The Lord of Castle Black: Book Two of the Viscount of Adrilankha

by Steven Brust

  On this occasion, Carnaro, having just served dinner to a lady who wore a simple but well-cut gown of a yellow or golden color, observed a stranger enter his hostelry, and hastened to attend him.

  The stranger was a young man of between six and seven hundred years, with hollowed-out cheeks, very deep eyes, curly hair, and long, elegant hands. He was dressed in a fashion that Carnaro recognized as a warrior’s outfit, black and silver, from the old days of the Empire across the channel. All of this piqued our host’s curiosity in no small measure, but he contained this emotion, and merely greeted the guest, asking how he could be of service.

  “In the simplest possible way, my friend,” was the answer.

  “So much the better,” said Carnaro.

  “I am looking for someone, a woman, who arrived in this district seven or eight hundred years ago. She is noble of appearance, fair of skin and hair, with refined tastes and a pronounced noble’s point. I would suggest that, though she has lived in this region for the entire span of time to which I have alluded, she has few friends, and keeps mostly to herself. Do you know of such a woman?”

  “Indeed I do,” said Carnaro at once, having no thought to dissemble. “In fact, she is in my establishment at this moment.”

  “Ah. You delight me. Here is a silver coin for your trouble. And here is another if you point her out to me.”

  “Nothing could be easier, because I have just this instant brought her a meal. Her name is Tresh, and she is in that corner, eating.”

  The stranger observed a woman sitting quietly in a corner, ignored by the peasants and tradesmen who frequented the inn. He at once determined that she matched the description he had given the host, and, moreover, matched the small drawing he carried with him.

  Paying the host as promised, he approached the woman at the table, and, as she looked up, he gave her a courtesy and said, “I was told I should find you here. I am called Udaar.”

  “Well?” she said, as if wondering why his name should matter to her more than the food and wine set before her.

  “I was sent to find you.”

  “That is unlikely,” she said. “No one knows where I am, or that I live, or even my name.”

  “On Elde, I have just learned that you are called Tresh,” said the one called Udaar. “But your name is Illista, and I was sent by His Imperial Majesty, Kâna.”

  The one addressed as Illista gave some signs of astonishment, but covered them up quickly. “You are correct, at any rate, about my name. At least, I was once called that, years ago. But I do not know of any Emperor, nor anyone named Kâna.”

  “Do you recall a Count from the west of the Empire called Skinter?”

  She frowned, “Yes, I do seem recall such a young man. From the mountains, if I am not mistaken. A Dragonlord who was involved in a duel over who had the right to send flowers to a certain Maid of Honor to the Consort early in the last Phoenix reign.”

  Udaar bowed. “Your memory does you credit.”

  “Skinter is Kâna?”

  “The same.”

  “And he now calls himself Emperor?”

  “As do many, many thousands of others, my lady.”

  “Many thousands call themselves Emperor?”

  “No, many thousands call Kâna Emperor. But I see you are pleased to jest. That is well, you may jest if you choose. But my mission here has nothing of the jest about it, and the proof is, I would not have made the journey across the channel, and then ridden all this way, merely for a jest, however much of wit it might display.”

  “I see. Well then, I shall treat you with all the seriousness you could wish. To begin, then, I will ask a serious question: What does this Skinter, or Kâna, wish of me?”

  “As for that, perhaps after you have eaten we may find a place more private, and there I will explain my mission.”

  “Very well, I agree. I will finish eating, and, if you will acquire a cup, I will share with you the remainder of this excellent wine. Unless it chances that you are hungry yourself, in which case I can recommend the longfish without reservation.”

  “I am grateful for the wine, my lady. That will be more than sufficient.”

  “Very well.”

  Udaar signaled the host, and a cup was promptly supplied. He drank his wine and permitted Illista to enjoy her meal in silence. When she signified that she was finished, Udaar, still without saying anything, left a couple of coins on the table, a courtesy that elicited a bow from Illista. They left the darkness of the Silver Goblet, and he indicated a conveyance he had hired, consisting of two donkeys and as comfortable a cart as could be found in the region. She secured her horse to the rear and said, “This way for half a league, then—”

  “Your pardon, my lady, but I know where your home is.”

  “Do you? That does not astonish me. Very well, then. What is your rôle? From the colors you choose, as well as certain features of your countenance, I would judge you to be of the House of the Dragon.”

  “You are perspicacious, my lady. And you, I know, to be a Phoenix. One of few that still live.”

  “Ah. That, then, is my value to this Kâna.”

  “You are perspicacious, my lady.”

  “When you say ‘few,’ just how many do you mean?”

  “So far as we know—”

  “Well?”

  “You and one other.”

  “Who is the other?”

  “We do not know, exactly. A child raised in secrecy, who has just recently revealed herself.”

  “Revealed herself? Then, she is challenging Kâna?”

  “Yes, that would be one way of expressing it.”

  “Hmm. And what would be another?”

