The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha)

by Steven Brust

  “That is possible,” said Röaana. “You are a Dzurlord, whereas you perceive I am a Tiassa.”

  “Yes, your observation is full of justice. But tell me, what is it like to have men fight over you?”

  “I don’t care for it,” said the Tiassa promptly.

  Ibronka nodded. “I had wondered. I believed it was better to do the fighting.”

  “I think that it would be.”

  At around this time, a Dragonlord with the markings of an officer upon her collar came riding up on a black horse, and, dismounting with practiced ease, said, “Some of you tell me what has occurred here.”

  The events were quickly explained to the officer, who shot poor Röaana an annoyed look, but then nodded and said,

  “How is Jorem?”

  “I do not believe he will live out the hour, madam,” said one of the soldiers.

  The officer scowled. “Very well. Sergeant, see to his body.”

  “Yes, madam,” said another soldier. “And as to submitting his name—”

  “I will see to that,” she snapped. She looked around, until her eyes came to rest upon Ibronka, whereupon she said, “Who are you?”

  Ibronka, stung by the imperious tone of the officer’s voice, said, “I? I am Ibronka of Blackbirdriver, and my mother is—”

  “Princess Sennya,” interrupted the officer. “Yes, I know of her, and we have been expecting you. Are you ready?”

  In addition to being annoyed, Ibronka became confused. “How, ready?”

  “Yes. We have been informed by His Venerance the Duke of Kana that you are, by the wishes of Her Highness, to travel with us.”

  “And yet, madam,” said Ibronka, “I had thought I was to await a caravan.”

  “Well, and that is what we are. The caravan is behind us, and we are part of its protection.”

  “Ah,” said the Dzurlord. “I did not know there was to be protection. You perceive, I do not feel I require it.”

  A look of something like amusement passed over the officer’s countenance. “Perhaps you do not,” she said, “but, in any case, well, we are here, and if you are to travel with the caravan, we will necessarily be there as well.”

  Ibronka nodded and said, “Then in just a moment I will have my horse saddled and my servant ready.”

  “Very well,” said the officer, and sighed, muttering under her breath about now having two of them to contend with.

  Some few minutes later Ibronka, well seated upon Tricky with her packed valise hanging from her saddle and Clari riding by her left hand, found herself near the rear of the soldiers and toward the head of the caravan. She at once brought herself up next to Röaana, and said, “Come, what did the officer mean by saying she had to contend with two now?”

  The Tiassa said, “You don’t know?”

  “Not the least in the world, I give you my word.”

  “Well, the officer pretends that I am pretty.”

  “Very well, and then?”

  “So that now, she must contend with two pretty girls who are not under her command. She believes this will create more trouble for her of, well, of the sort that happened in that town through which we have lately passed.”

  “Lorimel.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I understand, and I believe I have been given a compliment, after a fashion.”

  “Yes, and do you like it?”

  “You wish to know if I like it? Well, I believe I will have words with that officer before this journey is over.”

  “How, words?”

  “Yes, the sort of words those two soldiers had over you.”

  “Please, I beg you not to remind me of that.”

  Ibronka shrugged. “Very well, then. Though I wonder why the presence of pretty boys does not have the same effect as the presence of pretty girls. They are, after all, equally in demand.”

  “Oh, it does, sometimes,” said the Tiassa. “But consider—”

  “Well?”

  “While it would be pleasant to fight over a boy, would you have any interest in a boy who would enjoy being fought over?”

  “Do you know, I had not considered it in that light.”

  “Nor had I, until just now.”

  “I should imagine boys wouldn’t be interested in a girl who enjoys being fought over, either,” said Ibronka after giving the matter some consideration.

  “I think you may be right.”

  “Röaana, I will tell you a thing.”

  “Yes, Ibronka? What is it you wish to tell me?”

  “Just this. Upon first seeing you, and seeing that you had been fought over, well, I thought I should dislike you. And yet—”

  “Well, and yet?”

  “I seem to feel a certain sympathy with you.”

  “I confess, I feel much the same toward you, Ibronka, if only because we are both in similar positions.”

  “Yes, that is true. Then, shall we be friends?”

  “If you wish. Here is my hand.”

  “And here is mine.”

  “It is settled, then, we shall be friends, at least for so long as we travel together, and after that, who knows?”

  “Apropos, whither are you bound?”

  “Adrilankha. And you?”

  “I? Feathers of the Phoenix! I am bound for adventure!”

  Chapter the Twenty-Fourth

  How the Mysterious Zerika

  Is At Last Introduced;

  Which Introduction Is Followed

  By Much Discussion and

  A Certain Amount of Planning

  As daylight brightened the eastern face of Dzur Mountain, Piro awoke with the events of the last several days filling his thoughts, leaving him with some anticipation and a great deal of confusion. After spending some time attempting to understand all that he had learned, he came to the conclusion that it would be better to break his fast first and think later. This decision made, he rose, dressed, and made his way down the hall where, after a certain number of false turns and retracing of his steps, he came at last to the parlor where he had first met the Enchantress. Before he actually entered the room, however, he heard voices, and, being possessed of a great deal of that curiosity which is the birthright of any Tiassa, he paused for a moment to listen.

