by Steven Brust
"Well, what is he depending upon, then?"
"Your Majesty, I should give anything to know."
The Empress frowned, then shrugged. "Very well," she said. "What next?"
"I will go to speak with Khaavren, and to summon the Necromancer and my apprentice. And I must at once put together something of a staff, at least sufficient to handle logistics, communications, intelligence, and engineering. If I may make a suggestion to Your Majesty—"
"You may."
"I believe Your Majesty should summon Brimford, and then command the Countess regarding bringing food and supplies where they will be needed for the army. Once my staff is in place, I will send a list of what is needed, and the material required for building such fortifications and defenses as we can construct in two days."
"Very well. I shall also inform Brudik to tell those who wait that I will be seeing no one to-day."
Sethra frowned and reflected for a moment. "I would suggest, in fact, that Your Majesty not do so."
"But, how will I have time to see them?"
"Your Majesty almost certainly must attempt to make time; business ought to go on as much as possible. Should Your Majesty do as you have suggested, and suspend business, word of this might reach our enemies, and they might conclude that they have been discovered. You perceive, this would cost us a certain amount of our advantage."
Her Majesty bowed her head and said, "It will be so. This will be better, in some ways."
"Yes?"
"I believe that, while you set about your errands, I will have at least time to meet with our emissary from Elde. That is one matter I should like to have settled."
"Your Majesty is full of wisdom."
Sethra at once set off about her errands, leaving Her Majesty to, first, call for Brudik to have the emissary announced, and, while waiting, to contemplate her maps.
Upon leaving Her Majesty's presence, Sethra at once went past the waiting room (exchanging the briefest and friendliest nods with Brudik) and, by means of certain hallways and passages, soon entered the area of the Manor which was still reserved for the use of the Countess. It took only moments to find a servant, who seemed to be both maid and cook. Having found this worthy Teckla, she addressed her, saying, "I am called Sethra Lavode. I desire to know if it would be possible to have two words with your master the Count."
Now this maid, we should say, had gradually become accustomed, over the last two years, to the notion that the Empress was sharing a roof with her; and having powerful nobles and occasional sorcerers coming and going was no longer a trial to her—the more-so because, remaining on her side of the Manor, she never encountered them personally. Yet, to find herself suddenly face-to-face with the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain was rather more than the girl could have been expected to manage. What tales she had been told as a child in which the Enchantress was featured as the ultimate evil, we cannot say, any more than we can know precisely how much she believed them. Her reaction, however, was unmistakable: She turned pale, then she flushed, then she turned pale again, as if unable to decide if all of her blood or none of it should be in her head. After several of these transformations of her countenance were completed without a decision being reached, she ultimately managed to solve the dilemma by the simple expedient of fainting dead away.
Sethra, who had, perhaps, predicted such a denouement, caught her before she had entirely hit the floor, and carried her to a couch. There being no other servants present, the Enchantress, with something like an amused expression on her face, went into the kitchen and herself procured water, which she applied to the girl's forehead and lips. Presently the maid's eyes fluttered open, she looked up at the Enchantress, who was staring down at her not unkindly, and opened her mouth with the obvious intention of emitting a scream.
"Hush, child," said Sethra.
The maid, whose instinct to obey was stronger than her fear, closed her mouth.
"Come, stand up, my dear. No one is going to hurt you. Just you run along and find out if the Lord Khaavren is available."
The maid attempted to regain her feet. Sethra offered to help, an offer from which the Teckla at first shrank, which reaction was followed by another flush. Sethra feigned not to notice this reaction, and, eventually, the maid suffered herself to be assisted to her feet. She then managed a trembling curtsy, and said, "Yes—" stopping because she appeared unable to decide exactly which honorific would be appropriate.. The Enchantress, for her part, never lost her kindly smile, and it was this, as much as anything else, that permitted the maid to walk off—unsteadily it is true, but under her own power—to carry, out her errand.
Sethra paced slowly, regretting her book, which she had left on Her Majesty's desk, but soon enough she heard footfalls too heavy to be the maid's, and, indeed, Khaavren appeared at the doorway.
Chapter
the Eighty-Second
how khaavren and the empress came to something of an understanding
Khaavren had been involved in keeping Daro company, while she considered county business in her apartments. Daro, in between reviewing, amending, and signing papers, would engage in various conversational gambits with him, speaking amiably; from time to time he would kiss her hand, smiling into her eyes.
It was in the middle of these activities that the maid appeared.
"My lord the Count," she said.
"What is it?" he asked mildly, and then, observing her countenance, he said, "Come, girl, it seems you are distraught. Has the Manor been invaded? Because if it concerns the part of the Manor which is our own, you must speak at once, whereas if it is an attack on the Orb, I must decide if I wish to concern myself."
"My lord husband," said Daro, "you know that, in such a case, you would take an interest."
"You think so, madam?"
"I am convinced of it."
"Well, but let us see. Is the house under attack?"
"No, my lord."