  “Another way to put it would be to say that she has retrieved the Orb.”

  Illista stared at him in silent astonishment. Eventually she said, “Retrieved the Orb? And yet, the word that reached this island where I have been exiled for more than seven hundreds of years was that it had been destroyed.”

  “This is, it seems, not the case.”

  “Well, but what can I do? That is, if she has the Orb—”

  “She has the Orb, but that is all.”

  “In my opinion, that is a great deal.”

  “She has, perhaps, twenty troops. Kâna has a hundred thousands of them.”

  “And is he bringing them to battle?”

  “Even as we speak.”

  “So he will then have the Orb?”

  “It seems likely.”

  “And then? What am I to do?”

  “You are to show him obeisance. That is, you will be the representative of your House, and show the people that the House of the Phoenix agrees that the Cycle has turned, and that you acknowledge Kâna’s legitimacy.”

  “And, in exchange for this?”

  “A place at Court, and the title of Princess. Certain lands that the Empire took from you will be restored. An income of ten thousand Imperials.”

  “I wish more.”

  “More income?”

  “No, an additional inducement.”

  “Name it.”

  “There are certain persons who inconvenienced me at one time. I wish for the privilege and the resources to dispose of them.”

  “That can be done.”

  “How, you answer without knowing who they are?”

  “His Majesty knows who they are.”

  “How can he?”

  “He has been told.”

  “By whom?”

  “By the person who informed him of your existence.”

  “And that is?”

  “Her name is Grita.”

  “You perceive, that tells me nothing.”

  “Alas, it is all that I know.”

  “Very well. But how did she come to tell this Kâna of my existence?”

  “She managed to overhear certain conversations between this pretended Empress and her friends, as a result of which it occurred to her that you might be useful to His Majesty. Upon reaching this conclusi
on, she bespoke the Emperor, telling him of your existence.”

  “And what was your rôle in this?”

  “I have the honor to be a member of His Majesty’s household staff, a member of his Guard, and thus heard the entire conversation. His Majesty did me the honor of suggesting that I would be suitable for this errand.”

  “I now understand completely.”

  “And?”

  “And—but here, we have now come to my home—this hovel is where I have been living since my exile.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “We must stop here.”

  “Of course.”

  “We must stop here long enough for me to pack up my belongings. I assume a ship is ready?”

  “It is, Your Highness.”

  “I like the sound of that,” said Illista.

  Udaar bowed, but said, “We need not, however, leave at once.”

  “On the contrary,” said Illista. “I do not wish to spend another night in this land of exile.”

  “Very well,” said Udaar, bowing once more. “The ship and the conveyance on the mainland await, and there is no need to delay on that account.”

  “Then still less is there a reason to delay on mine.”

  “Then I take we have Your Highness’s agreement?”

  “I must still consider certain matters.”

  “If they are matters in which I can help in the consideration of, I stand ready to engage in such activity as may be beneficial to your endeavors.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I will help if I can.”

  “I ask for nothing more. For now, I must pack. Do you relax here two minutes while I make preparations to leave this accurséd house on this accurséd island.”

  In less than an hour, Illista had packed all of her belongings—or, at any rate, those she wished to keep—into three small trunks. She and her servant, a taciturn and rather stupid-looking man named Nywak who had been with her all of her life, climbed into the conveyance and, without a backward glance, began the journey to the harbor.

  They stopped that evening at an inn which could have been a twin to the Silver Goblet, save that the longfish was prepared with lemon and capers, and, in Illista’s opinion, over-cooked. The lodgings were, however, comfortable, with Illista and Udaar each having a room while Nywak slept in the stable, and no one asked any questions. The next day, around noon, they arrived in Salute, and from there, without stopping to see the city (which, though she had lived scarcely a day’s journey away for hundreds of years, Illista had never visited), they at once procured a barque which took them to the ship Udaar had engaged. The arrangements had, as Udaar promised, been made satisfactorily: the captain was waiting, the ship ready, and before dark that night they had embarked across toward the mainland.

  By chance, the waters of the channel were kind that night—or, to be more precise, they were not unusually surly—and so by the time morning shook her fair hair over the southern coast, Illista was not remarkably ill, and they had already reached a small natural harbor, which has no name that we know of, but is found some twenty or twenty-five miles southeast of Ridgly; which is to say, at one of the nearest places to Salute upon which to make landfall. They were met there by a wagon not dissimilar to the one upon which they had made the journey to Salute, and by a barrel-chested Dragonlord named Hirtrinkneff.

  “Welcome home, Udaar, and welcome to you as well, Your Highness.”

  “Thanks, Rink.”

  Illista bowed.

  “I take it,” continued Hirtrinkneff, drawing Udaar aside as Nywak loaded the trunks onto the wagon, “that the crossing was not unpleasant, and that all is as His Majesty wished?”

  “I have a certain soreness in my throat, but, beyond that, all is well.”

