The Phoenix Guards

by Steven Brust

  In a surprisingly short time, the smith appeared with sword and sheath, along with belt and chain. Without deigning to inspect any of them, Aerich placed on the table the Imperials he had been given by the Captain for the sword. The Vallista seemed satisfied, and bowed deeply. Aerich led them out of the basement.

  “Come then,” he said. “Let us see about our uniform cloaks.”

  This was done in due course, after which they repaired to The Campaigner, which inn they had noted earlier, and had a meal while waiting for their cloaks to be finished. Their host brought them several bottles of wine from the Ailor region, and a dish involving darr meat rolled around chunks of delicately seasoned beef and covered with a sauce in which butter, cream, and tarragon figured prominently. For a while, the only sounds from the four friends were those scrapings, of wooden spoons in wooden bowls, so beloved of the hungry, the epicurean, and the cook. At last Khaavren gave forth a sigh and announced that he was finished with the meal.

  “That is well,” said Aerich, “for I think it is time we take our uniform cloaks and return to the Captain who will, no doubt, assign us trial duties.”

  “Well spoken!” said Tazendra. “For my part, I am quite ready to begin.”

  “As am I,” said Khaavren.

  Using the money given them for the purpose, they paid their account, and picked up their cloaks from the Chreotha across the street. Each cloak was made of linen and silk brocade, of a fine golden hue, and was fastened at the neck by a cunning clasp made of copper and inlaid with a stylized phoenix. On the left breast was a small pair of boots, embroidered in red thread. Khaavren, Aerich, and Tazendra had half-cloaks, while Pel’s was knee-length.

  After settling with the clothier, they returned to the Imperial Palace and informed G’aereth that they were prepared to take up their duties.

  We will pause, then, long enough to say two words about Captain Gant-Aerethia. He had arrived in Dragaera City, the poor younger son of a poor Dzur baron from a marshy south-western lake region, late in the Seventeenth Teckla Republic. He joined the army of the Jhegaala, and was involved in the fall of the Republic and the establishment of Empress Viodonna the Sixth, of the House of the Jhegaala. He then enlisted in the armies of the Empire under the command of Lady Yaro e’Lanya, and came to her notice during the Island Wars, especially at the Battle of Near P’iensotta, where he received a battlefield promotion to officer. He ended the Wars on Lady Yaro’s staff, and it was actually in his arms that she died in the famous Charge of the Brown River.

  At the end of the Wars, and the subsequent beginning of the Reign of Cherova III of the House of the Athyra, the entire battalion that had been Lady Yaro’s was eliminated, but by then Lord Gant-Aerethia had earned many friends at court, not the least of whom was Sethra Lavode herself, who served as Warlord during the last half of the Island Wars. For these reasons, then, Empress Cherova was unable to dismiss him. She finally found a spot for him commanding her personal guards, thinking thus to keep him from doing anything noteworthy. When she next noticed him, these guards had become an elite fighting corps—none other, in fact, than the famous Featherhats, although this name wasn’t given them until hundreds of years later.

  After that, he was involved in the Lavode scandal, although in what capacity is not clear. He emerged in good form, however, appearing, somehow, not to have made an enemy on either—or, rather, any—side. When the fires died, as the saying is, he had earned such powerful friends among the courtiers and allies of the Empress that her own personal dislike for him was unable to harm him.

  Among his friends for many years was the young Prince Tortaalik, to whom he had, in fact, given some lessons in swordplay before the Prince became Phoenix Heir. Their friendship grew no weaker as the years wore on, and Tortaalik never stopped admiring G’aereth’s blunt manner, harsh tongue, and fiery temper. G’aereth became Captain of the Gold Cloaks the very day Tortaalik took the Orb.

  This Captain, then, this G’aereth, was just coming into his prime, just arriving at the station for which he had worked all his life, and he accepted this as he accepted everything life threw at him: with a bold eye, good humor, a clear sense of what mattered, and unbending principles. Thus his first words when the friends arrived were to say to Pel, with something of a glint in his eye, “Your cloak appears somewhat different from those of your comrades.”

