by Steven Brust
Within the hour, messengers began to deliver reports of investigations; these Khaavren read them as they appeared, making notations in the margins whenever anything caught his interest, such as symbols indicating more inquiry required, or pay particular attention, or see if this alibi can be sustained. He searched for patterns, and for unusual activity of any sort; particularly following the efforts to learn who the mysterious Issola nobles were.
In the middle of the afternoon, Palaniss returned, begging permission to report. Khaavren had her admitted at once, being anxious to hear what she had learned.
“Well, well, Palaniss,” he said. “To judge by the expression on your countenance, you have not met with complete success.”
“I’m sorry to say, Brigadier, that you are entirely correct.”
“Ah, so much the worse.”
“If you wish, I will tell you about it.”
“That is exactly what I wish. Come, sit down. That is better. Were you able to find the Easterner?”
“Oh, yes; I found her. There was no difficulty in that.”
“And was she willing to speak with you?”
“Yes, she was willing, although—”
“Yes?”
“She seemed cold, even unfriendly.”
“That is odd.”
“Yes, it seems strange, and even, upon reflection, ungrateful.”
“Very true, Palaniss. Did you endeavor to follow my advice?”
“I did, Brigadier, and, I’m sorry to say, she was intransigent.”
“Intransigent?”
“Exactly.”
“Yet, you flattered her?”
“I treated her with all deference.”
“It is unusual. More than unusual, it is strange.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Brigadier.”
“So, then, she refused to tell you anything?”
“She pretended she had never heard of the artifact.”
“Impossible!”
“I agree.”
“Did you get any hint of deception?”
“Ah, as to that, it is possible.”
“Possible?”
“She held her face immobile and kept her eyes on mine, as humans will often do when they do not wish to give away their feelings; it often means deception. I do not know what this means among Easterners.”
“Nor do I. It is dangerous to make assumptions—”
“That is true, Brigadier. You have often said that when you assume, you are thinking like a fish.*”
“It is true that I have said that, and I am glad you remember. Nevertheless, we may, in this case, use as a working hypothesis that she knows more than she is saying on the matter.”
“I am entirely in agreement,” said Palaniss. “So, then, what is the next step?”
“Let us reflect.”
“Oh, I am entirely in favor of reflecting.”
“Good, then.”
“But—”
“Yes?”
“Upon what should we reflect?”
“Ah, you ask that?”
“I do, and, if necessary, I even ask it again.”
“Well, I wish to reflect upon this: If our assumption is correct, and this Easterner did take the artifact from the home of Dathaani—”
“Yes, if she did?”
“Then what might she have done with it?”
“Ah, yes. I must say, Brigadier, that that is a good subject upon which to reflect.”
“I am gratified that you think so, Palaniss.”
“So, then, I am now reflecting.”
“As am I.”
After some few moments of silent reflection, Khaavren said, “It is possible that she has it concealed in her home.”
“Yes, that is possible.”
“Or she may have given it to someone else.”
“What of selling it?”
Khaavren frowned. “If it is made of solid silver, it is not without value, and yet—”
“Well?”
“Something tells me that, whatever her reasons for acquiring it, it was not for its monetary value.”
“I know you too well, Brigadier, to mistrust your instincts.”
“So, then, who might she have given it to?”
“She has a son, Brigadier.”
“Ah, has she? Well, that is certainly a possibility.”
“And then, of course, we must not forget her estranged husband, Count Szurke.”
“In fact, Palaniss, it was toward him that my thoughts were tending.”
“You think she gave it to him?”
“It is not impossible.”
The Dragonlord nodded. “It certainly seems to be a possibility, perhaps even a likelihood.”
“But then, if it is true, you perceive our situation?”
“I am not certain I understand what the brigadier does me the honor to tell me.”
“Why, we are searching for the silver tiassa, are we not?”
“That is true.”
“Well, if it is in the possession of Count Szurke, that gains us nothing, as we have no way of finding him.”
“Ah, that is true. So, in fact, this intelligence does us little good.”
“That is my judgment, Palaniss. Nevertheless, I may be beginning to see the start of a pattern here.”
“A pattern? Can you describe it?”
“Not yet,” said Khaavren, frowning. “I must reflect.”
“I will point out, in case you have forgotten, that the Jhereg are after Count Szurke.”
Khaavren shook his head. “This is not the Jhereg. There is no direction, no goal. These are events that are occurring without a mind guiding them. There are many elements, many goals, many tracks. That is to say, we are seeing the result of a clash of intentions, not the working out of a plan.”
“I see. But then, what must we do?”
Khaavren’s eyes widened slightly. “Why, that was very well said, Palaniss.”
“How, was it?”
“I assure you, it was.”
“I am glad of that, Brigadier, only—”
“Yes?”
“I am uncertain what I said.”
