A Parliament of Owls

by Beth Hilgartner

  "Did have," Arre said with considerable relish. "If the boy isn't an utter fool, this will make him think—and maybe he won't like the explanations he comes up with. I certainly hope Rhydev and his young friend are enjoying a truly vituperative argument even as we speak. It may be beyond even Rhydev's ability to mend this one. If there's one thing a pompous youngster like Ancith can't bear, it's to be made to look ridiculous. And he's far more likely to blame Rhydev for it (especially if that manipulator has been directing their interchanges) than to shoulder any of the responsibility himself."

  "I wouldn't count on that, Arre," Khethyran said sadly. "Young fools like Ancith don't come to their senses very easily. Don't you remember the first time you thought you were in love? The object of your affection could have boiled you in oil and you would have found some way to excuse the behavior."

  She slanted a smiling glance at him. "Speak for yourself, O mighty Emperor. I've only ever been in love once—but I take your point. I've seen enough adolescent passion to know what you mean. Do we have to stay any longer, Kheth, or can we go?"

  Khethyran looked at his spymaster. "Are you coming? And are you sending anyone with us beside Marhysse?"

  Thantor gestured to two pairs of Imperial Guards; the men fell into formation around the little group and they made their way through the Palace to the Ghytteve complex. The Imperial Guards took up posts in the entrance hallway, with Khofyn and Yrhenne, while Marhysse led the guests to the library.

  Not only were Owl and Cithanekh there, but also Mouse, Khycalle, Lynx and Cezhar. They were sprawled in comfortable chairs, and judging from the array of empty and partially filled coffee cups, had been comparing notes for some time.

  "Don't get up," the Emperor forestalled them. "Just pour me some of Effryn's superlative coffee and tell me what you learned this afternoon."

  Cups were poured and passed while the newcomers found seats and made themselves comfortable.

  "I was just telling Cithanekh," Mouse said, "that he should know Yverri Ambhere has cast herself as a rival for Owl's affection. I tried to tell her it was futile, that there had never been anyone but Cithanekh for Owl, but she wouldn't listen. Even now, I daresay she's scheming to finagle a new opportunity to get Owl all to herself."

  "Oh, stop, Mouse," Owl said. "I told her I wasn't interested."

  "That's no use: it just makes you more of a challenge," Mouse retorted.

  "We already knew Owl was irresistible," the Emperor said a little wryly. "Didn't anyone learn anything else?"

  "I met the Admiralty candidates," Owl said after a moment. "I didn't learn anything terribly conclusive. Akhatheraf was drunk; and all my Gift added was a glimpse of some of his other dissipations. Myrhaf was asleep; I think he must be senile. My Gift gave me an image of a puppet—with Dhyrakh holding the strings. I spoke with Morekheth, but the only thing my Gift would show was the image of that black signet ring, strung on a chain. The obvious inference is that he is the man with the black ring—but I'm not sure I dare trust something so ambiguous. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I wish it were clearer."

  "I talked with Pezh, yesterday—one of Varykh's bodyguards," Mouse put in. "He said he had voted for Morekheth, but that the other two candidates were pathetic. He said, too, that he didn't think Rhyazhe could have been right that Adythe had been ordered to murder Morekheth and couldn't do it. Pezh was of the opinion that Dhyrakh and Morekheth are—how did he put it?—'sailing in formation' right now, but he thought there would likely be trouble between them in the future. Pezh seemed to indicate there is a great deal of division among the Dhenykhare, right now, and that there are those who secretly support Rhyazhe against her uncle. I don't know whether any of that helps, Your Majesty."

  "Rhyazhe," Cithanekh mused. "Enghan Mebhare says she has designed a very fast ship. His people are interested, as they think there would be a market here in Yrkhaffe for some of their fresh produce—the fruits and berries that don't thrive, here—if there were a way to transport them quickly."

  "But even a fast ship is dependent on the wind," Arre protested. "And weather is a fickle ally."

  "I'm only relating what he said. To my mind, a fast, maneuverable ship of the type he described would be more likely to be used as a raiding vessel than for hauling cargo."

  "Whether cargo or warships," Thantor said slowly, "she can't build a fleet without money—and timber. The Ythande wouldn't help her, would they, Lady Khycalle—especially not at the risk of alienating the ship-builders' clan?"

