toignore the clamor in her brain and continued    pressing forward to the tent, afraid thatshe was already too late.

Sethra Lavode, standing, furious, outside the Hall of Portraits, turned and ranback. She saw the area around the throne filled with thick mist, but did not at first

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understand its significance--did not understand that it was her own careless wordswhich had told the assassin how to strike.

In the tent, Tazendra and Adron jumped at the same moment, each crying, "Whatwas that?"

Then Tazendra looked at Adron; and Adron, looking back, said, "It was none ofmy doing."

Seconds passed like an eternity. Sethra gazed around the room, seeing nothingbut grey, but surrounded by inconceivable amounts of energy--energy filling theroom, covering the Orb...

The Orb!

In an instant, then, she realized what had happened. With a cry she ran to thethrone, but, at that moment, His Majesty Tortaalik the First, Eighteenth PhoenixEmperor, died. Sethra looked around for the assassin, and as the mist began todissipate, as suddenly as it had occurred, she caught a glimpse of Mario even as heslipped out of the room. Into her hand she took her dagger, Iceflame, and though nodoubt many of the courtiers thought that it was she who had filled the room with fogfor her own purposes, and some of them, who were even now screaming at the sightof His Dead and Bloody Majesty must have thought her guilty of his murder, nonedared step before her--she was Sethra Lavode, the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain,and Iceflame was in her hand like vengeance personified; the living embodiment ofthe mysterious, terrible power of that mysterious, terrible mountain whence shecame.

She didn't see the assassin, but was convinced that he could not have gone far.She stood there, outside of the room housing the dead Emperor, and reflected.

For those readers too young to have experienced it, when an Emperor dies, it isnot at once apparent; to be sure, everyone will feel, more or less, according hisnature, a certain emptiness or hollowness; and so when, perhaps days or weeks later,he learned that the Emperor passed away on thus-and-such a date, he will say, "Ah,that is what it was." But there is no trumpeting of the event within the mind, noreason to be certain, and, thus, there was no reason for Adron to feel the suddensense of foreboding that came over him as he stood in the tent, marching stares withTazendra, while Khaavren, Aerich, and Pel looked on.

He shook his head, and said, "It is gone; I don't know what it was. Yet, I fear--"

"What have you done?" said Khaavren, who, though not a sorcerer, had feltdistant echoes, as it were, of the sensation that Tazendra, Nyleth, Sethra, Adron, andothers had felt upon the release of Mario's spell.

Adron blinked, as if he'd forgotten the Captain was there. "I fear--"

"What have you done?" said Khaavren again, and dropped his sword, which fellto the wooden floor of the wagon with a dull thud. Khaavren would have followed it,but Aerich and Pel caught him and helped him to a seat.

"Are you all right?" said Aerich.

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Khaavren nodded dumbly and reached for his sword. Pel put it into his hand. "Ido not," began Khaavren, choked, and said, "I feel weak."

Adron leaned his head out of the tent and called for his physicker, who appearedat once, stared at the hole in the back of the tent, and said, "What has--"

"Tend to this man," said Adron.

"Your Highness is kind," said Aerich.

Adron shook his head, stared at the flashing lights on the mosaic of purplestones, and frowned. The entire shape of the board appeared to be changingnow--to grow in three dimensions, as if the ominous power of the spell werereaching out, growing, taking on a life of its own.

The physicker unbound Khaavren's hand, tsk'd at its condition, and said, "He willneed stitches. I have everything here." He addressed Khaavren kindly, saying, "Withthe Favor, sir, we shall save your hand." Khaavren, for his part, only heard thewords, as it were, from a distance.

Sethra did not have to wait long to find the assassin; in fact, she did not evenhave to look; she had been standing outside of the Portrait Room but a short timewhen, his face now cleaned of grime, and dressed in simple Jhereg colors, he walkedaround the corner toward where Sethra was standing. On his arm was Aliera.

"You!" cried Sethra.

"To which of us are you speaking?" said Aliera sweetly. "And are you wavingthat around because you intend to use it, or merely to emphasize a gesture?"

"What have you done?" said Sethra, in a voice as cold and hard as ice.

"Come and see," said Aliera, and, still holding Mario's arm, they walked into thePortrait Room. The mist had, by now, entirely dispersed. Without a pause, Alierastrode up to the throne; ignoring the body which had slid to the ground, three knivesstill protruding from it, and around which courtiers and servants stood, remaining agood distance away, but unable to keep from staring.

Someone said, "The Consort must be informed," to which someone else replied,"You may have the honor."

The Orb was once again floating--only now above the Emperor's body, emittinggrey for mourning while it interrogated the Cycle and searched, in its own way, forthe new Emperor; Aliera disengaged her arm from Mario and took the Orb into herhands, saying, "I claim the Orb and the throne in the name of my father, Adrone'Kieron. The Reign of the Phoenix is over, and the Reign of the Drag--" shestopped, and a puzzled look crossed her features. The Orb began to emit redsparks. Aliera let go, but it stayed where it was, only now there were blue and greensparks as well, and these became brighter, larger, and more frequent. Then, abruptly,it stopped, and became the Orb again, glowing white and angry.

Aliera looked at Sethra and said, "What have you done?"

"I?" said Sethra coldly. "I have done nothing, more's the pity. I would suggest

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that you take the matter up with your father, but I very much doubt you will have thechance."

"What do you mean?" said Aliera.

But Sethra only shook her head. Iceflame was still in her hand, though, and,knowing she had but seconds to act, she raised it and called upon the power of DzurMountain.

Inside Adron's tent, the physicker looked up and said, "I've done what I can, weshall have to--what is it, Your Highness?"

