Sethra Lavode

by Steven Brust

  "I had thought you preferred novels for relaxation."

  "Sometimes. But then, I judge a novel more harshly."

  "Do you? Why is that?"

  "Because history is able to rely upon the truth, of course. A novel, in which all is created by the author's whim, must strike a more profound level of truth, or it is worthless."

  "And yet, I have heard you say that any novel that relieves your ennui for an hour has proved its usefulness."

  "You have a good memory. It must have been ten thousands of years ago that I uttered those words."

  "And if it was?"

  "In another ten thousand, perhaps I will agree with them again."

  "In my opinion, the proper way to judge a novel is this: Does it give one an accurate reflection of the moods and characteristics of a particular group of people in a particular place at a particular time? If so, it has value. Otherwise, it has none."

  "You do not find this rather narrow?"

  "Madam—"

  "Well?"

  "I was quoting you."

  "Were you? It must have been an eon ago."

  "Tolerably long, yes."

  "Well, now I find those standards too narrow."

  "You are changeable."

  "Is that a bad thing?"

  "Perhaps it is."

  "How so?"

  "It makes one unpredictable."

  "Is, then, predictability, by itself, a virtue?"

  "It is not sufficient, Enchantress, but I believe it is necessary. Am I not predictable? When you sit down in the library, does the wine not appear directly? When you receive an Imperial summons, is not your Lavode costume laid out directly? When the klaxon tells us that the Makers are stirring, is not your Pendant of Felicity found waiting near the Six Rods?"

  "I have never complained of your service, my dear Tukko."

  The servant bowed. "I was not speaking for self-aggrandizement, Enchantress, but to make an observation about predictability and virtue."

  "You are unusually loquacious today."

  "Well?"

  "I had not predicted that."

  "Perhaps you ought to have."

  "Indeed?"

  "With the Makers only kept out by a hair's breadth, and an Empress who is complacently sitting upon a trembling throne as if it were immovable, and a gifted Seeress finding herself blind, and a god missing from the Halls of Judgment, and you discovered reading light entertainments, well, you ought to have predicted that I would have something to say."

  "I am not, then, permitted an hour of relaxation?"

  "An hour? Oh, yes, certainly an hour. But—"

  "Well?"

  "I have never known you to open a book and then close it again in an hour."

  The Enchantress sighed. "What would you have me do?"

  Tukko moved over to the shelves, selected another volume, and, with a bow, placed it on the small, grey, stone table next to Sethra's right hand. She glanced at it. "The Book of the Seven Wizards? I have attempted it a hundred times, and I still understand nothing of it."

  "Well," said Tukko shrugging.

  "The author appears to enjoy obscurantism for its own sake."

  "But the author is, at least, a good servant, and predictable."

  The Enchantress condescended to let a chuckle escape her lips, after which she said, "Come, Tukko. What are you trying to tell me?"

  "Enchantress, like the author of this book—" here he tapped the volume on the table, "—if there was a way to say it more plainly without introducing errors of tremendous magnitude, well, I would say it that way."

  The Enchantress gave Tukko a look impossible to describe, and then, taking the book into her hands, opened it to a random page, glanced down, and read aloud: '"Each wizard is a coachman. It is true that the destinations may vary, and the horses, and the style of driving; yet it must be observed that few indeed are those who notice anything beyond the difference in the color of the coach.'" She closed the book with a thump and said, "I trust you will permit me to remain skeptical upon that point."

  "And yet, I swear that it is true."

  "Well, if you swear to it, I cannot doubt you."

  Tukko bowed.

  "Very well," said Sethra, opening her book again. "Give me an hour. After that, you may return once more, and I promise you I will endeavor to do something more useful."

  Tukko bowed again.

  "Sometimes," said the Enchantress, "I become very weary."

  Tukko bowed yet a third time, and departed, while Sethra began reading. Some few minutes before the expiration of the agreed-upon hour, however, Tukko returned, saying, "The Sorceress in Green."

  The Enchantress sighed and put her book down. "Very well," she said.

  The Sorceress entered and said, "I have found them."

  "Who?"

  "Why, the troops. What had you sent me to look for?"

  "I am astonished, madam. That took you no time at all."

  "That is because they were in, if not the first place that I looked, then the second or third."

  "Well, and that is?"

  "There are some twenty or twenty-one thousand troops two days' march west of Adrilankha, and moving east."

  "Two days?" cried Sethra.

  "No more than that."

  "Twenty thousand, you say?"

  "At least."

  Sethra stared at her, as if expecting her to announce that, in fact, she was only jesting, and she had really returned because she desired a glass of wine. At length, the Enchantress rose and, addressing Tukko, said, "My Lavode costume and my best cloak. I must go see the Empress at once."

  She retired to her apartments where, in two minutes, Tukko had returned with the costume, the cloak, and Sketches of the Early Eleventh Cycle. In response to her look of inquiry, Tukko observed, "You may be required to wait before seeing Her Majesty."

