by Steven Brust
Morrolan frowned and considered. "Well, it is true, I should not care for that."
"Then I beg you, my friend, take your time. Do not push yourself so much. Consider that you have, without taking unusual measures to prolong your life, at least two thousands of years before you."
"You make a strong argument, madam."
"I am gratified that you think so."
"And yet, it is difficult. I so wish to learn—"
"There are other ways to learn."
"How?"
"You can read books."
"Read books?"
"Certainly."
"Books on sorcery? Do these exist?"
"Why, not above a million of them. There would be more, but, alas, some of the more rare were destroyed in the Disaster."
"Verra! I had not known this. How long do you suppose it will take me?"
"To read a million books? Well, as to that—"
"No, to learn to read this peculiar language of yours, in which one symbol may stand for ten different sounds, and two-symbol combinations may stand for a hundred."
"How, you do not read?"
"Oh, I read. That is, I am an accomplished reader in several languages. Only it happens that this one we are speaking now is not one of them."
"I believe that, in a week, you could be reading well enough to make some of my books useful to you."
"Then I must start at once. Can you teach me?"
"I shall get Tukko to teach you."
"Your servant?"
"I happen to know that he has certain skills in teaching of such things."
"Very well. I should like to start at once."
"Then you shall," said Sethra Lavode, and at once summoned Tukko to her.
In the event, it was rather less than a week before Morrolan was positively devouring Suivo's Exercises for Mental Flexibility and Bluedorn's Basic Energy Transformations. From this point on, and for some little time, Morrolan all but vanished to most of his friends. He remained within the structure that had once been intended for a temple but was then determined to be a ball-room, and split his time between reading, and running through sorcerous drills. Indeed, except for meals and sleeping, he would have done nothing else had it not been for the wise Suivo, who insists in his Foreword on the absolute necessity, when making an intense study of sorcery, of keeping the physical body in the utmost trim. Morrolan, having not yet the experience at reading to know that the reader of any book of instruction ought to ignore those lessons he finds inconvenient, took Suivo at his word and forced himself to spend at least an hour a day practicing swordsmanship with some of the dozen or so in his army (or the Imperial army, as the case may be) whom he had caused to remain behind as a sort of honor guard.
The other time he emerged was to discuss with the Vallista whom he had hired the castle he wished built. This project, once so vital to him, now became nearly an afterthought, and so he turned much of the decision-making over to Fentor and Teldra, except that he announced a desire for the central structure—that is, the one in which he made his living quarters—to no longer be intended as a ball-room, but now to be a library; the reaction to this of the Vallista who had been busily designing his castle is not recorded. It was also during this period that he caused word to be sent out among the peons of the region that any book on sorcery would be considered acceptable as a year's rent. This resulted in a flurry of books arriving, although, in fact, only two or three of them had anything to do with sorcery.
One of these, as it happened, was perhaps the most common of the pre-Interregnum publications for those, especially those Teckla who knew their symbols, who wished to have enough skill at the sorcerous arts to keep them from being victimized by cheaters at dice and curses from jealous neighbors. It is the anonymous Fundamentals of Sorcerous Defense, and contains not-inaccurate diagrams of certain runes and glyphs useful for making charms or wards. It was upon reading this that Morrolan, in one of his not-infrequent conversations with Sethra Lavode, asked why the book stressed in such unambiguous terms that all of these runes must be drawn in black.
"Why, to increase their efficacy," said Sethra. "Could it be that you are not aware that the color black has been associated with sorcery as long as the art has existed?"
"I had not known that at all. Why should this be the case?"
"For a very simple reason, my friend," said the Enchantress. "It is because all things that have true existence have color."
"But, what of untinted glass?"
"Untinted glass has the color of whatever is behind it."
"Well, water?"
"Water has the color of its container, or sometimes of what it reflects."
"Very well, then, I accept that all things have color."
"Not all things, my friend. All things that have true existence."
"Well, but—go on, then."
"Sorcery has to do with transformations and energies that have no true existence, and therefore it is represented as having no color. Black is the absence of color."
Morrolan frowned. "It seems to me," he said, "that something clear is much more the absence of color."
"There is something in what you say, but nevertheless—"
"Yes, I understand. Well then, I shall call my keep Castle Black, because I intend to make it a home of sorcery."
"I should like to make an observation."
"And that is?"
"There are many sorcerers who will consider such a name to be a challenge."
"Well," said Morrolan, shrugging. "Let them consider it however they wish. In any case—"
"Yes?"
"I do not think I should care to live in a place called Castle Clear."
"No, I can understand why you might not."
Most of the plans for what would become Castle Black were laid down, as the reader may have inferred, without Morrolan's direct participation, as he was much involved in his study of sorcery, wherefore they fell, as we have implied, to Lady Teldra, usually with agreement from Morrolan that came in the form of a distracted nod accompanied by the words "Yes, yes, certainly." Soon, Teldra was able to procure the services of Lord Carver, the Vallista who had designed the Hartre Port Authority, or "the Blue Needle" as it was informally called, which gave the illusion of so much more space inside than it appeared to contain outside. This worthy, who had had, of course, no commissions since the Interregnum, fairly leapt at the opportunity, and after careful study of many of the floating castles of the past, consulted heavily with Teldra, and considered carefully what it meant to be building a structure to be called "Castle Black."