"Well, then we shall not find out, at least on this occasion. But then, what is it that has so upset you, my dear? For it is clear, to judge by your pallor and trembling, that something most unsettling has occurred."
"My lord, you have a visitor."
"How, that is all?"
The maid signified with a nod of her head that this was, indeed, the case.
"Well then, it but remains for you to tell me who this famous visitor is."
"My lord, it is—"
"Well?"
"It is…"
"Say it!"
"Sethra Lavode!" she burst out, then immediately ducked her head, as if to avoid a supernatural blow that, having uttered this name, must necessarily follow.
Instead of a blow, natural or supernatural, however, what followed was, in its way, even more disturbing. Khaavren shrugged and said, "Well, is that all? What does Sethra Lavode wish?"
The maid's eyes widened. "What does Seth—that is, what does she wish?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Why, to see you, my lord!" Having said this, she took a deep breath, drew herself up to her full height, and said, "My lord, if you wish, well, I will go and delay her while you make your escape."
Khaavren's eyes widened, and he turned to Daro. "My love."
"Yes, my dearest?"
"We must double this girl's salary."
"I had come to that same conclusion, my lord."
Khaavren gave the maid a smile that was not unkind, patted her on the head, and said, "Well, I believe that I can exchange two words with the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain without losing my soul directly. But, did she indicate what she wished of me?"
"My lord, I—that is, she didn't say."
"Very well."
Khaavren frowned, shrugged, realized that he was incapable of guessing, and, taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, took himself at once to the aforementioned parlor, where, indeed, Sethra Lavode awaited him.
"Enchantress," he said, bowing low. "You do my house honor."
"It is a pleasure to see you, sir. May I
beg two minutes of your time?"
"Certainly. I am in no hurry."
"So much the better."
"Upon what subject do you wish to converse?"
"Her Majesty has been studying maps."
"Has she?" said Khaavren, shrugging as if what Her Majesty did was of no concern to him.
"She has been studying maps, I say," repeated Sethra, "for a particular purpose."
Khaavren, by now aware that the Enchantress was in the process of telling him something, important, looked at her closely. "A purpose, you say?"
"Yes, and a most serious purpose."
"And does this purpose in some way concern me?"
"It might."
"Then, if you would care to tell me this purpose, well, I promise that you will have my entire attention."
"It is for the purpose of planning her battle."
"Her battle?"
"Exactly." .
"What battle would this be, if I may ask?"
"Most certainly you may ask, my dear Count. Indeed, I have been doing nothing else for an hour but attempting to convince you to ask."
"Very well, then, I am asking. What battle?"
"Against the Pretender. He will be attacking the city within two days."
"What do you tell me?" cried Khaavren.
"It is as I have had the honor to say. The Pretender has an army to the southwest, two days' march from where we stand."
"The Horse! It is impossible."
"I would not go so far as to say impossible," said Sethra.
"That is, anything that actually happens ought not to be considered impossible. To use the word 'impossible' to discuss something that happens, you perceive, would be to weaken the sense of a perfectly good word."
"Well, the Lords of Judgment keep us from weakening the sense of a good word," said Khaavren. "But then, the Pretender will attack the city, you say?"
"I have said so, and I even repeat it."
"Well," said Khaavren. And, as if that were not sufficient for such a revelation, he added, "Well, well, well."
"Indeed," said the Enchantress fervently. Then she said, "It is my understanding that you have given Her Majesty your resignation."
"I have, madam. I am a free man. Or, at least, as free as it is possible to be in this world of ours."
"May I ask why?"
"Madam, I am—"
"Bide, my lord."
"Well?"
"I simply wish to observe that if the word 'old' is about to escape your lips, I will be forced to remind you to whom you are speaking."
"An excellent observation, madam. I should, above all, not care to weaken the sense of a perfectly good word."
"And then?"
Khaavren reflected for a moment, for being unable to use the word "old" caused him to re-evaluate what he ought to say. At length he said, "Considering everything, I cannot believe that it would be proper for me to answer your question. That is, without lying; and I do not choose to lie to you, madam."
"I am glad of that; for my part, I do not choose to be lied to."
"So much the better; we are in agreement then."
"Nearly."
"Well?"
"If Her Majesty did something of which you do not approve, then I beg you to reflect."
"I have been reflecting, madam. More, I spoke with Aerich, who caused me to reflect even more. And, if that were not enough, I happened to encounter—well, it is of no moment. I learned that the action with which I have been reproaching Her Majesty may have been less of an offense than I had thought, and this, too, has caused me to reflect. So, you perceive, I have been spending more than a little time in reflection. Indeed, I am becoming somewhat weary of the whole business."
"Ah, you learned something that may have changed your mind?" asked the Enchantress, extracting the one significant fact from Khaavren's uncharacteristically effusive speech.
"Something overheard a year ago at Morrolan's entertainment at Castle Black."
"Just so," she said, as if she expected that answer and no other. "And so, what is there now to prevent you from serving Her Majesty once more?"
Khaavren frowned, rubbed his fist over his lips, and said, "Self-love."