For a look of confusion was spreading across Adron's features; in fact, morethan confusion, it was almost as if, without actually growing, he was becominglarger.

"I do not know," said Adron. "The spell cannot have worked so quickly."

But the effect continued, until Adron had almost the aspect of a minor deity, andyet it continued, and then, abruptly, his expression changed. "By all the Gods," saidAdron. He did not cry it loudly, but conjoined with the look of terror on his face ashe stared at the mosaic, the soft oath was all the more stirring. Even Khaavrenopened his eyes and seemed to take some interest in the proceedings.

It was Aerich who said, "What is it?"

"The Emperor," whispered Adron. "Someone has killed the Emperor."

Khaavren, for his part, blinked; surprised, in fact, at the sudden swelling ofemotion in his heart. But the others frowned and said, "What of it?" by which theymeant, not that they were not concerned, more or less, at the idea of someone havingmanaged to kill His Majesty, but, rather, that this news did not by itself account forAdron's extreme reaction.

His Highness said, "Don't you understand? My spell was intended to fight its wayinto the Orb, wrest control of it away from the Emperor, and put it under mycontrol. But someone has killed the Emperor, and so--"

"You," said Tazendra, startled "are now the very Emperor that your spell isattempting to win control away from in order to give it to you. How peculiar."

"I believe," said Adron, attempting to laugh, "that I shall be remembered ashaving the shortest reign of any Emperor in history." Then he shook his head. "Toofast, too fast. I cannot control--"

He broke off and began to tremble.

Outside, shouts indicated that the Lavodes had broken through, and were comingto stop Adron's spell; too late, too late.

Adron looked at those in the tent and said, "You, my friends, do not deserve todie. Moreover, someone must be left to tell history of my folly."

"How," said Aerich, standing suddenly. "Someone left?"

"How," cried the physicker, who was, in fact, a Vallista, not a Dragonlord. "Die?

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I have no wish to die." He bolted from the tent without another word.

"It is too late," said Adron, "but I still have some seconds to act, and morepower at my disposal than any sorcerer has ever had. Come, Duke, you have beenmy friend; if you love me at all, give me your hand that I might save you and thosewho are dear to you."

"Here it is."

"Ah, my daughter!" cried Adron with sudden pain. "The Orb itself! Sethra, canyou hear me? You must save the Orb, and you must save my daughter!"

Adron now seemed to glow like the Orb itself. The purple stones on the boardflashed like cold fire, racing around the pattern so fast they appeared to flicker; andthe pattern itself, now, seemed to fill the room, enveloping them all in its presence;indeed, Tazendra began to feel an odd sensation, as if she were actually inside theOrb.

"You others, take the Duke's hand if you value your lives. Yes, like that."

"I do not believe I can stand," said Khaavren.

"You can," said Aerich simply. "You must."

The Tiassa looked into his friend's face, nodded, and with help rose to his feet.He was still unsteady on his feet, but there was no question, from Adron's tone andAerich's look, that the matter was serious, and so, supporting himself by leaning onPel and Tazendra, gripping Aerich with his bandaged hand, he remained standing.

In the Portrait Room, Sethra said grimly, "I hear, and will do as Your Highnessasks. If I can."

She still held Iceflame high, but now she walked toward Aliera, who waited nextto the Orb. Aliera felt Mario tense suddenly; she said, "Bide. I do not understandwhat is happening, but do not attack her."

"Very well," said Mario.

"What did my father want?" said Aliera.

"He wants me to save you," said Sethra. "I will try, but I must, above all, save theOrb, and that is not easy."

"Can I help?"

"No, little Dragon," said Sethra, something like amusement crossing her features."You cannot help." Sethra placed her left hand on the Orb; her right still heldIceflame pointing up at the sky.

There was a flash, so that Aliera, Mario, and the assembled courtiers weremomentarily blinded. Mario felt that he was slipping away in a direction he had notknown he could move, and he reached out for Aliera; Aliera felt a sudden wrenchingshe could not describe, and she reached out for Mario. Sethra reached out for themboth.

In the tent, Adron looked into Aerich's eyes and said, "Remember me, Duke."

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"I shall not forget Your Highness."

"And you others, do not fail to tell what happened to any who ask."

"We shall not--Your Majesty."

"Then farewell and--"

"Yes?" said Aerich.

Adron smiled for the last time. There was a single bloody stain on his shoulderwhere Khaavren had touched him, and his face was glowing with power and, indeed,majesty.

"Don't tell them that I meant well."

Aerich found no words to say, and in that instant it seemed to him that the worldaround him ceased, for a moment, to exist.

Chapter the Thirty-fourth

Which Treats of Adron's Disaster,

And the Fall of the Empire.

«^»EVIL, HEROISM, DISASTER, TRIUMPH, HORROR, and love----thesetogether represent the summit of human emotion, and the apex of our tale.

We ought to assure the reader that, except in a very limited way, the work heholds in his hands has no pretensions of being a history of Adron's Disaster and theFall of the Empire. We are following the lives of certain personages, and some ofthem, indeed, were involved in these great events, but it is only in the course offollowing these characters that we are witnessing the Disaster; at the point when webegan this tale, in fact, we, knowing where we would end, made the decision tosummarily omit any references to children, babies, or even pets (with the exceptionof certain unimportant fishes) who may have come to our attention--it is possiblethat the reader noticed this omission. Yet we do not apologize. It is our contentionthat to have included such pitiable characters, knowing they were destined only fordestruction, would have been, historically accurate or not, to have given in to thebasest, lowest form of literary theatricality; readers who wish to inform themselves(or, indeed, torment themselves) by reading of such horrors are directed to entirerooms in the Adrilankha Public Library which are filled with such accounts.

