The Phoenix Guards

by Steven Brust

  “He said that the Cavalier Dekkaan is a hot-blooded gentleman, who will not take a blow easily.”

  “This doesn’t surprise me,” said Khaavren, who had tested him thoroughly.

  “Moreover, there is the matter of Kurich.”

  “Stay,” said Tazendra, turning around suddenly. “I think I know that name.”

  “You should; you killed him,” said Aerich.

  “Ah,” said Tazendra, “that is it, then,” and she returned to her game.

  “Well?” said Khaavren, “what of Kurich?”

  “He was the younger brother of Her Excellency Lytra e’Tenith, the Warlord.”

  The three of them looked at one another soberly. Tazendra continued to lose money after the fashion of someone accustomed to doing so.

  “But then,” said Khaavren, “it was a fair fight, and it is only necessary to ask Uilliv and Rekov in order to prove it.”

  “I told the Captain as much.”

  “You told him?”

  “In terms of speculation.”

  “Ah. And he said?”

  “That this was what had kept the perpetrators—that was his very word—alive to this date, but, that if they were wise, they would guard themselves closely.”

  “Well, we will do so, then,” said Pel.

  “But there was more.”

  “How, more?” asked Khaavren.

  “We have also annoyed someone else.”

  “That being?”

  “Gyorg Lavode.”

  “Captain of the Lavodes?” said Pel.

  “Exactly.”

  “But, how have we done so?” said Khaavren.

  “The Captain had no idea in the world.”

  “Tell me, Pel,” said Khaavren, “you who seem to know the courtiers as well as my hand knows the grip of my sword, would you know Gyorg Lavode to look at him?”

  “Of a certainty.”

  “Well, is he a Dzurlord of perhaps half a millennium, rather taller than Aerich with fiery dark eyes, a hooked nose, and thin lips?”

  “You have described him exactly.”

  “Well then, I have some idea that we might have annoyed him.”

  “He can be a bitter enemy,” said Pel. “He is, after all, both wizard and warrior, as are all the Lavodes, and this is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

  “So much the worse,” said Khaavren.

  “What then should we do?” said Pel.

  “I have no plan,” said Aerich.

  “Allow me to consider the matter,” said Khaavren. “Perhaps I will find a solution. But I think this discussion would be best concluded at home, where there are fewer ears about.”

  “That suits me,” said Pel. “We have only to await our friend the Dzurlord.”

  Tazendra shrugged. “I have lost all my money, so there is no reason for me to remain,” she said, turning around and proving that, if she was uninterested in the conversation, she was at least not deaf to it.

  They returned, then, to their home, which was nearby, and sat in worried comfort in Aerich’s room, where Srahi served them wine. “Thank you,” said Khaavren, still politely when she had finished. “That will be all.”

  Srahi sniffed. “More of your private discussions?” she said. “Well, it is all very well to leave me out of them, but you must not expect me to fight off brigands for you, or to patch you up when you return here as full of holes as the Ballinni Tower.”

  “We should not ask you to do so,” said Khaavren politely. “And yet, one would think you should be happy to know nothing of a business which can hardly interest you, and which, at the same time, could be fraught with danger to anyone who knows about it.”

  “Ah, then I am right,” she cried. “Mark me, young man, you will find—”

  But she got no further, for Aerich cut her off with a gesture. While she appeared to be insolent to Tazendra, and haughty to Khaavren, and suspicious of Pel, yet her attitude toward the Lyorn was formed mostly of fear, with some measure of worship. When he signed that the discussion was over, she gathered herself together and left the room without another word. Aerich then picked up his crochet hook and began to work with it, making Khaavren knew not what, while nodding to Khaavren that he should speak.

  “Well,” said Khaavren, “I do not know that the dangers of which I spoke to our good Srahi are real, yet I am not certain that they are not. I am, in fact, worried about this news we have received.”

  “As am I,” said Pel. “But you must not forget to explain to us what you were doing when you ran off. If, in fact, it is something you can discuss without compromising your honor as a gentleman.”

  “Oh, there is no fear of that. I will explain at once.”

  “Do so, then,” said Pel.

