by Steven Brust
"Oh, you were there?"
"There?" said Kytraan, back in the conversation once more. "I nearly think we were! And I will take my oath, there was hard steel involved in the mission!"
"You fought?"
"Fought? Almost! And, if you do not believe me, well, you may ask some of our ill-favored companions, at the far side of this table, because it was some of them who were on the other end of our blades."
"And yet," said Piro, "on that occasion they could get no advantage on us, and in this endeavor, my friend Kytraan played no small rôle."
"Ah, is that true?" said Röaana suddenly. "Was he, that is to say, Kytraan, much in the battle?"
"Nearly," said Piro.
"Well, I do not deny that my weapon tasted blood that day," said Kytraan modestly.
"Bah," said Piro. "He was everywhere at once, was my friend the Dragonlord. Even as was our friend the Dzurlord, Tazendra. Between them, well, they put matters to rest quickly enough, and settled all outstanding questions so that there was no room for argument."
Kytraan smiled. "I do not deny that I played my rôle, yet my friend leaves out that he, himself, was in command of our little band at the time of the engagement."
"How, you?" said Ibronka, startled. "You were in command during the melee?"
"Oh, as to that," said Piro. "Well, a decision was required, that is all. And, as Zerika was no longer there, and, in fact, as far as we knew, was now dead—"
"How," said Ibronka, looking at Piro with an expression full of interest. "You thought Her Majesty was dead?"
"Well, you perceive, at that time, she was not Her Majesty," said Piro, as if this intelligence explained everything.
"Nevertheless," said Ibronka, "how is it you thought she was dead?" We should note that the Dzurlord dropped her voice slightly when saying "she," proving that, to her at least, the Empress was most certainly the Empress.
"Oh," said Kytraan carelessly, "we all assumed this when she leapt from Deathgate Falls."
"How?" said Röaana. "She leapt from Deathgate Falls?"
"Not precisely," said Kytraan. "It would be more accurate to say that, at her command, her horse leapt from the Falls, and she was mounted upon the horse."
"But, how did she survive such a leap? Is it not said that the fall is three miles deep?"
"I have heard a quarter of a league," said Ibronka. "But, nevertheless—"
"We were never able to get the complete story from her," said Piro.
Kytraan nodded. "She does not appear to wish to discuss it. The last time I asked her, she only said, 'It killed my poor horse, alas.' And, as for us, well, it is difficult to insist, when she is the Empress."
"Yes," said Ibronka. "I understand that. But, nevertheless—"
"Yes," said Piro. "I should very much like to hear about it. Perhaps, someday, we shall. But first, well, it seems we must continue forward for a time, before we have the leisure to look back."
"That is true," cried Ibronka. "Whatever adventures we have had, well, I think there are considerably more to come. Do you not agree, Viscount?"
"Even if I did not," Piro found himself saying, "I could hardly find it in me to express disagreement with you."
Ibronka frowned. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Oh," said Piro, flushing suddenly. "Because, that is to say—"
"Yes?" said the Dzurlord, appearing genuinely confused.
"Well, I mean—but stay, is that not my father returning? Yes, yes there be no doubt. Perhaps he has found us horses. I confess, I should be glad to be mounted again; my feet have not enjoyed the last few days nearly as much as I should have liked them to, although do not think I complain."
"Well, yes," said Kytraan, rushing in to help his friend. "Perhaps he has. See, he is even now approaching the Empress, and is, no doubt, explaining to her the results of his mission."
"I am convinced that that is exactly what he is doing," said Piro.
"And yet," said Ibronka, "I wonder what you meant—"
"No doubt," said Kytraan, "we will soon discover the answer, and then, perhaps, we must be ready to leave quickly."
"You are right," said Piro. "I will pay the shot."
"No," said Ibronka, "permit me."
"Nonsense," said Kytraan. "I will—"
"No," said Röaana. "I insist that I—"
At this moment, Zerika, who had been sitting at the end of the table, speaking quietly with Pel and Tazendra, rose and announced, "We have acquired horses and equipment—to be precise, we have reacquired our own, which those we are pursuing traded for fresh ones two days ago. As this is Imperial business, I will arrange for certain supplies to be gathered, and will, in addition, settle the score with our host, after which we shall be on our way. I apologize to the brave captain, who has not been able to refresh himself as the rest of us have, but, nevertheless, I begrudge the time. And so, all of you, prepare to set out at once."
There was nothing to say to this except for some form or another of murmured agreement; wherefore they all rose and made their way out of the door, where they found, as Zerika had said, that their own horses were waiting for them on the street—in addition, of course, to a number of other horses, these being the ones originally belonging to Tsanaali's troop, and which he had traded for fresh mounts. In addition, the Empress had procured all the necessary equipage for those horses—simple leather, without decoration, but perfectly serviceable.