What we wish to make clear, in other words, is that we do not consider ourselvesrequired to detail, nor will we indulge ourselves by detailing, building by building,person by person, horror by horror, all that was entailed in this, the mightiestcatastrophe in the history of the Empire.

Is it not sufficient to contemplate the Imperial Palace, with all her history,character, and beauty, gone forever in the drawing of a breath, with all of her nobles,

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princes, guards, discreets, jailers, and servants vanishing beneath a tidal wave ofamorphia to become, in fact, this selfsame amorphia, and so lose every semblanceof structure, humanity, and personality they once possessed?

There can be no doubt of the speed with which it occurred, for there wereinnumerable witnesses--witnesses who became refugees, with their own stories totell of racing against the growing flood of amorphia which not only threatened toengulf them, but did engulf, according to each witness, at least one friend, lover, orfamily member--that is to say, no one close enough to see the destruction of the cityescaped by more than a hair's breadth; thus none failed to see others who, for lackof speed, lack of alertness, or lack of fortune, did not escape.

Fittingly, it was Adron himself who died first--whether the mosaic of purplestones destroyed him, or whether, grim as such a thought might be, he destroyed it;they nevertheless went together, dissolving into the component energy of all matter:amorphia. We have called this fitting; is it, then, the judgment of the historian thatAdron was evil? To be sure, he perpetrated the most profound tragedy since themythical catastrophe which freed man from the enslavement of the Jenoine (whichlater was a tragedy, of course, only from the point of view of these Jenoine, or thosewho feel all life of equal value); but was he, in fact, evil?

The historian believes he was; for what can evil be but the willingness to causeuntold misery for one's own desires?

Were we convinced that his motives were as selfless as, in the last instant, heclaimed to Aerich they were, we might, instead, consider him a fool; yet this historianat least believes that central to his actions was rage--rage so strong that it overrodeall of his concern and his caution; rage so strong that it destroyed the Empire.

The reasons for this great anger, that is, how much of the mixture was for theill-treatment of his daughter and how much for the ill-treatment of the Empire, wecannot know, nor do we care; his caution abandoned him and he acted, not fromthought, but rather from his own hatred, and so destroyed, first himself, then thecity, then the Empire.

The first thing to happen, an instant before the dissolution, was: The Orbvanished. In the long, complex, and mysterious history of Sethra Lavode, thehistorian doubts that she ever performed an act more courageous, more difficult, andmore vital than, with full knowledge of what was about to happen, standing in thePortrait Room and sending the Orb to the one place in all the world where she knew,however all-encompassing the impending disaster proved, even should it destroyevery speck of life on the world (which, in fact, she was not certain was not thecase) the Orb, at least, would be safe; in other words, to the Paths of the Dead.

That, having accomplished this feat of unheard-of skill and daring she then, forno reason other than friendship, remained where she was long enough to collectAliera and attempt to also bring her along to a place of safety is to know that out ofall the heroes with which history is here and there dotted, there is at least one, andhere we mean Sethra herself, who has proven before the very eyes of history that herreputation is not undeserved--that is, she consistently proves, ever and anon, that

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she still has all of those facets of character which won for her the renown she enjoys.

Nevertheless, however much skill she displayed in this last action before the fallof the Empire, however much courage it took to carry it out, it was not, at least in themost complete sense of the word, entirely successful.

To teleport--that is, to transfer from one place to another, arriving whole andwell--was not, even then, entirely unknown in the annals of sorcery. To be sure,there had never been a certain, confirmed case of its being done successfully, butthere were, in the first place, rumors; and, in the second, enough close failures tomake the rumors believable (as well as to permit anyone who witnessed thegruesome results of such a failure to drink without paying for a score of years). Asrecently as the past Athyra Reign, in fact, a mere seven hundred years before theevents we have had the honor to relate, the wizard Tigarrae of Plainview published athree-volume work on the subject, in which he claimed to have successfullyteleported himself from one end of his test chamber to the other. To be sure, anattempt, after the publication of his work, to repeat the experiment before witnessesresulted in failure and death for Tigarrae; yet the work stands, even today when suchuses are commonplace, as an excellent manual for students in the magical sciences.

And, we should add, it was far from unknown then for small, inanimate objects tobe transferred from one place to another--indeed, as long ago as the Sixteenth DzurReign, the Warlord, Shenta e'Terics, while engaged in a campaign far to thesoutheast, speaking to the Court Wizard through the Orb, received by this methodcertain maps which he later claimed to have been decisive in bringing the campaignto a successful conclusion.

The notion of teleporting someone else from one place to another had only beenseen in the most outlandish of popular ballads and plays; certainly no sorcerer orwizard, even the great Norathar the Sorcerer, Court Wizard during the SeventeenthDragon Reign, had ever seriously discussed such a thing. That, under the mostadverse of conditions, and the greatest possible press of time, Sethra managed sucha thing even in part stands as one of the greatest tributes to a wizard of whom, eventhen, it was said, "She redefines the possible each day of her life."

Even such a triumph cannot remove the sorrow engendered by thetragedy--indeed, nothing ever can as long as man's memory shall endure. Yet, eventhe awful destruction and suffering, the memory of which will always haunt us,cannot detract from the honor Sethra Lavode deserves from us all. Similarly, thattoday she has vanished from sight, perhaps for all time, does not detract from thehonor. And that she is now, again, seen by many as a figure of horror or evil is asgreat a shame to us as Adron's Disaster is--or ought to be--to the proud e'Kieronline of the House of the Dragon.

