Sethra Lavode

by Steven Brust

  "Very well, I understand that. Next?"

  "There is also the district of the city that we call the East Harbor, that is, east of the mouth of the Adrilankha River. Here, instead of cliffs, there are only hills, and these become easier the further east you go. Here it would be possible for an enemy to make landings, and even to approach the city through South Adrilankha."

  "And, you say, it is indefensible?"

  "In fact, perhaps not. It depends on the number of troops available, and the numbers attempting the landing. I should wish for at least ten troops for each boat landing."

  "Regardless of how many are in each boat?"

  "Yes, exactly. But—"

  "Well?"

  "If they once effect a landing, then it is a different matter entirely."

  "And then?"

  "I would suggest that, should an enemy establish a landing—"

  "Yes, in that case?"

  "That you let him have the East Harbor, and South Adrilankha, and guard the bridges over the river and the canal. This can be done with a few thousand well-placed troops."

  "And will you be willing to consult with us as to their placement?"

  "Gladly."

  "Very good. I will look at some maps and consider your advice. Although, in point of fact, we do not believe they have sufficient troops at their disposal that they would allocate a sizable number for such an attack. But then, to the left, it best to have considered even unlikely possibilities."

  "So I have always believed, Warlord."

  "That is it, then."

  Khaavren bowed. "Would you care to join us for dinner, madam?"

  "Alas, I must begin my preparations for the defense of the city. Apropos, there will a meeting of the staff at Dzur Mountain. I will arrange a teleport for you."

  "I will be there."

  "I will expect you."

  "In that case, if you are leaving at once, it only leaves me to thank you, Warlord."

  "Thank me? But for what, Captain?"

  Khaavren smiled in answer and bid the Enchantress a farewell. Then, before taking his dinner, he took himself around the Manor, both inside and out, in order to carry on an inspection of the guard posts, which was a task he did not care to leave to another, now that it was his responsibility once more.

  In fact, this inspection, seemingly so trivial, turned out to be another small but critical element in the unraveling of a complex tapestry whose first thread had come loose when, nearly a year before, Her Majesty had thrown her pen at the wall.

  Exactly how this inspection served to tug at these threads is not something about which the reader must wonder for long; on the contrary, we propose to discover it to the reader directly.

  Chapter

  the Eighty-Third

  how the descreet was accused of a great indiscretion, and the empress received a lesson

  As Khaavren was beginning his inspection, Pel, who had been in a small room of the Manor set aside for his use, heard his name spoken. Looking up, he perceived one of the guardsmen, who, doing duty as messenger, begged a moment of his time.

  "Well, what is it?" said Pel.

  "It is Her Majesty."

  "She wishes to see me, then?"

  "Exactly. She wishes to see Your Discretion, and that directly. I am bidden to inform you—"

  "Well?"

  "That an instant's delay would be, in her words, highly inappropriate."

  Pel shrugged. "The gods save me from being inappropriate."

  "So then?"

  "So then, I am going to her at once. So much so that, without waiting an instant, you may accompany me, and it will then be seen that you have done your duty in exemplary fashion."

  "So much the better," said the guardsman, not without a certain satisfaction, because, now that Khaavren was back, he knew that, while no dereliction would be overlooked, zeal would also be noted, appreciated, and rewarded.

  True to his word, Pel accompanied the guardsman, which brought him, in two steps, to the covered terrace. When he entered Her Majesty's presence, he bowed, and, before he was again upright, he understood that something was amiss—there was a fire in Zerika's eye that he had never seen before; indeed, he felt himself under a sort of scrutiny that he hadn't experienced since his interview with the Institute of Discretion—the memory of which was sufficient, even now, to cause perspiration to come to the brow of the Yendi, whose nerves were normally as cool as ice. Moreover, the Orb was the purest, angriest red that Pel had ever seen. He felt rather as a sailor might feel in the instant between his ship's broaching to, and its going down before the next swell.