  One voice he instantly recognized as belonging to the Teckla Mica, Tazendra’s servant.

  “You see this end,” Mica was saying, “can be used to block or parry an opponent’s attack; even a heavy sword cannot penetrate the wood nor break it—you see marks where some have tried. Of course, to defend against a rapier I prefer to turn it around, holding it in this fashion, because my enemy’s blade can then be caught between the legs, after which, by the smallest twist, my opponent will be disarmed, or else his blade will snap; and, moreover, I am then able to instantly counter from that position simply by thrusting forward, especially into the face of my enemy.”

  “Well, I perceive there is a great deal to this art.”

  “Oh, there is, I assure you.”

  “And I freely confess that I admire your courage, which seems to be as great as that of a Dzurlord.”

  “Well, I admit that, serving my mistress, there are occasions when a good stock of courage is as necessary as knowing how to lace up a doublet.”

  “Yes, I understand that.”

  “And—but bide, I hear someone coming. I am certain of it, for you perceive, in the sorts of adventures upon which my mistress takes me, sometimes a sharp pair of ears is all that stands between you and a quick, unceremonious demise, and so I have trained my ears to respond to the least noise.”

  Of course, the sound he heard was Piro, who, having heard enough, had resumed his course toward the room in which Mica was holding forth. As he entered, Mica, who had been holding a bar-stool, set it down, rose to his feet, and bowed deeply, as did his companion, who was none other than Lar.

  “What is this?” said Piro. “Are you instructing him?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Mica. “That is, I was ex
plaining to him the use of the bar-stool, a weapon with which I am not unacquainted.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Piro. “I know of the bar-stool from having heard my father speak of it.”

  Mica positively beamed at this evidence of Khaavren’s memory and of his own exploits, and turned an eye upon Lar as if to say, “Here is the proof of all that I have told you.”

  “And is that,” continued Piro, pointing to the object in question, “the very bar-stool of which I have heard such stories?”

  “Alas, no,” said Mica. “This is a replacement recently acquired.”

  “Ah,” said the Viscount. “But I hope, at least, that your previous weapon was given an honorable retirement?”

  “In a fashion,” said the Teckla. “It was used to supply a replacement for the lower part of my left leg, which, alas, was lost in the service of my mistress.”

  “And of my father, as I recall the story,” said Piro.

  Mica bowed his acknowledgment.

  Piro then addressed Lar, saying, “You should listen to all this worthy man tells you, Lar, for there is no doubt that my father and his friends should never have survived all of their adventures if they had not been served by clever and courageous lackeys such as our good Mica here.”

  Lar bowed, and vowed to himself that he would find an opportunity to display his courage before Piro at the first instant he could find to do so; Mica, at the same time, decided that he would permit himself to be burned alive for the young Tiassa as soon as it could be arranged. The quick-thinking Mica realized, however, that there was unlikely to be a chance for such an activity in the next few hours, whereas it was possible that he would be able to serve him in other ways, wherefore he said, “Would my lord care for klava this morning, as well as, perhaps, something with more substance?”

  “Klava would make me the happiest of men, I assure you.”

  “Very well, then. Come along, Lar, and I will show you how to brew klava for the young gentleman.”

  “Ah,” said Lar. “As far as klava goes, I well know how to brew it. Indeed, it is possible that I could show you one or two tricks regarding the art of which you are unaware.”

  “You think so? Well, come, let us see, then.”

  And the two Teckla left the room arm-in-arm, leaving an amused Piro to trudge down to the spring-room to wash his face, use his teeth-stick, and take care of certain other duties which everyone, from noble to common, must perform each day. It is just these sorts of matters which are customarily omitted from romances, and they are omitted for the reason that, quite simply, if everyone does them, there is little to be learned from even the most careful study, an opinion to which we fully subscribe. Indeed, we have only included the above passing reference to “morning matters” for the following reasons: first, to demonstrate our awareness that such matters exist and are performed by all human beings; next, to establish that it is not our fear of such discussions that prevents more reference to them, but, rather, our dispassionate judgment that nothing is to be gained by such references; and last, so that, with the above reasons in mind, we need never return to these issues again.

  On the subject of returning, to which we just made reference in the previous sentence, young Piro returned to the sitting room to find a cup of perfectly prepared klava awaiting him, with not only heavy cream and honey, as he preferred it, but also a dash of vanilla, which he especially loved. In addition to the klava, there was as well a basket of steaming muffins, along with jars of butter, honey, and various sorts of preserves set out before him, leaving only the difficulty of deciding which of the delicacies to try, and which he would have to, with regret, leave unsampled, as his appetite, though as large as that of a youth should be, was not unlimited.

  As he ate, he was joined by Tazendra herself, who called loudly for Mica, who had disappeared into the kitchens while Piro ate. The worthy servant emerged and quickly provided his mistress with klava and biscuits, upon which she gorged herself in such good style that for some time there was no conversation.

  When Piro felt himself satisfied, he stretched out and gave a sigh. “Well,” he remarked, “I believe that, with one more cup of klava, I shall be ready to restore the Empire.”

