by Steven Brust
"Orlaan!" he cried. "That is to say, Grita!" He scrambled to his feet.
"Well met," said Grita, in a voice in which a listener could not have failed to detect considerable irony. "What brings you here?"
"How, you wish to know that?"
"Well, I think I do," said Grita.
"It is simple enough. I have been following your old enemies."
"Oh, have you then? And for what reason?"
"For what reason? Why, to find them!"
"Do not play the fool with me, brigand. Remember what I can do."
"I have not forgotten."
"Well?"
Wadre considered for a moment, then decided that, for lack of any better idea, he would see what would happen if he told the truth. "I was asked to by Galstan."
"Ah. Galstan."
"You know him?"
"Nearly. He is another of those enemies I spoke to you about long ago."
"Ah. I had not, you perceive, been aware of this circumstance when I agreed to assist him. And, moreover, you were, at that time, nowhere to be found."
"And if you could have found me, then what?"
"Oh, as to that—"
Grita cut him off with a gesture and said, "Well, if that were not enough, I believe I had an encounter with him this very day."
"How, an encounter?"
"Yes. I had just seen you, and made up my mind to speak with you. As I approached you—this was an hour and a half ago, I believe—I thought I caught a glimpse of him. I at once determined to follow him, and I did."
"Ah. And did you find him?"
"No, but I found the place where, upon setting out down this rather steep path to find you, I had tethered my horse."
"The place where—"
"Yes. My horse was gone. I am convinced he stole it."
"How, stole your horse?"
"I am certain that he did."
"That is remarkable."
"In what way?"
"I had just convinced myself that he must be an aristocrat, and now you tell me that he is, instead, a horse thief."
"You think the two are incompatible?"
"I had thought so."
"Now you have learned better."
"Well, it seems I have. Then it must have been his horse I found with its throat slit yesterday. It seemed to have broken a leg."
"Yes, that would explain it."
"And then?"
"Well, Galstan's horse broke a leg, and so he stole mine, so I will take yours."
Wadre started to protest, reconsidered, sighed, and nodded. "Very well, then," he said.
Grita nodded. "And, by chance, do you know where this Galstan is now?"
"He has just ridden out in that direction," he said, pointing to the west. "The proof is, in fact, that I thought it was you, having recognized the horse."
"Has he indeed?" said Grita, drawing forth a touch-it glass, which she brought to her eye. That she made good use of this glass we can prove by her next words, which were, "Well, it seems that he is speaking with a good troop of horsemen."
"Then he has allies," said Wadre. "I had some once, but I do not know where they are."
"They are with me," said Grita.
"How, with you?"
"Yes, now they serve me."
"Well, but they are mine."
"No," said Grita. "They are mine."
"And yet—"
"Where is your horse?"
Wadre sighed. "It is on the other side of that copse of trees."
"That is good," said Grita, and replaced her touch-it glass in the pouch at her side, from which pouch she, at the same time, produced what seem to be a narrow rod of some metallic substance, perhaps copper, as it had a reddish-golden hue.
Wadre frowned. "May I inquire as to the item you now hold in your hand?"
Grita nodded. "It is something of my own devising. Its function is not unlike that of a flashstone, but it is far more complex, as I was required to draw directly upon the Sea of Amorphia, rather than upon the power of the Orb. I have, however, made certain tests upon it, and I am convinced it will do what I wish it to in every way."
"So then, it causes explosions?"
"Yes. You see this end, marked with small black stripes, I hold in my hand. And the other end—"
"Yes, the other end?"
"Why, that indicates where I wish to have its destructive powers directed."
"Well, but you are pointing it at me."
"You are most observant."
"Do you, then, intend to make use of it upon my person?"
"I confess, that is exactly my intention."
"I beg you to reconsider."
"Alas, my dear bandit, it is quite impossible. I have stolen your band, and I am about to steal your horse. You perceive, to leave you alive at this point would be utterly unthinkable."
"So you are going to kill me?"
"Exactly. And this very instant, too."
"I should like to find a way to change your mind."
"Alas," said Grita. "That is unlikely."
Wadre sighed.
At about this time, Khaavren said, "I see something."
"What do you see?" said Aerich.
"I saw, or, that is to say, I believe I saw movement upon that bluff."
Aerich frowned and looked carefully, then shrugged and said, "I see nothing, but I do not doubt you."
"I see nothing now, and I quite doubt myself, Aerich." Khaavren chuckled a little. "But, still, let us go in that direction."
"With this plan, I agree."
Khaavren nodded, and led his small troop forward.
As he did so, some distance behind him, Pel spoke to a Dragonlord named Tsanaali e'Lanya, saying, "An hour ago, they were upon that bluff, there."
Tsanaali said, "Then that is where we will go."
"They may have moved."
"That is natural. But then, they may not have. And, if they have, they may have left tracks, as you perceive the mountainside is covered with snow."
"Yes," said Pel. "I have been hunting them for some time. I do not wish to lose them now."
Tsanaali gave him a look of distaste, then said, "I do not understand why these people are important to my lady Suura."
"They are not."
"They are not? But yet, her orders—"
"Your lady Suura has been replaced by your lord Izak."
