Tiassa (26 page)

“But, what reasons?”

“For one, he had help of some sort.”

“Of some sort, Captain?”

“Not human.”

“I do not understand.”

“Nor do I, Ensign. Yet there were unmistakable signs that at least two of his attackers were engaged in some sort of combat nowhere near Count Szurke. And yet, there were no footprints near these two except their own. It is possible that he is a skilled illusionist, and so two of his opponents were engaged with phantoms. It is also possible he was able to summon or control birds, and used these against his enemies. There was no blood near either of these places, and yet a considerable number of leaves and twigs had been cut from the trees, as if the attackers were swinging their swords wildly over their heads.”

“And yet, Captain, that still leaves seven.”

“As I read the signs, one of them was removed from combat in the first instant after speech ended, by either a thrown knife or a sorcerous attack of some kind, because there are signs that one of those facing the Easterner fell to her knees and remained in that position for some time, after which she collapsed to the ground, where she remained, bleeding, until after the battle, when she was assisted from the field by two of her comrades.”

“I see. But that still leaves six.”

“One of whom was killed at the first pass. His body fell in such a position that it was in everyone’s way for the rest of the battle, and there was so much blood lost that no one could have survived.”

“So, then, there were five remaining. Still—”

“As I read the signs, he had wounded two of them almost at once. It is almost as if—”

“Yes, Captain?”

“As if he attacked them, rather than receiving the charge. But that is impossible because, ah, yes, I think I know what happened. For now, what is important is that, when it came to combat, it was three against one. Each of them wounded him at least once. They pressed him hard, back toward the river, until he was so severely wounded that he threw himself into it and chanced to luck, being unable to continue the contest.”

Shirip nodded, able to see the fight as clearly as if she herself had been a witness to it. She said as much to Khaavren, who replied, “There is yet one more significant detail.”

“And that is, my lord?”

“Something of a breeze came up after the fight. I cannot say long after, but there are leaves scattered here and there, covering many of the signs, but not stepped on.”

“And this is of interest because?”

“At a spot very close to the river, there is a place where the impression remains in the ground of a thin sword, such as an Easterner might use. There are the prints of someone in small but expensive boots approaching it and leaving it. The boots stepped on some of the leaves that fell after the battle.”

“And so?”

“Someone arrived after the fight, looked around, took the Easterner’s weapon, and left.”

“Ah, yes, I see that, Brigadier.”

“I wonder if the Easterner knows who this might be?”

“Will you ask him?”

“Yes, and about other things, as well.”

“It seems to me, Captain,” she said, “that it will be strange indeed if you are unable to learn something from this Easterner when you confront him with the facts you have accumulated.”

“Good then,” said Khaavren, standing. “I will go and see him.”

Having made this decision, Khaavren wasted no time putting it into action. He at once went to the patient’s room, where, after clapping and receiving no response, he admitted himself. After no more than three minutes, he returned to Ensign Shirip and sat in front of her desk once more. “Well,” he said. “Our patient has escaped.”

Shirip rose to her feet, crying, “How escaped?”

“Perhaps it would be better to say that he left, as he was not a prisoner. And yet, he left by climbing out the window.”

“How was he able to do so?”

“As to that, I cannot say. I saw no indication that he had assistance of any kind.”

“But, Captain, what do we do?”

“Do? Why, nothing.”

“How, nothing?”

Khaavren shrugged. “We have no legal grounds to hold him, and by escaping through the window he proved we have no medical grounds either.”

“And yet, the case—”

“Ah, as to the case.”

“Well?”

“Continue the interviews, learning as much as you can. We will collect the information, and hold it against future need.”

“Then, you think the matter is not ended?”

“I do not know what the matter actually is, Ensign. But, so far as it goes, no, I do not think it is ended. I believe that Count Szurke and I will have more to do with each other before the Empire becomes significantly older.”

C
HAPTER THE
T
HIRD

How Khaavren Had a Confidential
Meeting with a Friend
Which Caused an Old Investigation
to Be Reopened, and How Khaavren
and Daro Enjoyed an Evening Out

The reader will, we hope, forgive us if, before we continue, we say two words about the writing of history, as this will serve to explain why we make certain of the decisions we have made in describing the events we have taken it upon ourselves to relate.

The renowned musician and composer Lord Levhas has stated that music consists of the notes played and spaces between them, each of them being equally important. In the same way, the narration of history consists of what is told and what is omitted. History is as much of a science as physics, mathematics, or sorcery; the narration of history is as much of an art as music, psiprint, or sculpture. The art, then, consists in the selection of the events to be included and those to be excluded that will most effectively lay bare the scientific laws in operation.

The uneducated but alert reader will, at this point, worry that the historian may, by the careful selection of events, attempt to “prove” a set of pre-conceived notions that do not, in fact, correspond to the truth. We cannot deny that this may happen, as those who are familiar with the “history” written by certain desert-born mystics can testify.

But in fact, this analysis, apparently so convincing, ignores a vital factor: the active brain of the reader. That is to say, should a supposed historian attempt to distort the meaning, significance, and causes of the events he describes, it seems to us this cannot help but reveal itself to the alert reader. The historian’s awareness of this, in turn, cannot but serve to encourage the most scrupulous honesty and rigorous precision in his work.

