Sethra Lavode

by Steven Brust

  "My lord Khaavren!" he cried. "And Your Venerance! And… oh my goodness!" After this outburst, and observing that Mica was not there, he retreated in confusion back to his work, which, at this moment, was to be certain each horse that had returned was safely tied up and well groomed, which task he carried out with his usual precision before beginning on either a very late supper or a very early breakfast, a distinction the Blue Fox was in the habit of neither making nor requiring, wherefore the good Lar meticulously followed this example.

  While the horses were thus being tended, the others sat down around the fire, except for Piro and Khaavren, who set off walking through the darkness together.

  For a time, neither of them spoke, Khaavren because he could not think of what to say—or, at any rate how to say it; and Piro because, as he was the one who had been hunted down, he did not feel it was his responsibility to begin. This train of thought, however, led him to eventually break the silence with the words "How did you find me?"

  "Ah, you wish to know that?" said Khaavren.

  "You must understand my curiosity. I had thought I was sufficiently well hidden."

  "You must recall we had Pel searching for us."

  "Ah yes, that is true. You have told me no few stories about him."

  Khaavren nodded. "He tricked your friends, Shant and Lewchin. It is true that he also tricked me, but I will not play the hypocrite and claim that I object to this."

  "I understand. So it was from them that you learned where I might be found?"

  "Yes, after spending some time with a map and determining which Mistyvale County was most likely. Of course, it was Tazendra who observed that this Mistyvale County was where the Blue Fox could be found."

  "The Blue Fox? But, how were able to determine that I was the Blue Fox?"

  "From Aerich."

  "Aerich?"

  "He speaks more languages than I knew existed. The ancient tongues of the Dragon and of the Lyorn, and even some of the Yendi. He can squeak like a Serioli, yowl like a cat-centaur, and grant or trill some ten or twenty of the Eastern languages, in one of which the name that you used to Shant and Lewchin translated to Blue Fox."

  "Ah. I comprehend."

  "After that, it was Pel once more, as you saw."

  "Yes, and, permit me to say, a well-played stroke."

  "Pel will, I am certain, be pleased to hear you say so."

  "Then tell him, if you please."

  "I will not fail to do so."

  "Well, now I know how you found me."

  "Yes."

  "It remains for me to know why."

  "Can you ask?"

  "The Horse! I not only can, it seems to me that I did!"

  "Well, that is true. You know that your mother misses you."

  "I miss her."

  "It is wrong of you to be away from her."

  "It was wrong of you to make me choose between romantic and filial love."

  "Then you feel some filial love?"

  "You know that I do."

  "I had hoped."

  "Well?"

  "You perceive, it was not I that forced this choice upon you, it is the world that forces this choice."

  "Ah, Father, you are wrong to hide behind such a claim; it smacks of the sycophant."

  "You would use such a word with me?"

  "It was you who taught me that there is a time to state unpleasant truths. Can you deny that this is such a time?"

  "You believe, then, there is no justification for my claim that it is the world itself that is to blame?"

  "There is some, I do not deny that."

  "Well?"

  "But it was you who made me to know that I could not love the woman I love, and still retain your affection."

  "How, you believe that?"

  "It seems to me that you were adamant on the subject."

  "It is true that I felt strongly."

  "Well?"

  Khaavren looked down. "Let us speak of this."

  "Cha! I thought we were doing exactly that!"

  "Let us continue to do so."

  "Very well, with this I agree."

  In spite of the comment he had just made, Khaavren found that he was unable to say anything—or, at any rate, that his next words ought not to be uttered without at least a certain amount of thought. He felt, in fact, as if he were walking on a tension-wire; it seemed to him that a single wrong word, and he might lose forever his son. And yet, an answer was required. Piro, for his part, remained silent and permitted him to think, either out of courtesy, or for lack of anything to say.

  At length, Khaavren said, "Did you give any thought to this marriage before suggesting it?"

