by Steven Brust
“Okay.”
“And Her Majesty wants to see you.”
“Oh,” I said. I cleared my throat. “When does Aliera get out?”
“They’ve already dispatched the release order; she should be out within the hour.”
“Good.”
“Good work, Vlad,” said Morrolan.
“And you. All of us.”
“I should have more chairs,” said Perisil.
“Will Aliera be joining us here?”
“I’ve no idea,” he said.
I nodded. “Because she’d prefer to sit, I’m sure.” That earned me a look from Morrolan.
It was like the old days in Morrolan’s library, except it wasn’t. For one thing, Aliera wasn’t there. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to see her. Most likely, she wouldn’t want to see me. She knew and I knew that, what with one thing and another, thanks weren’t appropriate; but you can’t help when obligation makes you uncomfortable.
But more than that was the uncomfortable feeling that, while it was over, it wasn’t over. We couldn’t all relax and laugh and make fun of each other, because there was too much unfinished. What would happen with the Imperial investigation? Would the Left Hand go after Cawti, as they’d threatened? When would the Jhereg finally get me? And then there was the unresolved matter of—
“Kragar,” I said. “Do something for me?”
“Hmmm?”
“Some asshole was just arrested for impersonating a Phoenix Guard. He was one of the ones who beat me. Find him, learn who his friends were, and break a few bones.”
He nodded. “How are you feeling, by the way?”
“Me? Fine.”
“Oh, you healed?”
“I . . . yeah.”
He let it go. He knows me. They all know me. Sometimes that’s not entirely comfortable. I know them, too, but I don’t mind that part so much.
Morrolan said, “I’ve just heard from Aliera. She went home. Care to join us?”
I shook my head. “I need to speak with my advocate.”
“Oh?”
“Long story.”
He hesitated. “Will you be around long?”
“Unless they catch up to me.”
“I meant, around town.”
“Oh. I’ll get back to you on that.”
“I’ll be going,” said Daymar. “Good to see you again, Vlad.”
“You too.”
“Haven’t seen you much these last few years. Where have you been?”
“Um. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“All right.” He waved and vanished; my ears popped. People shouldn’t teleport out of small rooms.
Morrolan was more polite; he thanked Perisil again, bowed, and walked out the door, leaving me alone with my advocate. Oh, and Kragar. I looked around. Nope, just the two of us.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Need another client?”
I gave him the short version, and he agreed to take it on, and I paid him. I was starting to feel a bit of a squeeze with money, which was something I hadn’t had to worry about for several years, and thought I’d never have to worry about again. A shame about that. But living on the run can be pretty cheap if you do it right; that’s one good thing about it.
We left it there while I headed over to the Palace to have a little chat with the relatively absolute ruler of the Dragaeran Empire.
I reached the place with no incidents, and there was Harnwood, bowing as deeply as he could without having me think I was being mocked, after which he said, “If m’lord will accompany me, Her Majesty will see you now.”
My goodness. How the fallen have become mighty.
He led me to a small (for the Palace, at any rate) room done in gray marble, with a six-sided marble table at which sat the Empress, nibbling on bread and cheese. As have done millions before me, before I even bowed I couldn’t help but glance at the Orb to see if I could judge the Imperial Mood. I couldn’t, really. It was a kind of rusty brown, which might mean anything.
“Your Majesty,” I said.
There was a soft click as Harnwood shut the door behind him.
“Sit,” commanded the ruler. I did so. “Eat,” was the next command. Now that wasn’t something I needed to hear twice, so I helped myself. The cheese was very sharp, and the sort I’d normally think too salty, but it seemed to work. The bread had a thin, hard crust and an odd slightly sour taste, reminding me of something Cawti had once brought home years before.
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It comes from Naarsten County, in the Sorannah. It’s from a special breed of goat, and only the best of the breed. They make five pounds a year, and it only comes here, to the Palace.”
“Impressive,” I said. Actually, the cheese wasn’t that good.
“Yes,” she said. “Other than the cheese, there isn’t a whole lot about this job I like.”
“Makes the compensations more valuable, that there are fewer of them.”
She had another bite of bread and cheese, and nodded. “By now, Aliera should be home.”
I nodded.
“Just like it never happened,” she said.
“Uh huh. What of the investigation?”
“She’ll be cleared of any wrongdoing, I’m sure.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Vlad, a squad of half-drunk, frustrated, angry soldiers in County Nowhere go berserk, and we’re going to blame the Warlord? She wasn’t even there.”
“The squad?”
“One was career military, used to seeing civilians as either inconvenient undisciplined idiots, or else un-uniformed sneak killers. The others were peasant boys who weren’t used to seeing their friends die without having anyone to take their frustrations out on. People fight, people die, because the alternative is to let some local baron set his own tariffs for passage of shipwood, which will outrage the Lyorn who own the forests and the Orca who buy the wood. I can’t risk offending the Lyorn because they’re too high on the Cycle, or the Orca because they’re already looking to form alliances with the Jhereg. So a few peasants have to die. More cheese?”
