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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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“You have it exactly,” said Aerich. “And not only jealousy, but the power to act on it. The discredited advisor was not above using subterfuge and hiring known thieves. It began to appear as if the successful advisor
were unscrupulous. The evidence mounted until, driven to distraction, the gentleman began to fight back in ways he would never have thought himself capable of using. Of course, this was discovered, and, in less time than one would have thought possible, the successful advisor became the discredited one, and, furthermore, all of his lands were taken and he died a broken, penniless man, leaving his son trained to rule a fief that was no longer in the family.”
Khaavren studied his friend for some moments, then said, “And the unscrupulous advisor, could his name, perhaps, have been Shaltre?”
Aerich stared at him coldly. “I have no idea to what you could be referring. I was telling a story, to illustrate a point.”
“And the point, good Aerich?”
“The point is that it is sometimes dangerous to meddle with those who have fewer scruples than you do; you may lose more than your life. You may lose a stake you didn’t know you had set onto the board.”
“And yet, good Aerich, was the Lyorn wrong to have done what he could for the Empire?”
“Ah, as to that, I do not say. I merely bring up a matter for you to consider before you dive headlong into danger of an unknown sort, from an unknown quarter. We have no worry for our lives, after all; they have belonged to the Empire from the moment we took our oaths. But what are we prepared to risk, my friends? Surely this deserves some consideration.”
As he spoke, Khaavren felt a sudden chill, as if, in the winter, a window had been left open and cold air, unmistakable in feeling yet indefinite in source, had touched the back of his neck and sent its tendrils down his spine. He sent a glance at Pel, who was frowning and staring at the floor.
Tazendra, however, said, “But consider that, if we do nothing, we are giving in to fear of the worst sort—the fear of unknown dangers. We may scorn a man who runs from a battle he cannot win; how much more should we scorn a man who runs from a place where he thinks there might be a battle that perhaps he cannot win?”
Khaavren stirred. “I think our friend the Dzur has the right on this, good Aerich.”
The Lyorn sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid I agree. And you, good Pel?”
The Yendi made a dismissing gesture with a wave of his hand. “We are young, we are brave, and we are four together. If we let fear direct us now, what will we do when we have lived a millennium or two, and know the full measure of terror? We will be afraid to throw a stick in a river, lest we be splashed by water that has somehow been poisoned. I agree with Tazendra.”
Aerich sighed. “Yes, my wise friend, I don’t dispute you. Well then, if we must, let us be about it. How shall we begin?”
“Ashes!” said Tazendra. “We must first decide if, when we find this artist, or killer, we are to arrest her or prevent her arrest.”
“Not at all,” said Pel.
“Well?” said Tazendra.
“It seems we must find her first. Then we can decide what to do with her. You say, Khaavren, that you know where she is?”
“It is likely,” said Khaavren.
“Then we must go there.”
“And yet, it is not easy to get a leave of absence from our duties.”
“Is it not?” said Pel, with a smile. “Did I not say that I would attend to it?”
“Indeed you did,” said Khaavren. “Have you, then, done so?”
“After a fashion.”
“After what fashion?”
“Why, I have procured for us a mission which will require us to be gone for an unspecified length of time.”
“A mission? Of what nature?”
“Are you aware of the trouble brewing around the estate of Pepperfield?”
“Indeed I am,” said Khaavren.
“As am I,” put in Tazendra, who seemed anxious not to be left out of the conversation.
“Are you aware of the nature of the trouble?”
“Yes,” said Khaavren.
“Oh, the nature of it,” said Tazendra.
“Well?”
“That is to say, not entirely.”
“Well, it is a dispute over which line of the House of the Dragon is given the area to rule. It is further complicated because, as you know, diamonds have been discovered nearby, in a place called Sandyhome, and the Emperor is considering raising an army to secure Sandyhome which, although it is hardly fifty leagues away, is of sufficient distance to leave the Pepperfields only poorly defended.”
“Ah,” said Tazendra. “Now I understand. But how does this concern us?”
“Doesn’t it seem to you that it might be worth the Emperor’s while to send someone to look the area over, and find out just what the situation is?”
“That seems reasonable,” said Khaavren, smiling. “And you suggested to the Captain that we would be well-suited to such a task?”
“My dear Khaavren, you have it exactly.”
