Tiassa (27 page)

“That is correct, my friend. And permit me to say in passing that your palate agrees with mine. Do you know anything of how it is distributed?”

“Distributed? Why, I confess I never gave it a thought. Presumably carters load barrels, or cases of bottles—”

“That isn’t precisely what I mean by distribution, my friend.”

“What then?”

“I mean that it is not sold to retailers, but only directly to inns, and in large quantity.”

“So then?”

“In most cases—if you will pardon the unintentional play on words—an inn will only make this purchase if there is some sort of significant event to take place.”

“So, then, if the bottles are being sold cheaply, it means a significant event was planned for, and did not take place.”

“My dear Khaavren, your wits are as sharp as ever.”

“Are they? So much the better. I need my wits to be at their sharpest whenever I speak with you. And yet, it seems, they are not sharp enough to see how this matter is of sufficient importance to gain your interest.”

“In itself, it is little enough. But it caused me to wonder what sort of event might have been scheduled, and why it was canceled.”

“You wondered that?”

“I did.”

“Well, had I noticed the price, I would almost certainly have wondered as well.”

“I do not doubt you.”

“I would have more than wondered, Pel; I would have investigated.”

“I am certain you would have.”

“And, if I had investigated—”

“Yes? If?”

“What would I have discovered?”

“You would have learned that a bard was scheduled to perform on the day after Count Szurke was beaten, and the performance was canceled on that very day.”

“Interesting indeed.”

“Even more interesting is the bard. Not a Teckla, as you would expect. But an Issola. Her name is—”

“Saruchka!”

“Exactly.”

“And so, the beating of this Easterner led this Issola to cancel her performance.”

“So it would seem.”

“And yet, I do not see how this information, significant as it is, might turn the incident into a matter for the Special Tasks group.”

“Patience, Khaavren. First, I must acquaint you with an item that did not pass across your desk. Some years ago—”

“Years!”

“Yes, Khaavren. This is an old matter that has just now taken on new dimensions.”

“Very well, I apologize for interrupting. Some years ago?”

“Yes. Some years ago there was a request for Imperial reimbursement for a lost object from Lord Feorae.”

“Feorae? County and city investigations?”

“The same.”

“A request for reimbursement.”

“Exactly. My staff—that is to say, certain friends of mine keep a sharp eye out for unusual matters, even the most trivial, on the principle that the smallest incident may have larger implications.”

“I agree with that principle, my friend.”

“I am glad you do. And so, this request struck my friend as being out of the ordinary.”

“I agree that it is unusual. If something is lost, well, one cannot generally ask the Empire to reimburse the cost, unless—”

“Yes?”

“Unless it was lost pursuant to Imperial matters. Is that not the law?”

“It is close, Khaavren. In fact, the law reads, lost
or failed of recovery
pursuant to approved discharge of Imperial duties.”

“Ah, so then, it is the ‘failed of recovery’ that is significant?”

“Exactly.”

“In other words, Pel, Feorae lost a possession, and he did not recover it because of Imperial duties.”

“That is the claim.”

“It is most unusual.”

“That was my thought.”

“Nevertheless, well, what of it?”

“Word has reached my ears—”

“Many words reach your ears, Pel! I sometimes wonder if you have been gifted with more ears than the customary two.”

“If I have, Khaavren, I take my oath that the excess only exist metaphorically.”

“I do not doubt you. But, you were saying?”

“Yes. Word has reached my ears that the object he wishes reimbursement for was stolen.”

“Well, and was it so reported? That is, did he report this theft to himself, and cause himself to investigate it?”

“No, in fact, he did not.”

“That is something else that is unusual.”

“It is. And there is yet another matter of interest.”

“With all of these matters of interest, it no longer startles me that you have become interested. What is this one?”

“The author of the request for reimbursement.”

“The author of the request?”

“The author was what directed my attention to you in the first place.”

“How me? I recall no such request.”

“Not you, Khaavren.”

“Then, who is this famous author?”

“None other than the Countess of Whitecrest.”

“My wife?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, the matter is simplicity itself; I shall ask her about it.”

“And I am certain you will get an answer; the Countess’s loyalty cannot be questioned.”

“I am glad to hear you say that, Pel, for it is also my opinion. So now I perceive why you bring the matter to me, and you are right to do so, but I still do not comprehend how it has any connection with the beating of Count Szurke.”

“Nor did I at first. But, you perceive, once my interest in the matter was aroused, I could not help but look further.”

“Well, and did you wonder what was stolen?”

“That was my first question.”

“And did you find an answer?”

“Nearly.”

“Well?”

“It took several years, as the matter did not seem pressing, but, yes, eventually I did learn.”

“Well, and what was stolen?”

“A silver tiassa.”

Khaavren bounded to his feet. “What is it you tell me?”

“It is described as a tiny sculpture of a tiassa, all of silver, with sapphires for eyes.”

“This is … when did he request reimbursement?”

“Half a year after the uproar of a supposed Jenoine invasion that never occurred, during which, as you recall, the Court Wizard was furiously looking for—”

“A silver tiassa!”

“Exactly.”

Khaavren sat down again.

