The Phoenix Guards

by Steven Brust

  Often the other three would sit near the table while Tazendra played, drinking wine and discussing affairs of the Empire, or the nature of their duties, or speculations on when they would have a chance to gain notice in the eyes of their superiors.

  It is worth our while to mention that the inn closest to their home, whose sign, as we have mentioned, showed a hammer in the act of striking a nail, held a back room where shereba was often played under the watchful eye of a ruddy-faced Jhereg named Tukko, who had somehow acquired a partnership in the Hammerhead Inn, as it was called. Whenever the Dragons from the mercenary army were in funds, the entire inn was crowded with singing, drunken warriors, and the back room, which was a favorite haunt of Tazendra, became even more crowded than the common room.

  It has been observed more than once that when a room is crowded with drunken Dragonlords, and a Dzur is gambling, it is a good time for any peace-loving individual to discover that his business has called him away. One day, some three weeks after our friends’ arrival in the city, this observation was shown to be particularly astute, as we will take it upon ourselves to demonstrate.

  Chapter the Eighth

  In Which It is Shown That

  There are No Police in Dragaera City

  ON THIS PARTICULAR EVENING TAZENDRA was enjoying a run of luck at shereba, a game in which the caprices of chance measure themselves against the nerve of the player, so that a momentary failure of confidence can bring down the entire financial edifice that has been built up by hours of painstaking calculation, yet a sudden change in the draw of the cards can, if played boldly and steadfastly, cause a fortune to move from one side of the table to the other—such as happened to Paluva, Count of Cloverhill, in the well-known epic.

  And yet, as we have said, Tazendra was this time enjoying the luck of the cards, and, moreover, was playing at her best, because if there is anything that will inspire a Dzur more then being outnumbered, it is being outnumbered by Dragonlords. And her opponents were, in fact, all of the House of the Dragon, there being three women and one man from the Army of the Thorny Rose, and she had been steadily drawing coins from each of them into a pile in front of her.

  We should note that this game was, in the strictest sense, illegal—that is, it was not reported to the Imperial Tax Collectors, but the reader ought to be aware in addition that such laws are given only the merest nod during an Athyra reign, and hardly more during the reign of the Phoenix that follows. It is when the cold and rigid Vallista brings an Emperor to the throne that such laws are enforced in all their vigor, which enforcement puts gold into the treasury of the Jhereg, who eventually make use of it to buy their way into positions of power until they can pick their own Emperor, from which we can learn that it is the Jhereg, along with those corrupt officials who lack only the colors to be Jhereg themselves, who gain from the enforcement of laws designed to limit an individual’s pleasure.

  The significance of this fact for our purposes—for we assure the reader that it is the relation of historical fact, not the exposition of political reality, that we have set as our task—is that, the Phoenix Guards having been paid, there was little danger of a raid or an investigation by the Empire; hence the doors were all open and there was constant intercourse between the common rooms and those rooms set aside for games of chance in this inn. In fact, at the very moment at which we are looking, Khaavren, Aerich, and Pel are standing behind Tazendra, watching her play, and discussing a matter of some moment to them, that being the question of Srahi, the Teckla, whom Pel pretended was far too recalcitrant to be a servant.

  “It is a problem,” said Khaavren to Pel, while looking over Tazendra’s shoulder at a lay of cards, featuring three House cards and the Ace of Fire, that promised no good to her opponents, one of whom was betting heavily on what looked like a flood but probably wasn’t. “For it is obvious that she ought to be beaten, and yet, it is a sad thing, but in this modern age in which we find ourselves, a gentleman may not lift his hand to a woman, whereas before only a lady was excepted. And yet it is entirely proper for a lady to correct a servant of either sex. Am I not correct, my dear Aerich?”

  “Exactly,” said the Lyorn, “although I hasten to add that this rule hardly applies when the lady in question is armed, as on the battlefield or the field of honor. But this is clearly not the case.”

