by Steven Brust
“Let us hope they find it,” said Daro. “Do you think you could eat now?”
“Another hundred strokes.”
“All right. After the stew, there are Imperial strawberries.”
“Fifty strokes.”
The next morning, Khaavren was back at the Palace by the seventh hour. During the night, he had received several reports about the state of the city. He spent the first half hour reading them, and coming to the conclusion that things weren’t as bad as they could be; the citizens of Adrilankha seemed to have settled into an attitude of alert patience.
His mind thus relieved, he went about checking on the dispositions, which required two brief trips outside of the Palace, and several visits with Kosadr and the Warlord. Kosadr, for his part, seemed optimistic about finding the silver tiassa. “I’m certain this Szurke has it,” he said.
“But can you find Szurke?”
“Not so far,” he said. “I believe he has acquired Phoenix Stone from somewhere, so no usual sorcerous trace will work.”
“Could he be trying to keep the artifact out of our hands?”
“It’s possible. But that doesn’t matter; the Orb can always find him.”
Khaavren nodded and went about his business.
CHAPTER TWO
DARO
The Countess of Whitecrest was at breakfast when Noli said, “Forgive me, my lady, but is something wrong?”
She brought her mind back to the present and said, “What do you mean?”
“Your Ladyship seems distressed. I thought perhaps there was something with the food.”
“Oh. No, nothing like that, Noli. Distracted, not distressed. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Yes, my lady. I’m sorry to have—”
“No, no. It’s all right. In fact, you could do something for me. Have a message sent to the Viscount, saying I wish to see him, today. He can come here, or I will go to him, as he prefers.”
“I will see to it at once, my lady.”
Daro finished a breakfast that she didn’t taste, then went to the front room. She signed the declaration turning county military control over to the Empire and called for a messenger to bring it to the Palace, thinking wryly that, as the Empire had already taken that control, she might as well make it legal. She had received scores of complaints about it. Most of these she could pass on to her staff, but a few she had to answer directly, so she at once set in to doing so.
Next, she met with the Captain of the Whitecrest Guard. Yesterday, she had explained to him the necessity of a central command structure during the crisis, and he grudgingly agreed. Today, he had discovered that this would put him directly under the command of Lord Khaavren, rather than under the command of some nameless colonel under some general who reported to the Warlord. Serving under Khaavren, whom he knew and trusted, took away the sting of losing his own command, albeit temporarily. Daro said she understood, and he returned to his duty.
After some hesitation, she opened up the county books and made some notes about matters to discuss with her staff next week; she knew perfectly well that there might not be a next week, but she may as well act as if there would be.
She was still doing this when Cyl came in to inform her that the Viscount of Adrilankha had arrived, and been shown into the East Room. Daro smiled, closed the books, and stood. “I’ll meet him there.”
When she arrived, he was still standing. “Viscount!” she said. “Thank you for coming!”
“It is always a pleasure, madam.”
Daro hugged her son and said, “Where is Ibronka?”
“At the Palace, hoping to find a way to be useful.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. Cyl, bring us some wine. Sit, Viscount. How are the city preparations?”
“In truth, madam, the Lord Mayor is handling everything. I’ve offered her my services, but she seems to have everything in hand. I’m feeling useless; but I admit my life has not prepared me to be useful in this kind of crisis.”
“Then perhaps you can be useful in another way.”
“Really? That would please me very much. How can I help?”
“Something your father said triggered a memory of something you told me about several years ago. Do you recall something about a silver tiassa?”
Piro’s eyes widened a little. “Why, yes. You have a good memory.”
“Viscount, are you blushing?”
“I may well be, madam.”
“I’d like to know what makes you blush.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Really? Well, all right. What of the silver tiassa?”
“I’m familiar with it. I’ve seen it. Why?”
Daro shook her head and frowned. “Something odd. Something feels wrong.”
“What does?”
“Viscount, who has the silver tiassa?”
“So far as I know, Lord Feorae still has it.”
“Feorae? County investigations?”
“And city. He works for us both and collects a double salary. You know him?”
“We’ve met.”
“He is the last one I know to have had it.”
“All right. How did he acquire it?”
“Through the machinations of a Jhereg. His name is Taltos, and he’s an Easterner.”
“Yes. I recall him.”
“You recall him, madam?”
Daro smiled a little. “You must not underestimate the concern or curiosity of a mother. This Taltos prevented you from facing criminal charges, Viscount.”
Piro stared at his mother. “He—”
“We need not speak of that. Where is this Easterner, in case I need to talk to him?”
“He has left town.”
“Oh. That makes it harder. You don’t know where?”
“No, but he had a lover.”
“That was several years ago, Viscount; you know how changeable Easterners are.”
“That’s true.”
“Still, it’s worth checking. What was her name?”
“Cawti.”
“South Adrilankha?”
“No, the City. Lower Kieron area, near Malak Circle.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Madam, can you tell me what this is about?”
