by Steven Brust
Morrolan, who had never previously considered this matter, said, “Very well, I see no trouble with this. What then?”
“Then it is only a question of insuring good communications between your division and my corps, so that this gap in the lines cannot be used by anyone thinking to make a direct attack upon Her Majesty, and also of providing certain mounted outriders to guard against the same thing.”
“Very well, I will have Fentor speak with you on this subject. What is your second word?”
“My second word concerns certain looks I may have given you on the occasion of our first introduction. It occurs to me that you may have found these offensive, and, if so, I will observe that I should wish to delay any discussion of this matter until Her Majesty has arrived safely in Adrilankha.”
“Ah. You wish to play, then?”
Khaavren shrugged. “In fact, I do not. I lost interest in such games several hundreds of years ago. But, if you wish to play, I will certainly agree to entertain you.”
Morrolan frowned. “You must understand, good Captain, that I have not long been in these lands, and, where I was raised, matters are arranged in a rather simpler way.”
“How, then, are they arranged?”
“If someone offends me, I pass my sword through his body, and then the issue is settled.”
“Well, in fact, sir, I believe there is a great deal to be said in favor of such a custom. It saves time, and is easily managed, and anyone left standing is able to devote his energy to other concerns, rather than considering games to be played in the future. But then—”
“Well?”
“The fact that you did not, on that occasion, attempt to run your sword through my body—because, I give you my word, I would have noticed if you had—indicates that, perhaps, you did not consider there had been an offense.”
“In fact, I did not. Ought I have?”
“As to that, I cannot say. Some would, some would not. But I assure you, it has not for an instant crossed my mind that you might be timid.”
“I am glad of that. Because if you did think me timid, well, I should have to endeavor to change your mind. It would grieve me to have someone of your mettle have such an opinion of me, and the esteem in which I hold you would require me to dispatch you at once.”
“I understand entirely, and permit me to thank you for the kind words you have directed to me.”
“You are entirely welcome, sir. And so?”
“And so, it seems, there is no cause for a quarrel, and that pleases me, because of the admiration I have for all that you have done.”
“You are too kind.”
“Not at all.”
“Farewell then, Count, and permit me to say that I look forward to speaking with you again.”
“And I, you. Farewell for now.”
And, with courteous bows, they took their leave, Morrolan to look for Fentor, Khaavren to set about arranging the guard for the Empress’s place in the general movement toward Adrilankha.
Her Majesty’s remark, which we have taken the liberty of quoting, to the effect that nothing could stop the march, proved to be correct. Kâna’s army continued to fall back, shrinking as it did so, and, though supplying the advancing Imperial army was no easy task, it was handled by Sethra Lavode, who never stirred from Dzur Mountain, with as much skill and dexterity as has ever been displayed in the history of warfare, with the result that the march to Adrilankha was accomplished in an astonishingly short length of time.
But time, as everyone knows, has meaning only when associated with a particular event. That is to say, the hour spent waiting for one’s lover is far longer than the hour spent after the lover has arrived. In the same way, what is, by the standards of military science, a very quick march from Dzur Mountain to Adrilankha is, from the standpoint of a conspirator preparing to put a plan into operation, all the time that could be required.
In all the march occupied some fourteen days at the end of which time the Empress stood, unopposed, at the head of her army (unless, indeed, it was Morrolan’s army; history is unclear on this point) on the very road from which Piro had set out more than a year before. Piro was there, as were Ibronka, who rode next to him, and Kytraan and Röaana. Pel, in his role as Imperial Discreet, accompanied her, as did Khaavren, Captain of the Phoenix Guard (which now had swelled to some thirty or thirty-five guardsmen, taken from the ranks of soldiers). Tazendra had remained behind at Dzur Mountain, to aid the Enchantress; Aerich had returned to his home in Arylle, pretending that he had no interest in ceremony, and could be of no use to Her Majesty, but was prepared to return should he be required. Morrolan, for his part, had become so enchanted, if the reader will permit a small play on words, with the study of sorcery, in which Sethra Lavode and her apprentice were instructing him, that he could hardly be induced to tear himself away from it when his duty as division commander required it. The late brigands came along, far in the back of the army, in company with Brimford and the Necromancer, as none of them had any wish for recognition.
The Empress, then, in an elegant coach (requisitioned the day before in the village of Cambry and hastily festooned by certain artistically inclined Dragonlords), came to halt before what could be considered the gates of Adrilankha, had Adrilankha any gates to stop before. It was, to be sure, at the political boundary of the city of Adrilankha and the county of Whitecrest, and, at this point, word was given that Her Majesty desired conversation with Piro, who at once rode forward, dismounted, and bowed to Her Majesty.
“Well, my friend,” said the Empress. “Or, as I should say, Viscount.”
“Your Majesty?” said Piro. “In what way may I serve you?”
“In the simplest possible way, my dear friend, though in a way that, when I last left, I should never have imagined I should have had to ask of you.”