  “But then,” said Pel, “if we cannot thrash her, surely we can convince Tazendra to do so.”

  “I?” said Tazendra, turning around and frowning. “Strike a defenseless servant-woman?”

  “It is as I thought,” said Khaavren. “A problem.”

  “Perhaps,” said Pel as Tazendra turned back to her game, “we ought to hire a man who is not a gentleman, and can therefore be instructed to thrash Srahi when it is called for.”

  “I think,” said Khaavren, “that the state of the treasury will scarcely permit that.”

  “Well,” said Tazendra, as the lady across from her cursed at the card she had drawn and threw the remainder onto the table, “that problem may be on the way to solving itself.”

  “Perhaps,” said Pel. “But you must admit, my dear friend, that you are likely to lose tomorrow what you have won today.”

  “Well, and does that matter?” said one of the ladies who had been steadily losing to Tazendra. “You police are no doubt able to make as much as you require in your agreements with Jhereg such as our fine Tukko here, which agreements allow us the opportunity for this agreeable play, in which, you perceive, you cannot lose, as you do not gamble with your own money, but, rather, with ours.”

  Tazendra slowly turned her head, which had been directed to Pel, until she was facing the lady who had spoken. Meanwhile, Khaavren, Aerich, and Pel took a step forward at the same moment to position themselves behind Tazendra, who said in a voice that was at once soft and menacing, “Would you do me the honor to say once more what you have just said? Perhaps my hearing was at fault.”

  The Dragonlord tilted her head and said, “Have I in some way insulted you? Do you pretend that you are offended at my suggestion that you are paid by Jhereg who wish to hide from the Imperial Tax Collectors?”

  “Not in the least,” said Tazendra.

  “Well?”

  “But I nearly thought that you used the word ‘police’.”

  “And if I did?”

  “I have the honor to inform you,” said Aerich coldly, “that there have been no police in Dragaera City since the Revolt of the Livery, some forty years ago.”

  “Well,” said another Dragonlord, “but it seems we are looking at some now.”

  “It is not a word,” said Pel, tossing his cloak over his shoulder so that the elegant hilt of his blade was visible, “that pleases my ears.”

  “Well,” said the lady who had spoken first, “I confess that your ears are of only a little concern to me.”

  “But,” said Pel, bowing politely, “your tongue is of great concern to me.”

  “For my part,” said Khaavren, “I am concerned with her feet.”

  “How,” said Aerich, who stood between Pel and Khaavren. “Her feet?”

  “Indeed. For if she will use them to move from these cramped quarters, well, I will do her the honor of showing her what my arm can do.”

  “You?” said Pel, indicating that, while he agreed with object and predicate in Khaavren’s speech, he differed from the Tiassa as to subject.

  “My friends,” said Aerich softly, “our lives are His Majesty’s, remember.” He then bowed to the lady and said, “You are doubtless unaware that by calling us police, you are not merely insulting us, but also the Warlord, Lytra e’Tenith, to whom we owe allegiance, and also His Majesty, who has done us the honor to take us into his service as soldiers.”

  “Not at all,” said another of the lady’s companions. “The Warlord may hire all the police she wishes without dishonor.”

  “And,” said another, “His Majesty may call them soldiers if he wishes to; that is the privilege of royalty.”
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  “Aerich,” said Pel, turning to the Lyorn, “you do not believe that we can allow this conversation to continue, do you?”

  “But then,” said the lady who had just lost to Tazendra. “Who could stop it?”

  “I, for one,” said Khaavren, with a bow.

  “You?” said the lady scornfully, at which her companions laughed. “That would be amusing; to see an officer of the police fight a warrior.”

  Aerich drew in his breath sharply, but put a gentle hand on Pel’s shoulder. “Easy, my friends,” he said. “Remember our duties—”

  “Bah,” said Pel, shrugging off Aerich’s hand. “Our duties do not require us to allow ourselves to be insulted by every little Dragonling who believes she knows which end of a sword is sharp.”