  A teleport—once an astonishing feat of thaumaturgical genius, but now, reflected Sethra, hardly more difficult than stepping into a carriage—perhaps a moving carriage, but still no great effort once one had practiced the skill sufficiently—a teleport, we say, brought the Enchantress to a place just outside of Whitecrest Manor, where she was admitted at once, and asked to wait until the Empress was able to see her. The waiting room contained seven or eight courtiers, emissaries, or envoys, but no one with whom Sethra wished to carry on a conversation at that moment, for which reason she seated herself on a bench along with the others (that is, five of the others; the rest were pacing).

  She had, in fact, just opened her book when Sergeant called her name, and, ignoring certain looks from the others in the waiting room, some of these looks directed at her from those who knew who she was, and others from those who didn't, she closed her book and, following the guardsman, came at once before Her Majesty.

  Chapter

  the Eighty-First

  how her majesty considered maps while sethra formulated a plan of battle

  Sethra Lavode, upon entering the room in which Her Majesty conducted Imperial business, found there not only Her Majesty, but also an Issola she did not recognize, but who was introduced to her as the Lord of the Chimes—given the title Lord Brudik by tradition. Sethra greeted them both respectfully, after which Brudik, who had just taken his post, went about his duties.

  Once the Lord of the Chimes had left the room, Sethra turned back to the Empress, who was studying certain papers that were arrayed—or, rather, disarrayed—upon the table that was serving as her work area. Before Sethra could speak, the Empress, holding one of them aloft, said, "Tell me, Warlord, have you ever heard of the Blue Fox?"

  "The Blue Fox? I must admit to Your Majesty that this name, or title, is completely new to me."

  "A highwayman, operating in the west, in the area between Bra-Moor and Southmoor. It seems that it is beyond the ability of the local barons to catch him, and Imperial aid has been requested."

  "A new brigand? Just when we have the resources to deal with them? How foolish."

  "Yes. B
ut clever enough to work in a region with plenty of travelers, no count, and no duke. Damned few barons, even, although you know how effective they are at the best of times."

  "Does he work alone?"

  "He has a band of some size; a score or so, according to this note."

  "I will send a detachment of cavalry, when we can spare one."

  "When we can spare one, Warlord? Is there, then, some demand upon our forces?"

  "Nearly."

  "You must explain to me what this demand is. But first, did you observe a gentleman out there dressed in a very rich blue?"

  "Yes, Majesty; He was sitting next to me on the bench, his eyes closed, and he seemed to be either thinking deeply or sleeping lightly."

  "That is the emissary from Elde. I am hoping to find a way to heal the rift with them. You know our last emissary was sent home."

  "Yes, I remember."

  "The last time I met with that gentleman who now awaits my pleasure, he demanded that their ships be permitted full trading rights with Greenaere."

  "Indeed?"

  "I need hardly tell you how the Orca and the Tsalmoth would feel about that."

  "Well, and, if I may ask, how did Your Majesty respond?"

  "I said that we should be most happy to, if they would give us full access to water and provision our ships in Redsky Harbor."

  Sethra chuckled. "I should imagine that this was not entirely satisfactory to Elde?"

  "He didn't even waste the time to send for instructions; he merely declared it to be impossible. I had the honor to point out to him that it was not at all impossible, as we had taken this harbor from them less than three hundred years ago, and would be most happy to do so again."

  "Ah. Well, no doubt this was a popular remark."

  "Indeed. He stormed out without so much as a farewell, turning his back upon me, and committing, oh, I don't know how many separate breaches of etiquette. I lost count after nine or ten."

  "Splendid. So that now, whatever his orders might be, he must either return to apologize, or be disgraced, which certainly will do him no good at home."

  "Exactly."

  "And you, of course, can apologize as well, and offer more reasonable terms."

  "Yes, which he will be nearly obligated to accept. And if he doesn't—"

  "Yes, we will know where Elde stands without any room for doubt or confusion."

  The Empress nodded.

  "Your Majesty is a formidable diplomatist, I perceive."

  "I am learning, I hope. The House of the Hawk has done as they said, at least in part."

  "Indeed?"

  "They have publicly declared that I am Empress, and have called for a Meeting of the Principalities."

  "Have they, then? Well, that is good, because I do not believe we can continue feeding the army much longer, although, to be sure, the subscriptions from certain Lyorn and Dragons have done wonders."

  "I am glad to hear it, Warlord. At all events, it is progress."

  "Without question."

  "So, then, is that all?"

  "Your Majesty—"

  "Well?"

  "I beg to remind Your Majesty that it was I who asked for this interview."

  "Shards! That is true! And, in addition, there is the matter of your insistence that a detachment of cavalry will be difficult to come by in the near future. I imagine these matters are connected?"

  "Your Majesty is perspicacious."

  "Well, let us hear, then. Upon what subject would you address me, Warlord?"

  "Oh, on war, as a matter of course."

  "Naturally. But, if you please, be precise."

  "Oh, Your Majesty knows I desire precision in all things."

  "Well then?"

  "Your Majesty, I refer to the Pretender."

  "Ah, yes. Come, permit me to show you a map."

  "Your Majesty knows that I adore maps."

  "Then look at this one."

  "Is it Your Majesty's work?"

  "It is."