  That memory of his interview with the Masters of Discretion came back even more strongly while he waited for the Empress to speak. His interviewers on that occasion, requiring of him details of his life, history, thoughts, and feelings that he had never before revealed even to himself, had been the most terrifying during the seemingly interminable pauses between questions; and now, aware that, whatever was on the mind of Her Majesty, there was no question of joking, and that he, himself, was the object of her scrutiny, those same feelings returned—feelings that, nevertheless, he succeeded in concealing entirely.

  At length she said, "I had thought I could trust you, Duke." Such words as these are, without question, the worst disaster that can befall anyone who has committed himself to the study of discretion. It took, indeed, all of his reserves to meet Zerika's eyes and reply with coolness that would have done credit to Aerich, "And so Your Majesty can."

  She glared at him again, her eyes narrowed, and the red of the Orb became, if it were possible, even brighter. "Do not compound your crime with dissimulation, Duke."

  "Your Majesty is invited to put me under the Orb." She brushed this aside with a wave of her hand. "I know something of the discipline you have studied, Duke. I am prepared to believe you can fool the Orb as easily as you fooled me."

  "Would Your Majesty condescend to tell me with what I am accused?"

  "I should prefer you to admit to it without that formality; it sickens me to think of it."

  "Alas, I have nothing with which to reproach myself, and so I cannot imagine with what I could be charged."

  "Would it make matters any more clear, Yendi, if I were to tell you that I have just given the honor of an audience to His Highness Prince Ritsak, the Count of Flowerpot Hill and Environs?"

  Pel bowed. "I regret that this tells me nothing."

  "The Prince, the Lyorn Heir, had the misfortune to be forced to tell me that his House, that is, the House of the Lyorn, the House to which others look for moral guidance and political leadership, could not support my pretensions—that was his word, 'pretensions,' at which he had at least the grace to blush while uttering—to the Orb. The Orb, I might add, that circled my head as he spoke."

  "That is, indeed, a great misfortune, Majesty."

  "That is my opinion, Duke."

  "I do myself the honor of telling my Empress, with all sincerity, that I cannot imagine how I could be responsible for this misfortune."

  "You lie, Duke."

  Pel's eyes flashed as did Her Majesty's, and he said, "Your Majesty may well give me the lie, knowing that I cannot demand satisfaction of my sovereign."

  "Save your casuistries, Duke."

  Pel continued to glare, and made no response. At length, Zerika grunted and said, "Very well, your point is well taken. I ought not to calumniate you when you cannot respond. I withdraw the word."

  Pel bowed stiffly, and Zerika continued, speaking in carefully controlled tones, "I was reproached, by the House of the Lyorn, with what he did me the honor to call 'inappropriate relations.'"

  Pel frowned. "Inappropriate relations, Your Majesty? I cannot imagine what this might mean."

  "It means, Duke, that the House of the Lyorn reproached me with my lover."

  Pel felt his eyes widen as understanding came to him. After an instant's reflection, he said, "I consider that an impertinence, Majesty."

  "As do I, and I
said so."

  "And may I do myself the honor of asking Your Majesty what reply His Highness made?"

  "He replied that it would be an impertinence if I were the Empress."

  In spite of all that had happened, Pel could not prevent the ghost of a smile from creasing his lips as he said, "There is Your Majesty's casuistry."

  "Perhaps," said Zerika. "But the fact remains, Duke, that no one knows about this matter except for you, and me, and my lover. And I give you my word that neither of us have spoken of it."

  "I have, in no way, by word, act, or implication, violated in the least part my Oath of Discretion, nor Your Majesty's trust. To put it in the simplest terms, Your Majesty, I have told no one, nor have I so much as hinted to anyone of this matter by the least clue, word, or gesture."

  "That is a tolerably exhaustive denial, Duke."

  Pel bowed.

  "However, I do not believe it."

  Pel bowed once more, there being nothing more to say.

  "Unfortunately," continued the furious Zerika, "I have no means of proof."

