Sethra Lavode

by Steven Brust

"A trifling matter of jurisdiction, that is all, yet one that cannot wait."

  "Jurisdiction?"

  Khaavren bowed.

  "Explain yourself, for you perceive I have not the least idea in the world of what you are speaking."

  "Then I shall do myself the honor to explain it in terms that can leave no room for doubt."

  "That will be best, believe me."

  "Your Majesty, in practice, controls territory stretching from somewhere west of the city to Methni's Channel, and from the coast to very nearly South Mountain."

  "I am aware of this, Captain."

  "And, in theory, which we hope to make true in practice soon, Your Majesty controls considerably more."

  "Well?"

  "And, more than this, Your Majesty even has control of the comings and goings of a portion of this Manor, which Your Majesty has done us the honor—the great honor—of using to conduct Imperial business."

  "Come to the point, Captain."

  "I am about to, Majesty."

  "Well?"

  "Your Majesty, as I have observed, has control of a portion of this manor."

  "Yes."

  "But not the rest of it."

  Zerika frowned and said, "You are speaking in riddles, sir."

  "Then does Your Majesty wish me to speak more plainly?"

  "I have been wishing for nothing else for an hour, Captain."

  "Then here it is, as plainly as I can state it: Your Majesty has no right to decide who is and is not welcome in my home."

  The Orb darkened with anger—as, indeed, did Zerika's face. "You presume to speak so your Empress?"

  "Evidently," said Khaavren, bowing.

  Zerika fairly glared. "This is an impertinence."

  "Well."

  "How long have you been back in my service, Captain? An hour? Two? And now, it seems, you wish to be dismissed again?"

  "That is as Your Majesty wishes; for myself, I care very little about it."

  "This is insupportable."

  "Not in the least."

  "I believe you are doing yourself the honor of disputing with me, Captain."

  "Your Majesty has accused my friend of an action that is manifestly impossible for him to have committed, and, moreover, have expelled him from beneath my roof. Does Your Majesty truly believe that a gentleman can be expected to countenance such behavior? If so, I fear for the Empire under Your Majesty's hand, because it will be a poor sort of court and a poor sort of Empire that it governs."

  In an instant, the Empress was on her feet. "Captain! How dare you!"

  Khaavren bowed but said nothing.

  "And did Galstan, then, give you all of the details of his crime?"

  "He told me nothing except that he was leaving. When I questioned him, he explained that he had been dismissed from your service for having revealed a communication which Your Majesty did him the honor to confide in him as part of his office."

  "Well, and so he did."

  "Impossible."

  "Now you give me the lie?" cried Zerika, quite nearly hysterical.

  "Not in the least; Your Majesty is mistaken, that is all."

  Zerika took two deep breaths in a failed effort to overcome her wrath, and said, "Tell me, Sir Khaavren; did you speak to your last master in this fashion?"

  "His Majesty Tortaalik? No, Your Majesty. Never."

  "And why do I receive such treatment when he did not?"

  "Because he was weak, and small, and mean. I do him honor for having done his best, but he could never become more than he was, so it was useless to treat him with respect."

  "You call this treating me with respect?"

  "I do, in the only way a plain soldier is capable of."

  Zerika stared at him. "Let me understand you, Captain. You do yourself the honor to scold—to scold—your Empress, and you call this respect?"

  Khaavren bowed his assent.

  "And to my predecessor you were the soul of courtesy, because he was weak, and small, and mean?"

  Khaavren bowed once more.

  "Cracks and shards! If I were my illustrious ancestor, Zerika the First, who founded the Empire, why, what would you do then? Pull your ear at me?"

  "I should have treated her with the same respect I show Your Majesty, and for the same reason."

  "What reason is that?"

  "Because Your Majesty has the potential for greatness—for real greatness. I have seen it in your managing of diplomacies, and in your conversations with subordinates, and, even now, when Your Majesty feels she has been treated in a way no person, much less an Empress, ought to be treated, Your Majesty attempts to control her temper and be just and fair, looking past the extraordinary provocation.