We have taken the time to explain this because the reader cannot fail to notice that our narrative, initially flowing seamlessly from a Teckla to certain guards to an ensign and to Khaavren, will now abruptly move about in time. It is our opinion that a narrative that behaves in this manner ought to be required to explain itself, which it has now done: the discontinuity in time merely corresponds to the historian’s choice to omit details he deems insignificant or distracting, instead focusing his and the reader’s attention on matters of importance.

With our reader’s permission, and, we hope, understanding, we must now, as promised, move forward in time, an action we take with full awareness of the suddenness of our temporal shift, yet confident that it is the best way to present to the reader the history we have undertaken to relate. It was, then, fully three months after the events described in the previous chapter that Khaavren, who, having been able to learn nothing of the injured Easterner and having thus given it no more thought, had the matter called to his mind. It came about this way:

Khaavren was in his office studying the most recent reports on the disposition and preparedness of those under his command when there came the sound of wood rattling with the particular timbre that indicated someone had pulled the clapper-rope outside of the door leading to the conference room. There were only a very few individuals who might ever enter by this door, and in the case of none of them was there any question of joking; therefore Khaavren at once called for the person to enter.

The door opened, and a figure came through the doorway. The figure, we should add, was hooded and cloaked in dark gray, and walked with a firm, even pace until, arriving before Khaavren’s desk, it seated itself.

“Well,” said Khaavren. “Although I have no doubt that pleasure has nothing to do with your visit to my office, nevertheless, I assure you that it is a pleasure to see you.”

“I give you my word,” said the other in a soft, almost musical voice, “my feelings are entirely the same.”

“I am glad to hear it. While I would enjoy spending some time in conversation, I should imagine that you have come here with a particular purpose, and that of some urgency.”

Khaavren observed the gleam of white teeth within the cowl, and the other said, “You think so?”

“It seems to usually be the case when you visit me, my friend.”

“I do not deny it.”

“And so?”

“Yes, there is a matter I would like to bring to your attention.”

“Well, you have my attention, therefore this is a good time to bring a matter to it.”

“So much the better. Do you recall that, three months ago, you investigated the beating of an Imperial count?”

“You must know, Pel, that I would not forget something like that after only three months.”

“That is true; I merely wished to recall it to your mind.”

“Well, you have done so. What then?”

“A new matter has come before us, and one that, I believe, ought to become a subject for the Special Tasks group.”

“Ah, you think so? And Her Majesty?”

“Has not yet been informed. Whether to do so will be up to you after you have heard what I have to say.”

“And this matter relates in some way to the attack on Count Szurke?”

“I will lay the matter before you, and you will judge.”

“Very well.”

“Do you have the reports on the investigation you ran?”

Khaavren tilted his head. “I think the more significant question is, do
you
have the reports on the investigation I ran?”

The other chuckled. “You know that I hear things.”

“Yes, but it seems you also read things.”

“Come, is it a problem?”

Khaavren shook his head. “We will not speak of it. Instead, tell me what you found significant in these reports.”

“I noticed the same thing you did, my friend.”

“You refer to an interview conducted in the village of Swells?”

“Precisely.”

“Then, indeed, we noticed the same thing.”

“Let us see. If you would, my friend, please read the appropriate section.”

“Very well, if you wish.” Khaavren rose and opened up a chest next to his desk, and from there removed a box labeled simply with the year and the word, “open.” In this box he found a thick envelope wrapped in white ribbon, and from this, after some looking, he removed a particular folio. He sat down again, and, after some searching, read the following aloud: “Question: Have you seen any Easterners in the last few days or weeks? Answer: Easterners, Your Lordship? No Easterners. Just Chreotha brewers, a few Orca, Dragonlords like yourselves, some Issola, a couple of traveling merchants—Jhegaala—and a Lyorn who was visiting his cousin. No Easterners, Your Lordship.”

“Ah, was that the passage that caught your attention, Khaavren? I am astonished.”

“Are you? But, if there was anything else significant, I confess that I missed it.”

“Well, that is only fair, as I missed any significance in what you read.”

“Well, I will explain what I noticed if you will tell me what I missed.”

“That seems perfectly equitable, and I accept.”

“Then I am listening.”

“If you will turn back to the eleventh page—”

“You seem very well acquainted with this document, Pel.”

“It is possible that I have seen it.”

“Very well. There, I am now looking at the eleventh page.”

“Do you see where your observant and well-trained guards describe purchasing six bottles of wine to loosen the tongues of those they wish to question?”

“Yes, I see it, and I even approve.”

“In the margin, you perceive, they list the expense of these bottles.”

“That is customary, Pel; for if they did not, they could not be reimbursed for this expense, but must pay for it out of their own pockets.”

“Of course, it is a perfectly reasonable custom.”

“Then what—ah. I see. I had not observed before, but that is an unreasonably low price for six bottles of Eprishka wine.”

“Exactly.”

“And yet, I do not perceive—”

“Come, Khaavren my friend. What do you know of the Eprishka wine?”

“I know that it is excessively sweet to my tongue, but is nevertheless a not-unpopular wine, grown and bottled in the Eprish region.”