  “That is well,” said Tazendra between mouthfuls. “As for me, well, I require a few more biscuits and, after that, by the Horse, I think I will be ready to assist you.”

  “Then, my good Dzur, after you have finished, we should set off and do so.”

  “How, do you think so?” said Tazendra seriously.

  Piro, who had been attempting a jest, became confused when Tazendra failed to comprehend, and so he cleared his throat and said, “Well, perhaps we should await the others.”

  Tazendra nodded and said, “Yes, that would be best, I think, because in my opinion, well, Zerika would not wish to be left out.”

  “Ah, in that circumstance, we should wait by all means.”

  “I am glad that you think so.”

  Lar, proving his worth as a servant, appeared to see if anything was needed just as Piro finished his klava. Lar vanished and, for reasons of which the historian must confess his ignorance, Mica appeared a minute later with the requested drink, prepared exactly as Piro preferred it. It was soon after this that the Enchantress herself appeared. Piro and Tazendra rose and bowed to her. She acknowledged the salute and said, “Where is Kytraan?”

  “Sleeping late,” said Piro.

  “Well, it is time he should be woken, there are plans to make to-day.”

  “Ah! Plans!” said Tazendra.

  “Exactly.”

  Tukko appeared at the door and looked at Sethra, who gave a gesture with her eyes and head, to which Tukko responded with a nod and left again. A short time later, Kytraan joined them at exactly the instant that Lar appeared with his klava. The Dragonlord moaned softly, sipped his klava, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them, cleared his throat, and solemnly announced, “Good morning.”

  The others wished him a pleasant morning in turn and then Sethra rose and said, “Await me here, if you please,” after which she made her way out of the room.

  “Well,” said Kytraan. “What are we doing today?”

  “Making plans,” said Tazendra.

  Kytraan shrugged. “Well,” he said.

  “I wonder how soon we will leave,” said Piro.

  “Leave?” said Kytraan. “Pah, we just got here.”

  “That is true,” said the Tiassa. “I was merely wondering.”

  “I have been known to wonder,” said Tazendra.

  There being nothing to say to this, they all fell silent and concentrated on klava and, in some cases, muffins, until the Enchantress returned. When she did, she paused in the doorway and said, “My friends, there is someone I wish you to meet.”

  Kytraan, Tazendra, and Piro all stood and waited. Sethra stepped aside and said, “Here is the Lady Zerika, of the House of the Phoenix.”

  As the named Zerika entered the room, two of the three bowed. That is to say, Tazendra gave her a bow as befit a Princess of the House of the Phoenix; Kytraan presented a courtesy as befit one who might well be the next Emperor; Piro began to bow, stopped, raised his head, and, with his mouth hanging open, cried out, “Zivra!”

  The Phoenix in question gave Piro a shy smile and said, “Well.”

  The author hopes that he has, on this occasion, caught the reader off guard; that is, the notion of the reader being as astonished as, in fact, was Piro, would indicate that the narrative we have the honor of placing before the reader is, in at least this way, an accurate reflection of the events of history in their unfolding. We concede, however, that it is very possible that the reader has been in advance of us, and has known all along who was concealed behind the name Zerika. If this is the case, we must nevertheless insist that, if the reader knew who was about to appear under the mantle of the Phoenix Heir, then at least Piro did not.

  In response to the exchange we have just mentioned, Tazendra turned to him and said, �
�How, do you know the lady?”

  “And by a different name?” added Kytraan.

  “The Horse! I nearly think I do,” said Piro. “We grew up together, and were friends for most of my life, which life has, perhaps, been short by the standards of history, but it is the only life I have known.”

  “Well,” said Kytraan, “this at least explains why you, of all people, should be summoned by this mysterious Phoenix.”

  “Yes, that is solved, but many other things are not.”

  Zivra—or, as we should properly call her, Zerika—said, “It is true. But come, embrace me, my friend. I have been anxious to greet you for some time, but have been kept busy by a stern taskmaster.” These words were accompanied by a glace at the Enchantress, who acknowledged them by bowing her head.

  Piro came forward and embraced his friend, saying, “Forgive my astonishment, but—you! A Phoenix! And a Princess!”

  “Well,” said Zerika, “I tell you plainly that it astonishes me as well. Indeed, I must remind myself of it each day, and still sometimes wonder if this last week has been a dream from which I might wake at any time.”

  “But tell me, if you would, how this happened? You perceive, the last time we spoke, there was some worry that you were to be sent off to be married.”

  “And so I was, my dear friend,” said Zerika. “But married, not to a man, but rather to the Orb—if Fortune so favors us that we are able to retrieve it.”

  “Oh, as to Fortune, well, I have no opinion about her whims. But my friend Kytraan and I will do all we can, and I should be astonished if the Lady Tazendra were to do less. And yet, I should still like to know—”

  “And you shall, my friend. Come, let us sit together, as we did in the old days with our other friends, and I will explain my history to you.”

  “That is exactly what I wish,” said Piro, sitting down and giving her his full attention. The others also sat down, except for Sethra, who excused herself and promised to return in a short time. As Zerika sat, Tukko appeared beside her with a steaming mug of klava, after which the servant disappeared.