by Steven Brust
It’s annoying.
To the left, however, finding one of the rooms where the Empress is available to courtiers is one of the easier tasks, and after only a couple of minor humiliations I arrived outside that wide, open, chairless room called the Imperial Audience Chamber or something like that, but informally known among the Jhereg as Asskiss Alley.
There were big double doors there, with a pair of guards outside of them, and a well-dressed man who could have been a relative of Lady Teldra—when she was alive—standing at his ease with a half smile on his face. I wanted to touch Lady Teldra’s hilt, but restrained myself. Instead, I placed myself before this worthy and bowed like I meant it.
“Vladimir Taltos, House Jhereg, and Count of Szurke, at your service.”
He returned my bow exactly. “Harnwood,” he said, “House of the Issola, at yours, my lord.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the procedure”—he gave me an encouraging smile—“but I would have words with Her Majesty, who may wish to see me.”
If the request was surprising, he gave no indication. “Of course, my lord. If you will come with me into the waiting room, I will inquire.”
He led me to an empty room painted yellow, with half a dozen comfortable chairs, also yellow. They probably called it the “yellow room.” They’re creative that way. He gave me another smile, a bow, and closed the door behind him.
I sat and waited, thinking about how long it had been since I’d eaten.
I hate waiting.
I hate being hungry.
I shifted in the chair and chatted with Loiosh about our previous encounter with Her Majesty—she had granted me an Imperial title because of accidental services rendered. I suspect she knew they were accidental, but felt like rewarding me for her own reasons. I happened to know she had an Easterner as a lover, maybe that had something to do with it. Loiosh made a few other suggestions for reasons, some of which were probably treasonous.
Or maybe not. I’ve heard that in some Eastern kingdoms it is a capital crime to fail to treat the king with proper respect, but I had no idea if that was true in the Empire. I imagined that I could ask Perisil, and get an answer much longer than I wanted that would come out to: sometimes. Imperial law seems to work like that.
This close to the Orb, I could easily feel my link to it, and knew when an hour had passed.
A little later, Harnwood returned with profuse apologies, a bottle of wine, some dried fruit, and word that Her Majesty begged me to be patient, because she did wish to speak with me. My heart quickened a bit when I heard that; isn’t that odd? I’d known Morrolan e’Drien, and Sethra Lavode, and had even been face-to-face with Verra, the Demon Goddess, and yet I still felt a thrill go through me that this woman wanted to talk to me. Strange. I guess it shows what conditioning can do.
Harnwood left, and I drank the wine because I was thirsty and ate the fruit because it gave me something to do and because I was feeling half-starved. Loiosh ate some for the same reasons (dried fruit not being a favorite of his); Rocza seemed to have no problems with dried fruit.
Then I waited some more.
It was most of another hour before Harnwood came back, looking even more apologetic and saying, “She will see you now, Lord Szurke.”
That was interesting. She would see Lord Szurke, not Lord Taltos. I didn’t know what the significance of that was, but I was pretty sure there was significance. That’s the trouble with the Court, you know: Everything is significant but they don’t tell you exactly why, or how, or what it means until you’re swimming in it. Maybe in my next life I’ll be a Lyorn and be taught all that stuff or an Issola and know it instinctively. More likely not, though.
I stood up, discovering that sitting there for most of two hours had made my body stiff. I wondered if I was getting old.
I followed Harnwood out and down the hall, where we went past the door he’d been stationed outside of, then turned left, through a doorway, and into a much smaller hallway that ended in a flight of eight stairs—two few for it to be a stairway up to the next floor. I don’t know; I never did figure that out. But at the top was a door that was standing open, and past it was a long, narrow room with a few stuffed chairs set haphazardly about. At the far end was Her Majesty, speaking quietly with a man in the colors of the Iorich and a woman in the colors of the Dragon. As I entered, all three glanced up at me, with uniform lacks of expression.
The Orb as it circled the Empress’s head was a light green, which should have told me something about her mood, but it didn’t. She turned to the two she’d been speaking with and said, “Leave us now. I wish to speak to this gentleman.”
They gave her a deep bow, me a rather shallower one, backed up, and left by a door at the far end.
The Empress sat in a chair and motioned me to stand in front of her. I made an obeisance and waited, not entirely sure of the etiquette, and wishing I had Lady Teldra in the flesh, as it were, to tell me what I was supposed to do. Zerika didn’t look as if I’d violated any sort of protocol. I reflected that the Empire did things rather more simply than these things were done in the East.
“Taltos Vladimir,” she said, a smile flicking over her lips. She still looked impossibly young to be an Empress, but looks are deceiving. “What happened to your hand?”
