Iorich (26 page)

“And you feel good about that?”

He looked puzzled for a minute. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Huh? Me? I’d feel better about it if the poor bastard was guilty. But I’m not an Iorich.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“It feels good if a guy walks away, then?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, really. I’m making conversation and letting the back of my head work on this problem.”

“Oh.” He gave me an odd look, then said, “It feels good to make the best arguments I can, and it feels good when, sometimes, it actually has something to do with justice.”

“Justice? What’s that?”

“Serious question?”

“No, but answer it as if it were.”

“I don’t know. I don’t get into the deeper, mystical aspects. Some do. But justice? Edicts occasionally have something to do with justice, but statutes almost never do.”

“Uh, what do they have to do with?”

“Practicality. For example, right here in Adrilankha, when meatpacking became such a big industry, they passed local
statutes saying that any peasant who fell short for the year could be kicked off his land. The nobles raised an outcry, but didn’t have the clout to do anything about it.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with meatpacking.”

“Kick peasants off the land, there’s your labor force for the packing plants. Along with a lot of Easterners, of course.”

“Oh. Are they that, I don’t know, obvious about it?”

“Sometimes. In the area around Lake Shalomar—right where Tirma is—they discovered silver. First thing that happened was an influx of miners, the second thing was an influx of merchants selling to the minors. So the Duke passed a statute taxing both the sale and the purchase of mining equipment, set taxes to some absurd level, and provided for the conscription of anyone unable to pay the tax. That’s how he recruited his army. I don’t think you’d call that justice.”

“Um. No, I imagine not.”

“There are worse cases. Around the Korlaph, north of the Pushta, they discovered tin, and had a real labor shortage. The Count went on a statute rampage, and by the time he was done, he not only owned all the mines, but had made up the most absurd laws to have a few thousand locals arrested, and then sentenced them to work the mines.”

“He can do that?”

“Once in a while, someone has enough family with enough money to bring a particular case to the attention of the Empire, and a particular law gets overturned.”

“And I thought the Jhereg was corrupt.”

“Law is a reflection of society, justice is a reflection of an idealization of that society.”

“You’re quoting someone.”

He nodded. “Yurstov, Iorich Emperor of the Fifth Cycle, who tried to create an actual justice system. He failed, but he did some good.”

“And you stay with Edicts because they aren’t as bad?”

He frowned. “I guess that’s part of it, though I don’t think of it in those terms. I had a client once who annoyed someone, and the someone set him up to look like he’d committed a crime. I got him off. That felt like justice.”

“Was it? I mean, what had he done to annoy the guy?”

Perisil shrugged. “I don’t know. As I said, the deeper levels I leave to others. But that’s justice to me. Suppose some poor fool of a Teckla steals a chicken from his landlord because he’s hungry. And some high-and-mighty Orca manages a scheme to cheat his crew out of half their pay. If the first guy gets off with a couple of cuts, and the second goes to the Star, well, to me that’s justice.”

“How often does that happen?”

“I don’t know; I don’t deal with those sorts of cases. Those have to do with traditional law, and I work with Edicts. More often it’s the other way around, I should think. Is there a point to all this, Lord Taltos?”

“I’m a curious guy, is all. And you’re—odd.”

“You’ve met advocates before.”

“Yes, but only the ones interested in money.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I suppose so.”

I stood up. “Sorry, I’ll let you work.”

“And you?”

“I need to think like a Jhereg.”

“I imagine that comes easier to you than thinking like an advocate.”

“A little,” I said. “Oh, one other thing. Desaniek. Where do I find her?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m not sure. But I have no intention of killing her.”

“If you even talk to her—”

“I doubt it will come to that.”

He hesitated, then said, “While she’s conducting the investigation, she’ll be working out of the Office of the Imperial Justicer in the Imperial Wing.”

“What does she look like?”

He frowned again. He clearly didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

“Really,” I said. “I don’t intend to kill her. Or beat her. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but it could end up that I’ll be saving her life, depending on how things shake out.”

“All right,” he said. “But I’m not very good at describing people.”

“What’s the first thing you notice about her?”

“Um. Her face?”

“Anything special about how she dresses, or what she wears—”

“She keeps her hair up, and she always wears a stickpin in it with a lot of little diamonds.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That should do it. And don’t worry about it too much.”

I took myself out of the office and back up to the main floor of the House. I needed to think, and I needed to find a place to do it. I crossed over to the Iorich Wing, stared for a moment at the sculpted thing and wondered what it symbolized, then ended up letting my feet carry me toward the prisons while I tried to put the pieces together.

I hadn’t gotten anywhere when I reached the big gates; the same guard was there. He said, “You want to see Aliera?”

“Yes,” I said, though I hadn’t actually formulated the idea.

I just had to sign and seal one paper, affirming that everything I’d signed before still applied. Someone I’d never seen before guided me in.

I clapped at the door before the guard could; she opened the door and let me in, saying, “One hour.”

Aliera was in the same place, the same position she’d been in before. I had the impression she hadn’t moved since I’d left. On the table next to the couch were several wine bottles, all empty.

“Well,” she said, glaring at me.

“Verra!” I said. “First Sethra, now you. Great.”

“Huh?”

“When I spoke with Sethra, she was drunk, too.”