  "No," said Piro.

  "Well, do you not think that marriage—that is, the agreement to remain together for a lifetime, which is tolerably long—ought to be given some thought?"

  "No," said Piro.

  "How, you do not?"

  "I love her. I cannot conceive of life without her. You perceive, such a life would be meaningless to me. Therefore, well, what is there to think about?"

  "And what of your children?"

  "Perhaps we shall have none."

  "That would be a pity, to have no children."

  "It would be a pity to spend my life alone."

  "Well, that is true."

  "Moreover, it would be a pity to have children with a woman I did not love."

  "That is true as well," admitted Khaavren.

  "Or to spend my life with someone toward whom I am indifferent."

  "Well, of course, not all marriages last for-ever—"

  "Father, do you hear what you are saying?"

  Khaavren sighed. "Yes. Will you permit me to withdraw my last observation?"

  "Certainly."

  "Thank you."

  They continued walking for some time, just within sight of the fire, which was always to their left.

  As they spoke, indifferent to the smells of the food, Lar took a heavy cook-pot and, with Clari's help, began dishing out a sort of stew made of norska, tubers, and onions, along with various seasonings. Lar having added a certain quantity of water to the stew, as well as a few extra tubers, there was plenty for all. Lar served portions of this stew to everyone except for Aerich, who declined, pretending he was not hungry. When everyone had food, Lar passed around the wine, which, significantly, was a Khaav'n, and one that Lar said was of a very nice year. Lar, Clari, and Jami served it out to everyone except Aerich, who again declined, saying he wasn't thirsty.

  If anyone was disturbed by Aerich's lack of interest in food or drink, the Lyorn was not: he sat placidly on the ground, leaning against his saddle, his legs stretched out in front of him, and a calm smile on his noble countenance as a being perfectly happy within himself, unconcerned for the rest of the world, which world was presently eating and drinking with great energy, the only conversation being praise of the food or demands for more wine. Jami, still humiliated by having been taken in by the Yendi, remained in the background, saying nothing and doing his best not to be seen; Lar, for his part, responded to both praise and demand in the same manner: that is, by bowing. Clari served the wine as needed.

  Tazendra,,who always ate quickly, was the first to begin the general conversation, which she did by saying, "It is good to see you again, my dear Kytraan."

  "Why, it is a great pleasure to me as well, and permit me to offer you my wish for good fortune in the upcoming battle."

  "Ah!" said Tazendra. "There is to be a battle, then?"

  "I think so," said Kytraan.

  "With whom?"

  "With the Pretender. You perceive, it is nearly all anyone talks about."

  "What do they say?"

  "That the tyrant must be defeated."

  "Tyrant?" said Pel, now listening to the exchange.

  "The Pretender," explained Kytraan.

  "Ah. I had not known he was a tyrant."

  "Well," said Kytraan, shrugging. "Anyone who attempts to take the Orb and fails is a tyra
nt. At least, that is the general opinion."

  "So then, if he succeeds he will not be a tyrant?"

  "Exactly. If he succeeds, then Zerika will become the tyrant."

  Pel shrugged. "I do not pay especial attention to general opinions."

  "Nor does Piro," put in Ibronka. "You perceive, that is what he and his father are now discussing, I think."

  "That," said Pel, "or specific opinions, which are another matter entirely."

  "Yes. And while we are talking of specific opinions—"

  "Well?"

  "Has anyone," asked Ibronka, "heard from Her Highness, Sennya?"

  "I only know that she has been to court," said Pel.

  "But she said nothing about me?"

  "She spoke of you to Her Majesty," said Pel, "desiring you to be found, and using terms that left no doubt about her continued affection for you. But, as I heard this conversation as part of my official duties, you perceive that I cannot relay it to you."

  "Well, I understand."

  Clari addressed Aerich, saying, "Would Your Venerance care for wine now?"

  Aerich declined with a gesture of his hand and returned to his contemplations.