  Pel bowed. “I am honored that my Captain should deign to notice.”

  G’aereth chuckled, but said no more about it. Khaavren said, “My lord, we are prepared to assume our duties.”

  “That is well,” said the Captain. “Are you aware of what these duties consist?”

  “No, my lord,” said Khaavren frankly.

  “But we hope to learn,” said Aerich with a slight bow.

  “Then I will tell you,” said G’aereth. “There remain two more days of festivities in the city. Those who enjoy these festivities may, in their enthusiasm, become a menace to the other more restrained citizens. It falls upon us, then, to make certain there are no, or at least few, needless injuries. We must also strive to our utmost to see that the dueling code is upheld.”

  They nodded.

  “Very well,” said the Captain, “you are to enforce the laws of the Empire.”

  “And what laws are these, Captain?” asked Aerich.

  “Heh,” said G’aereth. “Use your judgement. If it looks illegal, then it probably is.”

  “Very well.”

  “Furthermore, if necessary, you may act as judges and Imperial Witnesses, but only if no other duty presses you.”

  The four friends nodded once more.

  “And remember, from this moment forward, your lives belong to the Emperor first, to the Warlord second, to me third, and to yourselves last. Is this plainly understood?”

  They all agreed that it was.

  “That is well. Now, have you found lodgings?”

  All except Pel shook their heads.

  “Well,” said the Captain, “the evening’s revelries will not begin for yet a few hours. Make use of this time to secure lodgings. Then you will meet outside of the Dragon Gate. Here you will find those I have chosen to be partners for each of you. Be warned,” he added sternly, “that your partners will report to me on how well you have carried out your duties. You perceive that admission to the Imperial Guard is not a favor to be earned lightly—especially when it is to my brigade that you wish to attach yourselves.”

  They all bowed. The Captain’s words suited Khaavren well, for he would have found little value in a prize too easily won. Something occurred to him, then, and he said, “All of us? Isn’t Pel admitted?”

  “He is, yes,” said the Captain. “His test was completed two days ago. But he has not yet made a patrol, and I wish for him to be guided by someone with experience.”

  “I understand,” said Khaavren.

  Pel, in his turn, said, “How long will this patrol last, my Captain?”

  “You will begin as I have indicated, three hours hence. Continue until dawn, then you may retire. Tomorrow, present yourselves to me again. You, Khaavren, at this hour. Tazendra at the next hour, and Aerich one hour later and Pel last.”

  There being no more questions, then, the foursome took their leaves and went out to secure lodgings. This was quickly done, but, as we have already taken up much of the reader’s valuable time with descriptions, we do not intend to try his patience with yet another at this moment—rest assured, however, that we will return to the matter of lodgings soon enough, as it plays a part in the history we have the honor to relate.

  Chapter the Fifth

  In Which Method is Applied to Mayhem, and Khaavren, To his Advantage, Recalls Certain Filial Advice

  IN THE MEANTIME, WE WILL leap ahead, with our readers’ kind indulgence, to the early evening, when a cool breeze from the east blew across our friends before the high wrought-iron and stonework Dragon Gate of the Imperial Palace. They had just settled down to wait when four Dragonlords appeared from wi
thin. They approached the four friends and, without arrangement or study, each stood before one and bowed.

  The young man who bowed to Khaavren wore knee-length black boots, heavy black hose, a black, cheaply woven and loosely fitting cotton doublet with copper buttons and silver-colored strips along the side and at the cuffs. He carried a heavy broadsword at his side. Khaavren at once determined that he was the sort of fellow whose arrogant blue eyes and quarrelsome countenance would have already earned him scores of duels.

  “Good day, my lord,” said our young hero. “I am Khaavren.”