  “A soreness in your throat? I assume from the salt air, or the coolness of the vapors you inhaled?”

  “Perhaps. But I suspect more because our guest required me to speak at every stage of the journey, explaining to her as much of the situation in the Empire as I could manage. She wished to know the extent of devastation caused by the plagues and by the Reavers, the numbers and strength of opposing forces, the attitudes of the Princes—many things which I could not have answered if I had wanted to, and many which I could only answer in guesses, and some of which I was required to evade; but at no time was I permitted to stop talking.”

  “Ah. Well, I have just thing for you. My grandmother taught me an infusion of herbs that is put into hot water along with lemon and honey that will, without question, remove any pain in the throat. I shall have it prepared when we make our first stop.”

  “Apropos, when will that be?”

  “Almost at once. It is full night, and I should prefer travel by day; hence we will rest at the Cliffside, which is not five miles from here.”

  “Very well. And, as I perceive the trunks are now loaded, let us proceed.”

  “I agree.”

  They arrived within a few hours, and there passed the remainder of the night, as well as, after making special arrangements with the host, several hours the next day, after which they made their way further up the coast, stopping next, as chance would have it, at the town of Merinna. We hope the reader has had, or will have, the chance to visit this village—of course, we entertain no doubt that the reader has at least heard a great deal about it. In either case, there is no call to describe the low, trim multi-colored brick houses of the “berjeses,” nor the elegant shops that attract so much attention, nor the famous smiling constabulary in their well-known yellow tunics and twirling their wands of authority. All of these things are real, so far as they go; and Merinna is, in the opinion of this author, every bit as pleasant a resort town as one could hope to find.

  Indeed, the greatest point of interest is how Merinna survived the Interregnum so nearly intact—that is to say, how it suffered so little from the depredations suffered by those around it. The answer lies in the place we have just quitted: the Island of Elde. For six thousands of years before Adron’s Disaster, Merinna had been under the unofficial protection of the Kings of Elde, who had, in many ways, created the village to have a hospitable landing site on the mainland for visits ceremonial and personal. The Kings of Elde, therefore, saw no reason to withdraw their protection from this little parcel of coast simply because of certain unpleasantness within the political confines of their large neighbor across the water. The royal court of Elde, therefore, let it be known to those Reavers who used the Interregnum and the harbors of Elde to launch excursions against the coast of Dragaera that Merinna and its environs should be left unharmed. They even went further, and would from time to time send over provisions to stave off the famines, and even medicines to provide some relief from the plagues.

  So, as it was before the Interregnum, it was, in large part, during the Interregnum, and still is today—and the reader knows well enough of how very few things this can be said. They spent the night, then, in Porter’s, and broke their fast on the fruit muffins for which that hostelry is so justly renowned, as well as klava, which Illista had not tasted since leaving the Empire.

  “And now,” said Illista, as she finished her repast, waited on by the ubiquitous Nywak, “I assume we at last leave the coast, and make our way inland to meet with His Majesty?”

  “Soon,” said Udaar. “There is a small matter to attend to first.”

  “A small matter? Well, then let us dispose of it at once; you perceive I am as impatient as a three-year-old at the pole.”

  “Then I will be as brief as the report of the starter’s whip.”

  “I ask for nothing more.”

  “Before leaving the island—”

  “Yes, before leaving?”

  “—Your Highness did me the honor of mentioning that you had certain matters still to consider before accepting our proposal.”

  “You have a memory like an athyra.”

  “I must now, before bringing you further, ask whether Your Highness has completed these c
ontemplations.”

  Illista looked at the Dragonlord carefully before saying, “You are more than a messenger, aren’t you?”

  Udaar bowed his assent.

  “Very well,” said Illista, when no other words were forthcoming. “I have completed my contemplations, and I have no objections to make to His Majesty’s plan.”

  “Then we are agreed?”

  “You have my word.”

  “I ask for no more. We may now set out at once.”

  “Do you know,” remarked Illista, “I have always desired to see this town, for I have heard so much about it, both in the old days, and then again from the Court at Elde.”

  “You were, then, acquainted with the Court at Elde?”

  “I came there first when I arrived upon the island, and I asked for sanctuary. I was told, ‘We have a large island, madam, you my live where you choose.’ ”

  “He said that?”

  “His very words.”

  “Was he aware that you had been in the Imperial Court? That you were, moreover, a close relative of His Imperial Majesty then on the throne?”

  “I had explained those matters upon arriving.”

  “Some might consider this an insult.”

  “Nearly.”

  “Indeed, an insult to the Empire itself.”

  “That is my opinion; I am glad it coincides with yours.”

  “Oh, it does. And, moreover—”

  “Yes?”

  “It is my opinion that His Majesty ought to be informed of this.”

  “It is no secret.”

  “And, once the details of securing the Empire are concluded, well, we shall see.”

  “Yes, that is—but wait.”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Going? Why, toward the Palace, of course.”