  Pel said, "Offer him water."

  "Would Your Venerance care for water?" said Clari obediently. "It is fresh from a clear spring not twenty steps away; we made our camp around it, and I can testify as to its purity."

  "Very well," said Aerich.

  While Clari went to fetch the Lyorn a cup of water, Röaana said softly to Pel, "Has His Venerance giving up the drinking of wine?"

  "No," said Pel. "But, if I were to guess—"

  "Well?"

  "I believe he does not wish to partake of anything that was purchased with money from robbery."

  "Ah," said Röaana, "I had not considered this circumstance."

  "And you," said Kytraan, "You have no such compunctions?"

  "Oh, it is different for me," said Pel. "You perceive, I eat from Her Majesty's table."

  "Well, and then?"

  "Her Majesty's table is filled from tithes given by the Great Houses, and these tithes are collected from taxes on homes, and on grains, and on trade."

  "So that?"

  Pel shrugged. "So that, one might say, all I partake of is purchased with money from robbery."

  Tazendra said, "You see no distinction between taxes and robbery?"

  "Oh, no doubt there are differences, but I do not bother with them."

  "That seems odd," said Ibronka, "for an official of government."

  Pel shrugged.

  "There is a difference," said Aerich quietly. "It is the difference of law."

  "Oh, law," said Pel, shrugging again.

  "You disdain the law, my friend?" said Aerich, smiling a little.

  "Nearly."

  "So then, you have nothing to say against our friends here, who waylay travelers to relieve them of their purses, filled with coins earned by more or less of hard work?"

  "More or less," repeated Pel. "I wonder which it is?"

  "As to that, who can say?"

  "Exactly. Who can say?"

  "But then, my dear Pel, you should prefer to live in a society without laws?"

  "Such a thing is impossible," he said. "If there are no laws, then, you perceive, there is no society."

  "I beg your pardon, my friend," said Aerich, "but it appears to me you contradict yourself."

  "Not in the least," said Pel.

  "I do not comprehend."

  "Then I shall explain."

  "Very well, I am listening."

  "There are laws, laws, and laws, my dear Aerich."

  "Three sorts?"

  "More than that, but let us simplify."

  "I am in favor of simplifying, if nothing of consequence is lost."

  "We will see."

  "Very well."

  "First, there are laws of nature.".

  "I understand those."

  "Then there laws of man."

  "That is clear enough. And the third?"

  "Laws of honor."

  "Are these not laws of nature?"

  "Not in the least."

  "Then, they are laws of men?"

  "Only of a particular kind."

  "Go on, then."

  "We all obey the laws of nature."

  "Well, how can we not?"

  "Exactly. And then there laws of man, which some obey, and some do not, and most of us—"

  "Yes, most of us?"

  "Why, most of us walk a sort of line, choosing which of these to obey, and which to ignore as inconvenient."

  "You think so?"

  "Well, those with whom we are sharing a meal—except for you, of course—have chosen to ignore the laws that say if a man buys a pound of bacon for ten pennies and sells it for twelve, he is entitled to the two extra."

  "That seems a good law to me."

  Pel shrugged. "Perhaps it is. To be sure, if there were no such law, it would be more difficult to find someone willing to sell a pound of bacon."

  "That is my opinion as well. And then?"

  "Why, you remember when we were in the Guards, and we met those charming fellows who believed they could ignore the laws that required taxing of all games of chance."

  "I remember."

  "And our fellow guardsman who so much agreed with them that they felt they, in turn, could ignore the laws that said a guardsman must not turn his head from violations of the law, and certainly must not accept money to turn his head."

  "You remember that I took no such money."

  "You are above normal men, Aerich."

  "Well."

  "Yet those who took the money, they were good guardsmen, good Dragonlords, and often good citizens."

  "I see where you are going."

  "It is clear enough is it not?"

  "It is a matter of honor."

