The Phoenix Guards (21 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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“Why, I think I should give him a better view of the river than he had asked for by sending him directly into it. But, good Khaavren, why all of these questions?”
“Because it seems to me that if you are unwilling to let individuals dictate your decisions for you, how is it you are willing to let such an abstract thing as fashion decide how you are to lead your life?”
“Well,” said Tazendra, “your words are full of truth. And I have changed my mind once more; Mica, you are my man.”
“Yes, my lady, and I shall only be happier than I am now on the day when you shall command me to be cut to pieces in your service.”
“I must say,” said Pel, “that I am also moved by these arguments; I no longer have any objections to make.” But, as he said this, he frowned. After a moment he whispered to Aerich, “Do you think my idea was right in regards to those brigands with whom we have just finished arguing?”
“Yes, my dear Pel, I have told you so.”
“Will you listen to my next idea?”
“You know, Cavalier, that I will listen to anything you have to say to me.”
“Well then, I do not trust a Teckla who fights too well.”
“So you think—?”
“That perhaps the entire purpose of this plan was to convince us to take along a spy in the person of this Mica.”
Aerich furrowed his brows at the word “spy,” then studied the countenance of the Teckla before him, and at last shook his head. “No, good Pel, I believe you are wrong in this. I have seen this man, and if I am any judge, and I nearly think I am, this is an honest man, though a Teckla.”
“Then you think we can trust him?”
“I think so.”
“Very well; I submit to your perspicacity.”
“Well then, let us be off, for I begin to tire of this house, however diverting the entertainments.”
It cost them three orbs to settle with Master Cleff, which amount would have been more except that they were willing to give him the despoiling of those who were left on his floor, which left him in a state of happiness only
rivaled by Mica, who led the way out the door, stopping only to pick up the stool he had used in the melee, against the chance that, in this company, he should need it again, which proved that he was no fool.
They then went so far as to select the best of the horses left by the deceased brigands and gave it to Mica to use, whereupon Tazendra rendered this worthy even more happy, if it were possible, by saying, “Come along, Mica,” as the Guardsmen, augmented by one Dragonlord and a lackey, set off once more.
In Which the Author Believes to see what Seodra Has been Up To
M
EN HAVE INVENTED VARIOUS NAMES in which to measure distance, and have taken a certain pleasure in assigning units of one to the other, in the sense that it is so many inches to the span and so many spans to the league; or in converting one to the other, in the sense that a league in the Sorannah is almost two leagues within the ancient confines of Seawall, that is, within the barony that once held the city of Dragaera, and, at the time of which we have the honor to write, still held a portion of it; yet, for all of this measurement, it is understood by those who travel and by those who listen to travelers that the meaningful unit by which distance can be measured is
time.
It is true, for example, that the distance from the Gate of the Darr to Ripple Point is scarcely a league, while it is a good thirty leagues from the Gate of Iron to Fosson’s Well, yet, because the latter is over level ground with a good road laid on it, while the former is nearly straight up a mountainside covered in loose and crumbling rock, we may in justice assert that each of these places lies the same distance from the heart of Dragaera City, that distance being about thirty hours, or a full day and a night.
Therefore, if we say that our friends had a distance of many days ahead of them, we hope our readers will be neither offended nor confused by the apparent embarrassment of measurements.
What followed the fight at the inn, then, was a measure of time spent riding, in a leisurely way, through the beautiful Ironwood Gap of the Boiling Mountains which, while pleasant enough to those who had the leisure to travel in this way, will have, we suspect, little enough interest for those who have chosen to come along on this journey in the capacity of observers. These observers, by which, be it clearly understood, we mean the readers of these pages, might well have enjoyed the beauty of the divers mountain streams that rushed in a hundred variations through the mountains, anxious to join together to form the northern Yendi River; and might also have appreciated the way the cool, gentle winds of the pass circulated over the traveler’s face; and would almost certainly have been pleased to see the explosion of red and gold from the Creeping Woods as it was spread out below Sorcerer’s Rock high in the pass; and could hardly have failed to enjoy the fragrance of the tunnis and the blossoms of the late-apple; but all
of these treats are reserved for those among the readers who witnessed these things before Adron’s Disaster, some five hundred years after the events herein described, which took these sights, sounds, and smells away forever as it took the Palace, the city, and all those who dwelled therein. For the rest, such things are useless to describe; therefore we shall not take up our readers’ time with them, but pass on to events of more direct importance to the history we have the honor to relate.
We come, then, back to the city, some hours after the events at that hostel which was informally called Beed’n’s Inn. To be more specific, we will find ourselves in the Dragon Wing, in the lofty and spacious apartments of the Warlord, which are, as we peer at them from our invisible vantage point, occupied by Lytra, the Warlord, and an ill-favored gentleman who is distinguished both by a curious half-circle-shaped scar reaching from his right temple nearly to his lip, and by the fact that he is wearing the grey and black of House Jhereg.
“So,” said Lytra, “you failed; is that what you have to tell me, Fayaavik?”
“It is, Excellency,” said the Jhereg, showing no signs of embarrassment.
“Well then, tell me of the affair.”
“Excellency, my task was to prevent certain persons from continuing their journey, using any means possible.”
“Save killing them, Fayaavik.”
“Yes, lady, those were the orders. But that is unnecessary; I would no more countenance assassination than you would, Excellency.”
“I believe you entirely, Fayaavik,” said Lytra, in tones that indicated she believed him not at all. “Go on, then.”
“Excellency, I found a friend with whom I was on tolerably good terms—”
“In other words, he was indebted to you?”
“If you wish.”