I glanced at my left hand, missing the least finger. “A minor insect bite followed by a major infection,” I said. I forced myself to not glance at the Orb while I said it; the Orb, I’ve been told, only detects falsehood when asked to do so, and even then it can sometimes be beaten, as I’ve reason to know.
She said, “You couldn’t cure it with your arts?”
I touched the amulet hanging about my neck. “I’m not sure how much Your Majesty knows of—”
“Oh, of course,” she said. “I had forgotten.”
“It is kind of Your Majesty to remember at all.”
“Yes. I am the personification of kindness, as well as mercy and justice, which as you know always match steps. What brings you back to the City, under the circumstances?”
Okay, well, she knew about the “circumstances.” I was only surprised that she cared enough to, and I wondered why.
“Aliera is a friend of mine,” I said.
“And mine,” she snapped.
I almost jumped. It isn’t good when the Empress is mad at you—ask anyone. I said, “Well, naturally, I wanted to see her.”
She seemed to relax a little, and nodded.
“And help her if I can,” I added. “I trust you have no objections?”
“That depends,” she said carefully, “on just exactly what you mean by ‘helping’ her.”
“I had in mind hiring an advocate, to start with.”
She nodded. “I would have no objection to that, of course.”
“Perhaps Your Majesty would be willing to tell me something.”
“Perhaps.”
“It may be my imagination, but it seems that the prosecution of Aliera is, ah, being expedited. If that’s true, then—”
“It isn’t,” she said. She was terse. She was glaring. She was lying. It’s something to make an Empress lie to you, isn’t it?
I nodded. “As Your Majesty says.”
She glared and I stared at a place on the wall above and behind her right ear. The Orb had turned a sort of orangish, reddish color. I waited. This isn’t one of those situations where I need to explain why I kept my mouth shut.
At length, she gestured toward a chair. “Sit,” she said.
“I thank Your Maj—”
“Oh, shut up.”
I sat down. The chair was comfortable; I was not.
She let out a long breath. “Well,” she said. “Now we have quite the situation here.”
One thing I’d hoped to find a way to say to her was, “Look, you’ve known for years that Aliera and Morrolan dabbled in Elder Sorcery. Why is it such a big deal now all of a sudden?” I was now convinced there was going to be no way to ask it at all. The Orb cir
cled her head, its color gradually fading back to a sick shade of green. It must be annoying to be unable to conceal your feelings.
“Was the Orb designed to display the Imperial mood, or is it a by-product of something else?”
She pretended not to hear the question. “Who have you hired as an advocate?”
“His name is Perisil.”
“I don’t know him. Will he manage to get you in to see her?”
“I hope so.”
“Let her know that if she confesses, she’ll be shown mercy.”
I started to reply, then recast it in terms I hoped more suitable for the Imperial presence: “Is Your Majesty pleased to jest?”
She sighed. “No, but I see your point.”
I was trying to imagine Aliera e’Kieron begging for mercy of anyone for any reason, and my mind just wouldn’t accept it.
She said, “I should have mentioned it before, but I’m glad you’re not—that is, I’m glad you’re still alive.”
“Me too. I mean, I thank Your Majesty.”
“Who have you seen since you’ve back in town?”
“Morrolan, that’s all.”
“Has he, ah, said anything?”
“You mean, made disloyal remarks about his sovereign? No.”
“I could put the Orb over you and make you repeat that.”
“Must be nice to be able to do that whenever you want, Majesty.”
“Not as nice as you’d think.”
I cleared my throat. “With all due respect, Your Maj—”
“Oh, stuff your respect. What is it?”
“Someone in my position is hardly likely to overflow with sympathy for someone in yours.”
“I wasn’t asking for sympathy,” said Her Majesty.
“No, I suppose not.”
“And you know whose fault your predicament is.”
“Yes. Can the same be said for yours?”
“Not without exploring metaphysics, which I haven’t the patience for just now.”
I smiled a little. “I can imagine Your Majesty in the library of Castle Black furiously arguing metaphysics with Morrolan.”
“So can I,” she said, granting me a brief smile.
It was like half the time I was being invited to talk with Zerika, and half the time to speak with the Empress. It was hard to keep up with.
I said, “It must be a difficult position.”
“I said I wasn’t asking for sympathy.”
“Sorry.”
She sighed. “Yes, it is. Between jailing a friend and violence in the—” She broke off and shook her head. “Well, I knew what I was getting into when I took the Orb.”
Neither of us mentioned that at the time she had taken the Orb there was, quite literally, no one else to do it. I said, “You know I’m still willing to serve Your Majesty.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“As long as it doesn’t mean a disservice to your friends, as usual?” She sounded a little scornful.
“Yes,” I said, not letting her know that her tone had stung a bit.
“I’m afraid,” she said, “that this is an occasion when you’re going to have to choose whom to help.”