  "Your Majesty," he continued, "why could not you have done as much with my friend Pel? I have known him for more nearly nine hundreds of years. It is impossible for him to have committed the crime with which he is accused."

  "You think so."

  "I insist upon it."

  "You dispute with me to my face and call it respect?"

  "Yes."

  "If you respect me so much, why did you leave my service before, Captain?"

  "Because I was in too much pain over a personal matter to see things as clearly as I do now, Majesty. But now that I see it, I know that I was wrong; I was wrong for failing to give Your Majesty the opportunity to act as an Empress."

  "Do you presume now to instruct me, Captain?"

  "Not in the least, Your Majesty."

  Khaavren, in one of those unfeigned outbursts that is irresistible to anyone of heart, walked around the table so that he was very nearly touching Her Majesty's garments, removed his hat, and knelt, looking up her. "Your Majesty, I am a soldier who failed, or Tortaalik would not be dead. And I am also a father who failed, or my son would be under this roof. But let no one question my loyalty to either my Empress or to my friends—that loyalty, along with the love of my wife, is all I have left.

  "I do not presume to teach my Empress how to behave. But I have been around the court, and on the field of battle, and in the dueling circle, often enough to recognize a great heart; and a great heart cannot be lied to. Your Majesty, my only wish is to serve you—to somehow do some small thing to in part atone for my failures. How could I, then, live with myself if I permitted my friend to be dishonored, and, in so doing, permitted my Empress to dishonor herself, when I might prevent it? Or, for that matter, even if I could not, when I could see the way clear to try? That a task is impossible is no excuse for not attempting it, not when my heart tells me it must be done."

  Khaavren fell silent and bowed his head after this remarkable speech. Her Majesty, after a moment's thought, sat down once more and put her head into her hands for some few minutes. At length she said, "Do you truly believe, Captain, that it was impossible for your friend to have betrayed a confidence?"

  "It is more likely, Majesty, for the Orb to betray a confidence than for Pel to do so."

  "But then, how could it have happened?"

  "Your Majesty, I do not know what confidence was betrayed, or how it could have happened; I only know that Pel cannot have been responsible, any more than the point of my sword could pierce the hand that holds it, and for the same reason: It cannot bend that far without breaking."

  For some time Her Majesty made no sound—it seemed to Khaavren as if the Manor itself was holding its breath; he did not dare to raise his eyes to see what color the Orb held, but merely waited.

  At length, Her Majesty spoke. "And yet," she said in a quiet voice, as if speaking to herself, "it is hard to admit to a mistake when one has been so angry, and so…"

  "Sanctimonious, Majesty?"

  A pale smile crossed Her Majesty's countenance. "Exactly."

  "Oh, Your Majesty! It is yet another mark of greatness to be able to do so. I know, because of how far beyond my powers it is."

  "How, you? I cannot imagine you being sanctimonious, Captain."

  "You did not hear how I spoke to my son, Majesty
."

  The Empress nodded. "Then it would appear that, as your Empress, I must provide a good example. Rise, Captain. Go and send your friend to me; I wish to speak to him."

  "Your Majesty, before I go, dare I make one last impertinent request?"

  "What is it, Captain?"

  "May I kiss Your Majesty's hand?"

  Zerika smiled slightly and held out her perfect, white arm. "Here it is, Captain. Now go and bring me your friend."

  Khaavren reverently touched his lips to the proffered hand, then rose, bowed, backed away, and left the room without ever raising his eyes to meet Her Majesty's. Outside of the door he put his hat on his head once more and, coming to the dining room, said, "Pel, I believe that Her Majesty wishes to say two words to you."

  Pel glanced at Khaavren, reading something of the ordeal through which he had just passed in the expression on his countenance, and pressed the Tiassa's hand.