"Who is Izak? It cannot be the subaltern on Suura's staff; he is scarcely two hundred years old."
"As to that, I cannot say. But it is the case, whoever it is."
The captain spread his palms. "Then why are they important to Izak, whoever he is?"
"Well, in fact, they are important to your lord Kâna."
"His Majesty!"
"Very well, then," said Pel, shrugging. "His Majesty."
"Why, then, are these people important to His Majesty?"
"Because they have been assisting a lady whom—His Majesty—wishes stopped at all costs."
The lieutenant (for this was nominally Tsanaali's rank) nodded and said, "Then, is it your opinion that we should follow them, hoping they'll lead us to her, or should we destroy them?"
"They do not know where she is."
"Are you certain of this?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"How?"
"Yes. How can you be certain?"
Pel said, "And what would you do with your cavalry troop if you were threatened by a spear phalanx?"
"Eh? Why, I should cause them to spread out, remaining on horseback, and sweep around both flanks."
"How do you know that is the right thing to do?"
"It is my business to know such things."
"Exactly," said Pel, bowing.
Tsanaali scowled and said, "Well, what then should we do, now that we have found them?"
"Destroy them, of course, if you can."
"Well."
"And, my dear Lieutenant, there is another matter."
"And that is?"
"If
I am to give His Majesty his proper title, then you may do the same regarding me."
Tsanaali clenched his jaws, then said, "I was given the order to follow your instructions, Your Venerance—" This last term seemed to emerge with some effort on the Dragonlord's part. "—therefore I will do as you say."
"That will be the best thing to do, believe me."
"And will Your Venerance remain with us?"
"I? Not the least in the world, I assure you. I am going forward to attempt to ascertain if they are still there, and, if they are not, where they have gone."
"Well," said the Dragonlord, who clearly thought the Yendi intended to do nothing more than avoid the battle.
Pel tilted his head to the side. "My dear Lieutenant," he said.
"Yes, Your Venerance?"
"This is likely to be a rather difficult battle, followed by other matters in which the future is uncertain. You know that Izak is approaching Dzur Mountain from the north, while Brawre approaches from the west."
"Brawre?"
"A certain Lady Brawre, who has replaced Tonchin."
"I do not know who this is."
"Nor do I. But, nevertheless, that is what is going to happen."
"Well? What of it?"
"Well, it may be that you will not survive these battles."
"That is always possible for a soldier."
"And it is possible that I will not survive these battles."
"That is always possible for a spy."
"But," continued Pel coolly, "if it should happen that we both survive, then, when all is over, I give you my word I will cut your heart out."
"You think so?"
"Yes. I will cut out your heart, and I will feed it to you past those lips with which you do me the honor to sneer."
"We will see, then."
"Yes, we will."
Tsanaali responded to this compliment by nodding brusquely, after which he turned to his troop and gave them the signal to move forward. Pel, for his part, turned the head of his horse and rode back toward the foot of South Mountain.
Khaavren and his friends were, at this same time, riding toward the same place. They were closer, but riding more slowly.
Grita found Wadre's horse, and, leading it, went to gather together the remainder of what had been Wadre's band, but was now hers. She led them toward where Piro and his friends waited, looking out at the dust cloud that was the advance of the troop led by Tsanaali. In fact, so intent on them were they, that for a time they forgot the smaller band—that is to say, Khaavren's—until they were nearly upon them, scarcely a hundred yards away.
It was Tazendra who eventually noticed this latter group, at which time she nudged Piro and pointed.
"Now who is that?" said Piro, frowning and drawing his sword. Tazendra and Kytraan also drew their swords, and Lar came forward, brandishing a stout cast-iron cooking pan. "I had been observing them for a time, and then they escaped my attention," Piro concluded.
"I don't know who they are," said Kytraan, peering forward.
Tazendra shrugged. "Perhaps it is that road agent, Wadre, with whom we have already had dealings. I will tell you frankly that I have not trusted him since he allied himself with Grita and attempted to kill us."
"If you will permit me, my lady," said Lar. "At any rate, it is not him."
"How," said Piro. "It is not?"
Lar shook his head.
"But," said Kytraan, "how can you be sure?"
"Because the road agent is dead," said Lar.
"How, dead?"
"Entirely."
"But," said Piro, "how can you know that?"
"In the simplest way," said Lar. "Because his body is lying not thirty feet behind us."
"The Horse!" said Tazendra. "It is?"
Lar bowed an assent.
"But, how did it arrive there?" said Kytraan.
"It fell."
"It fell?"
Lar nodded.
"When?" demanded Piro.
"Half an hour ago, my lord."
"But," said Tazendra, "why didn't you acquaint us with this circumstance?"
"Because," said Lar, "my lord the Viscount said I was to remain silent."
Piro looked at Lar, but found nothing to say. Kytraan went back and looked at the body that had almost fallen upon their heads and said, "Well, it is certainly Wadre."
"And that," said Piro, still staring forward, "very nearly looks like my father."
"And that," said Tazendra, looking in a slightly different direction, "appears very much like my old friend Pel."
"Impossible," said Kytraan, although it was impossible to determine to which of them he was speaking, if not both.