The Disaster--

Even as Aliera vanished, and Sethra with her, the overwhelming power of theamorphia devoured the Dragon Gate, scarcely noticing as it destroyed the tenthousands of souls before the gate. Nyleth the Wizard, Rollondar e'Drien, LadyGlass, Roila Lavode even as she set foot onto the spell-wagon--all were utterly

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destroyed. Did Roila frown as she saw the countenance of the unhappy physicker ashe rushed from the tent to his doom? We do not know. For her, for the assembledLavodes, it was over in an instant; Molric e'Drien, Adron's loyal chainman, laybleeding from several wounds pinned beneath his fallen horse, proud that his fatherwas triumphant, ashamed that he had not fought better for his commander; he wouldnever meet his brother.

In what was, by all reasonable reckoning, the same instant, it ended for those inthe Palace, whether Guinn the jailer, fighting a futile battle against death from thewounds Mario had inflicted when he rescued Aliera; or Brudik, Lord of the Chimes,staring in horror at His fallen Majesty; or Noima, the Consort, not knowing that thesudden sorrow filling her was because of her husband's death and still, perhaps,weaving her schemes; or Jurabin, alone in the Seven Room, wondering if he hadfallen forever out of favor; or Thack, wondering if he were on his way to earning apromotion from his revered Captain and thinking, perhaps, that there was a certainwarmth; or Sergeant, standing helplessly among the courtiers wishing someonewould tell him his duty; or Ingera, Lord of the Keys, resting quietly while awaiting thehour when duty would call her again, and idly wondering whether the uprisingrepresented any real danger; or Dimma, on his knees, weeping bitterly and realizingthat he, too, had loved Tortaalik, for all his faults; or Erna, planning ways toconvince His Majesty to restore funds to the Institute of Discretion; or Bellor, in theImperial prisons, speculating on her ultimate fate; or Vintner, reading quietly in theLyorn Wing and wondering what the Council of Princes would ultimately decideabout the Imperial Allotment.

As the Palace was devoured, so, then, was the city. Raf, the pastry-vendor, diedhiding from the upheavals he did not understand and hoping his new home would besafe; Cariss, the Jhereg sorceress, fingering the bill she held on the Jhereg treasury asshe felt the effect of Mario's spell and wondering, but never knowing, why he hadwanted it; Tukko, at the Hammerhead Inn, wondering if the Captain needed thehorses in connection with the uprising or with the battle; Wensil, in the SilverShadow, hastily putting boards up in front of his beloved glass window in hopes ofpreserving it; Tibrock, at the University of Pamlar in Dragaera, attempting to find thewords that would convince His Majesty to receive another delegation from thepeople; the Count of Tree-by-the-Sea and the Baroness of Clover, together on hiswide bed in the Dzur Wing, she wondering if she would see him again, he wonderinghow to go about learning from her the whereabouts of the Baroness of Newhouse, towhom he found himself attracted.

In a flash, in an instant, all were gone, as was the Palace, and all of the landmarksand buildings by which the city was known and for which it was loved, as well asthose others, all but unknown, yet landmarks in their own way--the Silver Exchange,the Nine Bridges Canal, Pamlar University, the nameless cabaret in the Undersidewhere Lord Garland had conspired with his daughter, the equally nameless innwhere, upon entering the Guard five hundred years before, Khaavren had killed aman named Frai. All of these were now gone forever, preserved only in thememories of those who had seen them, or in such works of art as happened to

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depict them--of all the buildings and artifacts by which the city was known, only theOrb itself was preserved.

Yes, indeed, the Orb, as every child knows, reached the Paths of the Dead; inert,quiescent, and useless except in potential; but it survived.

The same, in fact, might be said of Aliera, for she, too, reached the Paths of theDead, only not, as Sethra had intended, as a living woman, able to return. Inconcentrating her powers on sending Aliera after the Orb (thinking that this wouldensure at least one potential Emperor of the Dragon Line, which she had thoughtwould immediately take the throne), Sethra had only managed to bring Aliera's body;Aliera's life-essence, or soul, was ripped from her body in the maelstrom of eldersorcery which was even then beginning to cascade through the city, and her soulfound its way no one knew where. Indeed, Sethra herself thought for many years thatit had never escaped the fall, but had been destroyed along with so many others. It isnot impossible that the belief that she had failed accounts for Sethra's vanishing fromhuman intercourse, if, indeed, she has not met her fate in some awful battle or tragicmischance.

We now know that Aliera's soul survived, but was lost to all knowledge until atime that exceeds the scope of this history.

Aliera's soul survived, but so many others, as we have shown, did not. Yet, whatof those who, thanks to distance from the city, survived the first catastrophiceffects, yet could not survive the following moments? For, indeed, most of the citywas consumed in an instant, but after this instant, the effects of the spell spread atblinding speed: The dwellers in the small communities that existed outside of thewalls of the city (or, at any rate, those to the north and west) heard a low, continuousrumble which brought them from their homes in time to hear the rumble becomelouder and louder, and to see a great red and black cloud descend on them in thedrawing of a breath, and then--oblivion.

Others, further away, had time to run, but not to escape. Indeed, no one who wascloser to the site of the explosion than five leagues survived; but there can be nodoubt that many who were closer had time to realize their fate, to run helplessly, orto grasp their children to their bosoms and cry to the heedless Gods. Of thefollowing days, weeks, and years of the plagues, the invasions, the starvation, thishistory will not speak; but of all the facets of the Disaster, none captures the horrorso well as the consideration of those in the floating castles of the e'Drien line of theHouse of the Dragon. The reader, then, is invited to think of those proudDragonlords, masters of their particular (although, perhaps, decadent) sorcery, who,upon realizing that, inexplicably, the Orb had vanished from awareness, then realizedthat sorcery had abruptly become useless, and then that they were falling.