“Why, you asked what we must do.”
“That is true.”
“Yes, it is the answer.”
“I confess myself puzzled, Brigadier.”
“How, are you?”
“I give you my word, I am.”
“That is all right, I have been puzzled at times.”
“I am relieved to hear it.”
“Shall I explain?”
“I would be pleased if you did.”
“This is it, then: There are, as we have said, too many tracks and elements and directions to see how they fit together.”
“And so?”
“And so we will not see how they fit together, rather we will bring them together. I believe that the best way to learn about the relationships among these people, is simply to put them in the same place, and see what they do. That is to say, we are done with reflecting. It is time to act.”
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
How Khaavren Became Involved
with the Entertainment Industry,
and Her Majesty Permitted
the Captain, That Is to Say,
the Brigadier, to
Ask Her Certain Questions
The first thing Khaavren did after dismissing Palaniss was to send for Dinaand, the Dzurlord, who arrived within five minutes, proving that he was always ready to respond to the brigadier’s wishes, and that he was one of those with a keystone that permitted teleportation within the Imperial Palace. He entered, bowed, and, in response to Khaavren’s gesture, sat.
“You summoned me, Brigadier? I presume, then, that there is sorcery to be contemplated?”
“In fact,” said Khaavren, “it is not your skill in sorcery that I require on this occasion, but rather your knowledge in other areas.”
“Other areas? To which other areas does the brigadier refer?”
“Music, good Dinaand.”
The Dzurlord’s eyes widened a little, then he smiled. “I sometimes forget, Brigadier, how thoroughly you have studied those of us with whom you work.”
“And so?”
“It is true that I spent some years as a musician, and any knowledge I happen to have acquired is at your disposal.”
Khaavren knew, in fact, that the Dzurlord had been successful as an itinerant singer of medium quality and an outstanding player of the fretted vi’cello for a good score of years, and might be doing so yet had a drunk patron not been loudly disrespectful at one of his performances, the results of which had put an end to the patron’s life and Dinaand’s career. The brigadier, naturally, made no mention of this circumstance. Instead he said, “What made you decide to play a certain place, and not another?”
Dinaan laughed. “Why, money, of course.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, not all, but certainly it was important. You perceive, I had no access to any of my family funds, and so if I wasn’t paid, I didn’t eat, whereas if I was paid well, I ate well.”
“Yes, that is perfectly clear. But what were some of the other factors?”
The Dzurlord frowned. “It mattered if the room sounded good, and was clean. And, of course, the chance to play with particular musicians I admired was worth a great deal.”
“How, was it?”
“Oh, of course! You must understand, for a musician to play with other musicians who excite and challenge him, why that is a special sort of joy. I had the honor to play with the harpist Liscreta once; a memory I shall always treasure. And on another occasion—”
“I understand, Dinaand. What is it that makes another musician desirable to play with?”
The Dzurlord frowned. “Well, he must be at least as skilled as one’s self, preferably a little more skilled, so one feels challenged. And one must share similar tastes—Brigadier?”
“Yes, my friend?”
“Perhaps if you were to tell me what you are attempting to discover, I could be of more help?”
“Well, that is true.”
“And so?”
“I will tell you.”
“I am listening.”
“This is it, then: I am setting a trap for a musician.”
“Ah! A trap!”
“Yes.”
“For?”
“Lady Saruchka.”
“Ah, of course. I performed with her once. She is well known. Her House nearly exiled her, and her family all but disowned her.”
“For playing music?”
“For playing social music.”
“Ah, yes. Compositional music would be acceptable.”
“Some in my House feel the same way,” said the Dzurlord.
“And you played social music despite that?”
“Not in the least, Brigadier. Because of it.”
“Ah, of course.”
“So then, you wish to bring Lady Saruchka to you.”
“You have understood me exactly.”
Dinaand fell silent for a moment; then he said, “Yes, it shouldn’t be too difficult. I know Lord Ramon represents her. We can find a good hall—say the Owl’s Feet. Then we offer her Adham on lant and Dav-Hoel on fiddle, or, if they are not available, others of similar skill. From what I know of Lady Saruchka, she won’t be able to resist.” He frowned. “If it were me, I certainly wouldn’t be able to.”
“Good,” said Khaavren. “How long is needed?”
“It can be set up in days, if Ramon can reach her and everyone else agrees. A good month for publicity.”
“Do we need the month?”
“If it is to seem real, yes.”
Khaavren sighed. “Very well.”
“Shall I start working on it? That is to say, shall I visit Lord Ramon and have him put it together?”
“You are on good terms with him?”
“As good terms as it is possible to be with a musician’s representative. He will be receptive to the plan, because he will see money in it. Of course, it will require us to lay down the capital for renting the hall, and to guarantee payment for the musicians.”