“You may as well remain standing,” said his friend.

“How, there is more?”

“Yes, for once I learned this, I could not resist attempting further investigation.”

“I know you so well in that!”

“I was curious about two things especially. One, who stole it? And, two, how did Feorae acquire it in the first place?”

“And did you learn the answer to the first question?”

“No, but I learned the answer to the second.”

“Ah! How did you discover it?”

“In the simplest possible way. After assuring him that this was a matter of first importance to the Empire, well—”

“Well?”

“I asked him.”

“Ah, that was cleverly done, Pel.”

“Was it not?”

“And so, how did he acquire it?”

“The details are murky, and it involves some quasi-legal activity that I would prefer not to discuss with you, my friend. But in the end, the trail leads to none other than your friend, the Count of Szurke.”

“Indeed!”

“So it would seem.”

“Well. Does he have the silver tiassa now?”

The other shrugged. “I do not know.”

“We should attempt to find it.”

“I agree.”

“And I should have a conversation with Lord Feorae.”

“Ah, as to that—”

“Well?”

“You may do so if you wish, but I have learned all there is to learn from him.”

Khaavren nodded. “Very well, then. This job of tracing the tiassa, how do I convince Her Majesty that it is suitable for the Tasks group?”

“I am certain you can be persuasive, Khaavren.”

Khaavren made a sound of disgust. “And I am certain you have suggestions that would be helpful.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“Well?”

“You might point out to her that this involves an attack on an Imperial nobleman, which is something she cannot be pleased about.”

“That is true.”

“And, moreover, it has to do with the false Jenoine invasion, which I know is a subject upon which she has strong feelings.”

Khaavren nodded. “That will help.”

“I am always pleased to be of assistance.”

Khaavren stood. “I will go now.”

“If you don’t mind, I shall await you here.”

“Certainly,” said Khaavren, smiling. “That will make it easier for you to look through my files.”

“Now my friend, have you ever known me to do anything so obvious?”

“Never.” Khaavren stood and strode to the door. “Which is exactly what makes it subtle.”

An hour later he returned, to find his friend still sitting in the same place. Khaavren sat behind his desk and said, “How much can you tell me?”

There was, for the moment, a gleam of teeth from within the cowl. “How much do you imagine I can tell you, my friend?”

“Oh, you know I have no imagination.”

“You have Her Majesty’s approval of the mission?”

“Yes, I managed to convince her. She is still angry over the false Jenoine invasion, and is perfectly aware that the matter goes deeper than the man who was punished for it.”

The cowl nodded. “As I’d have expected,” came the soft voice.

“The Special Tasks group will investigate to see if there is a connection between this mysterious silver tiassa and the attack on Count Szurke.”

“Precisely.”

“Pel? Why am I only now being informed?”

“I was conducting my own investigation, until today.”

“What happened today to change your mind?”

“I saw the connection between the two investigations.”

Khaavren studied his friend for a moment, wondering, as he always did with the Yendi, what he hadn’t been told. He said, “Well, I will certainly look into the matter.”

“I am confident you will find whatever there is to be found.”

Khaavren sighed. “Very well, then. But of course, with so little to go on, I can promise nothing.”

“I believe we understand each other. I do not expect promises or guarantees.”

Khaavren smiled. “At any rate, you understand me, and that is sufficient.”

When his friend had left, Khaavren settled back to consider his next move. The file concerning the investigation into the attack on Count Szurke was still before him; he therefore took a few minutes to refresh his mind on the details. After this time had passed, he put the file down and rang the bell for his confidential servant—not to be confused with his private secretary.

The individual, then, who responded to this bell was a man whom we have already met briefly—that is, the individual who went by the name of Borteliff. Physically, there was nothing unusual about him: he had the round face and stocky build of the House of the Teckla; his nose was short and snubbed, his mouth rather thin and pinched. Now this worthy had been employed by the Empire—that is to say, by Khaavren—for several years. Khaavren had discovered him while on a mission in the duchy of Tildhome, where the Teckla had been employed as a procurator for a textile manufacturer. Borteliff, a Teckla of middle years, had so impressed the captain with his organizational abilities and discretion, and above all his reticence, that he had at once offered him a new post, a post which the procurator had accepted with all the more alacrity as Khaavren’s mission had resulted in the destruction of his previous employment.

Many of those who worked with or near Borteliff believed he was mute. In fact, he was capable of speech; it is merely that he had discovered many years before that, as a servant, the less he spoke, the more he was valued. He therefore developed the habit of saying little. Having adopted this laudable custom, he then found that the less he spoke, the better he was able to listen, and the better he listened, the more precisely he could carry out the tasks entrusted to him. This, quite naturally, increased his value to his employer still further; and thus, the less he spoke, the more he was valued, and the less he spoke; with the result that, at the time of this history, he’d scarcely uttered a word in a year.

In addition to his laconicity, the worthy Borteliff had many other virtues: he was precise, careful, had a remarkable head for details, and was disposed to obey orders at once and without question. The reader will not be astonished to learn that, with this list of qualifications, Khaavren not only depended on this servant, but considered him invaluable.