  “How?” said the lady, standing up, at which her friends stood also, leaving only Tazendra still seated. “Dragonling? No gentleman is required to take such words from—”

  “Stop,” said Khaavren. “For if you utter that hated word once more, which it sounds very much as if you are about to do, I believe that I will separate your head from your body without the formalities that are so beloved by the lawmakers. You perceive, then, that I am doing you a favor by interrupting you.”

  “Oh,” said another Dragon, “formalities mean little enough to me or my friends; our swords don’t require them.”

  “Although,” added another, “we understand that this attitude is different among the police.”

  Now, there is no question that, with this last utterance of that word which is so justly hated by all good persons of all times and places, a duel would have followed immediately, if there had not come an interruption at that moment. The interruption came when Tazendra, who had been trying to maintain her calm so that she would have the privilege of dueling with a Dragonlord, rose with a great cry, drew her sword from her back, and, with a shout, gave such a blow to the lady who had spoken that it would have certainly split her skull had she not leapt backward, upsetting her chair and bumping into a patron who had come to watch the hostilities. Because she was not there to interrupt the determined progress of the sword, however, it continued into the heavy oak table at which they had been playing and very nearly split the table instead of the skull at which it had been aimed. Coins and glasses splattered, tinkled, and rolled onto the floor.

  The four Dragonlords recovered quickly, drew, and placed themselves on their guards. Khaavren and Pel drew as well, and even Aerich was sufficiently exasperated to take his sword into his hand.

  “I’m stuck,” said Tazendra, who was unable to extract her weapon from the table-top.

  “So much the better,” said her antagonist, and aimed a terrific blow at her body, which would certainly have killed her had Pel not interfered by giving the Dragonlord a good cut on her shoulder, which caused her to gasp and drop her weapon.

  “Thorns, to us!” cried the Dragonlords.

  “Guardsmen, to us!” cried the Guardsmen.

  Of these two calls, the former was the more effective. There were nearly a score of soldiers of the Army of the Thorny Rose who were in the hostel, whereas, to our friends’ chagrin, there were no other Guardsmen there at all. As a result, within seconds Khaavren, Aerich, and Pel found themselves backed up against the far wall of the room, while their antagonists pressed forward, hampered only by their numbers, the size of the room and the table itself, for reasons which we will hasten to explain.

  Tazendra had also decided to retreat, but was unwilling to leave her sword behind, and so she dragged it, table and all, to a position in front of her friends. Now this table, we should say, was supported by stout wooden legs, which curved outward from a common support in the center of the underside. Because of this design, the table overbalanced, with the result that it became an effective shield, reaching to the height of Tazendra’s breasts.

  Therefore, for a few moments there was something of a stand-off, with the Dragonlords only able to attack around the sides of the vertically positioned table and the Guardsmen unable to attack at all. Then a Dragonlord cried out, “Press them, press them; let us finish this before more of these police come to rescue them,” which was not only a dire threat, but a fresh insult which aggravated the Guardsmen beyond endurance.

  Tazendra, who had been frustrated in any case by her inability to free her sword from the table, gave a cry like an enraged dzur and began pushing the table forward into the throng of Dragonlords. Khaavren immediately put his shoulder into it as well, while Pel and Aerich stood by its sides, cutting at any who dared to press too close. In this way, Pel gave one of them a scalp cut which bled profusely and left the victim lying senseless on the floor, while Aerich nearly struck another’s hand off, this in addition to a number of small wounds they inflicted.

  After the first moment of the charge of the table, the Dragonlords began to fall back, and three of them lost their footing, whereupon Khaavren and Tazendra happily trampled them on their way past.

  The counter-attack (or, if the reader prefer, table-attack) went well until the Guardsmen had succeeded in pushing their enemies to the far wall of the room, whereupon two things happened: first, the press of bodies and the force of the charge itself served to squeeze soldiers around the sides of the table and put them in a better position to attack the Guardsmen from the flanks, and second, Tazendra’s sword, as if offended at being used as the grip of a moving barricade, slipped free from the table, which promptly fell backward, its feet sticking up into the air. Suddenly, then, the momentum shifted, and the four friends were at once surrounded.