“I don’t know, Viscount. It’s bothering me.”
“Is it related to the expected attack?”
“Related? In some way it must be, because that’s how I heard about it. But it might be tangential. It’s probably tangential. Perhaps I’m only concerning myself with it because there is so little I can do about the real problem.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
She smiled. “You’re right.”
“It is more likely that you have the feeling this is important, even though you don’t know why.”
“You know me well, Viscount.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Look into it.”
“Can I help?”
“You’ve already helped, Viscount.”
“I could accompany you.”
“No, thank you. It may be that your presence would impede my inquiries.”
“I understand. If there is anything else I can do, madam, you know I am ready.”
“Well, if you don’t mind being demoted to messenger—”
“I don’t.”
“Run to the Palace, then, and tell Feorae that I’m about to call on him.”
Piro bowed. “I’m on my way. You will give the Count my warmest greetings?”
“Of course.”
Daro considered for a few minutes after her son had left, then said, “Cyl, have a horse saddled for me.”
“Yes, Countess.”
“And have Noli prepare a valise with cosmetics and my winter walking outfit.”
“Yes, Countess.”
When she was ready, she left from the north door. Cyl handed her valise to the groom, who tied it to the saddle, after which he assisted Daro to mount.
Cyl said, “An
y instructions while you are away?”
“No. I’ll be back by this evening.”
“Yes, Countess.”
She set off, riding with the easy seat of the accomplished horseman, to the Palace.
Feorae was expecting her, and she was admitted at once. He rose as she entered and bowed, then gestured to a chair. Daro nodded to him. She remained standing, though she set her valise down. She said, “Some years ago, you purchased a silver tiassa.”
His eyes widened. “Yes, my lady. Though I don’t know how you could know—”
“Please get it. I want to see it.”
Feorae hesitated, then said, “Yes, my lady. It is with my collection, in my chambers. I’ll be back at once.”
Two minutes later he was back, looking distressed. In his hand was an open case. He turned it around to show that it was empty. He said, “I don’t—”
“Yes,” said Daro. “I hadn’t thought it would be that easy.” She sat down. “When did you see it last?”
Feorae sat down behind his desk. “I spend a day with my collection every month. The last time would have been, let me think, a week ago yesterday.”
“Send for one of your sorcerers.”
He nodded. “I was just about to do that.”
Daro didn’t recognize the small, frail-looking woman who arrived ten minutes later, but she recognized the arms of Whitecrest (party per bend sinister ship and tiassa counter-charged argent and azure) on the collar of the shirt she wore, and at once identified the slightly flattened features, the dark complexion, and the colors of her clothing. An Athyra, it would seem, thought Daro. I should really learn more of the names of those who work for me. “Greetings,” she said. “I am Daro.”
“I recognize you, Countess. I am Lyndra, at my lady’s service.” She bowed to Feorae and said, “My lord?”
“This box,” he said, handing it over. “The contents were stolen. What can you tell me?”
Lyndra took it, and gave the inside and the outside a careful examination, after which she ran her fingers over it, her brow furrowed and her eyes almost closed.
Eventually she opened her eyes and said, “The thief was careful, and calm. There is a slight trace here, in the center, no doubt where the thief touched the box while removing the object.”
“What can you tell us?”
“There’s a hint of personality. Cold, distant, nothing to rely on. A professional. Male, I think. And—odd.”
“Odd?”
“I mean, there’s something odd here. I can’t—I think this may have been an Easterner.”
“Ah,” said Daro.
Feorae frowned. “Could it be—”
“Feorae.”
“My lady?”
“I’ll handle this.”
“My lady, the tiassa—”
“I’m sorry about your loss, Feorae, but this is bigger than you. If possible, I’ll see to it you’re compensated, but whatever happens, I do not expect you to see the object again.”
“Will there be anything else?” said Lyndra.
“No, that is all. And unless you hear from the Empire, do not speak of this.”
“Yes, my lady.”
When she had gone, Feorae said, “I don’t understand, my lady.”
“Nor do I,” said Daro. “But I will.”
“And what am I to do?”
“The same as Lyndra; nothing. Speak of this to no one, unless there is an official inquiry from the Empire. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Now, wait here while I use your chambers. I must change my dress a little for the next part of my errand.”
Daro picked up her valise and, without waiting for a reply, entered Feorae’s private chambers. She quickly changed her dress, and, with a few quick strokes of the appropriate color to her eyebrows and lips, and a slight darkening of her complexion, became, to all appearances, a Lyorn of some minor family. Daro generally favored the Lyorn red for her dress; she had learned that with only a little work it could become an effective disguise. She returned to Feorae, reminded him again to say nothing, and called for her horse.