“Thanks.”
“It’s not bad.”
“So, the investigation is rigged after all?”
“Of course not. It doesn’t have to be rigged. It just needs to be run by someone with a good sense of justice. But not too good.”
“All right.”
“When it’s over, I’ll ask Aliera to be Warlord again. That way, she can have the pleasure of refusing. I owe her that much, at least.”
The cheese really was good.
“I can’t do anything for you, you know.”
“Your Majesty?”
“The Jhereg. The Left Hand. They’re going to be after you, and after your wife. I can’t help you.”
I swallowed and nodded.
“I’ve done what I can,” she went on. “I’ve made some threats, but I can’t carry them out. They probably know that.”
“Thanks, though.”
She nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. If Cawti’s in danger, I can’t really leave town.”
“I’m sure she finds that very endearing.”
“As much as you would,” I said.
“Or Aliera.”
“Or Aliera.”
“It isn’t that they’re ungrateful.”
“I know. It’s just that no one wants to be the one being rescued, we all want to do the rescuing.”
She nodded. “And this job is all about making everyone else do the rescuing. Which is why you’re here right now.”
“You want me to rescue someone?”
“No. I just know that Aliera can’t thank you, and if she could, you couldn’t hear it. So I’m saying it. Thank you.”
“I’ll have some more cheese.”
“Please do. It’s where your taxes go.”
“I’ve never actually paid much in the way of
taxes.”
“Then you should enjoy it even more.”
“And the Teckla in Tirma are still dead.”
“Yes, they are. Do you care?”
“No. Do you?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“The Empire has compensated the families, of course.”
“Good work. We used to do that sort of thing in the Jhereg.”
“How’d it work out?”
“Not bad, but people trust the Jhereg, so we had an advantage.”
She poured some white wine out of a tall, elegant bottle into a simple blue ceramic cup. She passed the cup to me, and I drank, then passed it back.
“I’ll let the Imperial Advocate know to hurry up the case, so you can get out of town fast,” she said.
“I just said—”
“I know what you said. Don’t argue with your Empress.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
“That’s better.”
I leave town for a few years, and when I come back, everyone I know starts drinking to the point of semi-incoherency. Was it that everything was too boring when I was gone? I somehow doubted that. On reflection, I decided it was a good idea not to ask Her Majesty if she was drunk. I put the plan into action at once.
We passed the cup back and forth a couple of times, and she refilled it. “You can’t do anything to protect Cawti?” I said.
“Norathar has promised to watch out for her, I can’t do better than that.”
“All right.”
“You know the difference between a decadent Phoenix and a reborn Phoenix, Vlad?”
“Is this about to be a joke?”
“No. Or maybe yes, but no.”
“Go ahead.”
“A reborn Phoenix knows to get out before the bad decisions start, that’s all.” I nodded. She said, “I’ve spent much of the last few days consulting the Orb, looking at memories. As far as I can tell, that’s the only difference. Once you start making bad decisions, one things leads to another, and then there are more dead Teckla that you don’t care about.”
“Do you think you made bad decisions?”
“No.”
I nodded. “Good, then. The idea of the Empress making bad decisions worries me. What about the Jhereg, the Left Hand, and the Orca? Are they going to get away with it?”
“No, I think you stopped them.”
“Me?”
“I should give you another Imperial title, but what would you do with it?”
“Yes, and how would you explain it?”
“Good point. There’s still some cheese left.”
“Zerika, are you planning to abdicate?”
“That isn’t the proper word. I’m thinking it may be time for the Cycle to turn.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“It would look bad.”
“Do you think I care?”
“You should. The Empire is all about appearances.”
She was quiet for a long time after that, then she seemed to sigh. If I had just talked the Empress out of stepping down, then I had just added to my tally on doing good for the world, and subtracted from my tally of helping friends. How would the Lords of Judgment weigh these things? I’d probably never know.
I decided that, whatever the Empress decided to do, my words made no difference. It was easier thinking that.
I cleared my throat. “The fact is, I’m safe enough if I stay at the inn—”
“As if you will.”
“—but that says nothing about Cawti. Can Norathar protect her and the boy?”
“I hope so. Norathar wants to protect her just as much as she wants to not be protected. And you may recall, she isn’t exactly helpless.”
“I know.” I sighed. “The more I do what I have to, the more barriers I put between me and everyone I care about.”
She nodded. “And now you know the other reason I asked you here. Welcome to my world. It’s better with company. I’m going to ask Laszló to keep an eye on her, too, but I’d rather you didn’t mention that to her.”
“All right. And thank you. Who is Laszló?”
“An Easterner. A witch. He’s very good at what he does.” A ghost of a smile crept over her features and I didn’t press the issue.
“I’ll look forward to meeting him,” I said.
She nodded. “Are you planning to say farewell to Norathar as you leave the Palace?”