The magnitude of horror accompanying the Disaster is such that it seems almostprofane to give more than passing reference to that upon which we haveconcentrated--that is, to Sethra's ironic success. The irony to which we have justmade reference, and which consists, as much as in the backdrop of horror againstwhich it occurred, in the Enchantress's conviction of failure, is augmented when we

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consider that the assassin, Mario, through on one's planning, even his own, wascaught in the spell, and thus he, too, was teleported. No one knows where he wenteither, but many believe that he, body and soul, arrived in the same place as Aliera'ssoul--arrived bewildered, perhaps without his memories, but alive. It is believed bymany, especially among the Jhereg, that he still lives, practicing his grim trade andalways searching for the one woman he ever loved, Aliera e'Kieron, daughter of theman who brought down the Dragaeran Empire.

What could be more ironic, yet what could be more beautiful? The cruel assassin,who, as much as Adron himself, was responsible for the Disaster, saved himself, byaccident, because of his overwhelming love for Aliera--the very love that causedhim to commit the act which, conjoined with Adron's, destroyed a city and anEmpire.

If Aliera and Mario ever found each other again after the disaster, no one knowsof it, and we will not demean ourselves by indulging in speculation. But, yes, Alieraand Mario, Srahi and Mica, Daro and Khaavren had all, amid catastrophe, foundlove which endured the fall of the Empire. In the opinion of the historian, this is nosmall matter.

The greatest evil, the greatest heroism, the greatest disaster, the greatest triumph,the greatest horror, the greatest love--what could better summarize, and bring to aclose, the history we have had the honor to humbly lay before the reader?

Conclusion

«^»HAVING SAID, AND WITH THE best of intentions, that we have finished ourhistory, we find that we cannot in good conscience leave the reader without lettinghim know something of the fate of those with whom he has traveled so far; it is ouropinion, moreover, that dramatic effect must necessarily take its proper place behindjustice--whether justice to the accused and accuser at court, or justice to the readerof history; and those to whom we have gone for counsel and advice have convincedus that justice absolutely forbids such an abrupt ending as we had at firstcontemplated.

Let us, then, wasting none of the reader's valuable time with further explanation,bring ourselves to Aerich's home of Brachington's Moor, where, several hours afterthe events we have just related, we find Aerich prostrate amid a grove of trees; wefind him, in fact, frowning at a certain confusion in his mind, as if the sight beforehim--a lush green meadow, a pond, and certain familiar formations of vegetation,were at once expected and surprising.

After some few minutes, the reason for his confusion became apparent to him:He had, in his last conscious moment, been thinking of nothing else but this, hishome, and wishing fervently to be there; yet he could not imagine how such a thing

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had come to pass. But we have failed utterly in our depiction of the character of ourLyorn if we have allowed the reader to believe that he was the sort to doubt theevidence of his own senses; that is, Aerich realized that he was home, and acceptedit at once, resolving to put off until another time consideration of how it hadhappened.

He sat up slowly, feeling a certain lassitude coupled with disorientation, andlooked around. Khaavren lay next to him, his eyes closed; Pel was just beyond, andappeared to be awakening, while Tazendra was already sitting up, although she didnot seem entirely aware of her surroundings. Aerich caught her eye, and she said, "Iam reminded strongly of the occasion some years ago when I caused an explosionwhile working with certain spells. Either I have done it again, and had a monstrousstrange dream while doing so, or there has just taken place an event of no smallimportance and no few repercussions."

"I do not think you have been dreaming," said Aerich. "Although it is possible,for we have been unconscious for--" He paused in order to find the time, andrealized that the Orb had vanished from his awareness. He said, "The Orb--"

"So I have noticed," said Tazendra, and only then did Aerich notice that theDzurlord appeared to be distraught, and was only with difficulty managing to speakin an even tone.

"Well," said Aerich. "No doubt..." but he fell silent, frowning, and left histhought incomplete.

"We ought to bring our friend inside," said Pel softly.

"Yes yes," said Tazendra, springing to her feet as if delighted to be active. Sheassisted Aerich to rise, then Pel. The three of them then half-carried the ailingKhaavren into the manor. For his part, the worthy Captain said nothing except,"Daro," which name he called or moaned once or twice as he was brought to bed,assisted by Steward and certain other servants, whom our unwillingness to introducenew characters at such a late stage of our history prevents us from giving theattention they perhaps merit. During this time Steward, who appeared disturbed, and,indeed, alarmed by the sudden disappearance of the Orb, as, in point of fact, wasthe case with everyone else, contrived to inform Aerich of all that had happenedduring his absence, none of which, we should add, requires our attention, for wehave no reason to believe that the reader has any wish to learn about the "peasant'sduel" between Loch and Handsweight, which resulted in the former's broken arm;nor the elegant lyorn the artisan Smith engraved into the hinges on the lower door;nor the number of fish caught by certain peasants in Aerich's pond; nor the numberof poachers apprehended by Warder who were now awaiting Aerich's justice; northe riot of miners in the Shovelful Market; nor any of the other details with which ourLyorn was forced to contend.

In the same way, we will not discuss Tazendra's experiences when she returnedto her estates except to say that she had rather less to contend with, and even lessinterest in contending with it, wherefore her sojourn was of only the briefestcharacter; she came back to Bra-Moor within three hours after leaving.

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Khaavren slept, although not well; he woke from time to time, sometimes callingfor Daro, at other times speaking as will those who are delirious, the details of whichremarks we will withhold out of respect for our brave Tiassa. Pel spent a great dealof time with him, as did Aerich when he was not attending to his estates; Tazendra,after returning from home, returned also to Khaavren's bedside. From time to time,we should say, his eyes opened, but they rarely focused, although once he lookeddirectly at Aerich and named him before falling asleep again.