Khaavren nodded. “You will have the authorization for the funds.”
“And so?”
“Yes. The sooner begun, the sooner finished.”
“Very well, Brigadier.”
Dinaand took his leave, and Khaavren sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and considered matters. He realized that he had done everything he could for the present toward solving the problem. It must be said that the brave Tiassa, though capable of exercising great patience, felt frustration when a plan was in motion but there was nothing to do but wait. Yet he had the strength to put this aside and resume his duties; after five minutes, he opened his eyes, sat up, and did so.
Over the next week, Khaavren, for the most part, busied himself with the day-to-day tasks of being Captain of the Phoenix Guards, a post with no shortage of duties. While he never let the matter of the silver tiassa get far from his thoughts, he was able to distract himself with his routine.
Every few days he would receive a report from Dinaand, describing his progress. Khaavren gave these reports the same exacting attention he gave to all reports. In the first week he learned, therefore, that matters were progressing: the hall had been secured, the other musicians had agreed, and a date had been set pending the approval of Lady Saruchka. It was at this time that he received word that Her Majesty wished to see him; as he had certain matters to discuss with the Empress, he agreed to see her in the Blue Room at once.
Being the captain, he did not require an escort—or rather, he escorted himself into the Imperial presence. He noted with the experience of an old courtier that the Orb was a pleasant light shade of green. Her Majesty (whom Khaavren noticed after the automatic observation of the Orb) was seated, wearing an informal gown of Phoenix gold.
Khaavren bowed and silently awaited his sovereign’s orders.
“Well, thank you for seeing me so quickly.”
“Your Majesty knows I am entirely devoted to her service.”
“That is true, for you have proved it often enough.”
“Your Majesty is kind to notice.”
“I more than notice, I wished to especially commend your loyalty, Captain.”
Khaavren bowed. “I repeat my observations on Your Majesty’s kindness; but I am certain that is not all you wished to say to me.”
“On the contrary, that is all I wished to say to you, Captain.”
“How, that is all?”
“Entirely, Captain.”
“And yet—”
“However.”
“Ah, there is a however.”
“Indeed there is. While I have no more to say to my captain, there are certain matters to discuss with my brigadier of the Special Tasks group.”
“Well, I understand. Your Majesty must understand that between the two posts, I am sometimes confused about whose service is requested.”
“I understand completely.”
“I am glad Your Majesty does. So, then, how can I—that is, the brigadier of the Special Tasks group—be of service?”
“It concerns this investigation into the attack on Count Szurke.”
“Your Majesty knows I am conducting an investigation.”
“Yes, but it has come to my attention that this investigation has spilled over into other areas.”
“Other areas, Majesty?”
“I refer to the false Jenoine invasion, which I have no doubt you recall.”
“Oh, there is no question that I remember it.”
“And then, Brigadier? Are these investigations running together?”
“So it would seem, Majesty.”
“Well. Then I should imagine you would have questions to ask me.”
“In fact, Your Majesty is perspicacious.”
“Very well. That is why I wished to see you, so you could ask these questions.”
“That falls out
better than I had expected, Majesty, as I had hoped to bring this subject up after Your Majesty’s business was complete.”
“Well, you see, there is no need to wait.”
“So much the better.”
“Ask, then, Brigadier.”
“Very well, Majesty. My first question is simple.”
“It is?”
“Who was behind the false invasion?”
“Brigadier, you know who arranged it.”
“Yes, Majesty. But who hired him to do it?”
“Ah, that. We never found out.”
“Your pardon, Majesty, but—was an effort made to do so?”
The Empress shook her head. “No. If I had wished this to be discovered, you are the one I’d have asked—in one of your posts or the other.”
Khaavren nodded as if that very thought had occurred to him. He hesitated, then said, “Your Majesty, why?”
Zerika sighed. “The Prime Minister and the Dragon Heir appealed to me. They pointed out what it would do to the Empire if a full attack on the Jhereg were to be launched; and nothing short of such an attack would have discovered anything.”
“I see,” said Khaavren.
“You see,” repeated Her Majesty. “But do you comprehend?”
Khaavren tilted his head. “If Your Majesty is asking if I approve, I would not do myself the honor to judge Your Majesty’s decisions.”
The Empress laughed—a genuine laugh, we should add, as opposed to the laugh of one intending to make a point. “I believe that you are being disingenuous, either with me or with yourself.”
Khaavren started to speak, stopped, then permitted himself a smile. “Your Majesty may be right.”
“So, then?”
“In this case, Majesty, I do not presume to pass judgment. I am not unaware that sometimes justice must be sacrificed to expediency.”
“But you don’t like it, do you, Captain?”
Khaavren stiffened. “I had thought Your Majesty was speaking to the brigadier.”
Zerika laughed. “Well taken. What other questions do you have?”