“Is there something I should be doing instead?”

“Answering my questions.”

“Ask them.”

“First question: Did you know the Empress is starting an investigation into the events in Tirma?”

“First answer: Why should I care?”

“Because it was not wanting to run that investigation that led to you being arrested.”

“So you say. And by the way, yes I knew. Some Iorich came in here and wanted to ask me questions about it.”

“And you were in just the shape you’re in now, right?”

She shrugged.

“Perfect,” I said. “Can you remember what she wanted to know?”

“Sure. She wanted to know if I enjoy slaughtering innocent Teckla.”

“Did she ask that in so many words?”

Aliera made a vague sort of dismissing gesture.

I said, “You’re probably too drunk for this to do any good, but I need to point out that if the Empire is investigating the real thing, then there’s no need for them to press fake charges against you.”

“And yet,” she said, “here I am.”

“Yes. I’m trying to fix that.”

She yawned. “Let me know how that works out.”

“If I come back tomorrow, will you be sober?”

“If I stay drunk, will you stay away?”

I could have pointed out that she wasn’t helping, but I was beginning to get the idea that this wouldn’t be a powerful argument. There needs to be a better word than “stubborn” to describe a Dragonlord whose pride has been offended, and then a better word than that to describe Aliera.

“So tell me,” I said. “
Do
you enjoy slaughtering innocent Teckla?”

She stared at me for a minute, then burst out laughing. Since I’d figured it was either that or she’d kill me, I was just as pleased. She laughed for much longer than it was worth, but I attributed that to her state. Eventually she wiped her eyes and said, “Yes, but not by proxy.”

“I doubt the Iorich would accept that answer.”

“You never know,” she said. “They might. I’ll ask my advocate if we should base our defense on it.”

“Do that. I’ll ask the Empress what she thinks.”

“Do that. I’m curious about what’s behind all of this.”

“Me too. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“What, you think I can tell you something?”

“Almost certainly. And you might even be willing, if I knew what to ask.”

She swirled the wine in her glass and stared at it. “Maybe I would. What exactly is the problem you’re trying to solve?”

I gave her a quick rundown about things as I saw it.

“So, you think the Jhereg,” she almost spat the word, “are going to sabotage this investigation?”

“Have you ever known them, or the Orca, to give up a chance for profit if there was a way not to?”

“No. But I don’t see anything they can do that won’t back-fire on them.”

“You aren’t really drunk, are you?”

“No, not really.”

“I should probably tell Norathar, or else the Empress, about what I think is going on.”

“Probably.”

“Unless you’d rather.”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. A way of saying there are no hard feelings?”

“What makes you think there are no hard feelings?”

“Okay, a way of playing politics? My problems aren’t the sort that can be solved by having the Empire owe me anything.”

“I don’t actually care.” She hesitated. “But thanks for the offer.”

“D’ski!tna.”

“What?”

“You owe me no debt.”

“I know what it means. When did you learn Serioli?”

“Only a couple of words,” I said, feeling my face turning red. “I met a bard who—never mind.”

She shrugged. “Anything else, or can I get back to plotting my jailbreak?”

“You can get back to it. Can I smuggle you in a little blue stone or something?”

“They’re actually purple, and, yes, I’ll take three of them.”

“Heh.”

I stood up to go. She said, “Vlad.”

“Hm?”

I expected her to thank me for all my work. Or maybe announce something profound, like telling me about a vision she’d had of the Demon Goddess. What she said was, “I don’t mind my daughter playing with your son.”

“Um. Okay, thanks.”

I had the guard let me out of the place.

Being in the Palace anyway, I went back to the same vendor and found some sausages that weren’t too bad, and bread that could have been staler, then made my way back to my room. Loiosh told me it was empty, so I went in. I lay down on the bed and tried to think. My stomach grumbled a little. I wondered if I was getting too old to be living on bread and sausage; that would be sad.

As I lay there, I found my hand stroking the tiny golden links on the hilt of Lady Teldra. In the years I’d had her, I’d only used her twice; I somehow thought that would please her. Those thoughts led me to another Issola I knew, but I pushed those away: I needed to concentrate on business.

My hand kept stroking Lady Teldra’s hilt.

Hey, you in there? Any ideas? Can you help?

Nothing.

I suddenly missed her—I mean, the real person—very
sharply. It’s all well and good to think of her personality being preserved inside a weapon, but for one thing, I’d never felt it that I could be sure of. And for another, I didn’t entirely believe it. I wonder if she would say murdering a bunch of Teckla was impolite. I wondered if the fact that I didn’t much care made me a bad person. Probably.

“I wonder if she’d say anything about lying on top of the bed with your boots on.”

“Probably.”

My mind wandered, which is a good thing, because sometimes it wanders to where it needs to go and uncovers just the right rock. In this case, it wandered to High Counsel Perisil. An interesting fellow. What I’d said to him had been true: None of the advocates I’d run into before had any interest other than in making themselves rich. This shouldn’t be seen as saying anything about the House overall: it’s a particular set of them who end up working for the Jhereg. I don’t know, maybe the Jhereg exerts an influence on some people, turning them. Or maybe those with such inclinations, in any House, are more subject to working for them, more subject to taking and giving bribes, to stabbing people in the back, to setting up some poor bastard the way Perisil had said—