The next morning's dawn--that is to say, the dawn of the first day of the monthof the Jhereg in the first year of the Interregnum--saw no improvement, and we maystate with confidence that it was worry over Khaavren, and, indeed, over Mica,Fawnd, and Srahi (and, at least on Khaavren's behalf, over Daro), that kept ourfriends from dwelling too much upon what had become of the Empire herself,although, to be sure, this was not a matter that could keep itself from their discourse.And yet, when the subject of the Emperor, or the Empire, or the Orb presenteditself, they all of them shied away from it, as if each entertained thoughts he did notwish to express.

On the second day of the Interregnum, Khaavren awoke in truth, although onlylong enough to take a bit of soup and water brought by Steward and fed him byAerich himself. After eating what he could, he slept again, and, awakening a secondtime late that night, said, "Daro?"

"She has not yet arrived, my dear," said Pel, who now sat alone with Khaavren inthe darkened room.

"Ah. Yet, no doubt she will," said Khaavren in a quivering voice.

"No doubt," said Pel. "No doubt she will. How are you feeling, my friend?"

But Khaavren was asleep once more. He was still asleep, and appeared pale anddrawn, when, late the next morning, the three of them gathered again to discuss hiscondition, and to determine if, in the absence of a physicker, anything could bedone.

"I am not," remarked Tazendra, "especially skilled in the healing arts, yet, could Ibut reach the Orb. I do not doubt that I could be of some help to our poor friend."

"I don't doubt it," said Pel. "Nevertheless, we must not give up hope; no doubtthe confusion will be resolved, and the new Emperor, whomever he may be, will putthings in order quickly. Do you not agree, Aerich?"

"I do not know," said Aerich. "Yester-day I should have agreed with you, andyet, I have never heard of an entire day passing with no sign of the Orb's existence,much less three; but, if I am not mistaken, it is very nearly ninety hours since wewere abruptly transported, or, if I may, teleported here."

"That is true," said Tazendra. "Nevertheless--but what is that?"

"Someone has arrived," said Aerich, glancing at the door with an expression inwhich he could not conceal a certain degree of disquiet.

An instant later Steward, upon clapping, was admitted, and said, "Fawnd has

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returned."

Aerich shrugged, meaning, "And was he alone?"

"There are two Teckla with him, one of whom is being carried on a sort ofmakeshift stretcher, for he appears to have left part of his leg behind him on hisjourney."

Aerich shrugged once more, this time to indicate that they had made good time.Tazendra leapt to her feet and rushed down to greet her loyal servant, while Aerichand Pel remained by Khaavren's bedside.

"I am pleased they survived," said Pel.

Aerich nodded. "I have grown accustomed to Fawnd, and should have missedhim; and Mica has become--dare I say it?--nearly a member of the family."

"Do you know," said Pel. "It is true--we are nearly a family. Is it not strange howour friendship has survived all of these years and trials?"

"Strange?" said Aerich. "Call it so, if you will."

"And you? What would you call it?"

"Tell me, do you believe everything Tazendra says of herself?"

Pel laughed. "Not the least in the world, I assure you."

"Well then, you must not believe everything you think of yourself, either."

Pel frowned, and there was a glint of something like anger behind his eyes. "I donot understand the answer you have done me the honor to make."

"Do you not?" said Aerich. "Well then, let us only say that we have thisfriendship that so sustains our spirits because, very simply, we have earned it."

Whether Pel would have made any rejoinder to this observation we cannot say,because at that moment Tazendra entered the room, a wild look in her eyes, saying,"The Gods! The entire city is gone!"

Pel stood at once. "What is this you tell me?"

"I have it from Mica that not one stone is left standing upon another in Dragaera."

"Impossible," said Pel.

"They were, he tells me, overtaken by any number of people fleeing the downfall,and they all speak of catastrophe beyond imagination. Fawnd and Srahi," she added,"agree with all he says."

Pel and Aerich looked at one another, then said, "Let us go and interrogate themourselves."

"Pray," said Khaavren weakly, "rather bring them here, so that I may listen, too."

"My friend!" cried Aerich. "You are awake!"

"Well," said Khaavren.

"How are you feeling?"

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"If you please, let us hear this story."

The three friends interrogated one another with looks, punctuated by one ofAerich's most eloquent shrugs, after which, with no words needing to be spoken,they brought Mica's bed up into Khaavren's room along with Srahi and Fawnd, andthey spoke for several hours, questioning each of the servants carefully. The scopeof the disaster gradually unfolded before them in the second- and third-handaccounts taken from those with whom the Teckla had spoken. Mica spoke quietly,eschewing the bombastic style of oration he usually affected in imitation of hismaster; Srahi, when she added a detail or two, was more quiet than anyone had everseen her; and Fawnd, though he spoke as always, appeared from his countenance tohave been deeply shocked by what he had witnessed.

And, if this were not enough, from time to time, as they spoke, refugees wouldarrive to be given a meal and a place to sleep in one of the outbuildings, and Stewardwould convey their tales of woe as they arrived. Aerich made occasional sounds ofsympathy, Tazendra would, from time to time, gasp in horror, and Pel would askquestions in his quiet voice--questions that, most often, had no answer. Khaavrenspoke no word during this time, but seemed to sink deeper into his pillow.

There is no need to try the reader's patience by relating for a second time what hehas already learned, and in far more detail, in the preceding chapter; we will insteadsay that, as the day darkened, so, then, did the spirits of our friends as they drewcloser and closer together in horror and fear.

