Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha)

by Steven Brust

  “Perhaps,” said Zerika. “But the fact remains, Duke, that no one knows about this matter except for you, and me, and my lover. And I give you my word that neither of us have spoken of it.”

  “I have, in no way, by word, act, or implication, violated in the least part my Oath of Discretion, nor Your Majesty’s trust. To put it in the simplest terms, Your Majesty, I have told no one, nor have I so much as hinted to anyone of this matter by the least clue, word, or gesture.”

  “That is a tolerably exhaustive denial, Duke.”

  Pel bowed.

  “However, I do not believe it.”

  Pel bowed once more, there being nothing more to say.

  “Unfortunately,” continued the furious Zerika, “I have no means of proof.”

  Pel waited quietly, meeting Her Majesty’s gaze.

  After a moment she said, “You are dismissed from your post, and my presence. You are to leave this house at once. I never wish to see you again. Go.”

  Pel bowed, backed up three steps, turned on his heel, and, without another word, left Her Majesty’s presence. Two steps took him to the front doors of the Manor, where, by chance, he happened to meet Khaavren, who was making certain the guards were posted correctly outside of these doors. We must observe that here, in fact, is another link in that chain of destiny: had Her Majesty not, a year before, thrown her pen against the wall, then Khaavren would not have been on duty, and, therefore, would not have been inspecting the guard posts at that moment, and, in conclusion, would not have encountered Pel as he left the Palace.

  However, in the event, Her Majesty did throw her pen, and so Khaavren saw Pel as he was descending the wide, shallow stairway in front of Whitecrest Manor.

  “Ah, my dear Pel,” said Khaavren.

  “Khaavren! You are wearing your cloak!”

  “Well,” said Khaavren, shrugging.

  “You are, then, re-instated?”

  “As you see.”

  “How droll,” observed Pel.

  “Droll?”

  “That you should return to the Imperial service on the same day as I—but never mind, it is of no matter, my good friend.”

  Khaavren, who knew that the last way to get any information from the Yendi was to ask it, changed the subject (as he thought) by saying, “I perceive you are on your way to some destination.”

  “Oh, as far as that goes, I am setting out, yes.”

  “Has Her Majesty done you the honor the give you an errand?”

  “In a manner of speaking, my good Khaavren.”

  “Well, I will walk with you for a while. In what manner of speaking? Or is it, perhaps, something you are forbidden to discuss?”

  “On the contrary, I have received no order not to discuss it; but there is, in fact, tolerably little to say.”

  “So much the better, then you needn’t delay your mission to tell me.”

  “You wish to hear it then?”

  “Why, unless there is a reason not to tell me, I should be delighted to learn what you are about.”

  “Then I will tell you without delay.”

  “You have my complete attention.”

  “This is it, then: I am leaving.”

  “You perceive, that I can see for myself. But, where are you going?”

  “As to that, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No, something will, no doubt, occur to me.”

  “But, when will you be back?”

  “Alas, I will not be back.”

  “Pel!”

  “Yes?”

  “What does this mean?”

  “Ah, let us not speak of it.”

  “On the contrary, let us speak of nothing else! What has happened?”

  Pel shrugged. “If you insist upon knowing—”

  “I give you my word, I do.”

  “Well, Her Majesty has done me the honor to require me to leave.”

  “You are exiled?” cried Khaavren.

  “Oh, not in the least. Merely required to leave Whitecrest Manor.”

  “The Trey! Pel, what have you done?”

  “I give you my word, Khaavren: I have done nothing at all in the world.”

  “How, you were dismissed from Her Majesty’s service and required to leave over nothing?”

  “In fact, Her Majesty believes that I have done something.”

  “What does Her Majesty believe you have done?”

  “Been indiscreet.”

  “You? Impossible!”

  Pel smiled. “I am glad that you say so, my dear friend; it is good to know one’s friends have faith.”

  “Cha! It requires no faith to say that if someone has seen a winneasourus fly, that person is deluded.”

  “You are good to insist upon it. But now—”

  “Yes, now?”

  “May I suggest that it will do your career no good to be seen with me?”

  “Seen with you? I will be more than seen with you, my dear friend. Come with me at once. I insist upon it.”

  “Come with you? Where?”

  “Back to the Manor.”

  “And yet, I have been ordered to leave the Manor.”

  “Well, now you are ordered back—or, if not ordered, at least requested strongly.”

  “Alas, it was the Empress who gave the order.”

  “Well, it is I who make the request.”

  “You perceive, the order of an Empress is stronger than the request of a friend.”

  “Cha! That is true!”

  “And so?”

  “Well, in that case—”

  “Yes?”

  Khaavren put his hand on Pel’s shoulder. “I arrest you.”

  “How, you arrest me? But, on what charge? Even Her Majesty, knowing she could not prove her allegations, did not go that far.”

  “Oh, the charge, well, I arrest you on the charge of leaving a friend who does not want you to leave.”

  “And is that a crime?”

  “If not, it should be; in my opinion, someone who refuses a friend’s request is more culpable than someone who wishes to play a friendly game without informing the Imperial tax collectors, don’t you think?”