“And yet,” said Tazendra, “doesn’t the Emperor have soldiers near the area from whom he can get reports, merely by asking them through the Orb?”
“Ah, but how reliable are they? There are always conflicting reports, my dear lady, depending on whom one asks. But a member of his own
regiment, well, that would be an entirely different matter. Or so our Captain thinks.”
“So,” said Khaavren, “we are to go east.”
“Yes, taking as much time as necessary. If our route happens to bring us in an entirely different direction for a while, well, we are not expected to report for quite some time at any rate.”
“It is well then,” said Khaavren, “that our route takes us almost to that very place.”
“Cracks in the Orb,” said Tazendra. “It does?”
“Indeed,” said Khaavren. “We are bound for Redface, less than fifty leagues from Pepperfield.”
“Fifty leagues of the city, or fifty leagues by the Easterner’s reckoning?” said Aerich.
Khaavren shrugged. “A day’s brisk march by the footpaths, so I’m told, or else two days’ quick ride by the horse-trails.”
“That falls out rather well,” said the Yendi.
“Indeed it does,” said Khaavren. “Have we horses?”
“My dear Khaavren, we will have the choice of the stables, as well as Cards of Passage for the posts, and letters of credit to see us on our way.”
“My dear Pel, you are a marvel. Then we can set off in the morning?”
“I can see no reason not to,” said Pel, bowing his acknowledgment of the compliment.
Aerich, who had not spoken until this time, said, “Then I shall prepare myself by sleeping. I suggest the rest of you do the same.”
Tazendra and Khaavren agreed at once, though Pel claimed he had an appointment with a tailor who had agreed to make dresses to Pel’s designs, and that he must meet with this person before his departure. He left, then, while the others, before preparing for sleep, held a brief discussion over plans, the content of which, be assured, we will return to in due course, after which Tazendra and Aerich went off to their chambers and at once to sleep.
Khaavren did not have such an easy time of it. He remained awake for some time, his thoughts flitting about like a hobird; hovering for a moment on the dark words Aerich had spoken, flapping about the plentiful unknowns contained in the mission they were preparing for, touching lightly on plans and preparations for the morrow’s departure, and at last resting calmly on his memory of Illista’s sweet lips, and the way her brows rose so charmingly when she smiled into his eyes. In this way, he passed finally into a dreamless sleep.
In Which we Learn What it Means to be Half an Emperor
W
HILE KHAAVREN SLEEPS THE SLEEP of the young and brave, we must, like the hawk, whose eyes can see through the overcast to spot a norska who can not see him, even should the norska think to look up, send our gaze winging through the city, up Kieron’s Hill, past the Jungle of Ferns where Tuorli sat for week after week composing a cycle of love-poems to her errant lover the Marquis of Gwethurich, down Backside Hill, around the Nine Bridges Canal where Lord Brythor, Dzur Heir to the fifteenth throne, lost his future and his life in the six-hour-long duel with his cousin the Duke of Kl’burra, until we arrive at an unprepossessing hostelry built of arched wood on the Avenue of Urtiya the Sage. Here, making good use of our capacity of imaginary observer, we will, without mounting by staircase or wall, without passing through door or window, nevertheless arrive in a second-story corner room, where a young girl, scarcely two hundred years in age, is making her toilet with the help of a maidservant who is even younger than she.
“Well, Yini,” said the girl, “have I nothing whatsoever that will set off this gown?”
“Madam,” said the maidservant, “since you do me the honor to ask my opinion—”
“Of course I do, silly girl.”
“Then I think the small sapphire brooch, given you by Count N—, will complement the red of the gown nicely, as well as setting off your eyes.”
“You may be right, Yini, but what about House insignia? I can hardly have the Duke of G—call upon me when when I am wearing nothing to show my Dragon heritage, can I? Yet the pendant would scarcely look right when placed against the silver of the ruffles.”
“Is then madam not going to wear the black sleeves with the silver lace?”
“Cracks and Shards, Yini, I think I am.”
“Then perhaps madam could wear the ring instead of the pendant, since silver always looks well against black, and they are, after all, the very colors of your House.”
The girl considered for a moment, then said, “Very well, Yini. Fetch it, then help me with my hair. Shall I put anything in it, do you think?”