“Well, and what is that? You know you have only to name it, and I will do what you wish, if not for the sake of our old friendship, than certainly for the sake of what I owe to my Empress.”
“Well spoken, dear Piro. What I ask, then, is this: that you grant me permission to enter your city.”
For an instant Piro was startled, for it had not entered his mind that, as Viscount of Adrilankha, he had certain official duties as well as a title that, until this moment, had been all but meaningless. He gave a glance to his father, in whose stern countenance he could now see the hint of a proud smile, and then Piro knelt before the Empress and said, “Your Majesty, I welcome you to Adrilankha with all my heart, and it is my only desire that, having left the city last year, you shall never regret having entered once more.”
Zerika nodded her head in a manner quite regal, followed by a small smile in which Piro could not mistake her friendship. Then, as Piro backed away, she said, “Let the Countess of Whitecrest be summoned.”
Daro, in fact, had been summoned the day before by messengers sent to her home, and it had been all that she could do to restrain her desire to mount a horse and dash directly to visit her husband and her son, both of whom, she was assured, were alive, well, and traveling with Her Majesty. She had relieved the ennui of waiting, at least to a degree, by spending a considerable amount of time upon her toilette: dressing in bright Lyorn red with gold trim that set her fair complexion off admirably, along with certain small but elegant gemstones in the form of ear-rings and necklace. Then she had been conveyed by carriage to the place where her presence had been requested—that is to say, the eastern edge of the city—and there she had waited.
Upon at last being summoned by messengers from Her Majesty, Daro at once came forward and, in spite of the dignity of the occasion, could not keep a delighted smile from her countenance; for, as promised, there they were, Piro and Khaavren, smiling back at her.
She responded to Zerika’s request with words she could never afterward remember, although they appear to have been “the proper trim for the breeze,” as the Orca say, because soon enough she was dismissed, and, as Zerika entered the city, Daro entered
the arms of her husband and her son.
As to the entrance to the city itself, other than the ceremony to which we have just alluded, it was an astonishingly quiet affair. By Zerika’s orders, no general announcement had been made, and so, although there had been rumors that the Empress was to visit the city, no one could say exactly when, or precisely which of the many roads into the city she might use. To be sure, word spread quickly, and eventually something like a crowd began to line the street for a look at the Empress, and Khaavren found himself required to call on the services of some of his guardsmen to insure that the Empress’s passage was unobstructed; but if the degree of pomp is to be commensurate with the importance of the occasion, then it was lacking to no insignificant degree.
This lack, however, was not noticed at the time by any of the participants, for the simple reason that no thought had gone into it—indeed, it was only on entering the city that the Empress realized that that she had no notion of where she, not to mention the entire court, and not to mention the army (now boasting nearly twelve thousands of soldiers), would quarter herself.
Zerika was, belatedly, pondering these very questions as she rode in triumph along Cutter’s Way, when Khaavren fell in next to her coach and said, “Your Majesty, I have been giving thought to where the army should make its camp.”
Zerika laughed without affectation, and said, “Well, Captain, it is good that one of us has, for I give you my word, until this very instant, I had not given it a thought.”
“It is hardly Your Majesty’s duty to look to such trivial details.”
“Well, my dear Captain, I do not say whether or not ten thousands of soldiers are trivial, but, in any case, I am glad you have given it thought. What then?”
“There are several places along the river where encampments could be made. And, apropos, would it be indiscreet to inquire where Your Majesty should wish to establish herself?”
“It would not be indiscreet, but, alas, it is a question which I am, at present, unable to answer. The home of my guardians is too small for such uses.”
“In that case, may I do myself the honor of offering Your Majesty the use of Whitecrest Manor?”
“Are you certain it would not discommode you unduly, Captain?”
“I should consider it a great favor on Your Majesty’s part.”
“Very well, then, Captain. I must first return and see my dear guardians, but, after that, I shall establish the court at Whitecrest Manor until such a time as we can cause a Palace to be built. It is settled.”
“I will see to it.”
Khaavren at once found Piro, who was riding with his three companions, and said, “My dear son, a great honor has been done us: Her Majesty will remain at our home with her court. You must go at once to the Countess so that she can make the preparations.”
“Ah, it is, indeed, a great honor.”
“It is, and it is good that you are sensible of it.”
“Oh, my dear father, I am indeed. But I wonder—”
“Well?”
“How many am I to say will be there?”
“Ah, as to that, I cannot say. Perhaps a score.”
“A score! In the Manor?”
“Well, what of it? We have the space, have we not?”
“Yes, I am convinced that we have, only I wonder—”
“Yes?”
“Will there be room, perhaps, for another?”
“If you mean your friend, Kytraan, then there is no reason that we cannot find a place for him.”
“In fact,” said Piro, blushing, “that is not who I meant.”
Khaavren, whose eyes had grown sharp indeed in the service of the Empire, did not miss this reddening of the Viscount’s features.
“So,” he said, smiling a little, “there is another you would have stay under the roof with us?”
“If it is possible, yes.”
“But, you know, my son, if this someone were, by chance, to be a girl—”
“Yes, if it were?”