  “There is something in what you say,” admitted Pel.

  “I am pleased that you agree. And now I’m afraid you must come along.”

  “Am I truly arrested?”

  “Truly and officially, my dear friend.”

  “Then, it appears, I have no choice.”

  “None.”

  “Would you like my sword?”

  “How you go on! What would I do with your sword?”

  “Yet, if I am arrested—”

  “Oh, it will be a mild sort of captivity, I assure you. Now, let us return to the Manor.”

  “Very well, it seems that, being arrested, I must comply.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Shall I precede you?”

  “Not in the least. Arm in arm.”

  “Very well; but this is a peculiar sort of arrest you carry out.”

  “Oh, I set my own standards for such matters; you perceive, it is a perquisite of my position.”

  “If you continue using such perquisites, you will not long have your position.”

  “My dear Pel, do you imagine that I care so much for my position? I assure you, I became tolerably weary in the old days of salutes, and ceremonies, and the making of schedules, and the false smiles of the courtiers, and the giggling of the coquettes.”

  “If that is true, why did you accept Her Majesty’s offer to return you your commission?”

  “Do you truly wish to know?”

  “Yes, in fact, I do.”

  “Because this Phoenix still needs help, and she—”

  “Yes.”

  “She is a friend of my son.”

  “Ah!”

  “After all that has happened, well, it seemed like the least I could do.”

  “I had not understood this circumstance,” said Pel, pressing his friend
’s hand.

  “Now you know.”

  “Well, but is that the only reason?”

  “I give you my word, Pel, that is most of it. But here we are at last. Come in. Let us adjourn to the dining room, and see if there is any food set out. If there is, you shall eat, and I will join you in an instant.”

  “Since I am arrested, I must comply. But it is good to know that, at least, you do not starve your prisoners.”

  “Oh, you know I would never do that.”

  By chance, Daro had come down to the dining room, where she had anticipated being joined by Khaavren. “Here, madam,” he said. “I turn this miscreant over to your care. Have an extra plate set to dinner, and I shall return to claim it in a moment. Pel has been arrested, you know, and therefore may not leave. I can depend upon you?”

  “Arrested!” cried the Countess. “My lord, are you jesting?”

  “Oh, as to that, Countess, I do not insist that I am entirely in earnest. Yet, neither am I entirely in jest. But Pel will explain if he wishes.”

  “But what about you? Where are you going?”

  “Oh, I? I have an errand with Her Majesty that will not wait. I shall return directly. Have a care for our tricky Yendi, and be certain he does not escape.”

  “Oh, I promise,” said Pel, “I shall be the most compliant of prisoners.”

  “Excellent. I depend upon you.”

  “But Khaavren, I think you should re-consider—”

  “Not another word, Pel. You are my prisoner, and, as such, I conjure you to silence.”

  Pel bowed his head.

  With this, Khaavren took his leave of Daro and Pel, and himself back to the covered terrace, which room he entered immediately, as was his right as Captain of the Phoenix Guards, and, seeing Her Majesty speaking with the emissary from Elde, he took himself to a far corner of the room until this audience was complete. Though he made no effort to either listen to or watch this audience, he could not help but notice that at the expiration of the interview the emissary appeared humbled.

  “So much the better,” observed Khaavren to himself. “Whatever humbles Elde must be good for the Empire.”

  When this worthy had left, punctiliously giving Her Majesty every courtesy, the Empress sat down behind the paper-covered table and turned her attention to Khaavren, who placed himself before her and bowed.

  “Well, Captain?” she said, acknowledging his salute.

  “If I may beg for two minutes of Your Majesty’s time—”

  “You may. What is it?”

  “A trifling matter of jurisdiction, that is all, yet one that cannot wait.”

  “Jurisdiction?”

  Khaavren bowed.

  “Explain yourself, for you perceive I have not the least idea in the world of what you are speaking.”

  “Then I shall do myself the honor to explain it in terms that can leave no room for doubt.”

  “That will be best, believe me.”

  “Your Majesty, in practice, controls territory stretching from somewhere west of the city to Methni’s Channel, and from the coast to very nearly South Mountain.”

  “I am aware of this, Captain.”

  “And, in theory, which we hope to make true in practice soon, Your Majesty controls considerably more.”

  “Well?”

  “And, more than this, Your Majesty even has control of the comings and goings of a portion of this Manor, which Your Majesty has done us the honor—the great honor—of using to conduct Imperial business.”

  “Come to the point, Captain.”

  “I am about to, Majesty.”

  “Well?”

  “Your Majesty, as I have observed, has control of a portion of this manor.”

  “Yes.”

  “But not the rest of it.”

  Zerika frowned and said, “You are speaking in riddles, sir.”

  “Then does Your Majesty wish me to speak more plainly?”

  “I have been wishing for nothing else for an hour, Captain.”

  “Then here it is, as plainly as I can state it: Your Majesty has no right to decide who is and is not welcome in my home.”

  The Orb darkened with anger—as, indeed, did Zerika’s face. “You presume to speak so your Empress?”

  “Evidently,” said Khaavren, bowing.