“Little if anything, madam; I believe that on this occasion the elegance of a simple knot, with perhaps one comb, would be best. Perhaps a comb with a few small sapphires, to set off the brooch.”
“Excellent, Yini; I think your plan will be a good one.”
“Thank you, your ladyship.”
The lady, who was none other than Jenicor e’Terics, completed her toilet by smoothing one side of her hair with water, gave her lovely face a last approving look in the glass, and left the room to await her visitor in the receiving room that had been included in the apartments she had rented.
Now, considering that this was a part of Dragaera City that had once served as a market for the Teckla from the south-west, and, that since the completion of the Hawk’s Landing Road it had become less and less frequented so that by the time of which we have the honor to write it was a part of the city that a nobleman would visit only if he felt an uncontrollable need to find the poor so he could give them alms, one might well wonder what Jenicor e’Terics, Marchioness of Sharp Bend Cave and Environs, future Duchess of Highland Reef, and, even then, only five steps removed from the Dragon Heir, would be doing in such a place. For the answer to this question, the reader need only wait patiently while she puts on a silvery mask to hide her features.
We should note that in those days the masks actually concealed the identity of the wearer, whereas today they are only symbols through the use of which certain nobles pretend to be excused for conduct which would be unforgivable without this “disguise.” In those days, in which one could use such a word as “honor” without feeling one’s face becoming red, a noble who allowed himself to be recognized while engaged in scandalous activity risked his reputation, his fortune, even his right to Deathgate.
So it was that Yini set the mask over her lady’s features, carefully arranging the cord so as not to dishevel her hair, and succeeding in hiding those features which would have identified her, unless one knew her so well that her small, pouting lips and dimpled chin would have been sufficient. Yet none of those were required to see that she was a lady; the merest glance at the trim ankles that appeared beneath her broad-shouldered, tight-waisted gown or the long fingers whose outlines were clearly discernible beneath her neatly seamed silk gloves gave unimpeachable evidence of noble birth, even if one were inobservant enough to miss the full, thick texture of her hair, which achieved, through no artifice except nature, that fine shade of brown that almost appears red beneath the natural orangish light of day.
At the exact moment that Yini was completing her task of fastening the mask there came the sound of a soft, fine, almost feminine clapping outside the door.
“It is he!” whispered Jenicor. “The Duke of G—!”
“Shall I open it, then?” asked Yini, also whispering.
“No! Retire to the common room, but return here in two hours.”
“Yes, madam. Shall I use the other doorway?”
“Of course, silly girl. Be off, now.” At which time the clapping was repeated, perhaps a trifle impatiently, to judge by the increase in volume. Jenicor hurried to answer it. “Who is there?” she called.
The answer came in a voice low but clear. “It is I, madam, who come, once more, to worship at the feet of my goddess.”
At these words she flung open the door, which revealed a man covered in a large brown woolen cloak, with a hat pulled down well over his face. “Ah, Cavalier,” she cried, “it is you at last,” proving that he was both expected and recognized.
“It is,” he said. “Are we alone?”
“Indeed we are. I have sent my maid down to the common room.”
“But then, you wear a mask?”
“Well, and you wear a cloak and a hat.”
“That is true, but I have been walking through districts where it would be useless to be recognized.”
“And I?”
“You, madam, seem to be alone in your room; hence, there is no one to recognize you. And the proof is, see, I remove my hat.”
“But suppose I were to wish to visit the common room, Cavalier. Surely you cannot expect me to remain in my chambers, alone, with you?” Here a singular smile, at once innocent and flirtatious, sped over her lips.
“Ah, madam, you wound me.”
“I?”
“Assuredly. How can you doubt your safety with me?”
“Well, if you recall our last meeting, at the keep of the Baron of R—, you will recatt—”
“Bah! I was drunk.”
“You? Drunk?”
“On the splendor of your eyes, madam. They are intoxicating.”
“Cavalier, you must not speak so!”
“But I must, for you have not allowed me the honor of kissing your hand.”
“Well, then, here it is.”
“Ah, I touch my lips to perfection. You see, I do so again. There. And again. And—”
“Stop, now. You must desist.”
“Well, then, let us sit down together and speak like brother and sister, if you will have it so.”
“I will.”
“Shall I pour you wine?”
“Only a little. And have a care, lest you become drunk again!”