“Then it would hardly be proper, unless—”
“Yes, unless?”
“Well, unless such an arrangement were accompanied by a declaration of intent to marry.”
“Ah!” said Piro, becoming more flushed than ever. “That is to say—”
“Yes?”
“With your permission, and that of my dear mother—”
“Well, with these permissions?”
“And, with the consent of her own mother—”
“Yes, of course, with this consent—”
“Then we should like to, at once, make this declaration of intent!”
“Ah, ah!” said Khaavren, smiling proudly. “So, you wish to marry?”
“Yes, my dear father. That is what I wish. It means everything to me.”
“You know, I think, that I could do nothing to stand in the way of your happiness, my dear son; and I speak for your mother as well.”
“Then you will consent?”
“Did you doubt it?”
“But, you do not even know whom I wish to marry!”
“You think I do not? Yet, for months now, you have been in the company of a pretty young Tiassa, who—”
“Oh, Röaana? Yes, yes. She is a nice girl, no doubt.”
“Well, then? How could I not see—”
“But that is not whom I would marry.”
“It is not?”
“Oh, not the least in the world.”
Khaavren frowned a frown of bewilderment. “But, my dear Piro, if not Röaana, then whom?”
“Why, her friend Ibronka! Oh, I have never had such feelings! Have you not observed how her hair curls by her ear? And the arch of her neck? And how much passion, how much fire she brings to even the smallest action—”
“Ibronka?” said Khaavren, his eyes becoming wide.
“Why yes, father. Ibronka. Have you not seen—”
“You wish to marry this girl, Viscount?” he cried.
“There is nothing that I wish more.”
Khaavren stared at his son, at length managing to say, in something like the croak of a frog, “What do you tell me?”
“Why, that Ibronka and I are in love with each other, and wish to be married. Therefore, you perceive, to live under the same roof—”
“Viscount!”
“Yes, Father?”
“Why, it is impossible!”
“Impossible?”
“It is infamous!”
“What do you tell me?” cried Piro. “But she is—”
“She is a Dzur!”
“Well?”
“Well, you are a Tiassa!”
“Of this I am aware, I give you my word. And yet—”
“How can you contemplate such a thing? I forbid it! I absolutely forbid it! What would your mother say?”
“And yet,” said Piro, beginning to grow warm, “it seems to me—”
“No! There will be no more talk of this! I have given you an errand, now see to it at once, sir! Do you hear me? At once!”
We should say, lest the reader wonder, that Kytraan, Röaana, and Ibronka had all witnessed this scene, and had seen the fire in Khaavren’s eye and the gestures of anger, but had been unable to hear what was said, wherefore they remained in worried ignorance, at least for a while. Piro, with some difficulty, bit back words of anger and tears of frustration, and, without another word, set off toward Whitecrest Manor, spurring his horse into a furious gallop. So fast did he travel that, although the Countess had left Her Majesty nearly an hour before, she had only arrived a few minutes before he entered behind her.
“Ah, Viscount!” she cried. “It is good to see you home.”
“Madam,” he said, bowing, “I am to inform you that Her Majesty has done us the honor to establish her court here in the Manor.”
“That is wonderful news, and, indeed, a great honor, although it means that there is much to do. But, Viscount, why is there such a look on your face, and why do you not embrace your mother?”<
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“As to that, madam—”
“Well?”
“You must ask my father.”
“Oh, Piro! What do you tell me?”
“I have nothing more to say, madam. Now please excuse me. My errand is completed, and now—”
“Yes, now? Where are you going?”
“I have not the least idea in the world, I assure you. But I must go somewhere, and it must be alone, for if not, I promise you I will commit some rash act that I should bitterly regret.”
“Piro!”
“Farewell, Mother.”
With this, Piro gave his mother a quick bow, and, without another word, turned and walked out of the house.
Grassfog had been riding with his fellows, positioned directly behind the place in the formation (for the army had formed itself into something like neat lines as it approached Adrilankha), and, as Piro rode off on the errand we have just described, he turned to Iatha, who rode next to him, and remarked, “Do you see, my friend? We do not belong here.”
“I do not understand what you tell me,” said Iatha. “In what way do we not belong here?”
“You did not observe the scene that just passed between the captain and his son?”
“Why, as it was none of my business, I paid it no mind.”
“You would have been wiser to listen, because, in the first place, one can never have too much information; and in the second, it would have taught you something that now, in order for you to learn it, I must myself explain.”
“Well, if there is something to be learned, then I will certainly be glad to hear all you care to say.”
“The young man, Piro, has just broken from his family.”
“You think so?”
“I am convinced of it. If you had heard the conversation, and seen the look on his countenance, or observed how he drove his horse, well, you would be as convinced as I.”
“But why has he broken with his family?”
“Over a girl.”
“The Dzurlord?”
“Naturally.”
“His father does not approve of her?”
“His father does not realize that a flood of years—more than two hundred years of them constitutes a flood, I think—have washed away the social niceties of the old Empire.”