"And yet," said Lar.
"Well?" said Kytraan.
"If Wadre fell from above—and I give you my word he did—then I wonder what is up there that causes someone to fall."
Kytraan took a step backward and stared up at the ledge, which was thirty or thirty-five feet over his head, then turned to Piro and Tazendra and said, "Do you know, I think what he says is full of wisdom. I believe I will keep an eye on that cliff above us."
"Yes," said Piro. "Do that."
Piro stared forward, frowning, and Tazendra stared forward, also frowning, and Kytraan and Lar stared upward, grimacing, and they all waited, knowing the next few moments would give the answers.
Meanwhile, some thirty or thirty-five feet above them Grita turned to her band of brigands—now numbering ten or twelve—and said, "We will go down the cliff and kill them all, at once. Do not waste time, nor give them a chance to defend themselves. Do you understand?"
The various bandits indicated that this was clear.
"Are the ropes ready?" said Grita.
In answer, the ropes, well secured to certain trees, were shown to her.
"Then," she said, "let us have at them."
And it was at this moment that Khaavren, riding toward the small rise near the foot of the South Mountain, suddenly stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by a feeling that was most peculiar because of its familiarity.
Aerich looked at him, eyes wide, because he felt the same thing, and it is a measure of the magnitude of the occurrence that Aerich was unable to prevent himself from showing astonishment.
Just a score of yards away, and at almost this same instant, Tazendra said, "It has returned, or I'm a norska!"
"What has returned?" said Piro.
"The Orb," said Tazendra.
"That is not likely," said Piro.
"Impossible," said Kytraan.
"Not the least in the world," said Zerika, emerging from the darkness of the cave, the Orb slowly circling her head and emitting a soft green glow.
Kytraan stared at her, Piro turned around an instant later, then Tazendra, who not only turned, but, upon seeing Zerika, dropped to one knee, eyes wide. Piro and Kytraan, seeing her, did the same an instant later. Lar, for his part, dropped his cooking pan and prostrated himself on the snowy ground.
Some historians have placed this day, the thirteenth of the month of the Jhegaala in the two hundred and forty-seventh year of the Interregnum, and this moment, the fifth hour after noon, as the end of the Interregnum and the beginning of Zerika's Reign. Others claim that the placing of the cornerstone of the new Imperial Palace is the moment; whereas, to others, it is the end of either the Battle of South Mountain, or sometimes the Battle of Dzur Mountain (that is, the Ninth Battle of Dzur Mountain, or the Tenth as some historians call it). Still others do not consider the Empire to have truly existed until Zerika actually took possession of the Imperial Palace, whereas some think it did not exist until the last of the serious opposition to it was crushed—which, in turn, leads to many debates over what might be considered serious opposition. Volumes have been written defending and attacking these various times and dates.
Of course, there is no question that the dates do matter; the question is more than academic because of the many calculations to be made by seers and oracles that depend on the ex
act moment at which the Empire existed once more. Therefore, it is worth taking a moment to consider the matter. Be assured, our consideration will be brief, because, in the opinion of this historian, the matter is far less complex than it is often made out to be.
Expressed in the simplest terms: What is the Empire? It is the political and economic organization of states united under the Orb—an artifact that is both symbolic and functional. While the Orb did not function, there was no Empire; or, there was that condition which has come to be called the Interregnum. As to such matters of just how many of these lesser states—principalities, duchies, and so on—must acknowledge and pay homage to the Empire for the Empire to "exist," this historian will not venture an opinion. It might be that Zerika's Reign actually began at one of these later dates, or, more likely, at the moment she ascended the "throne" in her temporary palace and began to conduct business there. But, even if this is the case, the Interregnum ended at the instant she emerged from the Paths of the Dead—that is, at exactly the place where we have interrupted our story.
Certainly, it was the opinion of those present at that moment—the first to feel the effects of the Orb—that this was the case. The reader has seen that Khaavren, Aerich, and Tazendra were all aware of it at once—that is, they felt the echoes of the Orb in their minds.
We should add that there has, in fact, been some confusion on this issue over the years: In what manner, and how quickly, were those who had once been citizens aware of, and affected by the emergence of, the Orb? As we are now discussing the moment of its emergence, this would seem to be the most expeditious place to make this regrettable but necessary digression.
The confusion over this question is understandable, and, of itself, a part of the answer: Of millions who still lived who were once citizens, there are thousands of different experiences of its return, these differences based on the individual's distance from the Orb, and, to a degree, his sensitivity, personality, and attitude toward the Empire in general and the Orb in particular.
To a few, such as Sethra Lavode, it was as if the Orb had never been away: In an instant she had fully assimilated it, along with all of its capabilities and its connections to Zerika. To others, such as Aerich, this connection came, but a little more slowly: he reports that he knew at once what had happened, but there was a period lasting several minutes while it settled itself fully into his mind. For Khaavren, it was a shock, and it took him some seconds to recognize what it was, after which he, too, permitted it, by a conscious choice, to take its place—that familiar, comforting presence that we all know so well that we become aware of it only if it vanishes, or if we deliberately pay attention to it (the reader is invited to do so now, for his own education).