“Ah, madam, if you knew how your jests are as poniards to me—”
“Stop, then, and let us speak, Cavalier, as you have said.”
“Very well. Since we must, let us speak of the court.”
“Of the court? Why of the court?”
“Why? Because I wish to be half an Emperor.”
“How? What can you mean, half an Emperor?”
“I shall explain, if you like.”
“Please do, because I am most curious.”
“Well, allow me to begin by asking you a question.”
“Your explanations often begin that way.”
“Are they any less clear for that?”
“Not at all. Ask your question, then.”
“Well, this is it: what does the Emperor have that I am lacking?”
“That is not difficult: In the first place, the Orb.”
“Well, that is true, and after the Orb?”
“Power.”
“What is power?”
“Power is to give an order and have it obeyed.”
“What order, then?”
“Any order.”
“But, by way of example, madam, I ask you to instruct me.”
“Well, suppose someone were to say, ‘You, of the Guard, go and conquer that duchy.’ Now, if he were an Emperor, the Guard would jump to obey, and the duchy would fall. That is power.”
“You reason like Clybru, the chief of Mathematicians.”
“Well then, are you answered?”
“Almost. Tell me this, why should he wish to conquer the duchy?”
“Why? Perhaps he has said to the duke, ‘I require five hundred tons of wood be sent to my ship-builders in the south,’ and the duke has failed to do so, but instead has begun building up an army of his own, like the Count of Endmarch did less than two hundred years ago.”
“Well, but how would the Emperor know these things?”
“How would he know? He would be informed.”
“By whom?”
“By those whose duty it is to inform him.”
“Why would they do so?”
“Because he is the Emperor, and the Emperor must be well informed, or how can he make his decisions?”
“So, the Emperor is the one who, first, has the Orb, and, second, is sufficiently aware of what is going on around him to know how to deploy his forces.”
“That is it exactly.”
“You perceive, then, that I wish to know what is going on at court, so I may be half an Emperor.”
Jenicor was so impressed by this logic that she at once said, “Well, I understand. What, then, do you wish to know?”
“Tell me of the cabals.”
“You pretend there are cabals?”
“Cabals, intrigues, call them what you will.”
“You seem certain there must be such.”
“It is a court; there must be cabals and intrigues.”
“Of what fashion?”
“Of all fashions. Alliances of mutual love; alliances of mutual hatred; most of all, alliances of mutual benefits. Come, you must be aware of some.”
“But, good Cavalier, where would I look for them?”
“
K
’
luno,
dear one,” said the Cavalier, “everywhere. But, if I were to start, I would always begin with the Imperial Consort.”
“Well, she is very beautiful.”
“And she is powerful, by reason of having the ear of the Emperor, as well as two good ones of her own, making three ears in all, which, by the logic I have shown you, makes her half an Emperor herself.”
“I nearly think you are right.”
“So, who flocks to her banner?”
“Well, it is said that there are those who wish to take her as a lover.”
“Ah. And does she maintain her virtue?”
“Some say she does, but only because she cannot make up her mind among the suitors.”
“And the Emperor, is he jealous?”
“Only of his friends, it is said.”
“Naturally; one is always jealous of one’s friends.”
“How would you know that, Cavalier? You have none yourself.”
“You are wrong, my lovely Dragon, and the proof is that I have three.”
“What? Three friends? Surely not those you live with, and who only know you by your assumed name?”
“None other.”
“What is the name they call you? It is the name of a valley to the west, is it not? Kor?”
“Pel.”
“That is it. But then, you say they are your friends?”
“They are; so much so, that I would risk my life for them.”
“But would you risk your ambitions?”
“What? You pretend I have ambitions?”
“Assuredly. You are ambitious of being half an Emperor.”
“Ah, you have caught me, lovely one. I do have that ambition. But tell me, what names are attached to the hopeful lovers of the Consort; for surely the court gossips cannot fail to include names.”
“Well, there is a Dzurlord, the Marquis of L______. And a Tiassa, Lord N______. An addition, there is talk of the Dragonlord, Adron e’Kieron, and a certain Lyorn called the Count of Shaltre. And even a Phoenix, a certain Duke of Threewalls.”
“Stay, then. Threewalls?”
“Why, yes, that name has come up. I believe he is called Allistar.”

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