At one point, Aerich, as he watched Srahi and Mica, who were shamelesslyholding one another's hands, turned to Khaavren and said, "Do you fear for theCountess?"

Khaavren swallowed and, with great difficulty, in a voice scarcely to be heard,said, "I should know if anything had happened to her. There can be no doubt, Ishould know." It need not be added that Khaavren's tone belied his words.

And yet, it is not our intention to torment our reader (as, indeed, our brave Tiassawas tormented) by wondering about Daro. We will, then, at once dispel any fear thereader may have by asserting that she arrived at Bra-Moor even as the last light of theday was receding in the direction of broken and vanished Dragaera; she was shownin to the room where were gathered Khaavren, Aerich, Tazendra, Pel, Mica, Srahi,and Fawnd, and, with no word needing to be spoken, she came to Khaavren's bedand took both of his hands in her own, and reverently kissed them.

"I feared--" she began. Then she said, "And yet I knew--"

"And I," he whispered, and it seemed to those around him that life returned to hiseyes even as he spoke. "I knew, yet I feared."

"Well," she said, attempting to laugh. "We are together, and nothing elsematters."

"Nothing else matters," agreed Khaavren.

As the end of one tale is always the beginning of the next, and as the line between

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one and the other is more often as vague as the edge of the Sea of Amorphia thansharp as the edge of Khaavren's sword, the reader ought to understand that this wasthe beginning of the Interregnum, and that, even as Khaavren and Daro partook ofthe joy of their mutual survival, the first seeds of the Great Plagues were beginning inAdrilankha, Candletown, Northport, Branch, and Tirinsar. The Easterners werestrong, and some of them had made no treaty with the Empire. The Dukes werestrong, and would soon realize that there was no Empire to limit their desires. In aword, then, the most horrible, deathly, and fearful era since the downfall of theJenoine was only beginning. And, in fact, we are fully aware that, if we have lostsight of Grita, the reader has not forgotten her, as perhaps he forgot Garland oncebefore.

And yet, we insist upon our right to leave the reader here, because as adulthoodis the end of youth, so, then, can marriage be seen as the end of life as a single man.Certainly, Khaavren, the soldier, the Captain, the bachelor, was no more. If there is atale to be related of Khaavren and Daro, or perhaps of some of the others of ourconfraternity, well, that does not change our opinion that, if an end must occursomewhere, this is where it must fall.

As we humbly ask for our recompense, whether in gold or in esteem, we do notdo so with the arrogant conviction that there is no more to tell, for, as Master Hunterhas pointed out, the end, where it is possible to determine it, can never beexpressed--yet, if more is to be told, then the historian, we believe, has the right aswell as the duty to demand both that his work be appreciated, and that he bepermitted, insofar as his judgment and his conscience allow him, to place both thebeginning and the end where he will.

We cannot but be grateful that the audience--that is, the reader--has trusted usto invade his mind with our gentle weapons of word and image, and, moreover, wedo not fail to understand the obligation under which this places us. Therefore, in theinterest of the satisfaction of our reader as well, we must insist, of honesty, andalthough we have not forgotten enemies, plagues, invasions, wars, and famine, wenevertheless direct our reader's gaze to calm Aerich, happy Tazendra, and smilingPel, who, in turn, are looking upon Khaavren and Daro, who stare deeply into eachother's eyes with the happy, tender, and even joyful expression of fulfilled love, andit is here that we choose to take our leave of the reader.

About the Author

«^

Brust: Allow me to say, in the first place, that I'm delighted we've actually had thechance to meet.

Paarfi: Well.

Brust: The first thing I would like to know, and I'm sure many readers are also

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curious, is this: Do you write like that on purpose? I mean, is that your natural style,or are you deliberately playing games with auctorial voice?

Paarfi: I am afraid I do not understand the question you do me the honor to ask.

Brust: Never mind. I've noticed that you have gone through a considerablenumber of patrons. Would you care to comment on this?

(Paarfi cares to do nothing except look annoyed.)

Brust: Well, then let us discuss admission to what you call The Institute. Do youstill hope to achieve it?

Paarfi: Sir, are you deliberately trying to be insulting?

Brust: Sorry. Well then, uh, are you married?

Paarfi: I fail to comprehend why the reader ought to concern himself... herself...it... curse this language of yours! How do you manage?

Brust: I use "he" and "him."

Paarfi: Preposterous! What if--

Brust: Let's not get into that, all right?

Paarfi: But how did you address the problem in my work?

Brust: I used "he" and "him."

Paarfi: That is absurd. In some cases--

Brust: I'd really rather not discuss it.

Paarfi: Very well.

Brust: Now, what were you saying?

Paarfi: I was saying that I fail to comprehend why the reader ought to beconcerned with such questions as my matrimonial state. Moreover, it is entirelypersonal in nature, and I am uninterested in such discussions.

Brust: Some readers like to know--

Paarfi: Are you married?

Brust: ...I see your point. Well, are there going to be any more books aboutKhaavren?

Paarfi: It is not impossible.

Brust: I take it that means maybe.

Paarfi: Well.

Brust: Is it a question of money?

(Paarfi declines to answer)

Brust: Have you any opinions about music?

Paarfi: I do not understand why you wish to know.

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Brust: To find out whether you've heard any of my music, such as Reissue byCats Laughing (tape), Another Way to Travel by Cats Laughing (tape and CD),Queen of Air and Darkness by Morrigan (tape), King of Oak and Holly byMorrigan (tape), A Rose for Iconoclastes by Steven Brust (tape and CD)--all ofwhich may be ordered from SteelDragon Press. For a catalog, one could send astamped, self-addressed envelope to P. O. Box 7253, Minneapolis, Minnesota,55407. The cost is a mere--

Paarfi: That is insupportable, and I have no intention of sitting here while youshamelessly--

Brust: All right, all right.