  "My friend—" he began.

  "No, no. See Her Majesty. And Pel: there is goodness in her, and I believe greatness as well."

  "I know that, Khaavren; I have seen it myself."

  Without another word, then, Pel took himself to the waiting room, where he was at once admitted by Brudik. He approached Her Majesty and bowed.

  "Your Discretion," she said. "My conscience stabs me; I have been unjust to a loyal servant."

  "I will bind the wounds, Sire," said Pel, bowing once more, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  And it was in this way that the Duke of Galstan, in spite of the plans and enmity of Kâna, Grita, Habil, and Illista, remained at Whitecrest Manor as Kâna's troops approached the capital.

  Chapter

  the Eighty-Fourth

  how the warlord prepared the defense of adrilankha, and morrolan acquired a mission

  We have not hitherto mentioned Kiraamoni e'Baritt, nor, in point of fact, do we intend to spend any considerable time with her; but it is only fair, after having previously mentioned the emergency fortifications created by Fentor around what would become Castle Black, to note that it was this worthy, one of the truly great military engineers of the age, who directed the construction of the fortifications around Adrilankha. While Kiraamoni had, it is true, both more manpower and material with which to work, it is also undeniable that she had considerably less time.

  Her work was nothing short of astonishing, the more-so in that it was conducted without the awareness on the part of the citizens of Adrilankha that the purpose of this sudden construction was either military or immediate—the Countess of Whitecrest and the Empress were both very much aware of the danger of a panic in the city, and the degree to which such a panic would do Kâna's work for him—indeed, there is some reason to believe that the instigation of confusion and social unrest was a part of his plan.

  It is sad that so many of those who study military history (and shameful that so many of those who write it) give insufficient weight to efficiency. If every battle that had ever been lost because of clumsy staff work, slow communications, and sloppy logistics had been won, we should be living in such a different world that we could scarcely recognize the very hills and rivers. But if aficionados of military history are unaware of this, we can be grateful that Sethra Lavode, for one, was not, and it was, without fail, a quality she looked for in staff officers: Kiraamoni arranged for supplies, manpower, and subsidiary design work with such a cool efficiency that within three hours of receiving her instructions, wagons had been gathered, horses rounded up, shovels, hammers, nails, and lumber requisitioned, plans laid, and the wagonloads of supplies were rolling briskly to the points designated, while construction battalions, shovels in hand, were beginning to work.

  The three roads that Sethra considered the most likely to face attack were the Old West Road (also called the Hartre Pike), Lower Kieron Road, and the Northgate Ferry Way. Along each of these roads, within the astonishing time of fifty-two hours from when the order was given by the Warlord, there appeared two small, low, wooden, but perfectly serviceable fortresses. Each of these fortresses was well supplied with javelins and troops who knew how to use them, as well as food, water, latrines, and stabling and fodder for the horses of the (admittedly scanty) cavalry corps of the Empire. It is worthwhile to note in passing that one of these fortresses is, in a substantially modified form, it is true, still standing: and should anyone visit the Fortress Inn on the Old West Road he will now understand something of why it has the peculiar form that it has.

  In addition to fortifications, then, communications had been established in a new and efficient manner: next to each brigade-level officer was a specially trained sorcerer who could speak, mind to mind, with at least one other sorcerer, the second belonging to the support unit for the Warlord's staff. In other words, every brigadier was able to instantly—instantly—send and receive messages to and from the Warlord. To be sure, there were still errand runners at the ready; the Warlord, while happy and even eager to adopt any new method that promised to give an edge in battle, was not willing yet to utterly abandon the systems that had proven reliable for thousands of years.

  In retrospect, now that hundreds of battles, large and small, have been fought using this communication system or close variants, it may confound the reader to know that many of the middle-level commanders (by which we mean those between division level and company level) were so resistant to what appears to us as an advancement in military science without drawback; to this, we can only say that stubbornness, obstinacy, and resistance to change are no more unknown in the House of the Dragon than is a tendency toward redundancy, repetition, and reiteration among historians.