  “You see,” said Tazendra, “that we are giving you our full attention.”

  “Do you recall our traveling companions on our journey here?”

  “I think so,” said Tazendra. “They were two Issola bound for the court, who you have said were in fact Phoenix. I’ve often wondered if we would see them again.”

  Aerich nodded.

  “Well,” said Khaavren, “I have just spoken with the lady, who appears to be in some difficulty, and I am to meet with her in hopes of giving her aid.”

  At these words, Aerich allowed himself a smile, while Tazendra and Pel merely nodded. Silence fell, while Khaavren considered many things that had happened since his arrival in the village of Newmarket, and realized that there was still a great deal that he didn’t understand about the affairs of court, and why it could be that a Phoenix would pretend to be an Issola, and why, furthermore, he might have annoyed such an illustrious person as Gyorg Lavode.

  He considered these matters carefully, and determined at last that it would be unwise to speak more of the Phoenix lady until he could discover something about what might be in progress around the court. He further considered how the conversation could be brought around to this subject. The others watched him closely as the echoes of his thoughts flitted across his features, until at last he said, “My friend Pel, for so I hope I may call you—” Pel signified that he could, “—I have yet to thank you for your introduction to the Captain.”

  “It was nothing,” said Pel.

  “I beg your pardon, but it was a great deal.”

  “I am entirely of Khaavren’s opinion,” said Aerich.

  “And I, too, friend Pel,” said Tazendra.

  “If you wish,” said the Yendi, permitting himself a graceful, depreciating bow. “I assure you that I am only too happy to render any service of which I am capable.”

  “Ah!” said Khaavren. “In that case, if you would be so kind as to be of further help to me, I assure you that I would consider myself your friend for life.”

  “Konechno,” said Pel. “It would be my pleasure. What is it you wish?”

  “Just this,” said Khaavren. “I am from a duchy far from the capital.”

  “Of that I am aware.”

  “We hear very little of what is transpiring here in the capital of the Empire.”

  “Well?”

  “I should be happy to learn something of what has occurred of late, especially during the weeks before our arrival here, so that I shall appear less the fool when others chance to speak of such things.”

  “Nothing is easier, my dear Khaavren.”

  “You will do so, then?” cried Khaavren.

  “Why, certainly,” said Pel. “And at once, if you would like.”

  “You see that I am anxiously awaiting your every word.”

  “Well, then, the items of news are these: Empress Cherova the Third vacated the throne and Tortaalik the First ascended it some eleven weeks ago.”

  Aerich sat back in his chair and drained his wine cup. Tazendra leaned forward anxiously. Khaavren, also leaning forward, said, “With this piece of intelligence I was already acquainted. It is, in fact, why I am here.”

  “Indeed?” said Pel.

  “Certainly,” said Tazendr
a. “You know that an Athyra Emperor has little use for Guards who are only swordsmen, but a Phoenix—”

  “Of course,” said Khaavren. “But about the Empress—”

  “Oh, as to the Empress,” said Tazendra, addressing Pel. “We knew about that.”

  “Yes, but do you know the reason for Empress Cherova’s abdication?”

  “Ah! The reason?” said Tazendra, looking at Khaavren. “You ask if we know the reason?”

  “I had assumed,” said Khaavren, “that it was due to the turning of the Cycle.”

  “Yes,” said Tazendra. “After all, when the Cycle turns—”

  “Well, yes,” said Pel. “But you know that a turn of the Cycle is always indicated by some tangible event, and that it is this which leads to the next House assuming the throne and the Orb.”

  “Of course,” said Khaavren, who had known no such thing. “There was a tangible event, then?”

  “Very tangible,” said Pel, studying his long, graceful hands.

  “And it was an event?” put in Tazendra, determined not to be left out.

  “I can think of no other way to describe it than as an event.”

  “Well, then, what was this event?”

  “The Baroness of Kaluma has struck off the head of the Marquis of Pepperfield.”

  “Ah!” said Khaavren. “And this has caused the Empress to see that the Cycle had turned?”

  “Well, why should it not?”

  “Yes,” said Tazendra, who was beginning to look flushed. “Why should it not?”

