by Steven Brust
“They suit you admirably.”
“Well, and your hand to kiss?”
“Here it is.”
“Farewell then, my tormentor, until the next time.”
“Until the next time, wicked man.”
And with these words, they parted, the door closing behind Pel even as Yini came into the room from the other door, and found her mistress staring wistfully at the spot the Cavalier had so recently occupied.
“Someday he may be more than half an Emperor,” she said to herself with a small smile. “Even now, he is more than half a lover.”
Chapter the Seventeenth
In Which Discussion is Made of Mathematics and Philosophy As our Friends Prepare for Departure
WE WILL NOW RETURN TO the house on the Street of the Glass Cutters and inform our readers of the conversation that occurred during Pel’s absence, which was, we should add, both noticed and wondered at, since the worthies therein had not the abilities we have granted ourselves to flit carelessly about the city and look, unnoticed, into whatever odd corners our caprice takes us. Khaavren, Aerich, and Tazendra, then, sat in Aerich’s chambers and laid down what plans they could. Khaavren positioned himself on the couch, where he lay with a damp cloth, supplied by the sullen but silent Srahi, wrapped about his head.
“We shall set out, I think, in the morning,” said Khaavren.
“Very well,” said Aerich.
“To-night, then, we must prepare for our departure.”
“Prepare?” said Tazendra. “In what way?”
“Why, in all ways that seem good. That is, we must gather whatever we determine we shall need.”
“Well, then—” began Tazendra.
“If you please,” said Khaavren. “Not so loudly. My head still gives me pain.”
“Ah, yes,” she went on in a softer voice. “I will remember.”
“That is good of you. What were you saying?”
“I was saying,” said Tazendra, “that I shall need my sword.”
“That is right,” said Khaavren.
“Shall I also need a flash-stone?”
“A flash-stone will be welcome, I think,” said Khaavren. “Several, if you can get them.”
“Get them? My dear Khaavren, I make them!”
“What, you?”
“Indeed yes; you know that I am a sorcerer.”
“That is true; I had forgotten. Well, and how long does it take you to make one?”
“Well, to charge a single stone with enough force to knock a man from his horse, and, if well aimed, to leave him stretched on the ground, will require, first, three hours to prepare the stone, next, two hours to beg the stone to receive the charge, and, last, a single hour to acquaint the stone with the means of releasing the charge.”
“Well, that is six hours, then.”
“Why yes, I think it is. How curious.”
“And why is it curious that it is six hours?”
“Well, I have often noticed that it takes me six hours to charge a stone.”
“And? What then?”
“Well, it is curious that you have arrived at this number after hearing only the several parts of it.”
“You know, Tazendra, that I am an arithmetist.”
“Ah, I hadn’t known that. All is solved then.”
“But tell me this. If we should require a stone with enough of a charge to knock two men from the saddle, or even five, then how long will it take to prepare?”
“Well, for a stone with twice the charge, it will take four hours to prepare, four hours to set, but still only a single hour to arrange the release.”
“That is, then, nine hours.”
“Why, yes, I believe you are correct. Blood of the Horse, you are an arithmetist.”
“I can figure sums like an accountant, but, I confess to you, little else. Fortunately, that is all that is generally required.”
“Yes, you are right. I have heard it said that all other branches of arithmetic are properly the province of philosophy, and ought not to be considered by a gentleman at all.”
“There is some justice in that remark.”
“I think so.”
“But, good Tazendra, let us return to the subject of flash-stones.”
“Oh, now that is a subject that I know better than I know philosophy or arithmetic.”
“Well, here is my question then: is it not the case that one can prepare a single stone to hold two, three, or even four charges?”
“It can be done.”
“And the preparations?”
“Well, for small charges, an additional hour for each charge is required to prepare the stone, and, above that, each charge placed in the stone will require an additional four hours.”
“And the release?”
“To inform the stone that it must release the charges one at a time is a singular challenge, my good Khaavren.”
“Well?”
“Two charges, then, require three hours of work. Three charges require five hours, and four charges would require eight hours.”
“So, then, a stone with three charges would require, in all, more than half a day to prepare.”
“That is true.”
“Well, then, we haven’t the time. We shall have to do without the flash-stones.”
“Not at all, for I have already prepared a stone with two small charges, and two others, each with a large charge. If I prepare one more small one, then we shall each be equipped with a flash-stone for our journey before to-morrow.”
“Excellent, Tazendra. Let us then be about it.”
“I shall begin at once.”
“But wait a moment; we must decide what else we will need for our journey.”
Aerich, who, for want of anything to say, had maintained his habitual silence until this point in the conversation, said, “Money.”
“Cha!” said Khaavren. “That is true. We shall need money. Have you any?”
“Little enough,” said Aerich, digging through his pockets and placing a single Imperial along with a few scant orbs on the table.
“At that,” said Khaavren, “you are richer than I am.” He dug in his pocket and placed a share of pennies next to Aerich’s money, in which company two single orbs shone with greater pride than perhaps they truly merited. “And you, my good Tazendra?”