  They wasted no time in considering strategy, however. Tazendra, delighted to have her blade free, charged at the largest group she could find with such vigor that they fell back before her, momentarily confused. Khaavren found himself facing one of the original four antagonists, and, in the time it takes to draw a breath, cut her twice on the arm, once in the face, and then struck her fully in the body, at which time she fell like a coal-sack. At this same time, Aerich wounded a man with a cut in the neck, and Pel felled another by burying his poniard in her chest, for which he paid by a long scratch down the side of his face and a light cut in his left shoulder.

  Now the innkeeper, not knowing what else to do, had dispatched a servant to bring the Guard, who were fortunately close at hand, so that the cry, “The Watch! The Watch!” was taken up by the patrons who were nearest the door and the cry was quickly spread throughout the hostel. Our friends, hearing this cry, took the opportunity to make a retreat into the common room, and afterward fell in with the pair of Guardsmen who had been summoned, and who were of their own company. No words were necessary to show the newcomers the situation, so they at once drew and stood next to their friends. The numbers, while still not equal, were at least a little more balanced, so that the Dragonlords, of whom perhaps a dozen remained standing, hesitated before attacking.

  “I think,” said Khaavren, “that it is now time to withdraw.”

  “Bah,” said Tazendra. “The game is only beginning to grow warm.”

  Aerich said, “I, for one, agree with Khaavren.”

  Pel said, “Whereas, my dear Lyorn, I find that on this occasion I am entirely in accord with Tazendra.”

  The two Guardsmen also agreed with Tazendra, saying that they had had no chance to fight. Aerich said, “That is true, but you are on duty, and ought to attempt to quell disruptions rather than contributing to them.”

  “Ah, that is true,” they said regretfully.

  “But,” said Pel, “I do not believe these fine soldiers have any intention of allowing us to leave in a peaceful way.”

  “I nearly think you are right,” said Tazendra happily, as their foes seemed about to make a charge.

  Aerich said, “You can delay them, Tazendra.”

  “I?”

  “Well, are you not a sorcerer?”

  “Ah, that is true. Very well.”

  She raised her hands and muttered under her breath, whereupon the room was almost instant
ly filled with smoke, which appeared to have no source other than the air itself; and, moreover, there were flashes of light, all the more frightening because it was impossible to determine whence they came or what effect, if any, they were having.

  “Now,” said Tazendra, appearing to be pleased with herself, “we can charge them on a more equal basis.”

  “Now,” said Khaavren, “we can retreat—for I believe we have successfully stated our views to them, and they still outnumber us two to one.”

  Pel, Tazendra and the two Guardsmen who had been summoned argued briefly, but, largely because Aerich agreed with Khaavren, prudence won on this occasion, and, upon gaining the street, they hastened to join up with another pair of Guardsmen who, when informed of the situation, went off to rouse several more. The soldiers, content with having driven the enemy from their encampment, made no pursuit. In a short time, there were some twenty-eight or thirty Guardsmen gathered together at a klava hole several doors down from the Hammerhead, where they made plans to assail the arrogant warriors when they made their appearance.

  However, and it is probably fortunate that it was so, they took to consuming great quantities of wine while they waited, so that Khaavren eventually realized that the only battle that would be fought that evening would be against the ground, which promised to strike the imbibers as they attempted to return home when the revelries finally broke up. Khaavren mentioned this to Aerich, who agreed with his assessment, and passed it on to Pel and Tazendra.

  And so the four friends quietly slipped away and returned to their home, where they spent several anxious days waiting to see if there would be repercussions either from the Army of the Thorny Rose or from Captain G’aereth, but at length it appeared that they had escaped the consequences of the disturbance.

  “Well,” said Khaavren, “I have learned, at any rate, that one ought to be careful with whom one gambles.”