  Pel waited quietly, meeting Her Majesty's gaze.

  After a moment she said, "You are dismissed from your post, and my presence. You are to leave this house at once. I never wish to see you again. Go."

  Pel bowed, backed up three steps, turned on his heel, and, without another word, left Her Majesty's presence. Two steps took him to the front doors of the Manor, where, by chance, he happened to meet Khaavren, who was making certain the guards were posted correctly outside of these doors. We must observe that here, in fact, is another link in that chain of destiny: had Her Majesty not, a year before, thrown her pen against the wall, then Khaavren would not have been on duty, and, therefore, would not have been inspecting the guard posts at that moment, and, in conclusion, would not have encountered Pel as he left the Palace.

  However, in the event, Her Majesty did throw her pen, and so Khaavren saw Pel as he was descending the wide, shallow stairway in front of Whitecrest Manor.

  "Ah, my dear Pel," said Khaavren.

  "Khaavren! You are wearing your cloak!"

  "Well," said Khaavren, shrugging.

  "You are, then, re-instated?"

  "As you see."

  "How droll," observed Pel.

  "Droll?"

  "That you should return to the Imperial service on the same day as I—but never mind, it is of no matter, my good friend."

  Khaavren, who knew that the last way to get any information from the Yendi was to ask it, changed the subject (as he thought) by saying, "I perceive you are on your way to some destination."

  "Oh, as far as that goes, I am setting out, yes."

  "Has Her Majesty done you the honor the give you an errand?"

  "In a manner of speaking, my good Khaavren."

  "Well, I will walk with you for a while. In what manner of speaking? Or is it, perhaps, something you are forbidden to discuss?"

  "On the contrary, I have received no order not to discuss it; but there is, in fact, tolerably little to say."

  "So much the better, then you needn't delay your mission to tell me."

  "You wish to hear it then?"

  "Why, unless there is a reason not to tell me, I should be delighted to learn what, you are about."

  "Then I will tell you without delay."

  "You have my complete attention."

  "This is it, then: I am leaving."

  "You perceive, that I can see for myself. But, where are you going?"

  "As to that, I don't know."

  "You don't know?"

  "No, something will, no doubt, occur to me."

  "But, when will you be back?"

  "Alas, I will not be back."

  "Pel!"

  "Yes?"

  "What does this mean?"

  "Ah, let us not speak of it."

  "On the contrary, let us speak of nothing else! What has happened?"

  Pel shrugged. "If you insist upon knowing—"

  "I give you my word, I do."

  "Well, Her Majesty has done me the honor to require me to leave."

  "You are exiled?" cried Khaavren.

  "Oh, not in the least. Merely required to leave Whitecrest Manor."

  "The Trey! Pel, what have you done?"

  "I give you my word, Khaavren: I have done nothing at all in the world."

  "How, you were dismissed from Her Majesty's service and required to leave over nothing?"

  "In fact, Her Majesty believes that I have done something."

  "What does Her Majesty believe you have done?"

  "Been indiscreet."

  "You? Impossible!"

  Pel smiled. "I am glad that you say so, my dear friend; it is good to know one's friends have faith."

  "Cha! It requires no faith to say that if someone has seen a winneasourus fly, that person is deluded."

  "You are good to insist upon it. But now—"

  "Yes, now?"

  "May I suggest that it will do your career no good to be seen with me?"

  "Seen with you? I will be more than seen with you, my dear friend. Come with me at once. I insist upon it."

  "Come with you? Where?"

  "Back to the Manor."

  "And yet, I have been ordered to leave the Manor."

  "Well, now you are ordered back—or, if not ordered, at least requested strongly."

  "Alas, it was the Empress who gave the order."

  "Well, it is I who make the request."

  "You perceive, the order of an Empress is stronger than the request of a friend."

  "Cha! That is true!"

  "And so?"

  "Well, in that case—"

  "Yes?"

  Khaavren put his hand on Pel's shoulder. "I arrest you."