It took some time for each to find his horse, and to get reacquainted with it; and during this time Zerika, speaking directly to the servants, arranged for fodder and other provisions. When she had finished it was becoming dark, and there was some talk of remaining the night, but Zerika pretended that they could get two or three good hours of travel in, and declared that she begrudged every hour of delay, and so they set off as soon as they were ready, leaving the village of Barleytown, where the town annals recorded the event with no mention of the Orb circling the head of the visitors, and no apparent realization of the larger events of which this was, in fact, just a small part; indeed, one with which we should not have taken up the reader's time were it not for our desire to answer the question of how they managed to acquire horses, as well as our wish to describe, at least in passing, the conversation among our four young friends.
Chapter the Fiftieth
How Morrolan Attempted to
Collect Certain Funds
He Believed Were Due Him
As Lord of Southmoor
Morrolan, who was traveling at the same time as those to whom we have just had the honor to allude, had no one to carry on a conversation with, save only his horse, who, though occasionally spoken to, did not reply.
The distance from Morrolan's encampment to Dzur Mountain was not long—only some forty or forty-five miles, which journey Morrolan managed to complete by easy stages, arriving in the middle of the morning of the day after setting out. By "arriving" in this case, we mean that at this time he found himself at the very foot of the mountain, straining his neck looking at the imposing height, whose peak was lost in the Enclouding, and wondering exactly what he ought to do next. He resolved to look for a road or a path, or at least some way to bring his horse further up the mountain, and, at length, he found one—not, in fact, the same road that, the reader may recall, our friends had traveled up earlier, but one that was, if not so steep, rather narrower.
Morrolan negotiated this path with a certain amount of care, being rather fond of his horse and anxious not to see it come to grief, and so it was well into the afternoon before he reached a level plateau near the top of Dzur Mountain and somewhat above the Enclouding. On either hand stood peaks rising several hundred additional feet. He looked out over the plateau, and away from the brightness of the Furnace at his back, casting a long shadow before him that reminded him of late afternoon in the Eastern lands where he was born and raised.
The Dragonlord frowned as he considered the two peaks, first looking at one, then the other. Eventually, it seemed that he
descried motion from the one to his left, so he continued watching that direction, and soon was convinced that, indeed, there was someone or something alive, and that, moreover, it was slowly working its way toward him.
He checked that his sword was loose in its scabbard and turned his horse's head and began riding to meet it. It became clear that it was a human figure, slowly making its way down a path toward him. Soon the figure was close enough for him to see that it was a woman dressed all in black, save for something, perhaps a gem, that glittered blue at her waist. She did not, at first glance, appear to be armed. Morrolan dismounted and stood beside his horse, waiting. Presently, she stood before him, bowed slightly, and said, "My name is Sethra Lavode."
Morrolan returned the bow, saying, "I am Southmoor."
"Well, your name is Morrolan," said the Enchantress, "and I believe I shall call you that."
"You know my name?" said Morrolan.
"So it would seem."
"But how?"
"From the demon you know. She has communicated with me."
"Ah, I see."
"Come, Lord Morrolan, let us repair within my home, where it is more comfortable. I can provide stabling for your horse and wine that may suit your palate."
"Nevertheless—"
"How, have you some quarrel with this plan?"
"I, that is to say, well, none, in point of fact."
"Then it is agreed?"
"Very well, it is agreed."
"Follow me then, my lord."
"I am following."
"That is well, for I am leading."
"Ah, when put that way, well, as the Count, it seems that I should be leading."
"There is some justice in what you say, Lord Morrolan, only—"
"Well?"
"I know where we are going."
"Yes, your argument is full of logic."
"I am delighted that you think so."
"But then, where are you leading us? Because it seems that we have entered a cave, and my horse appears not entirely happy about it."
"Well, but soon we will reach a stable, with a manger, and your horse will be more pleased. And, as for where I am leading you, well, where do I appear to be leading you?"
"Into the mountain."
"That is exactly right, then."
"You live inside the mountain?"
"No, no. Only inside a portion of it."
"Still, you must have little problem with storage."
"Oh, as far as storage is concerned, you could not be more correct—I have as much space as I could wish."
"But, as for living quarters—"
"My living quarters are tolerably comfortable, as you will soon see."
"Well, if so, it will be very strange for the inside of a mountain."
"Indeed? Well, but how many mountains have you seen the inside of?"
Morrolan considered this for a moment, before saying, "I have taken refuge from storms in certain caves, but, in fact, it is true that I have never been inside of a mountain."
"And so, you perceive, you have nothing to judge against."
"That is true, and yet it seems—but here are the stables, just as you said."
"Does that astonish you, sir?"
"Not in the least, madam."
"Leave your horse here, then, and I shall arrange for her care."
"I no longer doubt you in anything."
"That is best, believe me."
"You perceive, I am following you once more."
"Very well."
"Are there many of these stairs?"
"Forgive me if I have never counted them, but, you see, we must come to a place very near to the mountain's peak, which is where I make my living area."
"I see. So that, yes, there may be many stairs. It is of no matter, for I should have had to climb this distance anyway, and stairs are easier than mountain paths."
"That is my opinion as well, which is why I had the steps cut into the rock."
"And it was well done."