  "Her mother was Ythande: Zhentalle Pykhatheth-Ythande. Rhyazhe has ties if chooses to use them. And Dhyrakh…The current Duke does nothing to ingratiate himself with my folk. I think, if she can rouse the money, good timber will not prove an obstacle."

  "Raise," Owl said. At Khycalle's puzzled murmur, he elaborated. "The phrase is 'raise the money,' not 'rouse the money.' What has Dhyrakh done to alienate your people?"

  "He never pays quite what we ask. He is forever finding supposed flaws and discounting our price. We tell him that it costs what we ask—with its imperfections—because nothing in nature is perfect. But somehow the payments are always short, and usually late. Some of the eastern septs have threatened to stop harvesting for him until he agrees to pay what he owes; but we are dependent on the income. Time was when the Ythande took everything they needed from the forest; but we have learned to need things the forest does not provide—like coffee and silk." She shrugged. "So you see, some of my people would hop after the chance to sell ship-timber to Rhyazhe, if she had the money to pay for it."

  "Given that your people are looking for new buyers, Lady Khycalle, do you think some of the Ythande would also jump at the chance to sell ship-timber to the Federated States of Amarta?" the Emperor asked quietly.

  "Even the most hot-headed of my folk would ask themselves: why do the Amartans want more ships? And they would guess that the Hierarch had finally determined to launch a crusade. Even if they started with Kalledann, they would soon be at our necks. We are not stupid, Your Majesty; nor are we traitors."

  "Forgive me for asking," he told her. "I have nightmares about the Federated States; it makes me forget courtesy at times."

  She inclined her head.

  "Mouse—Amynne—did you have a chance to talk with Thyzhecci?" Cithanekh asked her.

  "I did." Her voice turned cold and poisonous. "I had talked with Ghynna's family, who confessed that they had sold her to the Dark Lady's Temple. Her younger brother had tried to see her a couple of times, of course without success, so I started out asking Thyzhecci about the girl. She tried to convince me that she couldn't possibly be expected to know all her temple slaves, but naturally, I wasn't convinced. She's far too shrewd to have let slip any damaging admissions, but she was—I think—concerned by my knowledge. And she knows without doubt that she has earned my enmity. You talked with her, too, Owl, no?"

  "Yes. She encouraged me to visit. It was classic Thyzhecci." He managed a tolerably persuasive version of her voice. "'I will serve you spiced wine and you will tell me all the things you learned among the mages of the Kellande School.' I declined to name a date and time, but I did promise I would visit her domain—unannounced; and she said she would endeavor to be prepared for me. She's all too experienced at the game of hint and innuendo, but I think I acquitted myself tolerably well."

  "You spent a long time with Yverri Ambhere," Cithanekh observed. "Was it all flirting, or did you learn anything from her?"

  "She spent a little time trying to assess the extent of my gift: greeted Lady Azhine and 'my Lord Duke' without clueing me it was Dhyrakh and not Ymlakh Glakhyre. Lynx had told me it was Dhyrakh, so I wasn't confused. She asked about it—even went so far as to tell me she had quite carefully avoided using a name for the Duke to see whether I would know it wasn't Azhine's idiot husband."

  "So maybe it isn't all a romantic game to her," Arre observed.

  "I told her I had a nasty, suspicious mind and that when someone starts trying to figure out the extent of m
y Gift, I start wondering whom they intend to tell. She appeared quite abashed by this; so maybe she's exactly what she seems—or maybe she's a good actress. Khycalle warned me she thinks Hassyth has an ally among the Queen's ladies, so I should be careful of Yverri; and I overheard two women—I don't know who they were—discussing another woman who had appeared to have two shadows."

  Arre drew breath sharply. "And you don't know who they were talking about, either?"

  "No, only that she was serenely pouring coffee while the shadow on the wall behind her cavorted like a mad thing."

  "And you didn't recognize the voices?"

  He shook his head. "And Lynx didn't see them."

  "Double shadows: Bodywalking," Khycalle shuddered. "But the goddess told you about that. I wonder if it is Hassyth or the other Adept, the unknown one, who is Bodywalking in the woman who pours coffee."