Morrolan condescended to speak with the noble Carver on three occasions: the first time, to be certain Carver understood about the windowless tower which Morrolan desired to have built as a place where he might commune with his Goddess; the second time to inform him that he required an entire wing to house Arra and his Circle of Witches; and a third time to approve the final plans, which he did with the words "Yes, yes, of course. If Teldra thinks it is good, you may begin," after which he returned to his reading.
In this way, the construction of Castle Black was begun in earnest. The reader may perhaps be curious about where Morrolan acquired the funds necessary for such an ambitious project. The construction of a castle, even on the ground and without the services of an architect as eminent as Carver, is not a matter to be entered into without a great deal of money being readily available, and the silver coins discovered by Morrolan when he began his excavation could hardly last forever—indeed, Morrolan's funds were hardly sufficient to pay for the army with which the reader is already acquainted.
The answer is hinted at above: Morrolan, following the invariable tradition of all aristocrats, demanded rents, or at least payments of some form, from those Teckla who worked the land, as well as imposing a (modest, to be sure) tax on the various merchants who either lived in or traveled through his realm. In the event, the rents were rather easier to collect than the reader might have anticipated: the marc
h of Kâna's army through the duchy, accompanied by the inevitable acts of thievery, rape, beating, and occasional murder that accompany the march of even the most disciplined army, were sufficient to convince the peasants that the relatively modest demands of the Count, blessed by tradition and the Empire, were, in fact, not at all unreasonable. Moreover, many of the older families recalled with something like longing the old days, remembering the ceremony and grandeur of serving a Dragonlord and conveniently forgetting the inconvenience and annoyance of the thievery, rape, beating, and occasional murder that accompanies the existence of a standing army by even the most benevolent of aristocrats.
These rents came in, then, in the form of grain, livestock, and copper pennies, as well as a certain number of books, to the extent that, even with the amount paid to and stolen by the tax collectors, Morrolan was able to maintain his army (or the Imperial army, as the case may be), cause his castle to be built, maintain and expand his Circle of Witches, and still live in such a way as to be able to entertain visiting nobles in a style that Lady Teldra found to be within acceptable limits.
He caused black marble and obsidian to be imported from the far north, white marble (for the interior) to be sent from the near north, silver from the Canthrip, brass and good steel from the forges and foundries of Tirenga to the east, glass from the south, and teak from Tree-by-the-Sea in the far northwest (this last being sent by ship to Adrilankha before coming overland, as it was still impossible to pass through the heartland owing to Kâna's continuing influence). Not only material, but builders were imported—Lord Carver knowing all the best artisans and specialists, and demanding that Morrolan (or, rather, Teldra) use only them, at least when they could be spared from their work on the Imperial Palace, which was also occurring at this same time.
And through all of this—the hauling of blocks, the hammering and shaping of copper and silver, the crafting and erection of scaffolding (all of this, be it understood, taking place well off the ground), Morrolan continued his studies of the sorcerous arts—reading, experimenting, and practicing.
And through all of this, the building of the castle, and Morrolan's study, the rest of the Empire was not standing still, although the details of Zerika's first year in power, in order to contribute to the elegant unfolding of our history, must be delayed while we devote our attention to that noble person for whom the history is named: the Viscount of Adrilankha.
Chapter the Sixty-Sixth
How Piro Made His Way Back East
Where He Failed to Be Alone
Piro rode northeast from Adrilankha with, it must be said, no very clear sense of where he was going. His entire conscious thought was devoted merely to the notion that, above all, he required to be alone. The idea of seeing his friend Kytraan, or above all Ibronka, but even of seeing anyone he knew, was strangely abhorrent to him. The reader may say that to leave thus precipitously was to treat Ibronka in a shabby way, and in this the author cannot disagree; but the reader ought to understand that the young viscount had never before been required to act in the face of such emotional turmoil, and, lacking experience, he was overwhelmed by his own feelings.
He continued, therefore, riding east, until, at last, his experience as a horseman penetrated his agitation and he realized that he was very close to killing his horse, whereupon he drew rein.
He was, by this time, well outside of the city, in a small forested dell between two low hills, and entirely out of sight of anyone, and it was by now fully dark. He dismounted and led his horse a short distance until he encountered a brook, where he watered her, then removed her saddle and brushed her down, spending a good, long time and making a thorough job of it. By the time he was done, his mind was calmer, and he was even able to engage, to some degree at least, in that strange human activity that we call "thinking."
