by Steven Brust
Soon, however, the conversation took a more serious turn, as Khaavren spoke to Aerich of Piro’s mission, and Aerich spoke of Pel’s visit (omitting, of course, the discussion of Khaavren himself).
“So then,” said Aerich, “you do not, in fact, know what Piro’s mission is?”
“Not the least in the world, I assure you. And you, do you know anything of what Pel is up to?”
Aerich sighed. “I do not know, but—”
“Yes, Aerich? But?”
Aerich shook his head. “You know that he is always up to something—”
“Oh, yes.”
“And, as to what it is this time, well, I am not sanguine.”
Khaavren knew the Lyorn well enough to require no explanations—that Aerich had this suspicion was sufficient for him. He said, “And Tazendra?”
“I do not know.”
“Well,” said the Tiassa, “as far as Pel is concerned, I know more than you. You mentioned stirrings in the west. You know of Kâna?”
“I have the heard the name pronounced. Rumors have reached Arylle.”
“Well, Pel is now Kâna’s creature.”
Aerich nodded. “It is as I feared, then.”
“And that will bring Pel into conflict with Sethra Lavode, and, moreover, with my son.”
“Yes.”
“Something must be done, Aerich.”
“And soon,” said the Lyorn.
“Yes. We must find Pel, and convince him.”
“Do you think we can?”
“I do not know. It is a matter of ambition to the left, and friendship to the right. With you, or with Tazendra, there could be no question. But with Pel—”
“Yes, I comprehend perfectly.”
“We will set out at dawn to-morrow.”
Khaavren smiled. “I expected no less from you. We must consider what to say in order to convince him.”
Aerich shook his head. “No. He will be convinced upon seeing us—or he will not. Nothing we say will have any influence.”
Khaavren bowed his head in mute agreement.
Aerich stood up and said, “You will, I trust, excuse me for a moment while I make arrangements to leave?”
Aerich left to be about the business of making preparations. While he was gone, Ibronka said, “My lord?”
“Well?” said Khaavren.
“Can you tell me what it is we are setting out to do?”
“No,” said Khaavren. “In fact, I fear that I cannot. Or, rather, I can tell you we are going to be searching for our old friend Pel. I cannot tell you how we are hoping to find him, or, indeed, what will happen when we do.”
Aerich caused a meal to be prepared, featuring a suckling kethna that had been fed on onions and chives, and which was stuffed with partridges snared in the woods behind his pond, as well as radishes from his garden and lurker mushrooms grown in the shadows of the Collier Hills, the whole served with the dry, white wine from his own vineyards. Khaavren, for his part, could not stop praising the food; while Aerich made no effort to conceal how pleased he was to receive the compliments.
After the meal, each of the guests was shown to a bed-chamber—for by this time it was quite late—where they passed a night that was all the better for not only the meal, but the comfort of sleeping in a bed for the first time in more than a week, and the last time in, they were all certain, even longer. Aerich, after spending some time explaining to Steward what ought to be done and not done while he was away, and arranging the papers and documents that would become important if he failed to return, also retired for a very sound night’s sleep. Instructions were given not to awaken any of them until well into the morning, which, to be sure, occasioned a certain delay, but as a result of this they all awoke refreshed, and ready to travel.
Khaavren greeted Fawnd (whom he had not seen the evening before, as this worthy had been busy preparing for his own and Aerich’s departure) as an old friend, which greeting the Teckla returned respectfully and with unfeigned pleasure. Then Aerich appeared, and Khaavren’s face broke into a smile, because Aerich was dressed in his brown ankle-length skirt, his old vambraces, his plain blouse, and, over all, the old gold half-cloak that had been the mark of the Phoenix Guard. Beneath the cloak was the hilt of the plain but very serviceable rapier that the Lyorn had purchased when he had enlisted in the guards so long before.
Aerich saw the smile on Khaavren’s face, and gave his friend a small bow—no words were required. Soon Clari appeared, and they made their way out to the stables, where six horses and a pack animal waited, all of them saddled and ready for the journey. With no ceremony, the horses were mounted, and the small troop made its way through the gates and at once turned northward.
Khaavren said, “It is still warm. We dare not push the horses too hard.”
“That is true. We will make short stages, then.”
“Agreed.”
“And you know where you are leading us?”
“As to direction, we will go north, of course. Directly north, toward Deathgate. If we have seen nothing when we reach the mountains, we will continue northward, with the mountains always to our right hand. We will keep our eyes and ears open, and hope to hear word of our elusive Yendi.”
Khaavren and Aerich, of course, rode in front, with Röaana and Ibronka behind them, and Clari bringing up the rear. As they rode, Ibronka turned to her friend and said, “I have thought a thought and see a thing.”
Röaana smiled and laughed. “Then let us see what it will bring. Is it something living?”
“The answer ‘no’ I am giving, and it is not the sky.”
“I have to wonder why. Will it fit into my hand?”
