A Parliament of Owls

by Beth Hilgartner

  "Now that the caravan matter is settled, Your Majesty, I wonder whether you are prepared to appoint an Admiral. Surely it is not a good thing to leave the Navy, as it were, rudderless."

  "That appointment has been very much on my mind," Khethyran said calmly, "but I have not yet reached a decision. It is indeed important for the Navy to have a leader; but I also feel that it is crucial the Navy have the right leader, and I am not yet clear in my mind which of your candidates will best serve."

  Dhyrakh drew breath, but before he could speak, the door was flung open and four Imperial Guards came in and bowed.

  "Your Majesty, forgive the interruption," one of them said. "There has been an attempt on the Queen's life: poison. She is unharmed."

  "The children?"

  "They were not involved, Majesty. The only casualty was one of the Queen's dogs."

  Khethyran nodded and made a slightly vague gesture with one hand. "The Council is adjourned." He rose, and as the Councilors leapt to their feet, he swept out with his Guards.

  ***

  When Cithanekh arrived back at the Ghytteve apartments, Arre, Owl and Lynx were in the library. It was not a cheerful gathering. He could feel tension in the room; there were lines of strain around Owl's mouth and Arre was pale.

  "You've heard about the Queen, then?" It was more a statement than a question.

  "I was there," Arre told him. Her tone was strange and brittle. "Owl warned me against the marzipan; I warned her, and she fed a piece to her dog."

  "She didn't believe you, then," Cithanekh said. "She'd be more likely to poison one of her ladies than one of her dogs."

  "No. She didn't believe me. Her exact words were: 'Foolish. He's a charlatan'—referring to you, of course, Owl. And a minute later, the dog was dead. All told, I'm grateful the poisoner chose something fast. The possibility of a slow poison had occurred to me, so I wasn't planning to eat any of it; but think how—awkward—it would have been if the dog had taken no immediate harm and the Queen had eaten the plateful, only to find it was a poison that takes several days to kill."

  Cithanekh eyed the bard anxiously. "Arre, are you all right?"

  "I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean."

  "But what's wrong?"

  Lynx spoke quietly. "If Owl had not warned Arre, she would be dead, and the Queen would be unharmed. The poison was fast. One always offers dainties to one's guest first, no?"

  "And marzipan is one of my favorites," Arre added. "So someone wanted me, but not the Queen, dead. And Donkey was very interested when I told him the sweets were brought in by one of the Queen's ladies—a woman she called Klarhynne."

  "Klarhynne Dhenykhare," Lynx put in, as she passed the image of the woman—gleaned from Thantor—to Arre and Owl.

  "That's the one," Arre agreed. "Is she significant?"

  "The woman who tried to poison me spoke with her voice," Owl said. "Or at least, that's what I thought at the time. Of course, Adythe Dhenykhare's suicide did rather complicate the issue."

  "So," Arre said softly. "Is she a minor khacce piece, or the player?"

  "I don't know," Owl admitted.

  "But Arre," Cithanekh persisted. "This is hardly the first attempt on your life; why is it so much more difficult for you?"

  She shrugged and managed a smile. "It's not even the first time Owl has saved my life. And I am grateful," she added touching the Seer's shoulder gently. "But I guess it felt like a particularly near miss. What if you hadn't asked me about what I was doing after we left Kerigden?"

  Owl shivered. "I know. It terrifies me."

  "We are always only one inhalation away from death," Lynx said quietly. "But we dislike being reminded of it."

  Arre drew a deep, shuddering breath. "When the Queen asked me what I wanted, I told her I wanted a place in Kheth's shadow—no matter what happened. It's true; but sometimes I forget what it means. It's not just the attempt on my life, though, that unnerves me. It's all of it: Kerigden; the sacrifice of the girl; the attack on Owl at the Free School."

  "Wait," Cithanekh said. "Tell me."

  They filled him in on the events of the morning. When they had finished, Cithanekh looked grim, and he was clearly struggling not to say something. Arre raised one eyebrow and made her tone brisk. "So. Tell us what happened in Council, Cithanekh."

  He related—in a considerably shortened form—the arguments of the morning, and the Emperor's compromise. "The Dhenykhare—or Dhyrakh, anyway—are pressing him to name an Admiral. Do you have any more thoughts about that, Owl?"