“Oh, I have plenty.”
“Ah, plenty?” said Khaavren. “You have then, enough?”
“Certainly. Here it is,” and she majestically laid down a newly stamped Imperial, showing the face of his Majesty Tortaalik, and with it three or four silver orbs.
“Well, is that all?” said Khaavren.
“Hardly. There is also this.” And she put a scrap of paper on the table, which Khaavren hastily took into his hand and studied.
“The Gods!” he said. “It is a draft on the Dragon treasury in the amount of three hundred orbs!”
“Three hundred orbs?” said Aerich. “Well, that is a tolerably round sum. Whence comes this draft, Tazendra?”
“Why, I assure you I have no idea, save that it was brought around by the post this very evening.”
“To whom did it come?”
“In faith I don’t know; it was rolled up and sealed, with a ribbon about it and no name. Since it was I who took it from the hand of the post officer, and since it bore no address, I thought to open it, and I did.”
“And you did right,” said Khaavren.
Aerich picked up the paper, looked at it, and shrugged, “Well, it is signed and stamped, and even chopped; therefore it as good as coinage for our purposes.”
“I suspect,” said Khaavren, “that our captain does not wish for our journey to fail due to lack of funds.”
“What,” said Tazendra, “he considers it important?”
“I think so,” said Khaavren. “And this proves it, does it not?”
“I nearly think it does,” said Tazendra. “Pel has done well in speaking to the Captain.”
“Yes, but that
makes me think: where is Pel?”
“At his tailor’s,” said Tazendra, with a smile which indicated that, in some matters at any rate, she was no dupe.
“He will be here,” said Aerich, “when he is no longer busy elsewhere.”
“Which is to say,” said Khaavren, “that he is not here because he is not here.”
“Well, do you deny the justice of this remark?”
“No,” said Khaavren. “I think it entirely correct. And yet, it does not relieve me of worries.”
“Bah. Were it you, or even Tazendra, I might worry. But there is no occasion to worry about Pel when he is out; he has many calls.”
“Many mistresses, that is,” said Tazendra. Aerich shrugged.
“Yes,” said Khaavren, “you are right. We need only wait, and I am sure he will be here. And while we wait, let us continue to reckon up what we will need.”
Tazendra said, “We are going east, are we not?”
“Yes,” said Khaavren. “You’re memory is like the Orb itself.”
“In that case,” continued Tazendra, “we must also go north or south, unless you intend to travel through either the desert of Suntra, or the jungles.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “I have always believed that the desert would be a fine place as soon as it could be contrived for someone to bury sufficient bottles of wine amid the sand, and likewise, the jungles, as soon as they could be rid of those animals which are rude enough to wish to eat men, rather than peaceably allowing the reverse, which is as nature intended.”
“And yet,” said Tazendra, “since there is no wine in the desert, and since there are wild beasts in the jungles, you no doubt wish to travel either north or south, in addition to east.”
“You are correct, good Tazendra; I have chosen to travel south around the desert through the pushta.”
“Well, then, there is no need for warm clothing.”
“But then there are the mountains.”
“Ah, yes, well then, I shall bring my cloak which is lined with the fur of the fox and the norska.”
“And you will be wise to do so, Tazendra.”
“What else do we need?”
“A map, I think,” said Khaavren.
“I have one,” said Aerich.
“Is it a good one?”
“It is by the Baron of Portsfree, and bears the seal of my House.”
“That is well,” said Khaavren.
“And then, what else?” said Tazendra.
“Our swords, our daggers.”
“That is natural.”
“Horses,” said Tazendra.
“The Emperor will supply them.”
“How?”
“You forget that we are in the Guards?”
“That is true, but if one should become lame?”
“Bah! We will then buy another.”
“With what?”
“We will find the money. Haven’t we already found three hundred orbs that we didn’t expect to find?”
“He is right,” said Aerich. “It is wrong to doubt a providence which has already provided so much.”
“Very well,” said Tazendra, who didn’t appear to be entirely convinced. “What else?”
“Rope,” said Khaavren.
“For what?” said Tazendra.
“Well, I don’t know, but shouldn’t travelers in the mountains always bring rope?”
“I, for one, do not anticipate climbing on the mountains, but merely walking in them.”
“Very well,” said Khaavren. “Should we bring pavilions in which to rest at night?”
“How?” said Tazendra. “Are there not inns?”
“For the most part I think there are.”
“Well, then?”
“But should we be caught in the mountains between inns?”
“Then we shall make a fire.”
“Then we must bring an axe.”
“Very well,” said Tazendra. “I agree with the need for an axe.”
“Extra girths, reins, and tools for repairing saddle and bridle.”
“How, do you know how to use them?”
“I do,” said Aerich.
“Then I agree with the tools,” said Tazendra.
“Wineskins,” said Khaavren.
“Certainly, wineskins,” said Tazendra.