  This communication system proved its efficacy at once: The Warlord maintained herself at Dzur Mountain, and was not even seen in person during these critical days except by her division commanders and staff officers; at least until the fortifications were complete, at which time, using the ability to teleport, she was able to carry out lightning-fast inspections. We need hardly add that, upon completing these inspections, she had nothing but praise for the worthy Kiraamoni—an important but, sadly, almost forgotten personage in the Battle of Adrilankha.

  It was while this construction was occurring that Sethra Lavode paid a visit to Castle Black, where a celebration of the completion of this remarkable structure had been in progress for nearly a year. Morrolan, for his part, was not participating at this moment, having secluded himself in the room he had set aside for a library (mostly consisting of comfortable chairs and empty shelves) in order to continue his study of the sorcerous arts, which had become a passion for him. Upon learning that the Enchantress wished to have a conversation with him, he desired her to be brought to him at once.

  Morrolan set his book down and rose to his feet when the Enchantress entered, but, instead of welcoming her to his home, or even saying how happy he was to see her, the words that came from his lips were "Is it true that all matter consists mostly of energy, and that to alter the form of this energy is to change the nature of the matter?"

  "I perceive you have been reading Yebro."

  "Exactly."

  "I applaud your decision."

  "You should, madam; you recommended him."

  "Ah. Yes, well, then I applaud your decision to follow my advice."

  "But is what he says true?"

  "All matter is mostly empty space, with particles held in certain relationships by bonds of energy, this has been proven beyond all possibility of doubt. To alter those bonds, is, indeed, to change the nature of that matter."

  "But then—anything can be transformed into anything!"

  "In theory, yes."

  "In theory?"

  "In practice it is not so simple."

  "But, why is that?"

  "Because every detail of each transformation must be held in the mind of the sorcerer, which is nearly impossible; and then the precise amount of energy must be applied in precisely the right way, which can rarely be done at the same time as one is holding all of this
information in one's mind. I hesitate to guess at the number of sorcerers who have destroyed themselves in the attempt to cast or create spells using such methods."

  "Ah. So, it is useless."

  "Nearly, as a practical matter. Although, in fact, there have recently been some very promising experiments in terms of removing salinity from sea-water But the understanding of the foundation of sorcery, which is Yebro's actual point, is of inestimable value."

  "Well."

  "Ah, do not look so disappointed, my friend. While you cannot turn a piece of basalt into a dinner for two, well, it was the use of these principles that resulted in the first flash-stones, which were tolerably useful at one time. And there are sufficient other uses to prove the importance of the theoretical in the practical. And, indeed, there are certain methods of making dinner for two appear from nothing, or seem to, so even that is not lost."

  "Yes, I understand."

  "I am glad that you do."

  "But come, my dear Sethra—I do not believe you have come to see me in order to be questioned about aspects of magical philosophy, however interesting."

  "Well, that is true, though you know that I am happy to give you what help I can in your pursuit."

  "I know that you have been kindness itself. But in what way may I be of service to you?"

  "May I sit down, Lord Morrolan?"

  "Oh, my dear Sethra! You perceive, I am most distracted. Of course, please sit. And would you care for wine?"

  "Not at all, but I thank you."

  "Come, then. You have my full attention, for I know you could not have come here without some purpose in mind."

  "Oh, you are entirely correct; I did not arrive without a purpose."

  "And then?"

  "In a word, the Pretender is preparing an assault on Adrilankha, which we have only discovered at the last moment. That is, the very last moment. We expect his banners to be in sight to-morrow."

  "To-morrow!"

  "Exactly."

  "Verra! What is to be done?"

  "I wish you to command your division once more."

  "My division?"

  "Certainly."

  "But when did I have a division?"

  "Why, during Zerika's march to Adrilankha."