  “But I don’t see—” said Khaavren.

  At this point, Aerich interjected, “The Baroness of Kaluma is perhaps better known as Kathana e’Marish’Chala, of the House of the Dragon.”

  “Oh, in that case I see plainly,” said Khaavren, who was as confused as ever. “But, what was the cause of the quarrel?”

  “The Baroness,” said Pel, “that is to say, Kathana, is, as you know, an artist. She had just completed an oil commissioned by Lord Rollondar e’Drien. The oil depicted, as I recall, a wounded dragon. She brought it to the Palace, to hang in the Dragon Wing.”

  “Well, and then?” said Khaavren.

  “Well, it happened that the Lord Pepperfield was at the Palace to visit the Warlord. He chanced to see it, and made comment on it.”

  “Ah!” said Khaavren. “He didn’t like it?”

  “He felt it was too melancholy to be a dragon, and not fierce enough. The Baroness, I am told, wished to demonstrate that she knew as much about ferocity as did he, and removed his head with her broadsword in the course of demonstrating this.”

  “And it was well done, too,” affirmed Tazendra. “I’d have done the same, only—”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t paint.”

  “But,” said Khaavren, “how did this cause the abdication of the Empress?”

  “In this way: Pepperfield is a far eastern fief, held by the House of the Dragon in its own name. It had been given to the Marquis who is, I believe, of the e’Tenith line—”

  “E’Lanya,” said Aerich quietly.

  “E’Lanya, then,” said Pel. “In any case, with his death, argument broke out within the House of the Dragon over who should be the new duke. The Dragon Heir, being of the same line as Lord Pepperfield, wished to continue the duchy within his line, but another line, I believe the e’Kieron branch, objected.”

  “Well,” said Khaavren, “I still do not understand.”

  “This will make it as clear as the Threefalls River: the fief of Pepperfield lies in a small valley, between two impassible mountains, on the eastern border of the Empire. As such, it is a very important area strategically.”

  “Go on, good Pel, I am exceedingly interested.”

  “Furthermore, this area has been subject to more invasions throughout the history of the Empire than any other. Why it is, we do not know, but it is for this reason, you understand, that the land was entrusted to the House of the Dragon to be defended. The Empress, upon taking all of these facts into account, decided that it was a dangerous situation, and conjoined with the Carriage House Uprising, which was then proceeding in all its vigor, required an Emperor with, perhaps, less knowledge of sorcery, but more skill as a diplomatist, to settle the problem before the accursed Easterners take it into their minds to invade.”

  Khaavren looked quickly at Aerich, who was absorbed in his crochet work. “Ah! Now I understand,” said Khaavren.

  “That, then, is the state of things today.”

  “But what of the lady Kathana?”

  “Oh, the new Emperor immediately ordered her arrest.”

  “Arrest!”

  “Certainly. She had mortally wounded a man without following the dueling code. And, as his spine was severed, and as, moreover, she had put several paint brushes into his eyes after beheading him—”

  “What?”

  “It is as I have had the honor to explain. As she had done these things, his life could not be saved, and he was brought to Deathgate Falls, to enter whatever afterlife awaits him. There was no choice, then, but to order her arrest.”

  “She has been arrested, then?”

  “Ah! As to that, I don’t say she was.”

  “What? She is in hiding?”

  “She is on tolerably good terms with Captain Lanmarea, and as it was to Lanmarea that the order for the arrest was given, why, it is hardly surprising that no arrest has taken place.”

  “Now I understand,” said Khaavren. “And yet, why has the order not been given to G’aereth, if Lanmarea has failed?”

  “My good Khaavren,” said Pel, “the Emperor could hardly deliver such an insult. To ask G’aereth to accomplish this task, after having first given it to Lanmarea, would destroy the delicate balance of policies that he is, even now, working to accomplish.”

  “And yet,” said Khaavren, “could he not assign the task to the Lavodes?”

  “It is clear that you are only lately come to court,” said Pel. “Even the Emperor cannot assign a task to the Lavodes. They take after their first captain, The Enchantress of Dzur Mountain, and accept what tasks they wish, and ignore those that don’t please them.”