“Means of making fire,” said Khaavren.
“I am a sorcerer,” said Tazendra.
“That is true. Bandages?”
“Indeed,” said Tazendra.
“Cooking gear?”
“I,” said Tazendra, “intend to eat at hostelries along the way.”
“And, if we are between hostelries?”
“Then we shall bring bread and cheese.”
“Very well,” said Khaavren. “Then we also have no need for napkins and tablecloths.”
“That is true.”
“Oiled cloaks in case of rain.”
“That is well thought. What else?”
“That is all, I think.”
“In that case,” said Aerich, “it is time we got some rest, for we must awaken, in any case, when Pel returns, so that we may acquaint him with all that we have decided.”
At which time they did, as we mentioned above, retire for a few hours. Khaavren was the first to wake when Pel returned, and hastened to collect the others, who, notwithstanding that they were still tired, made haste to the parlor.
“My dear Pel,” said Tazendra, “is that you?”
“It is,” said the Cavalier.
“But,” said Tazendra, “where have you been that you have required that large cloak and the hat which so effectually hides your features?”
“Does it?” said Pel, mildly. “I was merely trying it out. Such hats are all the rage now in certain quarters.”
“What quarters are those?” pressed Tazendra.
“Oh, why certain—”
“Come now,” said Khaavren, rescuing the embarrassed Yendi. “We are reckoning what we will need for the journey.”
“Money, first of all,” said Pel.
“That is taken care of.”
“Ah! That is good, for I confess that I am in rather poor straits just at present.”
“Well then, we will get the money that is due us according to this note, and we will divide it equally.”
“Ah, we have a note then?”
“I think so. From the Captain.”
“Good.”
“You are not surprised?”
“He said such a thing was possible. What else?”
“Tazendra will make flash-stones for us.”
“Good. What else?”
“Aerich is supplying the map.”
“Ah. Yes, a map. Well?”
“Bandages, an axe, warm cloaks.”
“And?”
“Bread and cheese.”
“Is there more?”
“No, that is all.”
“Excellent. And when are we to leave?”
“To-morrow, at the first light.”
“Then I will rest until then. Good night, my friends.”
They all bid Pel a good night, and then, seeing the wisdom of his remarks, each retired once more to his own chamber to sleep, excepting only Tazendra, who retired to her chambers, it is true, but only to work to prepare the last flash-stone. To her credit, we must say that she spent a good many hours—six, in fact—poring over a common piece of rock, first smoothing it, then bathing it in the products of her small alembic, then using a fine stylus to carve the proper symbols upon it, and at last making arcane passes over it while chanting a few words in the language of the Serioli, of which she had at least memorized what she needed to know.
To summarize, then, she completed her work and at last put herself to bed to procure a few hours of sleep before the early morning departure.
BOOK Two
Chapter the Eighteenth
In Which it is Shown That Some Reflect, While Others Wonder, But Many do Both at Once
THE
NEXT MORNING, AFTER A hasty breakfast, they stopped by the Dragon treasury to draw upon the note given them by Captain G’aereth. They received, as promised, three hundred orbs, half given in gold Imperials, the rest in silver and copper. They divided it on the spot, then went and borrowed horses and a pack animal from the stables of the Guard, as well as borrowing saddles and outfits. Then Tazendra distributed the flash-stones, and they set out, passing down the streets in two ranks, with Khaavren and Aerich in the lead, Pel and Tazendra behind them.
The mist which graced the summer mornings of Dragaera City had not yet dissolved when our friends passed out by the Gate of the Flags, outside of which they stopped to splash their faces in the Foaming Pool, each leaving a few pennies in the water to bring them luck on their journey. A few drops of rain sprinkled them as they left the pool, which Tazendra claimed was a good omen. Khaavren was inclined to agree, Aerich shrugged, and Pel didn’t notice, being deeply involved in thinking his own thoughts.
Since they were not in a hurry, they made traveling easy on themselves and their horses, riding, now that the road was wider than the narrow streets of the city, four abreast, so they could easily converse as they traveled, which they did after the fashion to which they had accustomed themselves in other surroundings.
They had been traveling and conversing in this manner for two or three hours when Khaavren said, “My good Tazendra, it seems to me that you are unusually silent.”
“Well, I am,” she said.
“Then tell me, for I am curious, what accounts for this uncharacteristic quietude?”
“I reflect,” pronounced Tazendra.
“Ah! You reflect. Pel, Tazendra has been reflecting.”
“That is right,” said Pel. “And well she should.”
“And yet,” said Khaavren, addressing himself once more to the Dzurlord, “I should like to learn upon what you reflect.”
“Just this,” said Tazendra. “We are leaving the city.”
“The Horse!” said Khaavren. “I think we are.”
“I was wondering—”
“But you just said you were reflecting.”
“Oh, I was, I assure you. Only—”
“Yes?”
“My reflections transformed themselves into wonderings.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “mine have been known to do the same.”