Paarfi: Well?

Brust: What do you want to talk about?

Paarfi: We could discuss literature. For example, its creation. Or we could evendiscuss the particular work in which a transcription of this conversation is destinedto appear, by which I mean, of course, A Discussion of Some Events Occurring inthe Latter Part of the Reign of His Imperial Majesty Tortaalik I.

Brust: I've... uh... I've actually given it a different title.

Paarfi: You've what?

Brust: Trust me.

Paarfi: The proper title, Sir, is--

Brust: Look, I know publishers, okay?

Paarfi: Are you proud of that fact?

Brust: Well, then, uh, would you mind explaining why you have sometimes usedfeet, inches, yards, miles, and so on, and other times meters, centimeters, andkilometers, as well as leagues, and even furlongs and like that?

Paarfi: You ought, in my opinion, to stop asking questions to which you knowthe answer, and to which, moreover, any intelligent reader could determine theanswer.

Brust: Say it anyway, all right?

Paarfi (looking pained): Very well. There were, at the time in which this work isset, six completely different systems of measurement in use throughout the Empire.Your translation of these into terms with which the reader is familiar is an attempt tocapture some of this complexity. There. Does that please you?

Brust: Thank you. Would you like to give the reader a hint about where to findDevera in this volume?

Paarfi: As it happens, she does not appear at all.

Brust: Huh? But I told you--

Paarfi: It would have been inappropriate, not to mention dishonest, to have

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simply "put" her somewhere, when, in fact, I was able to learn nothing of where shemay have appeared, or, indeed, whether she appeared at all.

Brust: (Inaudible)

Paarfi: I beg your pardon?

Brust: Nothing.

Paarfi: Would it be possible for you to find a question that requires some degreeof thought to answer?

Brust: All right, then, for whom do you write?

Paarfi: I beg your pardon?

Brust: Do you have an audience in mind when you write? Are you writing tosomeone, or just to please yourself, or what?

Paarfi (looking interested for the first time): Ah. I see. I write for those who loveto read.

Brust: Well, of course, but--

Paarfi: I believe you have failed to comprehend what I have said. I do not meanthat I write for those who simply like a good tale well told, or for those who use thenovel in order to explore what your critics are pleased to call "the human condition,"or for those who treat a story as a distraction from the cares of the day, but, rather, Iwrite for those who take joy in seeing words well-placed upon the page.

Brust: Typesetters?

Paarfi: I believe you are attempting jocularity. I believe you are failing.

Brust: In fact, I think you know what you mean: Your reader is the one whodoesn't rush on to see what happens next, but relishes the way the sentences areformed. Is that right?

Paarfi: Substantially.

Brust: That's interesting.

Paarfi: And, you, sir?

Brust: Me?

Paarfi: For whom do you write?

Brust: Uh... I think I'd like to please all of the above.

Paarfi: I beg your pardon?

Brust: All of those in the list you mentioned--those who like a good story, thosewho--

Paarfi (ironically): A worthy goal, no doubt. And yet, do you not write in what iscalled a genre, or, more accurately, a marketing category, where it is assumed thatone cannot create works of lasting importance?

Brust: Let's not get into that.

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Paarfi: Very well. Tell me, then, what do the initials "PJF" after your nameindicate?

Brust (annoyed): I said I don't want to get into that.

Paarfi (stiffly): I beg your pardon. But if you are going to go so far as to insist onhaving obscure initials after your name on the very title page of a novel, I shouldthink the reader would have the right to know what these initials indicate. Is it anelaborate joke? Is it a statement of what you hope to accomplish? Come, sir. Here isyour chance to explain to your public.

(Brust declines to answer.)

Paarfi: As you wish. Name some of your favorite writers, please.

Brust: Well, Alexander Dumas--

Paarfi (ironically): I should never have suspected.

Brust: Twain, Shakespeare--

Paarfi (sniffing): You would be doing me an inestimable service if you stoppedtrying to impress me, and, instead, named writers of the time in which you have thehonor to work.

Brust: You mean contemporary writers?

Paarfi: If you please.

Brust: Oh. Well. Zelazny, Yolen, Wolfe, and Shetterly, to start at the back of thealphabet, or maybe Bull, Crowley, Dalkey, Dean, Ford, and Gaiman to start at thefront. Or--

Paarfi: I do not comprehend.

Brust: Never mind. I'm awful fond of Patrick O'Brian and Robert B. Parker.Diana Wynne Jones is wonderful. I shouldn't mention Megan Lindholm, because I'vewritten a book with her, but--

Paarfi: You perceive that none of these names are familiar to me.

Brust (stiffly): You asked.

Paarfi: And, moreover, I do not believe that one can be "awful fond" ofsomeone.

Brust: Deal with it.

Paarfi: Then, if you please, name some of your colleagues of whom you are not"awful fond."

Brust: Huh?

Paarfi: Name for us the bad writers in what is euphemistically called, "the field."

Brust: Oh, yeah. Right. And maybe monkeys--

Paarfi: I take it you decline to answer?

Brust: That'd be a yes.

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Paarfi: Well. Would you care to speak of any works in progress?

Brust: I'm thinking of writing another story about Vlad Taltos.

Paarfi (yawning): Indeed?

Brust: Yes. In this one, he is paid an immense amount of money to kill anannoying, stuffy, pretentious historical novelist, but ends up doing the job for free,and, in the course of the book, he discovers he enjoys torture, and--

Paarfi: I believe this discussion is at an end.

Brust: Damn straight.

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