“Very well, go on.”
“My friend—”
“Had he a name?”
Fayaavik gave a sign indicating that it didn’t matter. “My friend,” he continued, “found ten companions, and, by means of stratagem, attempted to convince a certain one of the travelers to expose herself without the others. We would then take this opportunity to make one of them unable to continue, and so on, until we had them all, or at least, the one for whom you expressed the most desire.”
“That seems to be a sound plan.”
“I am glad you think so. But in brief, Excellency, the stratagem failed and they escaped.”
“But how did it come to fail? That is what I wish to discover. You say there was your friend, and ten others. It seems to me that this makes eleven. The ambuscade was intended to defeat only four.”
“It is true that I was told that there would be four of them.”
“Well, that is the right number.”
“I beg to differ with you.”
“How so?”
“Because there were five of them.”
“Five, Fayaavik?”
“Truly, Excellency. And moreover the Teckla, quite outside of expectation, delivered a blow or two himself, which makes six.”
“But still, eleven against six, and one of them a Teckta—”
“Excellency, they had prepared themselves with flash-stones.”
“Ah. I hadn’t known they had such means.”
“The report I received is most explicit on the point.”
“But still, eleven against five. Were any of them wounded?”
“Of the enemy? No. My friend was killed, however, as were two of his companions. Three others were injured, more or less seriously.”
“Incredible,” muttered Lytra. Aloud she said, “But who was this fifth man?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
“How, cannot?”
“Because, having no knowledge of who you expected to be there, save the Tiassa whom you described, I have no knowledge of who was unexpected.”
“Well, one was a Dzurlord.”
“That I know, because it was she that my friend thought to separate from the rest, as a Dzur will invariably defend someone, right or wrong, if numbers are against him.”
“Still another was a Lyorn.”
“Yes, it was he who was about to command his comrades to discharge their flash-stones when the survivors made a retreat.”
“There was a Yendi.”
“I don’t deny it, but you know, my lord, that they are hard to identify. Still, there was one man who was described to me as small and handsome, very well dressed, of black hair, dark eyes, and wearing a cloak very similar to the uniform of the guards.”
“That is he.”
“Very good. Who else?”
“Who else, Fayaavik? Why, the Tiassa whom I had the honor to describe to you but yester-day.”
“Well, and what of the Dragonlord?”
“What, you pretend there was a Dragonlord?”
“Indeed yes. He had no flash-stone, but his sword, I am informed, was tolerably long.”
“I know of no Dragonlord traveling with them.”
“Well, but stop, Excellency. I seem to recall, I was told by what name they called him. It was … yes, it was Yt-something. The last sound was hard, perhaps a ‘g’ or a ‘k’.”
“Uttrik?” cried Lytra.
“That is exactly the name.”
“But that is impossible.”
“Very well.”
“What do you mean, very well?”
“I mean, if it is impossible, then, no doubt, I was misinformed.”
“But Uttrik was to have killed the Tiassa!”
“Perhaps he didn’t.”
“Then the Tiassa was to have killed him.”
“Well, perhaps that also failed.”
“Impossible.”
“Very well.”
“Ah, you say it again.”
“Blood of the Horse, I am consistent, I think.”
“Go, Fayaavik. Leave at once. By the back stairs, if you please.”
“Naturally. But first, here, take this.”
“What is that?”
“It is a purse, Excellency.”
“I see that it is a purse, but what does it contain?”
“Barlen! It contains good Imperials, I think.”
“For what purpose do you give me money, Fayaavik?”
“Well, didn’t you give me money? And a good amount of it, too? Well, I have failed in my commission, hence I return the money.”
“Bah! You were paid for the attempt. Keep it.”
“I beg to differ with your ladyship, but only employees are paid to make attempts.”
“And are you not an employee, insofar as I hired you?”
“Perhaps I was, but now I am not, for I return the money.”
“Yet, I insist—”
“No, Excellency,
I
insist. I do not wear your livery; nor shall I. Should you wish for another attempt, you may so state, and I will then happily take your money again. Until that time, I will not have it, for unearned gold is a chain that I will not wear.”
“If you will have it so, Fayaavik.”
“I will. Good day, Excellency.”
“Good day, Fayaavik.”
The Jhereg left, as he had promised, by the back staircase. As the sound of his footsteps faded, someone else appeared in the room—the Athyra whom we have met and whom we called Seodra, which we will continue to call her because that is how Lytra referred to her, and, moreover, because that was her name.
“The Jhereg failed, then, Excellency.”
“So it would seem, good Seodra.”
“Amusing.”
“Not so. We have been checked. We cannot allow them to arrest Kaluma; we must keep her safe so that we can destroy her at the exact moment our plan requires that we do so.”
“Then we must find another way to stop them.”
“That is clear, Seodra.”
“We know, at least, whither they are bound.”
“We know this?”
“I have been informed.”
“That is good.”
“You must call your Jhereg friend back to you.”
“How so?”
“We have another task for him.”
“That being?”
Seodra dropped her voice, as if afraid that the walls might hide spies, or, at any rate, historians; and this maneuver must have been successful, for we are unable to report what was exchanged between them for the next several moments. We can report that Lytra listened, and, after listening, nodded, and after nodding said, in a somewhat louder tone, “Yes, Seodra, you are right.”
“Well, then?”
“I will have Fayaavik return to-morrow, and I will give him the instructions you have suggested.”
“That would be best. I will consider what further steps must be taken.”
“Very well. Good night. And please leave by the back stairs.”
“Don’t I always, Excellency?” she said, and, bowing ironically, she departed in the footsteps of the Jhereg before her.

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