  “But then, has he asked them?”

  “Well, I don’t say that he hasn’t.”

  “And?”

  “The Lady Kathana, it seems, is a friend of The Enchantress, and though The Enchantress is banished from court and from her command, still she has great influence with the Lavodes.”

  “But suppose,” said Khaavren, “that certain Guardsmen under G’aereth’s command should find this fugitive and bring her to justice? What then?”

  “Do you mean,” said Pel, “without acting under orders from their Captain, that is to say, from Lord G’aereth?”

  “You have understood me exactly,” said Khaavren.

  “Well, in that case,” said Pel, frowning. “In that case I nearly think they will have done Lanmarea and her White Sash Battalion a severe disservice, while pleasing G’aereth to the same degree. As well,” he added, with a quick glance at Aerich, “as annoying certain others.”

  “And,” put in Tazendra, “they will have gotten themselves prudently out of the city for a while.”

  “Which says nothing,” remarked Aerich, looking up from the crochet work in which he was currently engaged, “of the service we will have done for the Empire.”

  “Ah,” said Khaavren, “you have said we, I think.”

  “Well,” said Aerich. “I did.”

  “Do you, then, propose an expedition?”

  “That is hardly necessary,” said Aerich with a smile. “It seems that you have already done so.”

  “Blood of the Horse,” said Khaavren, “I think I did. Do you accept?”

  “I am entirely in favor,” said Aerich.

  “As am I,” put in Tazendra. “It is, after all, just the sort of adventure for which I came here.”

  “And you, good Pel?” asked Khaavren.

  “Oh, I? Well, if
the rest of you are determined on such a course, I will hardly speak against it.”

  “Then it is settled,” said Khaavren.

  “Nearly,” said Aerich.

  “What remains to be decided?”

  “Two things,” said Aerich. “The first is, how are we going to convince the Captain to give us the leaves of absence we require, without telling him our plans?”

  “I had not thought of that,” said Khaavren.

  “I have a way,” said Pel.

  “Excellent,” said Khaavren. “We’ll leave it to you. And the second, good Aerich?”

  “The second issue,” said the Lyorn, “is this: just exactly how are we to find Kathana e’Marish’Chala in order to effect her arrest?”

  “Oh, as to that,” said Khaavren.

  “Well?”

  “You may leave it entirely in my hands.”

  Chapter the Twelfth

  In Which Khaavren Attempts To Learn

  The Whereabouts of Kathana e’Marish’Chala

  WE TRUST THAT OUR READERS will forgive us if we have not lingered over every aspect of the day to day lives of those personages whose history we have chosen to explore. It is our contention that, facts being as numerous as grains of sand in the desert of Suntra, mere recitation of detail will both weary and confuse, whereas careful selection will entertain and enlighten. Thus, we have not deemed it necessary to educate our readers on exactly how it was that Srahi came to find a launderer, nor on the means Pel used to select perfumed note-paper on which to write to his mistress, nor on the treatment for the leather Aerich used on his boots to prevent them from leaking when it rained, nor on how Tazendra would contort in preparation for her morning exercises.

  Yet we are forced to admit that, from time to time, we will discover that a detail of no more moment than these will take on a far greater importance than we had ever thought to assign it. When this happens, we find ourselves hesitant to amend what we have already written, but will instead go forward, forward, ever forward, as Undauntra would say, and let the stragglers fill the gaps.

  It therefore becomes our duty to confess that we have erred in failing to mention that Khaavren had spent some portion of nearly every day in one of the Imperial libraries in the Palace. It had occurred to him that Pel had his secrets, Aerich his contemplations, and Tazendra was happy to gamble and carouse while she waited for the opportunity to gain glory with her sword, but if he, Khaavren, were ever to achieve greatness, he must at once remedy the ignorance which afflicted him. His impoverished family had barely been able to afford to send him to a classroom tutor, from whom he had learned to read and to calculate sums along with the children of Vallista and Chreotha, which hardly provided him the knowledge he craved; he therefore arranged his time so he could spend some portion of every day with books in each of the five great categories: magical and natural science, history, philosophy, books-written-to-be-performed, and books-written-to-be-read.