by Steven Brust
Zerika, who had a fair hand, quickly sketched out a map (after causing the Orb to glow enough to see by—for it was becoming quite dark), and, as promised, they were soon able to determine that they would be likely to meet up with their enemies at a small stream called Lostoar near the southern border of a duchy called Southmoor.
"In the late afternoon, the day after to-morrow," said Pel.
"Or, rather, the morning of the day after; because I believe, knowing what we know, we may wish to delay the attack until the morning."
"That may be," said Pel, "only—"
"Yes?"
"What will we do for water for the horses if we stop short of Lostoar?"
"We will come near a small town, here, in the middle of the day to-morrow. There we will purchase casks and a wagon, and we will use the wagon to haul the casks, and we will fill the casks with water either in town, or—" He pointed at the map again. "—here, at this brook." As he said this, he looked at Zerika, who nodded her approval of the plan.
"If I may," said Aerich, speaking for the first time.
"Yes?" said Khaavren.
The Lyorn pointed one of his long, graceful fingers at a spot on the map. "Let us arrive here, to the south of the place they plan the engagement, so that, at least, we may arrive from an unexpected direction."
The others at once agreed with this plan, and, this decision made, they at last settled in for the night. As quiet settled over the camp, Piro, who had set up his pallet near Kytraan, said, "My dear friend, you seem agitated."
"Do I?"
"So it seems."
"Well, I confess I am disturbed."
"Tell me what troubles you, then, and perhaps together we will be able to ease your mind."
"Very well, I shall do as you suggest. This is it, then."
"I am listening."
"Pel sneaked into the enemy camp, and overheard Grita's conversation with Tsifalli."
"Tsanaali, my dear."
"Yes. Well, Pel overheard her—"
"As did you, in fact."
"—and, before that—"
"Yes? Before?"
"Grita, herself, it seems, approached our camp and succeeded in overhearing our plans."
"Well, I agree, I believe she did so, the wretch!"
"There, then. We have heard her plans, and she has heard ours."
"Yes, and then?"
"How do we know she has not overheard our plans this time?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it seems to me we have seen a great deal of this sneaking around and listening to people."
"But, Kytraan, we have guards."
"So did they, Piro. I know this, because it fell to me to knock one soundly on the head to prevent him from raising an alarm."
"There, you see? We have guards, and they have not been knocked on the head."
"Therefore?"
"Therefore, no one has been sneaking about listening to us."
Kytraan considered this for a moment, then said dubiously, "If you are convinced of it."
"Oh, I am, I assure you."
"Very well, that is good enough for me, then."
"I am glad it is."
"Thank you. I shall sleep the more soundly for our conversation."
"And you will be right to do so."
With this, Kytraan at once fell into a sound sleep. Some ten or fifteen minutes later, Piro rose and went to seek out his father.
BOOK FOUR
In Which the Ninth (or Tenth)
Battle of Dzur Mountain Is Fought
With Some Discussion of Its Results
Chapter the Fifty-Second
How Those Unable to Think
The Thought of Others Are
Content to Think Their Own
We must now turn our attention to a place we have never before visited—a place outside the confines of the Empire (although, to be strictly accurate, there was a period of thirty or thirty-five years in the Ninth Dragon Reign when the Empire claimed it)—a place that can be found some twenty-five miles off the coast to the southwest.
It is, as the reader is well aware, the Island of Elde: some seventeen hundred square miles of rich, fertile plain in the central and southeastern area; rocky coastline to make fishing a challenge to the east, and a few modest mountains inhabited by a particularly bad-tempered species of goat across the neck of the northern "staffhead," which effectively makes the northernmost section its own country, although politically part of the Kingdom of Elde.
This northern region, about two hundred miles across and ninety or ninety-five miles from the mountains to the coast, has only two cities of any consequence. The first of these is the port of Salute, named, we are told, from an ancient custom of waving flags at the Imperial ships in the channel in a gesture of respect. The other city is called Kripna, which, we are informed, means "dry spot" in a language of the island that is no longer used except on ceremonial occasions. Kripna is placed at the inner bend of a river (named Cideen, which means "river") that runs from the mountains to Salute.
Kripna is a respectably sized city, boasting some eight or nine thousands of permanent residents, as well as a considerable number of peasants who work the nearby land, bargemen who facilitate trade between the mountains and the coast, and a certain number of freshwater fishermen who work the river and are constant rivals of their coastal counterparts.
No doubt, there was a great deal to be said on both sides—that is, while the clams and culls of the northern coast of Elde (or the southern coast of the Empire) are justly famed, the longfish from the Cideen have a reputation extending across the channel—a reputation only bolstered by the number of shipments of this delicacy that fail to reach their destination because of "accidents" to the transport ships embarking from Salute.
There are as many ways to prepare the longfish as there are villages in the staffhead, from the spit-roasting common in the upper reaches to spicy stews of the lower river—but perhaps the best is the simplest: quick frying in butter with a bit of garlic, a few of the local sweet onions, slivered, and the merest hint of juice from the bitternut, the whole accompanied by goslingroot just barely steamed and the delicate white Roolina wine from the mountains. It was, in the event, this very meal that was being served at this moment by an inn, some ten or twelve miles from Kripna, marked by the sign of the silver goblet.
The individual serving it was a certain Carnaro, a man of about one thousand and three hundred years, with thin hair, a long face, and a slight paunch—a testimony, perhaps, to the quality of his comestibles. He had inherited the inn through a fortunate marriage, after discovering that the hauling and lifting required as part of working a river barge was not to his liking. The Silver Goblet had been founded some two thousand years before, upon the discovery of a way to distill liquor from the pea. The idea of the original founder was that his pea-liquor, which was in some ways similar to the oushka of the Easterners, would spread far and wide, and make him both rich and renowned, and that he would reveal his recipe only on his deathbed and to his chosen offspring.
In fact, it turned out that no one sampling this drink ever asked for a second sample, and so, unable to live on the sales from his drink, he ended up opening a hostelry and, fortunately, employed as a cook someone more skilled in the culinary arts than he himself was a distiller. But there was, nevertheless, always a jug or two of the pea-liquor under the counter, to be used for cleaning or for practicing upon strangers who asked to sample the specialties of the region. Those who generally patronized the Goblet (which, in fact, had no silver goblets anywhere within) generally made do with the wine to which we have already had the honor to refer, or to the heavy, dark stout that was brewed in the winter.
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 che
eks, 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 conclusion, 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 accursed house on this accursed 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.