  “I am Frai e’Terics,” said the other. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, we can begin at once.”

  “I should be honored,” said Khaavren.

  “Yes,” said the other.

  Khaavren looked at him quickly, but saw no trace of a smile. He shrugged to himself, however, and allowed the Dragonlord to lead him toward the Street of the Nine Pleasures. This was a narrow, east-west running street that had been named for the inns, brothels, gaming halls, and other entertainments that could be found there. No one knew what all of the nine pleasures were, and much entertainment was derived among the lower classes (and, we are forced to admit, sometimes the upper classes) by speculating upon what these pleasures were, or imagining that a tenth had been found. One that was often spoken of, in jest, was the pleasure provided by the narrowness of the street, which hardly permitted the passing of a single hand-cart.

  The pleasure provided by this feature was that of standing in a doorway when two nobles, particularly two Dzurlords, met; especially if each had a greatsword worn in such a way that it would project out to the side. When this occurred, as it did several times a day, one of the nobles would be obliged to turn to allow the other to pass, thus being subject to the loud hoots and jeers from hidden onlookers; or else both must stand fast, in which case it was unlikely that both would resume the journey under their own power. It is certainly true that there were other streets in Dragaera City as narrow, but none as narrow and as well-trodden by the nobility.

  To this street, then, came Khaavren and Frai. On this evening, ribbons had been hung from building to building—ribbons of all colors, but gold predominating; buildings of all types, but square wooden frames of two or three stories and round balconies being the most common. During the walk, they had not said a word to each other, Khaavren contenting himself with watching the festivities. These, it should be said, ran the gamut from public, with hundreds of revelers singing songs together, attempting to reclaim in volume whatever might be lost in pitch, to private, with a single Teckla holding a bottle of wine and laughing uproariously at a joke only he understood. Sometimes, the revels were organized, as the parade they passed which included bits of wood and wax thrown from buildings, and fireworks shot back and forth between the balconies of opposing inns in a sort of mock battle, at other times to the completely disorganized, as the bathing party in the public fountain near Maretta’s House.

  After some few minutes of walking along the street and watching the festivities, Frai indicated that they should enter an inn beneath a sign which showed an issola contorting itself around a thin tree. The inn was crowded, as all such places were on this evening of celebration. The patrons were of mixed Houses, but Khaavren noticed a high proportion of Dzur and Jhereg. He mentioned this to Frai, but the latter gave him a look which said, as plainly as Aerich could have said it with a shrug or the Captain with a grunt, that the observation was useless.

  The host, who stood behind a long counter nearly as high as his chest, noticed the two men in gold cloaks at once, and nodded to them. Walking down to the end of the counter and reaching under it, he appeared to pull on something. Khaavren was at a loss to know the result of this at first, but Frai continued to the far wall, through a door in it, and came at last to a hallway, where he stopped opposite a part of the wall that appeared no different from the rest of the passage. Frai glanced at Khaavren as if to say, “watch closely,” then clapped his hands five times in a particular sequence. Almost at once, a door was revealed in the wall, and the two Guardsmen passed through.

  Khaavren found himself in a large room set in the back of the inn. There were six or seven round tables, and seated at each were five or six persons, mostly Jhereg and Dzur, and they appeared to be playing with the Sivali-Yangorra Stones, which were at that time becoming one of the more popular means of parting with or gaining excess funds.

  For an instant, Khaavren wondered why the gamblers had taken the trouble to conceal themselves, as apparently they had done, but the idea suddenly came to him that a game thus concealed would be safe from Imperial taxes, and this would allow the inn to keep a larger portion of the profits. He was on the point of asking Frai how he had uncovered this place, and if they were to arrest all of the participants as well as the owners, when he noticed that no one in the room seemed surprised or concerned by their presence. In fact, at that very moment, a short, pale Jhereg approached them, with an ingratiating smile on his lips.

  “Good evening, my lords,” he said.

