Iorich (8 page)

I didn’t see Aliera at first; she was lounging on a long couch that her plain, black military garb blended into; although I really ought to have seen the sparks shooting from
her eyes as she gave me the sort of kind, friendly, welcoming look I expected.

“What, by the thorns in Barlen’s ass, do
you
want?”

“Can we just let that oath stay unexamined, Boss?”

“It’s already gone, Loiosh.”

It was, too; because while I was still searching for an answer, she said, “I didn’t give you permission to visit.”

“Your advocate arranged it.”

“I don’t have an advocate.”

“Turns out you do.”

“Indeed?” she said in a tone that would have put a layer of frost on Wynak’s burning private parts.

“Some legal trick involved. I don’t understand that stuff.”

“And I have no say in the matter?”

“You had no say in being put here,” I said, shrugging.

“Very well,” she said. “Since they have taken Pathfinder from me, if he dares show his face, I shall have to see what I can do with my bare hands.”

I nodded. “I knew you’d show sense.”

She glared. “Do you know why I don’t kill you right now?”

“Yes,” I said. “Because to do so, you’d have to stand up. Once entering the Iorich dungeons, you are cut off from the Orb, and so you can’t levitate, so I’d see how short you really are, and you couldn’t take the humiliation. Going to offer me something to drink?” Just so you know, it had been years since she’d done that levitating bit; I just said it to annoy her.

She gestured with her head. “On the buffet. Help yourself.”

I did, to a hard cider that was pretty good, though it wanted to be colder. I took a chair across from her and smiled pleasantly into her glare.

“So,” I said. “What’s new?”

Her response was more martial than ladylike.

“Yes,” I said. “That part I sort of picked up on. But I was wondering about the details.”

“Details.” She said it like the word tasted bad.

“You were arrested,” I said, “for the illegal study and practice—”

She had some suggestions about what I could do with my summary of her case.

I was coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t in the best of moods for conversation. I sipped some cider, let it roll around on my tongue, and looked around the room. She even had windows. They had bars on them, but they were real windows. When I was in “Jhereg storage” I didn’t have any windows. And they had done something that prevented psychic communication, though I’d still been able to talk to Loiosh, which put me in a better position than most.

“There is, I think, more going on here than just the violation of a law.”

She stared at me.

I said, “You’ve been doing this for years, and everyone knows it. Why arrest you for it now? There has to be something political going on.”

“You think?”

I said, “Just catching myself up out loud.”

“Fine. Can you do it elsewhere? If there is anyone I want to see right now, it isn’t you.”

“Who is it?”

“Pathfinder.”

“Oh. Well, yes.” I could imagine one missing one’s Great Weapon. I touched the hilt of Lady Teldra.

“Please leave,” she said.

“Naw,” I said.

She glared.

I said, “I need to get the details if I’m going to do anything about it. And I am going to do something about it.”

“Why?” She pretty much spat the word.

“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “You know why. To gain the moral high ground on you. It’s what I live for. Just the idea of you owing me—”

“Oh, shut up.”

I did, and took the opportunity to ponder. I needed another way in. Once, years ago, I’d seen the room in Castle Black where the Necromancer lived, if it could be called a room. It could hardly be called a closet. There was space for her to stand, and that was it. I couldn’t help but comment on how small it was, and she looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “Oh, but you only perceive three dimensions, don’t you?” Yes, I’m afraid that’s all I perceive. And my usual way of perceiving wasn’t going to convince Aliera to tell me what was going on.

“What are they feeding you here?”

She looked at me.

I said, “When I was here, I got this sort of soup with a few bread crusts floating in it. I think they may have waved a chicken at it. I was just wondering if they were treating you any better.”

“When were you here?”

“A few times. Not here, exactly. Same building, different suite. Mine wasn’t so well appointed.”

“What, that gives you moral superiority?”

“No, I get my moral superiority from having been guilty of what they arrested me for, and walking out free a bit later.”

She sniffed.

I said, “Well, a kind of moral superiority anyway.”

She muttered something about Jhereg. I imagine it wasn’t complimentary.

“But then,” I said, “you’re guilty too. Technically, anyway. So I guess—”

“You know so much about it, don’t you?”

I got one of those quick flashes of memory you get, this one of me lying on my back, unable to move, while bits and pieces of the world turned into something that ought not to exist. “Not so much,” I said, “but more than I should.”

“I’ll agree with that.”

“The point is, what would make the Empress suddenly decide that a law she was turning a blind eye to was now—”

“Ask her.”

“She probably won’t answer me,” I said.

“And you think I will?”

“Why not?”

“I assume the question is rhetorical,” said Aliera.

She looked away and I waited. I had some more cider. I love having a drink in my hand, because it gives me something to do while I’m waiting, and because I look really good holding it, shifting from foot to foot, like the waiter when the customer can’t decide between the shrimp soufflé and the lamb Fenarian. Okay, maybe I don’t look so good after all. I went over and sat down in a chair facing her, and took another sip. Much better.