  Owl shook his head. "We should probably arrange for me to meet them, though I don't imagine the Dhenykhare are going to like the suggestion that a lowborn, former slave could have anything to say about the suitability of one of their own for the post of Admiral."

  "Clearly, it's time for one of Kheth's Dreaded Receptions," Arre said dryly.

  "Gods," Cithanekh groaned.

  "What is this 'Dreaded Reception?'" Lynx asked.

  "A cross between a party and a tournament," Arre explained. "The Emperor invites a few allies, a liberal contingent of enemies, and the most observant and quickest witted of his personal Guard; he serves light refreshment and strong drink and watches to see what will happen. I hate them."

  "What does happen?" Lynx inquired.

  "It depends," Cithanekh replied. "There's a good deal of verbal jousting, and occasionally, something of import occurs. To date, there's never been any bloodshed, though we've come close. I hate them, too."

  "What fun," Owl put in sarcastically. "I can hardly wait."

  "So. I'll recommend it to Kheth," Arre said. "Any suggestions for the guest list—beside the Admiralty candidates, that is?"

  "Enghan Mebhare," Cithanekh said.

  Arre's eyebrows rose. "Is he enemy or ally?"

  "I'm not sure. Perhaps we can figure that out."

  "Mouse," Owl said. "And Thyzhecci."

  Arre and Cithanekh exchanged glances. "He's a natural at this," Arre remarked.

  "Perhaps," Cithanekh said heavily, "the Emperor should invite Rhydev Azhere and my brother Ancith."

  Arre shivered.

  "The Lady Khycalle Ynghorezh Ythande," Lynx proposed. "Did you hear from her, Arre? Did her bird deliver your message?"

  "Yes—and brought a letter back from Torres. In the press of events I forgot to tell you." She smiled wryly. "He professed himself grateful for the warning, while managing to convey the sense that he was surprised and a little hurt that I thought he needed it."

  At that moment, Effryn appeared in the doorway. "Would you like me to bring luncheon in here, or would you prefer to eat in the dining room?"

  "Will you stay, Arre?" Cithanekh asked her, but she rose to her feet.

  "Thanks, but no. I need to check on Kerigden. I'll stop by later." And with that, she was off.

  "If it's all one to you, Cithanekh, let's eat at a table. It's easier than balancing a plate on my knee."

  Cithanekh touched his friend's shoulder. "Are you tired, Owl?"

  "I'm frightened," he admitted. "And I don't have time to indulge myself in a bout of hysterics. I promised to try some meditation techniques to see if I can glean anything useful about Kerigden's situation; Lynx and I have some mindwork to do; and if Donkey doesn't show up before lunch is over to ask me about this latest poisoning, and the boy at the Free School, I'll be very surprised."

  Cithanekh moved to stand behind Owl, massaging his friend's tight muscles. "We could have Effryn tell him we're indisposed."

  Owl smiled. "Do you think it would deter him?"

  "No, I suppose not." He helped Owl to his feet and took his arm. "At least, let's feed you. You're still too thin."

  ***

  The noon rush was ending as Mouse came into the taproom of the Trollop's Smile. The tavern master, Arkhyd, looked up in surprise. "Mouse—I mean Lady Amynne."

  "Mouse is good enough, Arkhyd. Are you keeping well?"

  "Oh, aye. Happen business could be better, but I've no serious com
plaints. What brings you here?"

  "I'm meeting Ferret. Am I too late to get lunch?"

  "Fish stew, pork pie or bread and cheese?"

  "Pork pie," she told him, "and a glass of your excellent brandy." She settled at a corner table to wait. She had barely started to eat when her friend joined her.

  "Ho, Mouse," the thief said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "I was sorry to hear about Ghynna and Penarh. It's an ugly business."

  "It is. It's the ugly games the nobles like best, though. Have you seen Owl since he got back?"

  "Only when we pulled Arre out of Rhyazhe Dhenykhare's trap."

  "He doesn't look well. He's terribly thin. Donkey assures me he looks better than when he first arrived, but it's a little hard to believe."

  Ferret eyed her with wry amusement. "If you are trying to ask me something, Mouse, you'd better just put the question to me."

  Mouse's smile was a little rueful. "And if I'm stalling, I should give it up and come to the point? Well, I'll try. Ferret, Owl said that Penarh had been used by a powerful Adept—put under some sort of compulsion. But I didn't think that sort of thing really happened—and certainly not to youngsters from the Slums. Do you know what's going on?"