"I am delighted that you think so. And here we are, arrived at my living area. Now, just a few more short steps, and you may sit at your ease."
"I will not deny that I shall be glad to do so."
"Apropos, have you a taste for wine?"
"Why yes, I rather like wine, if it is good."
"As to that, you must be the judge."
"Very well, I shall be happy to sample what you have."
"That is good, for, you perceive, I have plenty of space that is ideally suited for storing wine, and so I have devoted a considerable portion of it to that noble task."
"How, noble?"
"You do not the think the word well chosen?"
"I had not previously considered the word as it might be applied to the storing of wine."
"Well—ah, here we are. Please, sit. Well, it would seem to my mind that storing wine is far more noble than for large groups of strangers to come together on ground none of them care about for the purpose of slaughtering one another."
"I had not considered things in this way—but who is this?"
"You may call him Tukko; I have been calling him that more often than anything else of late. Tukko, bring the young Dragonlord some wine. Something peppery, I think, and rich. And I will have whatever you select for him."
The servant bowed and departed.
"Come, you were saying?" said the Enchantress.
Morrolan spent a brief moment looking around, considering where he was, and the quiet, dark elegance of the furnishings, and realized that he had, to some degree, lost control of the encounter from its very beginning, and, furthermore, that he had not the least idea with whom he was dealing, nor what her powers, resources, or abilities might be.
"I am here," he said without further preamble, "to discuss the matter of tribute."
"How," said Sethra in apparent confusion. "You wish to give me tribute?"
Morrolan cleared his throat. "That was not, in fact, precisely my meaning."
"Well, but then, explain further."
"I am about to do so."
"Very well, I am listening."
"This is it, then: I am the Count of Southmoor."
"I do not dispute that."
"You do not?"
"Not the least in the world, I assure you."
"That is well then."
"I am glad you think so."
"Oh, I do."
"And, as I am the Count of Southmoor—"
"Yes, as you are the Count?"
"And as, moreover, Dzur Mountain lies within the county of Southmoor—"
"Yes?"
"Well, then it would seem…"
"Yes?" said the Enchantress after a moment. "It would seem—? Ah, here is the wine."
"Yes, and I find it most excellent."
"Do you? Then I am gratified."
"I am glad you are."
"But then, you were saying? It would seem—?"
"Well, it would seem that you would owe me a certain tribute, as I am your liege."
"That I—?"
"Judging by your countenance, I beg to submit that I have astonished you."
"Nearly," said Sethra after a moment.
"That was not my intention."
"Nevertheless, I confess that you have done so. I am astonished."
"And yet, it would seem—"
"Well, but what sort of tribute would you imagine you are owed?"
"Oh," said Morrolan, suddenly confused, because he had not gotten that far in his calculations, "whatever is customary."
"Customary?"
"Yes. Excuse me, but a singular expression has crossed your countenance."
"And if it has?"
"It nearly seems as if you are trying to contain laughter."
"Well, that is not impossible."
Morrolan stood abruptly. "Come then, perhaps we ought to arrive at a place where there is sufficient space to laugh together."
At this, Sethra did laugh, albeit only briefly. "I do not believe
, my dear liege lord, that you wish to duel with me. Besides, I am armed, as you see, only with a knife."
"Bah. You must have a sword about the place."
The Enchantress chuckled. "Come, come. Sit down and drink your wine, young Dragon."
"Sit down? I hardly think so. So far am I from sitting down, that I must beg you to arm yourself at once." And, as if to impress upon Sethra the sincerity of his feelings, he drew his sword.
Sethra sighed. "It seem you have drawn a weapon."
"Well, and if I have? Come, you must know that such a statement is not ambiguous, but, on the contrary, can only have one interpretation."
"Oh, I do not argue that, and yet—"
"Well?"
"I perceive you have not pointed it at me."
"Well, but I promise you I shall do so, the instant you have armed yourself."
"So then, you keep your weapon out of line because I am unarmed?"
"How, does this astonish you?"
"Nearly."
Morrolan frowned. "But why?"
"I begin to believe that you truly have no notion of with whom you are conversing."
Morrolan shrugged. "You have given me your name."
Sethra tilted her head to side, as if this view of the young Dragonlord might provide a clue as to his character that would not be otherwise apparent. As she studied him, she idly tapped the blue hilt of the dagger at her waist. After a moment, she sighed and rose to her feet. "For some reason, Morrolan, I am loath to destroy you. And yet, you seem insistent—"
"Madam—" said someone from behind Morrolan.
Sethra's eyes focused on a spot over Morrolan's shoulder. Morrolan did not turn around, but, rather, moved to the side so that he could observe who had entered behind him without, even momentarily, losing sight of his opponent. In this way, he observed the strange wizened little man that the reader has met before.
"What is it, Tukko?" said Sethra.
"I beg you to recall what I told you some years ago."
"Tukko," said Sethra, who had still not drawn her dagger, "I must observe that you have told me a thousand thousand things over the years. Which do you have in mind."
"Need I repeat myself, madam?"
"I'm afraid you must," said Sethra.