“Yes,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“The question was rhetorical.”

“Oh.” Then, “Mine wasn’t.”

She settled back a little onto the couch. I let the silence continue to see if she’d finally say something. She did. “I don’t know.” She sounded quiet, reflective. It was unusual for her. I kept my mouth shut, sort of in honor of the novelty and to see if anything else would emerge.

“It isn’t that simple,” she said, as if I’d been the other party in whatever internal dialogue was going on.

“Explain, then.”

“You keep wanting to make it friendship versus politics.”

I nodded to indicate that I had no idea what she was talking about.

“But it’s never that clear-cut. It’s all about how bad this would be, and what are the chances of that happening, and how sure are you that this or that will or won’t work.”

I nodded again. Having Aliera e’Kieron in an expansive mood was too good a chance to mess up by speaking.

“But she wouldn’t have done it unless—” She broke off and glared at me.

“Unless what?” I said.

“Just shut up.”

“Don’t feel like it,” I said. “Will you talk to an advocate?”

“Why?”

“So they don’t, I don’t know, kill you or something?”

“You think I care about that?”

“I seem to recall you fighting once as if you did. Maybe you were faking it, though.”

“You know damned well that’s different.”

“You know I’ve always had trouble seeing fine distinctions.”

“You’ve always had trouble seeing anything that wasn’t of immediate practical value.”

“You say that like there’s something wrong with it.”

She made a sound of disgust.

“All right,” I said. “Now probably isn’t the time for philosophy. Will you talk to an advocate?”

“No,” she said.

I took it as equivocal.

“Afraid you might be found innocent?”

She looked at me, then looked off. “Go away.” Ambiguous.

“Sure. Meanwhile, what do you know or suspect that would have led to this, ah, situation, that you don’t want revealed?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything, Vlad. Leave me alone.”

It was hard to know how to react when she was being so hesitant about her wishes.

“You’ve been arrested for reasons of State,” I said as if I were sure. “You may not know what they are, but you know that’s what it is. And you’re afraid that if you defend yourself it will interfere with whatever the Empress is doing.”

“Drop dead.”

“It must not have occurred to you that the Empress is counting on you to defend yourself, otherwise she’d never have used this device to accomplish whatever she’s trying to accomplish.”

She looked at me, and there was a flicker of interest in her eyes. “How would you know?”

“She told me. She all but told me, by what she wouldn’t tell me.”

“You spoke to her?”

“I can do that. I have an Imperial title, you know.”

“And she said—”

“I got the feeling there were a lot of things going on she couldn’t tell me.”

“You got the feeling.”

“Right.”

“So you’re guessing.”

“Less than certainty, more than guesswork.”

She made a general sound of disgust.

I waited. Dragonlords are much too stubborn to be convinced of anything by argument, so the trick to dealing with them is to avoid saying something that will get you killed until they come around to your opinion on their own. This is more true of Aliera than most.

She said, “If Her Majesty had not wished for my conviction, she wouldn’t have begun the arrest proceedings.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

Those were the last words spoken for some few minutes. Spoken aloud, I mean; Loiosh spoke a bit into my mind, mostly making observations about Aliera’s character. I’d heard them before. I’d said them before.

“I wish to reemphasize the one important thing,” I said eventually.

“What. Is. That?”

“If you don’t have an advocate, it’ll be pretty obvious to everyone that you’re deliberately sacrificing yourself. If you are deliberately sacrificing yourself, that is liable to undo a great deal of what the Empress is trying to accomplish.”

She stared at me. I think she knew I was just trying to maneuver her into doing what I wanted; the trouble was that it was a valid argument. Eventually she said, “Is the advocate any good?”

“How would I know?” I said. “Probably not.”

She glared. “All right. I’ll see him.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Get out of here.”

That time I did.

Lady Otria e’Terics reported that, while no weapons were found on the scene, save those in use by the Imperial army and so marked, and three personal, unmarked weapons claimed by same, there were several implements in or near the cottage that could have been utilized as weapons. See list Appendix 12. Upon being asked if there was evidence that they had been so utilized, Lady Otria e’Terics declined to answer. See Deposition 9.

There’s an inn called Dancer’s Rest not far from the Iorich Wing. It’s one of those places where they figure if they fill the courtyard with marble statues and fountains and flowers that are blooming off-season, they can charge two orbs a night for a nine-copper room. It works, I guess. At least, I paid it. Some of the statues were pretty. And, you know, when you’ve been away from civilization for a while, you value a nine-copper room at any price.

It had the other advantage that, by Jhereg custom, anyone staying there was considered at home. In theory, I should be safe there. In practice, since one of the things the Jhereg wanted me
for was breaking a rule like that, I probably shouldn’t bet my soul on it.