  "How, you arrest me? But, on what charge? Even Her Majesty, knowing she could not prove her allegations, did not go that far."

  "Oh, the charge, well, I arrest you on the charge of leaving a friend who does not want you to leave."

  "And is that a crime?"

  "If not, it should be; in my opinion, someone who refuses a friend's request is more culpable than someone who wishes to play a friendly game without informing the Imperial tax collectors, don't you think?"

  "There is something in what you say," admitted Pel.

  "I am pleased that you agree. And now I'm afraid you must come along."

  "Am I truly arrested?"

  "Truly and officially, my dear friend."

  "Then, it appears, I have no choice."

  "None."

  "Would you like my sword?"

  "How you go on! What would I do with your sword?"

  "Yet, if I am arrested—"

  "Oh, it will be a mild sort of captivity, I assure you. Now, let us return to the Manor."

  "Very well, it seems that, being arrested, I must comply."

  "Precisely."

  "Shall I precede you?"

  "Not in the least. Arm in arm."

  "Very well; but this is a peculiar sort of arrest you carry out."

  "Oh, I set my own standards for such matters; you perceive, it is a perquisite of my position."

  "If you continue using such perquisites, you will not long have your position."

  "My dear Pel, do you imagine that I care so much for my position? I assure you, I became tolerably weary in the old days of salutes, and ceremonies, and the making of schedules, and the false smiles of the courtiers, and the giggling of the coquettes."

  "If that is true, why did you accept Her Majesty's offer to return you your commission?"

  "Do you truly wish to know?"

  "Yes, in fact, I do."

  "Because this Phoenix still needs help, and she—"

  "Yes."

  "She is a friend of my son."

  "Ah!"

  "After all that has happened, well, it seemed like the least I could do."

  "I had not understood this circumstance," said Pel, pressing his friend's hand.

  "Now you know."


  "Well, but is that the only reason?"

  "I give you my word, Pel, that is most of it. But here we are at last. Come in. Let us adjourn to the dining room, and see if there is any food set out. If there is, you shall eat, and I will join you in an instant."

  "Since I am arrested, I must comply. But it is good to know that, at least, you do not starve your prisoners."

  "Oh, you know I would never do that."

  By chance, Daro had come down to the dining room, where she had anticipated being joined by Khaavren. "Here, madam," he said. "I turn this miscreant over to your care. Have an extra plate set to dinner, and I shall return to claim it in a moment. Pel has been arrested, you know, and therefore may not leave. I can depend upon you?"

  "Arrested!" cried the Countess. "My lord, are you jesting?"

  "Oh, as to that, Countess, I do not insist that I am entirely in earnest. Yet, neither am I entirely in jest. But Pel will explain if he wishes."

  "But what about you? Where are you going?"

  "Oh, I? I have an errand with Her Majesty that will not wait. I shall return directly. Have a care for our tricky Yendi, and be certain he does not escape."

  "Oh, I promise," said Pel, "I shall be the most compliant of prisoners."

  "Excellent. I depend upon you."

  "But Khaavren, I think you should re-consider—"

  "Not another word, Pel. You are my prisoner, and, as such, I conjure you to silence."

  Pel bowed his head.

  With this, Khaavren took his leave of Daro and Pel, and himself back to the covered terrace, which room he entered immediately, as was his right as Captain of the Phoenix Guards, and, seeing Her Majesty speaking with the emissary from Elde, he took himself to a far corner of the room until this audience was complete. Though he made no effort to either listen to or watch this audience, he could not help but notice that at the expiration of the interview the emissary appeared humbled.

  "So much the better," observed Khaavren to himself. "Whatever humbles Elde must be good for the Empire."

  When this worthy had left, punctiliously giving Her Majesty every courtesy, the Empress sat down behind the paper-covered table and turned her attention to Khaavren, who placed himself before her and bowed.

  "Well, Captain?" she said, acknowledging his salute.

  "If I may beg for two minutes of Your Majesty's time—"

  "You may. What is it?"