  "We had probably best assume it could be either or both of them," Thantor said. "Owl, do you think the man with the signet is the other Adept? Could it be Morekheth?"

  Owl sighed. "I don't know. I think—I believe the man with the signet was responsible for Varykh's murder." He remembered, suddenly, the image of the hand, girt with the silver and onyx signet, crushing the Guiding Light to splinters. "I've assumed that makes him the other Adept about whom Talyene spoke; but I could be wrong. It may not have taken evil magic to run the Admiral's ship onto the Jaws, just poison and treachery. I don't know if Morekheth could be the Adept. How long does it take to learn the skills of an ancient magic? Is he even old enough?"

  "He's five years older than you are, Owl," Arre supplied. "My brother Torres was a full Mage of the Kellande School—and teaching there—at the age of seventeen. Talents are trained, but training alone is never enough."

  They were silent for a moment. Finally, the Emperor spoke, his voice heavy. "I shall appoint Akhatheraf Admiral and do my best to outbid Dhyrakh for his loyalty—as you suggested, Thantor. Morekheth may be perfectly innocent, but I dare not risk putting a secret enemy of such caliber in charge of the Navy."

  A series of images, almost too rapid to interpret, flared through Owl's mind: Akhatheraf; a wine cup; a hand and a vial; a dark waterfront; a hooded figure with a knife. "He will be in great danger, Your Majesty, from the moment you make your intentions known," Owl said soberly. "Make sure he has competent and trustworthy bodyguards."

  "Owl, are you telling me to appoint Rhyazhe instead? I don't even know where she is."

  "She's in Cynteffarhe, I think," Owl said. "At least, Akhatheraf wrote to her there."

  "Does he support her, then?"

  Owl shrugged. "He didn't approve of how she was treated; but he also doesn't think women belong in positions of authority, Your Majesty."

  "Should I appoint her, after all?"

  "Kheth, you can't!" Arre said forcefully. "You would drive Dhyrakh into rebellion at the very mention of it—and he and all of his reactionary shipmasters would seize control of the Navy. There may indeed be sympathy for Rhyazhe, but if it is like Akhatheraf's sympathy, it won't extend to following her orders."

  "Besides," said Thantor softly. "If you lose control of the Navy, you will need Rhyazhe's fleet of fast ships to stalemate Dhyrakh."

  Cithanekh whistled. "That's taking a long view, Thantor. Do you think I should fund her fleet for her, then?"

  "The first thing she'd do with a fleet is challenge Dhyrakh," Mouse pointed out. "If he even suspected one of the Emperor's allies of…contributing…it would get damned ugly."

  "I'd be surprised if she'd take help from you, Cithanekh," Arre offered. "Or overt help, anyway. She's cautious; she won't want to sell her loyalty."

  "She'd have taken Rhydev's money," Cithanekh protested.

  "Yes, but for a specific task, however underhanded, not as a 'gift' to help her build her fleet. Do you see?"

  "Yes." His gaze turned speculative. "So if I came up with an underhanded way to—"

  Thantor held up one hand. "His Majesty ought not to hear this."

  They were all silent while the implications sank in.

  "I doubt it matters, Thantor," the Emperor said gently. "If Rhyazhe builds her fleet with money that can be traced—underhandedly or no—to Ghytteve, Dhyrakh will never believe I had nothing to do with it."

  "If Rhyazhe were successful at ousting her uncle, it wouldn't matter what Dhyrakh thought," Lynx remarked. "Your Majesty, do your honorable scruples forbid you to cultivate allies?"

  "Just because Rhyazhe is opposed to one of my enemies does not make her my friend; and despite what we suspect about the Dhenykhare, I remind you all that we have no proof of treasonous intent. Besides," he added a little sadly. "Rhyazhe is far more likely to precipitate clan war within the Dhenykhare than to unite them behind her leadership."

  "Ah," Lynx said, satisfied. At the Emperor's inquiring gesture, she elaborated. "Honorable scruples and realism, Your Majesty."

  The Emperor nodded and there was a short silence before Owl said, "Arre, you were going to look for stone houses with ogive windows today. Did you have any luck?"

  "Actually, yes," she replied. "More luck than I wanted. I found four in the Upper Town, all in the area between the Palace and the Temple District. I wrote the addresses down—they are in my room. Shall I get them?"