  Ferret considered her friend for a long moment. "I've…heard some things," she said at last. "There have been rumors of evil magic, even before Ghynna's murder. I had thought they were merely scare stories from the Federated States of Amarta, but it is beginning to look as though there may be some truth in them."

  "Memory-thieves and shape-stealers? I've heard those stories, too, Ferret, but surely they can't be true. If there were really a bunch of wizards with such awesome power and total lack of scruples, we—and the Amartans—would have been overrun, long ago."

  "True, Mouse. But there needn't be many of them for the stories to have some truth. I mean, think of Owl; there's only one of him, and yet, look at the havoc he wreaks in the careful plots of the Emperor's enemies. Perhaps there's only a small cadre—maybe even only one proponent of this powerful, old evil."

  "If you were an Adept of some secret evil teachings, would you really come out of your safe obscurity to advance the cause of the reactionary aristocrats of Bharaghlaf? Ferret, it makes no sense. If the Adept has all this power, why would he—or she, I suppose—need the nobles' help? Wouldn't the Adept be able to provide for his needs in a much safer and more subtle way? Linking one's fate to a bunch of plotting nobles is about as sensible as hiring a wolf to shepherd the new lambs."

  "I know. If you look at it that way, it doesn't make any sense; but Mouse, do you remember the stone Owl gave to Squirrel?"

  "The stone sacred to the Windbringer. Yes." Her gaze went distant as she thought back to those terrifying days when Owl had been Ycevi Ghytteve's slave, and she and her friends were caught up in the nobles' dangerous intrigues. Squirrel had fallen into a Ghytteve trap when he used the secret passages in the Palace to give a warning to Owl. He would have been killed, but Owl had given him a stone sacred to the Windbringer, which rendered Squirrel invisible and enabled him to escape the tightening snare. Mouse eyed Ferret doubtfully. "Do you mean to imply that the gods are somehow taking a part in all of this? Why would they care who's Emperor in Bharaghlaf?"

  Ferret shrugged. "I can't speak for the gods. But Kerigden is lying helpless because of someone's machinations; and it seems to me that if the Windbringer doesn't instantly strike down the perpetrator, it may be that she is constrained in some way. Didn't Arre or Kerigden ever tell you about the Windbringer's wager?"

  Mouse frowned. "Everything got so confusing at the end. I remember Arre saying something about a wager, but I assumed the Windbringer had won it when Ycevi was killed and Owl survived. Didn't you?"

  Ferret shrugged again. "I suppose I did, but I've come to wonder whether they've decided to go for two throws out of three."

  Mouse shivered. "I don't think I like being one of the gods' ysmath bones."

  Ferret smiled wryly. "I doubt they care whether or not you approve."

  "No," she admitted. "But the gods aside, what's plot, and what's coincidence? The Admiral's dead—was it murder? Do you know?"

  "Owl believes it was murder. He had a vision that the crew was drugged, the lifeboats holed, and the ship driven onto the rocks."

  "That's not any rumor I've heard. Did he tell you?"

  "No. Donkey did. The Dhenykhare are in this up to their scheming necks. There was Adythe Dhenykhare's apparent suicide—after an attempt on Owl's life."

  "Wait. Another attempt on Owl's life?"

  Ferret nodded. "Someone—a veiled woman claiming to be Adythe Dhenykhare—poisoned him. Lynx—and Kerigden and Arre—saved his life."

  "And Lynx saved his life this time, too. But Kerigden's out of commission, now."

  Ferret nodded. "And there was an attempt on Arre's life as well, today. It failed: Owl warned her."

  Mouse considered. "Rhyazhe Dhenykhare tried to kidnap Arre. Some of my students helped to thwart that; do you suppose their efforts drew the ire of the plotters?"

  "I couldn't say, but it doesn't seem likely. Owl and Donkey both believe Rhydev Azhere was behind that attempt. Personally, I doubt very much Rhyazhe and Dhyrakh are pursuing the same ends."

  "And is Rhydev involved with this Adept?"

  "I don't know," Ferret admitted. "I can't really imagine Rhydev collaborating with Dhyrakh, though. Oh, he'd use him happily enough, but Dhyrakh's methods aren't very elegant; and Rhydev doesn't strike me as the type willing to share power."