“You can hold it while you stand. But it is not a stone.”
“And it cannot be a bone. Is there only one?” asked Röaana.
“There are many, that’s the fun. And you see them every day.”
“Then the answer’s on the way. Are they found near the sea?”
“You are much too good for me! But it is not the water.”
“My mother raised no foolish daughter. Is it a shell?”
“You did that very well. Yes, you have guessed it. That was too easy.”
“Well, I shall think of the next one and will attempt to make it more difficult, while you, on your part, can make better rhymes than what I could manage, I think.”
“Very well, let us do so.”
“All right,” said Röaana after a moment. “I have thought a thought and see a thing.”
“Then let us see what it will bring….”
And, in this way—along with an assortment of other road games, such games as “Pig in the Tree” and “Rope or String”—the two girls passed the hours as they traveled. And, as the hours became days, and the days became weeks, Clari was brought into the game, astonishing them all with her ability to make clever rhymes, and sometimes even Khaavren and Aerich would join in with them for a while.
Eventually, the country became more and more hilly, and then they saw in the distance South Mountain, where the Eastern Mountains begin, and knew that soon riding would become more difficult, although the ground where they were was, as yet, easy enough.
The next day, they saw a lone rider on horseback. After a short time, it became apparent that the rider was approaching them, and, as this was the first person they had seen, Khaavren determined to bespeak the rider to see if anything could be learned, or if any of those they sought had been seen. As the rider approached, however, it seemed they would not in fact meet, and so Khaavren led the troop a little more to the west.
After some few moments, the rider changed direction to the eastward. Khaavren adjusted accordingly.
“He does not wish to meet us,” remarked Khaavren.
“That is apparent,” said Aerich.
“Which makes me all the more determined to say two words to him.”
Aerich nodded.
The rider, now only a quarter of a mile away, stopped, and appeared to conside
r the matter. Khaavren brought his mount up to a trot, Aerich riding with him knee to knee, the others close behind him. The lone rider ahead of them reached back behind him, and pulled out something which he held in his hand—probably, deduced Khaavren, a weapon.
As the rider now appeared to wish to play, Khaavren prepared to oblige, drawing his own weapon, and was aware of the girls doing the same behind him, although, as yet, Aerich had not drawn. He approached the stranger, and the first thing he noticed was the oddity of the weapon he was confronting. In fact, his first words, as he came within twenty feet or so of the stranger, were, “Cha! Are you going to hit me with a bar-stool?” Even as he said this, however, the term “bar-stool” brought back to him a memory, and he looked closely at the other’s face.
At almost the same moment, Aerich said, “Mica!” and the stranger said, “My lord Khaavren? Your Venerance Arylle? Feathers of the Phoenix, I am saved!”
“How, saved?” said Khaavren, smiling and sheathing his weapon. “You were never in danger from us!”
“Well, but to never have been in danger, that is just as good as being saved, is it not?”
“At least as good,” agreed Khaavren. “But come, my dear fellow, be a good lad and tell us what you are doing here, and, moreover, where your mistress, Tazendra, is.”
The Teckla tied his bar-stool to his horse’s saddle once more, and said, “My lord, I shall tell you all you wish to know, I assure you, if for no other reason than because I am so delighted to see you when I had feared I should have to contend with brigands of the worst sort, and would be required to die valiantly, which, you perceive, does not suit my inclinations, as I am only a Teckla.”
“Yes, I understand that,” said Khaavren, amused. “But then, what of Tazendra?”
“She was unhurt when last I saw her. She is some distance behind me along with Piro and Kytraan.”
Khaavren took in and then let out a deep breath, relieved in no small measure at the news that his son was unhurt. Then he said, “Some distance is not, you perceive, very exact.”
“My lord, I am unable to be more precise. It has been months since I have seen them. They were coming, I believe, in this direction, but traveling much slower, having sent me on ahead. However, I happened to become entangled with a darr, who chased me no small distance, after which I became quite turned around, and then, after that—”
“There is more?” said Khaavren.
“Oh, much more. After that, when purchasing food (for you must know that I am not a mountaineer, and cannot forage for myself) I noticed certain ill-favored individuals looking at me in a way I liked not at all after I was so indiscreet as to permit them to see my purse. I therefore avoided them, which caused a further delay, as it involved a detour far to the east. Then in getting back on my proper path, I found myself in a charming valley, with a charming village, entirely surrounded by snow that was not at all charming, and had there not been an unseasonable thaw, I should be there yet, with the result that I am some months behind on my errand.”
“It seems there is some news here,” said Khaavren, chuckling. “Let us dismount, and we can speak together.”
“My lord,” said Mica, “I beg you to believe that I would like nothing better, but, alas, I have been given to understand that my errand is of the most urgent sort, and will not wait.”
“Ah, you are on an errand then?”
“Precisely, my lord.”
“From your mistress, Tazendra?”