  Frai said, “You will be so kind, my good Corris, as to keep your pleasantries to their home within your mouth, and merely hand over to me that for which I have come.”

  “With pleasure, my lord,” said the Jhereg, giving Frai a moderately heavy purse. “Is it your pleasure to stay for a few hours and increase this amount, or to offer us the chance to regain some portion of it?”

  Frai only growled and signified to Khaavren that the interview was at an end. As they passed back into the main part of the inn, and presently, back onto the street, Khaavren said, “Tell me, my friend Frai, does what I have just had the honor to witness represent a common occurrence?”

  They crossed the street and were immediately inside another inn, almost identical to the first, save that the counter was lower, darker, and on the other side of the doorway. The floor had once been tiled, which indicated that the inn used to be of the expensive sort, but the tiles were now broken and chipped, and the plain hardwood of the walls seemed in need of some repair. Light was provided by lamps hung along the walls, as well as a large one in the center of the single large room. This hostelry was, like the first, filled nearly to overflowing, although Khaavren noticed only a few Chreotha and Vallista among the throng of Teckla.

  “I do not believe, my lord Tiassa,” said Frai, “that I have done you the honor of calling you my friend. And as to your question, I think you will soon learn the answer.”

  “A moment, sir,” said Khaavren, who suddenly felt his blood rushing to a spot behind his eyes. “Could it be that I have the misfortune to have done you some injury of which I am unaware? If so, I hope you will do me the honor of telling me of it. Yet, if I may say so, it seems unlikely that I could have yet had the chance to have given you an injury, since all we have had to do with each other is to collect a few gold Imperials, which you have not even deigned to share with me, as, I think, a good comrade would.”

  “You have done me no injury, sir,” said Frai, who, stopping just inside the doorway of the inn at the beginning of Khaavren’s speech, had become more than a little warm by the end of it. “You have done me no injury, yet I confess that I think little enough of you.”

  “Indeed,”. said Khaavren haughtily. “If you would be good enough to tell me the reason, perhaps we can come to an accord of some kind.”

  “Reason?” said the other, in fully as haughty a manner as Khaavren’s before him. “I need no reason. You are a Tiassa; that is sufficient.”

  “You pretend, then, that there is some blemish upon my House?”

  “Not the least in the world. Only—”

  “Well?”

  “You are not a Dragon. Hence, you see, you have no place in the Imperial Guard.”

  “And yet, it seems to me that membership in the Guard is open to all who earn it.”

  “Oh, as to that; that is a matter of law. I speak of what is proper.”

  “Sir,” said Khaavren, only keep
ing control of his temper with great difficulty, “I am anxious to improve your opinion of me.”

  “That is unlikely,” said Frai.

  “I know a way,” said Khaavren.

  “I should be happy to learn of it.”

  “It is the only way a man of honor has to repair an insult to his House, or rid himself of an annoying companion.”

  “I annoy you then?” said Frai with some surprise.

  “What do you expect?” said Khaavren. “I am, as you have done me the honor to notice, of the House of the Tiassa, and furthermore I am from the Sorannah, where no one utters careless speech, for we are all as warm as the winters are cool, and consequently we let little pass.”

  “You wish, then, to play at sport?”

  “Exactly. And of a particular nature.”

  “Well, I find myself suitably equipped.”

  “Where shall we play, then, my lord? Perhaps a stroll out into the evening is in order?”

  “For what reason, my lord? Here is fine, I think.”

  “And yet, need we not find seconds, and a judge, and a witness, to stay within the agreements of the law?”

  “How then?” said Frai. “Who is likely to arrest us?”

  “That is true,” said Khaavren. “For my part, I am unlikely to arrest myself, and you will soon be in no condition to arrest anyone.”

  “That is unlikely,” said the Dragonlord. “And as for seconds, well, as you are only lately come from the duchies you have had insufficient time to make friends; it would therefore be unbecoming of me to have the advantage of a second when you have none.”