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Authors: Steven Brust

Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards) (53 page)

BOOK: Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards)
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“He would,” agreed the guardsman, “but he is not here, nor will he be here today.”
“How, not here?” cried Mario, pretending surprise, although he had determined already that the Captain must, of necessity, be near to the battlefield. “But then, who is 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 have been 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, in hopes of learning the routes and paths, for, I freely confess, it was my hope to have your uniform, rather than that of a mere policeman.”
“Well,” said the guard, giving him a friendly smile. “Do not give up hope; who knows, it may be, after all of this is over, that the Captain and His Majesty will decide to expand the guard, and you may yet effect a transfer, and I will call you comrade.”
“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 after Thack.”
“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 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 Imperial Wing.”
“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 your business is completed.”
“I will not fail to do so; and yet, between looking for Thack, and awaiting His Majesty, 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 of ruffians, and the day promises to become warmer before it cools. In truth, I confess I 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 truth now: Did you not, in fact, request the errand?”
“Ah, well, I don’t say that I didn’t. But come, consider: There are monsters out there; they hate the uniform and they do not know rules of combat, but attack in any numbers 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 your safe-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, as if having no fear of being recognized, and, from there, he came to the lorich Wing, his first destination. There he asked after Guinn, the jailer, who happened to be present.
“Greetings,” he said. “We shall be bringing a good number of citizens to their new homes here.”
“Well,” said Guinn. “We can accommodate them.”
“Are you certain? For, you perceive, the Baroness insists the we ascertain how much room you have before we bring them in.”
“Well, to be sure, we cannot contain them all. But should they be common citizens, 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 with matters of High Treason by an aristocrat, and thus we must be certain, on the one hand, that the cell is secure, and, on the other, that no disrespect is shown by treating the prisoner as if he were common.”
“Well, I understand, and, I assure you, this is a matter upon which we pride ourselves. Come, if you like; we happen to have a prisoner now, a certain Dragonlord who has been arrested for High Treason exactly, and, if you like,
we will visit her, and you will see for yourself what the accommodations will be like for those 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 they are shown every possible comfort while awaiting execution. Yet the chambers for those who are merely awaiting trial on such charges are, while entirely secure, perfectly comfortable, so that, however nice an aristocrat’s sensibilities, he shall have nothing of which to complain.”
“I think the Baroness will be pleased, if the arrangements are as good as you say.”
“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, and began making their way toward the Dragon Gate, which was not far away. It was, in fact, so close that they soon realized that they would have to fight their way through ranks 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 Bridge from the Paved Road, one arrives at the Gate of the Seven Flags, which is, as you know, 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 be closed?”
“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, and perhaps 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 Khaavren entered 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 own desire to escape or someone so rich and so desperate to leave that one horse might mean 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.”
“The Imperial treasury, I have heard, is in dire straits; nevertheless, I am convinced 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 help from Pel, Tazendra, and the stable-boy, the work of equipping the horses. Khaavren tossed 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 you any 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 Fire Battalion 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. But have 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 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 how matters 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 a house to return to. Or, for that matter, a Palace.”
They continued further, and discovered that either they had reached the Uprising, or the Uprising had caught up with them, for they found themselves among gangs of Teckla and merchants of various Houses, who were busying themselves in the most destructive of ways—the few glass windows in the area were soon all smashed, and two or three buildings were burning; indeed, the entire area would certainly have gone up in flames (as, to be sure, certain other areas did) had there not been a good amount of stonework that would not burn.
BOOK: Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards)
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