“From her, yes, and from my lord Piro, and my lord Kytraan as well.”
“They all gave you this errand?”
“They all seemed to think it of the greatest urgency, my lord.”
“Well, can you tell me what this famous errand is?”
Mica considered, then said, “I do not see why I cannot.”
“How, you can tell me?”
“I can, my lord, and, if you wish, I will even do so.”
“If I wish? It seems to me it is an hour since I wished for anything else!”
“Well, this is it, then: I am to report to the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain.”
“To Sethra Lavode?”
“Yes, my lord. I am to report to Sethra Lavode.”
“But, upon what subject are you going to report to her?”
“My lord, on the failure of our mission.”
“How, it was a failure?”
Mica bowed.
“The mission failed then?”
“It grieves me to say it, my lord.”
“But, what happened?”
“We were attacked at the top of Deathgate Falls, and Zerika—”
“Who?”
“Zerika. The Phoenix.”
Khaavren stared for a moment, then said, “There is a Phoenix named Zerika?”
“Yes, my lord. That is to say, there was.”
“There was?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“But—go on.”
“In the course of the battle, she—that is to say, Zerika—leapt from Deathgate Falls. As our—”
“She leapt?”
“Yes, my lord. That is, she caused her horse to leap from the very lip of the Falls. And, as our mission was to deliver her safely—”
“Yes, I see. And the battle?”
“We had the honor to send them flying, my lord.”
“So you won?”
“Entirely.”
“So, she need not have leapt from the Falls?”
“Well, my lord, it is true that, after her leap, some of the enemy lost interest in continuing to play.”
“Well, and my son? How did he acquit himself in battle?”
“My lord, I have the pleasure of assuring you he did well enough, bringing his enemy to the ground with a good cut, and, moreover, at no time did he show the least hesitation.”
Khaavren gave the Teckla a smile full of affection, then said, “Well, and who was it who attacked you?”
“It was a band of brigands, along with our old enemy, Grita.”
“Grita? Greycat’s daughter?”
“The same, my lord.”
Khaavren exchanged with Aerich a glance full of meaning. Aerich furrowed his brows and turned to Mica, saying, “I wish to hear the entire story.”
“Your Venerance,” said Mica, “my mission was given to me as most urgent.”
Khaavren cut off his words with a gesture. “You have mentioned Grita. I know her, and I know her blood. There is no question of joking. Moreover, this might have far-reaching consequences that go beyond my concern for my son and for your mistress. Do you agree, Aerich?”
“I assure you, my dear Khaavren, in all the years I have known you, you have never spoken words more full of wisdom and perspicacity.”
Khaavren turned back to the Teckla and said, “There. What more testimony do you require? However much of a hurry you are in, you must take whatever time is necessary to tell us everything that has happened.”
Mica bowed. “Very well, my lord. I will do so at once.”
With this, Mica instantly launched into the tale of their journey, while Khaavren, Aerich, Röaana, Ibronka, and Clari all listened carefully, none of them interrupting. When he had at length finished, Khaavren grunted and said, “Yes. As I have said, we must find Pel.”
“That is true,” said Aerich. “But it is more important that we find your son and his friends.”
“How, you think so?”
“I am convinced of it.”
“But, why is that, my friend?”
“In the first place, because of Grita. I am uncertain if they will survive another attack without assistance.”
“Well, there is something in what you say. What next?”
“Next, there is their mission.”
“Well, it has failed, has it not?”
“I am not convinced.”
“How, you are not convinced? And yet, Mica has said—”
“Then we will say no more about it. There is, however, the matter of Kâna.”
“Well, of a certainty. That is why I believe we must find Pel.”
“Well, and what will Kâna be doing?”
“Oh, as to that, who can say?”
“It may be, my dear Khaavren, that I can.”
“Can you?” said the Tiassa, smiling. “Well, that doesn’t startle me. What is it, then?”
“He must prepare to attack Dzur Mountain.”
“How, you think so, Aerich?”
“I am convinced of it.”
“But why?”
“Because that is where Zerika will bring the Orb.”
“And yet, Zerika is dead, and can thus bring the Orb nowhere.”
“That may be true, and may not be true, my dear friend. But, even if Zerika cannot bring the Orb, can Kâna know this?”
Khaavren considered this for some few moments, then said, “If this is true—and I give you my word, I am very nearly convinced—then, even more, we must, instead of seeking Piro, return at once to Dzur Mountain to warn Sethra.”
“As for warning Sethra,” said Aerich, “Mica is on his way to her anyway, and can easily carry another message.”
“Well, that is true.”
“And then?”
“Well, I agree we should find Piro. But how can we do so?”
“Oh, as to that.”
“Well?”
Aerich frowned. “I am not yet certain.”
“I could lead you,” said Mica. “But, alas, I must continue to Dzur Mountain.”
“Can you,” said Aerich, “describe where they are?”
Mica frowned and, after some thought, shook his head to indicate that he could not.