"Ah. Well, I comprehend."
Khaavren bowed, pleased that he was not required to explain that, having resigned, he could not easily beg Her Majesty for his commission to be restored.
"But then," continued Sethra, "suppose Her Majesty were to ask you to take up your position again? And suppose that I were to do the same?"
"Madam, I cannot imagine Her Majesty doing so."
"I have a better imagination than you, my dear sir."
"Nevertheless—"
Sethra said, "My lord—"
"Well?"
"If you will excuse me for a moment, I will return directly."
After some few minutes, Sethra returned, saying, "My dear Khaavren."
"Yes, madam?"
"If you can spare two minutes—"
"Are these the same two minutes you desired from me before, or are they an additional two minutes?"
"Oh, these are entirely separate."
"Well, if all of these two minutes are combined, I shall soon be required to spare two years. Nevertheless, my dear Sethra, for you, well, I would spare two years were it required."
"So much the better."
"But then, to what purpose are these two minutes to be dedicated?"
"Her Majesty would like to see you."
Khaavren stiffened—this information, while, we are certain, entirely expected by the reader, was sufficiently astonishing to our brave Tiassa. Without another word, then, he bowed in Sethra's direction, and took himself to the enclosed terrace—which is, as the reader may recall, the room given over to Her Majesty's use. Here he encountered the Lord of the Chimes, who, after two words, agreed to bring him to Her Majesty at once.
Brudik led the way past several others in the waiting room, all of whom—that is to say, all of those who had been waiting patiently for Her Majesty's time, only to see first the Warlord and now the Tiassa precede them—gave Khaavren looks more or less eloquent.
Upon entering the terrace, the Lord of the Chimes announced, "The Count of Whitecrest," and took himself back out of the room, leaving Khaavren alone with Her Majesty.
"My lord Khaavren."
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing respectfully.
"Are you at liberty, Lord Khaavren?"
"At liberty? I do not understand the question Your Majesty does me the honor to ask."
"Have you made commitments to anyone, or are you at liberty?"
"Ah! I comprehend. I am perfectly at liberty, Your Majesty."
"Then, having thought over all of the available candidates as fully and carefully as possible, I have come to the decision that you are the most qualified individual for the position of Captain of the Imperial Guard."
She stopped here, and waited. Khaavren, taking the hint, bowed and said, "Your Majesty is too kind."
"Not at all," said she. "Dare I hope you will accept? I have already written out your commission, and but await your word before signing it."
"I accept happily, Your Majesty."
Zerika nodded and, with a stroke of the pen (a particularly fine instrument, as we suspect the reader may remember), Khaavren was once more Captain of the Imperial Guard. His first words upon receiving his commission were "I am at Your Majesty's service."
"You know of Sethra Lavode's plan?"
"Our conversation did not extend to include her plans."
"Then go and speak with her; the Warlord is, naturally enough, in charge."
"Very good, Majesty," said Khaavren. "I look forward to a rewarding association in the service of the Empire." Then, saluting her most respectfully, he left the room.
When he passed the waiting room, Sergeant, on duty outside of it, could not prevent a certain smile from touching his lips, as he pronounced the word, "Captain."
Khaavren gave him an answering
smile, though an even more minuscule one, and returned to where Sethra awaited him.
"Well, Captain?" said the Enchantress.
"Yes, Warlord?"
"I took the liberty," continued Sethra, "of having your maid bring this for you." With this, she held out the gold-colored half-cloak, with captain's badge, that he had put away when he had resigned.
"Well," said Khaavren, donning the cloak once more. "This is rather much of ceremony for a year's absence."
"What ceremony?" asked Sethra.
Khaavren smiled and bowed.
"And now, Captain," continued the Enchantress. "You understand that there is to be a battle?"
"So I am informed, and I give you my word, I have no inclination to disagree with you and Her Majesty."
"So much the better. And how have you considered your own rôle in this?"
"That is a simple enough question to answer."
"Well?"
"You know that the last time an Emperor was threatened, I was away from my post, making an arrest, and His Majesty died. This time, that will not happen."
"So then, you wish to remain with Her Majesty?"
"I not only wish to, but I must insist upon it."
Sethra nodded. "Very well, I understand. And now, if you will excuse me, Captain, I must prepare the defenses of the city. Apropos, have you any comments on the harbor?"
"What of it?"
"Its defense."
"Ah, that is simple enough. It falls into two categories: that which does not require defense, and that which is indefensible."
"How, indefensible?"
Khaavren shrugged. "I overstate the case. That district which we refer to as 'the harbor' may sometimes refer to the harbor itself—that is, the body of water upon which ships are anchored for loading and unloading—but more often refers to the area bordered on the south by the water, on the east by the mouth of the Adrilankha River, and on the north and west by the cliffs."
"Very well, what of it?"
"There is no need to defend this area, for the simple reason that twenty soldiers, stationed at the top of each of the staircases that climb the cliffs, can hold it against any numbers you should care to bring against it."