An hour later, Daro was in Malak Circle, where a contingent of tired-looking Phoenix Guards was gathered. Other than the guards, the streets were nearly deserted, and those who did have business seemed furtive, keeping their eyes too straight ahead, walking too fast. Daro dismounted and approached the guards. They turned with friendly expressions—according her the respect a Lyorn is given, no matter the Lyorn’s station in life.
The one with the corporal’s badge said, “I beg your pardon, m’lady, but the streets are to be kept clear.”
Daro nodded. “I will be off the street soon, I just need…”
“Do you require assistance, m’lady?”
Daro gave him a friendly smile. “I don’t require it, exactly. I was simply wondering if you could recommend a good place to eat.”
“I’m sorry, my lady, but everything is closed. The crisis, you know. That’s why no one is permitted on the streets, save on urgent business.”
“Crisis? Oh, yes. The Jenoine silliness. I don’t believe they’re really going to come. Do you?”
“Well, my lady—”
“I’ve been meaning to visit this district for so long, and today I can because county archives are closed, and everything is closed here, too. I guess I should have known.”
The other guards were carefully looking off into space. The corporal smiled indulgently.
“Think nothing of it, m’lady. Come back again after this is all over, there are many fine places to eat in this neighborhood.”
“I should think so! All sorts of different kinds of people live here.”
“That is true, m’lady. Teckla, nobles, Jhereg, craftsmen.”
“There must be lots of stories.”
He laughed. “Oh, yes. After my term, I should write my memoirs.”
“Everything but Serioli and Easterners.”
“Oh, we have an Easterner.”
“Here? I thought they were all in South Adrilankha.”
“Most of them are, but a few live other places in the city.”
“My goodness! I’ve never met an Easterner socially. What are they like?”
“This one—that is, these two—are pretty rough characters. Jhereg. One of them ran all the illegal operations in this area until the Jhereg got tired of an Easterner putting on airs, you know, and drove him out.”
“It sounds terrible.”
The corporal shrugged. “No more than he deserved.”
“And what of the other?”
“His wife. She still lives here, I believe. At least, I saw her not more than a year ago, walking around like she owned the place.”
“Really! I would like to meet her. What is her name?”
The corporal frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d advise meeting her, my lady. She’s a desperate character, from what I hear.”
“Well, but surely you could protect me.”
“Yes, my lady. But our orders are to remain here, to keep an eye out for any disturbances.”
“You couldn’t spare a couple of men for a few minutes?”
“Well … I suppose. I’ll send for a couple more while they’re with you.”
One of the guardsmen, a dark Dragonlord with curly hair and a hooked nose, turned to the corporal and said, “I know the Easterner, m’lord.” He then bowed to Daro. “Her name is Cawti.”
The right one, at least, she thought. And married, are they?
The corporal nodded. “All right. Take Wyder with you.”
Another Dragonlord stepped out, and the two of them set off down Copper Lane. Daro led her horse instead of re-mounting so as not to out-pace them. The horse, named Breeze, seemed to resent the restraint. Daro patted her neck and apologized.
She fell in next to the curly-haired Dragonlord and said, very softly, “Thank you.”
“My lady?”
Daro smiled at him. He let a s
light smile pass his lips and said, just as softly, “You’re welcome, Countess. I assume you don’t wish your husband the captain to hear of this excursion?”
“He would want to protect me, and that would be inconvenient.”
“I understand, my lady. I trust you’ll protect me from him if he hears?”
“I’ll do my best.”
In her normal voice, she said, “Where are we going?”
“They live just ahead there, upper flat. That is, she lives there; he used to.”
“All right.”
“If you don’t mind, my lady, I’d prefer to go up first.”
“You think she’s a threat?”
“I’ve been told she’s an assassin. And it is all but certain that her husband is.”
Daro felt her mouth curl up in distaste. “What a family,” she said. “Very well.”
“She can’t be that bad,” said the other. “She used to run around with Princess Norathar.”
“Not anymore; not since the Princess’s matters were put right.”
“Doesn’t matter; let’s do this.”
She and the one called Wyder waited for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. She noticed Wyder becoming more and more disturbed, his fingers tapping against the hilt of his sword. She said, “What did this Cawti and Norathar do together?”
“It’s said they killed people. For money.”
Daro nodded. “I did hear something about that; gossip during her coronation.”
“I’ve heard the same, don’t know if it’s true. Dammit, where is he?”
“If you wish,” she said, “I’m sure I’ll be fine here.”
“No, my lady. We must—there he is.”
“Sorry for the delay. It seems she’s moved, and it took some work to find out where.”
“But you found out?” said Daro.
“South Adrilankha. I have the directions.”
“We’ll have to clear it,” said Wyder. “And get horses.”
“Oh, would you?”
“I’ll ask.”
“That would be splendid.”
“Yes, my lady.”
An hour later they were in South Adrilankha. This part of the city is part of my county, she reminded herself as she worked to keep the distaste off her face.
As they turned onto Elm, she said, “This neighborhood isn’t all that bad, really.”