Actually, I hadn’t thought about it at all, but I nodded.
“Don’t,” she said.
Right. Add her to the list. “All right.”
A little later she said, “The cheese is gone.”
I nodded, rose, bowed, took five steps backward, turned, and left her alone.
EPILOGUE
It was no surprise to anyone that, when the investigation concluded, everyone was cleared of any wrongdoing, except maybe the peasants, who were convicted of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was no surprise to anyone that there were riots in South Adrilankha in response. It was no surprise to anyone that there was a lot of blood involved in suppressing them. The only surprise was that Aliera agreed to become Warlord again a week or two later, but I think that was as a favor to Norathar.
Aliera has a strong sense of obligation.
Perisil moved out of his basement office and returned to a private office in the City itself, where he’s already doing much better than his first attempt. Reputation matters almost as much to an advocate as to an assassin or an Empress.
Two weeks ago I got word that I was cleared of all charges relating to the incident, which is good, but I was pretty much expecting it. So that’s done, and those four bastards who pounded me got what they deserved too, which is another one I owe Kragar.
I could leave now that everything’s over.
I could. Maybe I will.
I’m still staying here at Dancer’s Rest, and money is starting to get tight. Every few days, I find a new way to sneak out and visit Cawti and the boy, and every few days it becomes harder to do so safely, and every few days Cawti says I should get out of town. It’s nice that she worries about me, I guess. I hope she thinks it’s nice that I worry about her.
We are what we worry about, maybe that’s the lesson of the whole thing.
Nah.
If there were justice, someone would have paid for what happened in Tirma. If there were justice, a bunch of Easterners and Teckla in South Adrilankha wouldn’t have had their heads stove in. If there were justice, Cawti and the boy wouldn’t have to worry about their lives.
If there were justice, I’d be dead.
DELETED SCENES
Various scenes had to be deleted for length or content. I thought some of you might be interested in them. They may appear when I release the Director’s Cut of this book. But don’t hold your breath.
—SKZB
Prologue, Outside Whitemill, Page 13
I pulled the arrow from my eye, hearing myself scream. At that moment, a blast of magic from one of them hit me, and I saw my leg fly off at the knee. I fell to the ground, reaching for Lady Teldra, but one of them came in with an ax and took my right hand off at the wrist.
The air seemed to take on an odd golden shimmer, and I heard the Necromancer’s voice come out of nowhere. “Through the Gate, Vlad. Hurry!”
“Uh, what?”
“You have to get out of here, Vlad. You’ve landed in a Tim Powers novel.”
I moaned even as I felt the Gate form.
Hard gray walls appeared around me, and I heard voices speaking a language I didn’t know. “Am I going to be safe here?”
“Well,” she said, “Not, you know, safe exactly.”
“Whose novel are we in now?”
“Uh . . . John DeChancie’s, Vlad. Best I could do on short notice.”
I whimpered. “You couldn’t manage Louisa May Alcott?”
Chapter Two, Imperial Palace, Page 51
“I’m glad you’ve offered,” said the
Empress. “Yes, there is a service you could do.”
“I’m listening.”
“Far, far to the East—well beyond the kingdoms you know—there is ancient evil that is gathering power to itself. Its power comes from an Amulet of Evil that dates back to before the beginning of time. The power of the Amulet grows with each act of cruelty, or thoughtlessness toward another, or abuse of power, or greed. The sell-out of the writers’ strike didn’t do it any harm either. Soon it will become unstoppable, and using it, the ancient evil will enslave the entire world forever. You must destroy the evil, and take the Amulet and cast it into the Place Beyond Time.”
I nodded. “All right.”
It took six weeks to get there and an hour to do the job. Fortunately, I was able to teleport back.
“It is done,” I told Her Majesty.
“Thank you, Lord Szurke,” she said. “Evil has been banished forever.”
“Until the sequel, you mean.”
“Of course.”
I shrugged. “Just proving I’m willing to serve Your Majesty.”
Chapter Five, Dzur Mountain Stairway, Page 103
“Well met, friend.”
I looked around, and noticed a splotchy brown cat on the landing just above me. I stared at it.
“Something wrong?” it said.
“What the hell are you?”
It rolled its eyes. “This is a fantasy novel. I’m the obligatory talking cat. Get a clue.”
“Boss, can I—”
“Sure.”
When Loiosh and Rocza had finished their meal, we continued up the stairs.
Chapter Seven, South Adrilankha, Page 143
“Boss, isn’t there supposed to be a scene here making fun of the old ‘weapons that drink souls’ thing that always comes up in bad fantasy novels?”
“Loiosh, in case you haven’t noticed, there are weapons that drink souls in these books.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good point. Guess we stay away from that one, huh?”
“Probably best.”
Chapter Eleven, South Adrilankha, Page 209
“Maybe I’ll go walk up to the cottage and ask for sanctuary,” I said. “And then maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt. Wait. I wouldn’t say that.”