  "Precisely, Aerich. The laws of honor speak of duty, and love, and friendship, and loyalty, and place them in a nice order. The laws of honor are how we make choices among them, and choices of which of the laws of men we obey."

  "You make a powerful argument, Pel. Don't you agree, Tazendra?"

  "Oh, well, yes, certainly. I had been remarking upon this. Duty, that is Aerich. Love, that is Khaavren. I am friendship, and Pel is loyalty. There, you see? That is why we get along so well."

  "No doubt you are right," said Pel.

  "So then," continued Aerich, "each man has his own laws of honor?"

  "Certainly," said Pel. "Inherited from his family, his friends, and everyone and everything he meets every day of his life. Except for you, of course, my dear Aerich."

  "I am the exception?" said the Lyorn with a smile.

  "Certainly. You were born with the laws of honor intact, and they have never varied a day in your life. That is why you cannot understand them. You can no more understand your own sense of honor than you can tell the flavor of your tongue."

  "I do not know if you give me too much credit, or too little."

  "Well."

  "But, you believe, this gives you license to break the laws of men, if you follow those of honor?"

  "Certainly. Not everyone, Aerich, can always follow both. Sometimes you must break one or the other. Were you confronted with such a choice, I know which direction you would go, and so do you."

  "My dear Pel, to be confronted with such a choice means that either there is something wrong with your code of honor—"

  "Yes, or?"

  "Or something is wrong with the laws."

  "With this, I agree."

  "Ah. Well, you see, I am wrong; I had not thought we would agree on anything."

  "How could we not, Aerich, when, for an inflexible, supercilious termagant, well, you are most agreeable. I should clink my cup with yours, if you had anything in it but water."

  "How, that prevents you?"

  "Nearly. I should not like to dishonor the sentiment."

  Aerich chuckled. "Well then, in my heart I drink with you. But tell me�
�"

  "Yes?"

  "Was it your sense of honor that led you to abandon the service of the Pretender? Or was it perspicacity, knowing that Zerika would ultimately triumph?"

  "Neither. Either of those would have led me to support Kâna; in the first place because I had committed myself, and in the second because I thought he would win."

  "Well then, what was it?"

  "You know that very well, Aerich. It was friendship, of course, which is not unlike love."

  "So then, friendship and love can conflict with honor?"

  "Friendship and love are part of honor. Friendship and love, however, can conflict with each other, and both can conflict with duty. Witness our poor friend Khaavren at this moment, not to mention his son."

  Aerich sighed. "I believe you are right. How do you think it will end?"

  Pel shook his head. "The fact is—"

  "Well?"

  "I have not the least idea in the world."

  Aerich and Pel (and occasionally Tazendra) carried on this conversation as if they were alone in the world or back in the old house they had lived in in Dragaera City, instead of sitting among a number of highwaymen keeping a respectful silence. Ibronka, for her part, stared at them and listened, as if she had been permitted to eavesdrop on conversations of the gods—something only the reader has been permitted to do in fact. And as this conversation went on, Khaavren and his son continued their long, slow walk.

  "So then," said Khaavren. "Tell me something, Viscount."

  "I will answer any question you ask."

  "What do you wish?"

  "What do I wish?"

  "Yes, Viscount. What would you like to happen?"

  "Why, I should like you and the Countess my mother to embrace Ibronka, and for her mother to embrace me, and then I should like to return to Adrilankha."

  "Do you think this can happen?"

  "It seems unlikely."

  "You ask a great deal of me, Piro."

  "On the contrary, my lord. I ask nothing of you at all. You did me the honor to ask what I wished, that is all."

  "In some ways," said Khaavren, speaking slowly, "I should prefer that I was able to disregard—that is to say, completely ignore—the rules and the laws of society, and the way I was reared."

  "In some ways only, my lord?"

  "It seems simple to you, doesn't it? You love, and your love is pure, and so that which follows from your love must be pure as well, and that which interferes with your love must be evil."