  Zerika fairly glared. “This is an impertinence.”

  “Well.”

  “How long have you been back in my service, Captain? An hour? Two? And now, it seems, you wish to be dismissed again?”

  “That is as Your Majesty wishes; for myself, I care very little about it.”

  “This is insupportable.”

  “Not in the least.”

  “I believe you are doing yourself the honor of disputing with me, Captain.”

  “Your Majesty has accused my friend of an action that is manifestly impossible for him to have committed, and, moreover, have expelled him from beneath my roof. Does Your Majesty truly believe that a gentleman can be expected to countenance such behavior? If so, I fear for the Empire under Your Majesty’s hand, because it will be a poor sort of court and a poor sort of Empire that it governs.”

  In an instant, the Empress was on her feet. “Captain! How dare you!”

  Khaavren bowed but said nothing.

  “And did Galstan, then, give you all of the details of his crime?”

  “He told me nothing except that he was leaving. When I questioned him, he explained that he had been dismissed from your service for having revealed a communication which Your Majesty did him the honor to confide in him as part of his office.”

  “Well, and so he did.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Now you give me the lie?” cried Zerika, quite nearly hysterical.

  “Not in the least; Your Majesty is mistaken, that is all.”

  Zerika took two deep breaths in a failed effort to overcome her wrath, and said, “Tell me, Sir Khaavren; did you speak to your last master in this fashion?”

  “His Majesty Tortaalik? No, Your Majesty. Never.”

  “And why do I receive such treatment when he did not?”

  “Because he was weak, and small, and mean. I do him honor for having done his best, but he could never become more than he was, so it was useless to treat him with respect.”

  “You call this treating me with respect?”

  “I do, in the only way a plain soldier is capable of.”

  Zerika stared at him. “Let me understand you, Captain. You do yourself the honor to scold—to scold—your Empress, and you call this respect?”

  Khaavren bowed his assent.

  “And to my predecessor you were the soul of courtesy, because he was weak, and small, and mean?”

  Khaavren bowed once more.

  “Cracks and shards! If I were my illustrious ancestor, Zerika the First, who founded the Empire, why, what would you do then? Pull your ear at me?”

  “I should have treated her with the same respect I show Your Majesty, and for the same reason.”

  “What reason is that?”

  “Because Your Majesty has the potential for greatness—for real greatness. I have seen it in your managing of diplomacies, and in your conversations with subordinates, and, even now, when Your Majesty feels she has been treated in a way no person, much less an Empress, ought to be treated, Your Majesty attempts to control her temper and be just and fair, looking past the extraordinary provocation.

  “Your Majesty,” he continued, “why could not you have done as much with my friend Pel? I have known him for more nearly nine hundreds of years. It is impossible for him to have committed the crime with which he is accused.”

  “You think so.”

  “I insist upon it.”

  “You dispute with me to my face and call it respect?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you respect me so much, why did you leave my service before, Captain?”

  “Because I was in too much pain over a personal matter to see things as clearly as I
do now, Majesty. But now that I see it, I know that I was wrong; I was wrong for failing to give Your Majesty the opportunity to act as an Empress.”

  “Do you presume now to instruct me, Captain?”

  “Not in the least, Your Majesty.”

  Khaavren, in one of those unfeigned outbursts that is irresistible to anyone of heart, walked around the table so that he was very nearly touching Her Majesty’s garments, removed his hat, and knelt, looking up her. “Your Majesty, I am a soldier who failed, or Tortaalik would not be dead. And I am also a father who failed, or my son would be under this roof. But let no one question my loyalty to either my Empress or to my friends—that loyalty, along with the love of my wife, is all I have left.

  “I do not presume to teach my Empress how to behave. But I have been around the court, and on the field of battle, and in the dueling circle, often enough to recognize a great heart; and a great heart cannot be lied to. Your Majesty, my only wish is to serve you—to somehow do some small thing to in part atone for my failures. How could I, then, live with myself if I permitted my friend to be dishonored, and, in so doing, permitted my Empress to dishonor herself, when I might prevent it? Or, for that matter, even if I could not, when I could see the way clear to try? That a task is impossible is no excuse for not attempting it, not when my heart tells me it must be done.”

  Khaavren fell silent and bowed his head after this remarkable speech. Her Majesty, after a moment’s thought, sat down once more and put her head into her hands for some few minutes. At length she said, “Do you truly believe, Captain, that it was impossible for your friend to have betrayed a confidence?”

  “It is more likely, Majesty, for the Orb to betray a confidence than for Pel to do so.”

  “But then, how could it have happened?”

  “Your Majesty, I do not know what confidence was betrayed, or how it could have happened; I only know that Pel cannot have been responsible, any more than the point of my sword could pierce the hand that holds it, and for the same reason: It cannot bend that far without breaking.”

  For some time Her Majesty made no sound—it seemed to Khaavren as if the Manor itself was holding its breath; he did not dare to raise his eyes to see what color the Orb held, but merely waited.

  At length, Her Majesty spoke. “And yet,” she said in a quiet voice, as if speaking to herself, “it is hard to admit to a mistake when one has been so angry, and so …”