  Mouse was silent as she thought about all the players. She knew the nobles—probably better than Ferret did, though she certainly didn't have Ferret's access to rumor. Rhydev was clever and subtle; she could easily believe that his was a deep game, and they hadn't seen more than a ripple at the surface of it. But Dhyrakh didn't strike her as much of a conspirator. Oh, he was used to getting his way—but he was the sort who decreed, coerced and punished, where the Azhere Councilor would lure, manipulate and inveigle. It was impossible to picture them working together. "I wonder," she said at last, "if someone in the Dhenykhare is using Dhyrakh as the dupe in this."

  "Well," Ferret said, startled. "But who?"

  Mouse shook her head. "Other than their steward and a few of the bodyguards, I don't really know any of them—but I can't think that Dhyrakh would look like a good risk to the Adept."

  "Maybe the Adept is using him."

  "Oh, undoubtedly. But if I were this Adept, I wouldn't have begun with the Dhenykhare—unless there's someone clever behind the scenes. If I were looking for someone easily manipulated and irascible, I'd pick Ymlakh Glakhyre; but Dhyrakh is shrewd enough to be troublesome."

  Ferret was silent while she thought. "Mouse, do you think you could undertake to find out a bit more about the Dhenykhare? You know: who else is at Court, or attached to Dhyrakh's household. I know Varykh was a friend to you; did he ever talk about the others in his House?"

  "Not much. He loved and respected Rhyazhe, but I never met her. He said once that she had twice the talent for design than any of her brothers or cousins, but that all Dhyrakh saw was the value of her marriage in his endless negotiations. I'm sorry, Ferret; I don't have much to give you. Mostly, when he was with me, we talked about the Free School. I will try to find out more about the Dhenykhare—and there's something you can do for me."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. Get me the names of the upper echelon of priestesses in the Dark Lady's Temple. I owe Thyzhecci for Ghynna's death, and I have every intention of paying that particular debt."

  "Very well. But Mouse, be careful."

  "Indeed. I shall be careful, thorough and ruthless."

  ***

  The Emperor's spymaster was shown in with the coffee. Cithanekh poured a cup for him and gestured him to a chair. Thantor seated himself and looked about. "I thought Arre might be here."

  "She went to check on Kerigden," Owl told him. "How is Her Majesty?"

  "She is distressed. And angry.
"

  "And the Emperor?" Cithanekh asked.

  Thantor sighed. "About as you would expect. So: tell me all about this morning. From the Watch's garbled account of the incident at the Free School, I daresay there's a good deal of detail in what you can tell me."

  Owl and Cithanekh related the events of the morning, concluding with a summary of their discussion with Arre and the suggestion that the Emperor hold one of his receptions. Thantor sighed, and winced at their proposed guest list. "You can't hate the Emperor's Dreaded Receptions any more than I do," he told Cithanekh. "All you have to do is attend and survive. It's my job to arrange security for them."

  "Cezhar could help you—and Lynx," Cithanekh volunteered.

  "Cezhar and Lynx will be busy—especially if your brother comes. Ancith might actually be fool enough to think he could get away with a murder in the press of company."

  "He's not a bad young man," Cithanekh's voice was troubled. "I don't think he'd really hurt Owl."

  "I wouldn't bet on that," Thantor said bluntly.

  "Especially not after Rhydev's been pouring poison into his ears," Owl added gently. "Ancith has never loved me, and Rhydev could persuade a cat out of a fish market, if he put his mind to it."

  Cithanekh sighed but did not venture further protest. "What have you found out about the attempt on Arre's life?"

  "Arre's life?" Thantor repeated. "Officially, it is an attempt on the Queen's life."

  "I didn't realize this was an official visit," Owl put in sourly. "What did you find out about Klarhynne Dhenykhare? Is she culpable?"

  "There's no conclusive proof," Thantor admitted. "She brought the marzipan in, but it could have already been poisoned before she even touched the plate. There was plenty of opportunity; the chef made the dainties yesterday afternoon, so they were in the kitchen all night and most of the morning."

  "What was the poison? Thekheth?"

  "Yes."

  "And the Queen is definitely beyond suspicion?" Owl persisted.

  "I'm not overly trusting of Celave Azhere Anzhibhar," Thantor admitted, "but she does love those dogs. I cannot believe she would sacrifice one of them in that manner."