At first, thoughts of Ibronka—the sound of her voice, the way she moved, the fire in her eye—came so strongly that he almost felt she was there with him; but he resolutely pushed these images aside. "I will have to make a decision, sooner or later," he told himself. "But I certainly cannot do so now." He looked around, hoping very much that he might suddenly be attacked by bandits—in his present mood, he thought it unlikely that anyone could stand up to him, and, if he were wrong, so much the better. But brigands are never known to appear when expected, for the obvious reason that those that do rarely last long in that occupation.
After some time, Piro at last rose, re-saddled his horse, and led her onward, at last reaching a small cabaret, set back from the road and nearly invisible, where he entered and secured an evening's lodging. He gave some consideration to whether he should should drink enough to forget his troubles for a while, decided that it would be best to avoid wine altogether, left his few possessions (he having nothing except what was in the pockets of his saddle), and went down to the jug-room and purchased a bottle of sharp, peppery, harsh wine.
A glance around the room told him that he would be unable to have a table to himself—the room was so crowded that most of the guests were standing, talking loudly in small groups—but he was able to procure a chair by finding a table in the corner and, with a look, requiring one of the Teckla to surrender his seat.
He sat down, pushing himself back into the corner, drained his cup in one motion, and refilled it from the bottle. He drank his second cup more slowly, and looked around a little. Everyone seemed to have a smile upon his lips, and all the voices were loud. The Teckla whose chair he had taken caught his eye, bowed respectfully, and lifted his goblet, saying, "It is a great day, is it not, my lord?"
"How, you think so?" said Piro.
"Oh, my lord! I am convinced of it!"
"What makes it good, my dear fellow?"
"My lord, can it be you have not heard the news?"
"Well, perhaps I have not. Tell me, and then, after you have done so, it will be certain that I have."
The Teckla appeared unable to find a flaw in this logic, and said, "This is it, then: The Orb has returned, and there is an Empire once more."
"Bah, That happened weeks ago."
"There were rumors, to be sure, and some old wives insisted they could feel the Orb once more. But now it is certain, because the Empress has entered Adrilankha."
"I am astonished," said Piro bitterly. "Who could have guessed?"
The Teckla, hearing the tone of his voice, became confused, but determined that this noblemen was not, perhaps, as congenial as some others might be; he therefore, with a polite bow, turned away. After that, Piro was able to drink quietly, which he did, finishing the bottle in good time. He asked himself if he were, in fact, going to get drunk, noting that, if he intended to stop, now would be the time. After giving it due consideration, the wine he had consumed to this point answered for him, and he began to rise to his feet in order to procure himself another bottle. Before he could do so, however, the intended bottle appeared, as if by magic, in front of him.
Piro frowned, looked at the bottle with its dark liquid contrasting so sharply with its light blue label, and, after considering for a moment, permitted his eyes to trace a path that started with the bottle, continued to the hand that held it, maintained its course up the arm and across the shoulder, rose abruptly at the associated neck, and at length came to rest upon the face. After the instant it took him to recognize this face, he leapt to his feet.
"Lar!" he cried.
"My lord, it seemed to me you were in need of another bottle."
"What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? I am getting you another bottle."
"Well, but—"
"Yes, my lord?"
For the first time in many hours, Piro felt a smile grow upon his lips, as he said, "Well, my friend, you have brought it; now you must help me drink it."
Lar bowed. "I shall be honored to do so."
Lar took from his pocket a small, ingenious collapsible tin cup, which Piro filled with wine, after which they silently toasted each other.
"Now tell me, good Lar, how did you happen to come here?"
"In the simplest way, my lord. I followed you."
"You followed me?"
Lar bowed his assent.
"From where?"
"First, from where you left us, and then from Whitecrest Manor."
"You followed me all the way?"
"Nearly. You perceive, you set out at such a pace from the Manor that I fell far behind. My horse cannot stay with yours for any length of time."
"And then?"
"Well, I found you again when you began leading your horse. Apropos, is she lame?"
"No, merely exhausted."
"Well, I do not blame her."
"Very well, Lar. I now understand how you found me. But now there is another thing I wish to know."
"If it is a question I can answer, well, I will do so."
"I wish to know why you followed me."
"Why? Well, because it is my duty."
This remark was made with such simple, matter-of-fact loyalty that Piro was rendered speechless.
The celebration around them continued for some few hours, but eventually the jug-room began to clear, and Piro invited Lar to sit. Some time later, Lar stood once more, and, hauling the Viscount over his shoulder, carried him to his room.
When Piro woke, Lar, without saying a word, handed him a steaming glass of klava, full of thick cream and honey, which Piro at once drank down, and if he did not say a word, his countenance expressed all the gratitude Lar could have wished for.
When the worthy Lar judged that Piro was again able to carry on conversation, he said, in as quiet a voice as he could manage, "Whither are we bound, my lord?"
"I don't know," said Piro, in a voice just as quiet, but one which, nevertheless, caused him to wince. He then observed, "I do not believe, my dear Lar, that I have been designed by the Lords of Judgment to become a drunkard. I appear not to have the constitution to sustain it."
"My lord," said Lar, falling back upon the single statement that a servant may always rely upon when any other response is fraught with peril.