“Eh. Between my friends and the Empire? I’m sorry, that isn’t that hard a choice. Can you give me enough of an idea of what’s going on that I can at least understand why it has to be that way?”
After a moment, she said, “Do you know, Vlad, that from the best knowledge we have, it seems almost certain that at least five of the original sixteen tribes practiced human sacrifice?”
“I had not been aware—”
“There are many who assume that because we have evidence from the five, it is safe to make assumptions about the other eleven. I don’t know if they’re right, but I can’t prove them wrong.”
I cleared my throat, just as if I had something to say to that. She looked at me expectantly, so I had to come up with something. “Um, how did they choose the lucky person?”
“Different ways for different tribes. Captives in battle, selected for special honor, punishment, reward, auguries.”
“When did it stop?”
“When the Empire was formed. It was made illegal. That was the first Imperial Edict.”
“An act of kindness from your ancestor. Good way to start.”
“Not kindness, so much. She’d spoken to the gods, and knew the gods were either indifferent or hostile to the practice. So call it practicality. I bring it up because—” She stopped, and looked blank for a moment, the Orb pulsing blue over her head. “I’m sorry, it seems I must go run an Empire.”
I stood. “Thank you for seeing me.” I made as good an obeisance as I could; which isn’t too bad, I’m told.
“It is always a pleasure, Count Szurke.”
I backed away a few steps (there is a correct number of steps, but I didn’t know it), and turned away. She said, “Oh, and thank you, Vlad.”
“For—?”
“The documents on making paper. I’m told they’re valuable.”
“Oh, right. I’d forgotten about—how did you know they came from me?”
She smiled. “Until now, I didn’t.”
The mention of making paper brought back a complex set of memories and partial memories that I didn’t especially feel like dwelling on just then; but it was good of her to mention it. I gave her what I hoped was a friendly smile over my shoulder and took myself out of the room.
3
Q: Please state your name, your House, and your city of residence.
A: Dornin e’Lanya, House of the Dragon, Brickerstown.
Q: Rank and position?
A: Sergeant, Imperial Army, Second Army, Fourth Legion, Company D.
Q: What were your orders on the second day of the month of the Lyorn of this year?
A: We were to escort a supply train from Norest to Swordrock. On that day, we were passing through Tirma, in the duchy of Carver.
Q: And what had you heard about Tirma?
A: We knew the entire duchy was in rebellion.
Empress: Did you know this officially, or through rumor?
A: It was common knowledge, Your Majesty.
Q: Answer Her Majesty’s question, Sergeant.
A: We were never informed officially.
Orb shows falsehood
Q: Would you care to reconsider that answer, Sergeant Dornin?
A: No, my lord. That is my answer.
Q: Had anything unusual happened that day before you reached Tirma?
A: There were the usual problems with the wagon train, but no attacks or incidents.
Q: Describe what happened when you entered Tirma.
A: We were set on by a mob that was trying to take away the wagons, and we defended ourselves.
Q: While you were in Tirma, were you or your command involved in any fighting or violence that did not involve defending yourselves against an attack?
A: We were not.
Orb shows falsehood
Q: Would you care to reconsider your answer?
A: I would not.
Q: Are you aware of the penalties for lying beneath the Orb?
A: I am.
I went back down the half-flight of stairs, down the hall, and stopped, trying to remember the name I’d been given.
“Delwick.”
“I knew that.”
“Right.”
“Okay, I was about to remember.”
“Right.”
“Shut up.”
I found my way back to where Harnwood still waited. He smiled as if he were glad to see me. I bowed as precisely as I could manage—not that he’d let me know if I missed my mark—and said, “Pardon me, do you know a Lord Delwick?”
“Of course, my lord. Shall I take you to where he is?”
“If you’d be so kind.”
He would, in fact, be so kind. He exchanged a few words with the guard stationed by the door, and gestured with his hand that I was to fall into step with h
im. I did so. Having known Lady Teldra so long—in the flesh, I mean—I wasn’t surprised that he made it seem effortless to shorten his strides to match my puny human ones.
I won’t try to describe the turnings we took, nor the stairs we went up only to go down another. I will mention one extremely wide hallway with what looked like gold trimming over ivory, and hung with the psiprints of some of the oddest-looking people I’ve ever seen, all of them looking enough like Daymar to convince me they were Hawklords, and all of them staring out with the same expression: as if they were saying, “Just what manner of beast are you, anyway, and do you mind of if I study you for a while?”
We walked into a perfectly square room around the size of my old flat off Lower Kieron Road—it was a pretty big flat. The room was empty. Harnwood said, “This is where the various representatives sometimes gather to speak informally.”
“Should I wait here?”
“No, we can find Lord Delwick’s offices.”