  "A splendid map, Your Majesty. What does the blue represent?"

  "That is the area in which, a year ago, the Pretender had a reasonable claim to control."

  "It is tolerably large."

  "Oh, yes."

  "If I had seen this then, I should have been more worried."

  "Warlord, you were not worried?"

  "Not as you would say, worried. Perhaps concerned. But what is the area marked in pink?"

  "Ah! You noticed that?"

  "Well, it would have been difficult not to see it—Your Majesty observes that it is, after all, pink."

  "Yes. The pink is the region that, according to our best intelligence, he controls as of to-day."

  "Your Majesty, how good is our best intelligence?"

  "It could be better," admitted the Empress.

  "And then?"

  "Still, I believe this is close."

  "Well, so we have made considerable gains, there is no denying that."

  "I am pleased you see it, madam."

  "However, it is my respectful opinion that the map is slightly, well, out of date."

  "Indeed? You have more recent intelligence?"

  "Exactly. And it was to share this intelligence that I did myself the honor of coming to see Your Majesty in person."

  "Well then, let us hear. If it was sufficiently important for you to leave your sanctuary, I will listen to it."

  "And Your Majesty will be right to."

  "So then, what is this famous intelligence?"

  "I should say that the Pretender now controls an additional area approximately…" She put her finger in the map. "Here."

  The Empress turned pale. "What do you tell me?"

  "The Pretender has an army here. Our best guess is that they are two days from the city."

  "How is it possible for them to get so close without our knowing?"

  "Oh, as to that, I would guess they moved only small units until they reached somewhere near Hartre, and then marched just inland from the coast, following it."

  "Nevertheless, it doesn't seem possible."

  "We think they may have divine or demonic aid, Your Majesty."

  "Humph. Of the two, I would think demonic is more likely."

  "Your Majesty may be right."

  The Empress sighed. "Well, Warlord? What shall we do?"

  "Majesty, I would suggest that we fight."

  "Fight. Good. Yes, I agree. Let us fight. Instead of meekly surrendering to the Pretender, I think fighting is a good plan. The more-so because I lived in this very city, and so, should I abdicate, well, I should have nowhere to go. So then, having settled that, exactly how should we fight?"

  "Have you a map of Adrilankha to hand? If not, I can easily procure one."

  "Certainly. There was one upon the wall of this very room. It is a map of all of Whitecrest, most of which is the city, because it was from this room that the Countess was accustomed to transact her business. It is now in that corner, behind the book-shelf."

  "Very good," said Sethra, fetching the object in question. With Her Majesty's permission, she laid it on top of the table (covering most of the papers there), and studied it from this position.

  "I should cover these three roads, each with a division stationed a quarter mile outside of the city, so that, in case the line is broken, we can retreat into the city, and there defend it, if need be, house by house."

  The Empress nodded. "Continue, then."

  "I will give this division to my apprentice, this one to Morrolan who is the least experienced, and this one I will command myself, wearing two badges, as we say. A fourth division will remain in reserve, and a fifth division will guard the harbor, in case they attempt to land boats. The Lord Khaavren will be perfect for that duty. Apropos, I should speak with him as soon as practicable."

  "Alas, the Lord Khaavren is no longer the Captain of my Guard."

  "What then is his rank?"

  "None."

  "None? Have you dismissed him?"


  "Not the least in the world. He tendered his resignation."

  "For what reason?"

  "None that he would give me. He pretended he was old and tired. I believe you know as well as I how much truth there is in such a remark."

  "Well, I will speak with him. If he is not to command the harbor defenses, then, at least, I should like to see him here, guarding Your Majesty. And then I will require Brimford, as well. Does Your Majesty know where he is to be found?"

  The Empress flushed at this question, and the Orb turned a faint pink, but Her Majesty said, "He will be produced."

  Sethra, feigning not to notice Her Majesty's confusion, said, "I will, in addition, speak with the Necromancer to see if we can repeat the games we played with such effect at South Mountain."

  "Will not the Pretender have prepared against this?"

  "Perhaps, although I cannot think of how. You perceive, I know of few forces that can counteract a necromancer except a more skilled necromancer, and I take my oath that nowhere on the world is there a more skilled necromancer."

  "Very well, Warlord. But I am nevertheless concerned."

  "As far as that goes, Majesty, so am I."

  "What do you think of this battle? Come, give me your honest opinion."

  "Your Majesty, I don't know. In numbers, they have the smallest edge, but, as we are defending, that means that, even if we set ten companies to guard the harbor, tactically, we have a pronounced advantage; it takes far fewer to hold a position than to take it."

  "Well come, that sounds good."

  "Moreover, we have Lord Brimford and the Necromancer, and, with more time to prepare, I believe they ought to be able to be give a good account of themselves. And, above all, we have the Orb. I have not yet put together a sorcerers' corps, but there are several of us who will be more than able to do our share as part of the regular army. This is an advantage they do not have, and no small advantage it is."

  "You fill me with hope."

  "Well—"

  "Yes?"

  "As Your Majesty has indicated, the Pretender knows these statistics as well as I do. It is possible he is counting on surprise, but, well, it is possible he isn't."