  "I'll go," Cezhar volunteered, "if you tell me where they are."

  "They're in the center drawer of the dressing table. Thank you, Cezhar." As the bodyguard left, Arre continued, "I thought we should pass the addresses on to Ferret. Doubtless her network can discover the owners of the houses. Once we know that, we can decide which—if any—we want to investigate."

  "Four houses," Owl murmured.

  "All nicely maintained in a pleasant residential area. At least two of them seem close enough to the Palace that they might have connecting passages—like your Upper Town house, Cithanekh."

  "Not mine—the Duke's," he corrected. "He doesn't come to town very often, so there's only a caretaking staff in it now."

  Cezhar returned then with the addresses.

  "Give them to me," Thantor suggested. "I'll send one of my agents down to Ferret later. It will be safer than any of you going into the Slums at night."

  Cezhar gave the list to the spymaster. He read it and handed it back. After an instant's hesitation, Cezhar gave the paper to Arre, who folded it and put it in an inner pocket.

  Effryn opened the door, then, a waft of delicious odors coming in with him. "Your Majesty, my lords and ladies: I've put together a very simple supper. It's laid out in the dining room, if anyone is hungry."

  "Simple?" Lynx repeated, with puzzlement.

  "Very simple," Cezhar corrected gravely.

  "I thought I knew the word. What does it mean?"

  "You do know the word," Owl assured her. "Effryn uses a very personal definition."

  The steward moved to Owl's side and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Well, would you eat more of it if I told you that Pazhref and I—not to mention the kitchen servants and all the off-duty bodyguards—worked our fingers to the bone to prepare something to tempt your appetite?"

  "Maybe," Owl smiled.

  "I'll tell you whatever you need to hear, as long as you'll eat. Come on."

  Chapter Twenty-one—Analysis

  After supper, once the Queen had dismissed them, it was the custom of the Queen's ladies to gather for conversation and coffee in the common room of the suite allotted to them. The common room was a large area with no doors but several archways that led to the various corridors where the women's private chambers were. One of the servants had lit the lamps and set up the samovar on a low table beside the chair Lady Azhine habitually occupied. This evening, once the coffee was poured and everyone was settled comfortably, the ladies who had not been at the Emperor's Reception expressed their eagerness to hear all about it from the ones who had been there.

  Averhacce Mebhare and Centyffe Azhere instantly obliged, making lively work of relating Amynne Ykhave's encounter with the Azhere C
ouncilor. Yverri was content to leave them to it. She recalled that Centyffe did not get on well with her cousin Rhydev, which doubtless accounted for the glee with which she recounted the scene. Pakhrielle Ykhave looked less than amused by the whole thing, though given the number of times her notorious cousin had been the subject of these evening gatherings, Yverri thought she should be used to it.

  "But who was he, Rhydev's friend?" Zhylande Glakhyre asked.

  "Amynne called him Ancith, and he must be an Anzhibhar cousin, since he went on about the blood of emperors, but I don't know who he is," Centyffe admitted. "Rhydev's been very discreet—up 'til now. Did you recognize him, Averhacce?"

  She shook her head, but Yverri said, "He's Councilor Cithanekh's younger brother."

  "Really?" Centyffe asked. "Now how do you know that?"

  Yverri shrugged. "When Rhydev and Ancith came in, Owl Ghytteve said, 'Cithanekh will have puppies when he sees his brother dressed up like brothel bait.'"

  The older ladies murmured in disapproval, but the younger ones laughed. "Did he say that to you, Yverri?" Lady Azhine demanded.

  "I think perhaps he forgot I was there," Yverri said.

  "But he's blind," Klarhynne Dhenykhare said. "How did he know what the Councilor's brother was wearing?"

  "Or even that it was the Councilor's brother," Averhacce added.

  Yverri shrugged again. "He's a Seer."

  "You spent quite a while in his company," Centyffe remarked, her eyebrows arching in speculation. "Are you hoping the acquaintance will help you with Councilor Cithanekh, or have you changed your target?"

  Yverri knew better than to let her annoyance show. Centyffe lived for gossip. To be fair, most of them did—and questions concerning who was pursuing whom were much the favored topics. So she responded laughingly, "I think they're both attractive. I'm not making any binding choices, yet."