Matters of State II
LADY TELDRA DIRECTED ME to the third-floor study in the South Wing, where I found Morrolan closeted with Daymar, whom I mentioned earlier. Daymar was thin and angular, with the sharp nose, chin, and jawline of the House of the Hawk, softened by a broad forehead and wide-set eyes. Loiosh flew over to greet Morrolan. Rocza, oddly enough, flew over to Daymar, whom she had never met, and stayed on his shoulder for the entire conversation.
Morrolan and Daymar were hunched over a table. Between them was something that looked to be a large black jewel. They were poking at it and staring at it as if it were a small animal and they wanted to see if it was alive. I went over to the table myself, and it took them a few moments to notice me. Then Daymar looked up and said, “Oh, hello, Vlad.”
“Good morning. What is that?”
“That,” said Morrolan, “is black Phoenix stone.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“It is similar to gold Phoenix stone,” said Daymar helpfully.
“Yes,” I said. “Only black instead of gold.”
“Right,” said Daymar, not noticing my sarcasm.
“What is gold Phoenix stone?”
“Well,” said Daymar, “once we discovered the black, we started digging around in Morrolan’s library and found a few references to it.”
“Morrolan,” I said, “would you care to enlighten me?”
“Do you recall,” said Morrolan, “the difficulty we had with psionic contact on the island?”
“Yes. Daymar was cut off, as I recall.”
He looked up from scratching Rocza’s chin. “Not cut off,” he said. “I collapsed from the effort of maintaining contact.”
I stared at him. “You?”
“I.”
“My goodness.”
“Yes.”
Morrolan said, “The only place Phoenix stone occurs is on the eastern and southern coast of Greenaere. Essentially, no psychic activity can pass through the effect of the stone, and the concentration around the island is sufficient to make it unreachable.”
“Then why could Loiosh and I communicate?”
“Exactly,” said Morrolan. “That is, indeed, the question. The only idea I’ve been able to come up with is that the connection between witch and familiar is fundamentally different from psionic communication. But how it is different, I don’t know. I’d been planning to reach you, but since you are here, perhaps you’d be willing to assist us in a few experiments to determine exactly that.”
“I’m not sure I like this, boss.”
“You and me both, Loiosh.” To Morrolan I said, “This may not be the best time.”
His eyebrows focused on me. “Why? Has something happened?”
“Oh, nothing. Another close brush with death, but what’s one more of those?”
For a moment he looked puzzled, trying to work out where the irony was, then he said, “Would you like some wine?”
“Love some. I’ll help myself.” I did so.
Morrolan said, “Tell me about it, Vlad.”
“Jhereg troubles.”
“Again?”
“I see.”
Daymar said, “Can I help?”
“No. Thanks.”
“Say, boss, doesn’t Aibynn have one of those things hanging around his neck?”
“Come to think of it, yes.”
“So that’s why I could never spot him.”
“Or anyone else on Greenaere, probably. Yeah.”
I turned back to Morrolan. “Where did you find this?”
Alittle Morrolan smile flitted across one side of his face. “Exploring,” he said.
“Where?”
“In the Imperial Dungeons.”
My heart started hammering. I said, “Cawti—”
“She’s fine. We didn’t actually speak much, but I saw her—”
“How did you—?”
“I was visiting the Palace, and I got lost, and about thirty Imperials got lost as well, and there I was.”
My hands were getting tired where I was gripping the chair. I relaxed them. “Did you speak at all?”
“I said hello, she looked surprised and nodded to me, by which time my guide was too nervous about the whole thing to keep me there. But I kept noticing these crystals about the place, so I acquired one on my way out.”
“But she seems well?”
“Yes. She seemed quite, um, spirited.”
“Did—damn. Wait a moment.” I grumbled, debated ignoring whoever it was, decided there was too much happening right now, and let my mental barriers down.
“Who is it?”
“Me, boss. Where are you? I can hardly maintain contact.”
“Just a moment, Melestav.” I moved to the far side of the room, well away from the crystal. “Is that better?”
“Some.”
“Okay. What is it? Can it wait?”
“Another messenger, boss.” There was something odd in his tone. I said, “Not from Toronnan this time?”
“No, boss. From the Empress. She wants to see you. Tomorrow.”
“The Empress?”
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Tomorrow is New Year’s day.”
“I know.”
“All right. I’ll talk to you later.”
I turned to Morrolan. “Can you think of any reason why the Empress would want to see me on New Year’s day?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you sing?”
“No.”
“In that case, it must be something important.”
“Oh, grand,” I said. “I can hardly wait.”
“In the meantime,” said Morrolan, “I just want to try a couple of things. I assure you there is no risk.”
“What the hell, boss? The worst that can happen is that it’ll kill us, and then we don’t have to worry about what the Empress is going to do.”
“A point,” I said, and told Morrolan to go ahead.
THE NEXT DAY WAS the first day of the Month of the Phoenix, in the Year of the Dzur, during the Phase of the Yendi in the Reign of the Phoenix, Cycle of the Phoenix, Great Cycle of the Dragon, which is why most of us say the year 244 after the Interregnum.
I was off to the Imperial Palace. Happy New Year.
If you’re sitting on the edge of your chair waiting to hear what the Imperial Palace was like, you’re in for a disappointment; I don’t remember. It was big and impressive and was built by people who know how to do things big and impressive, and that’s all I remember. I was there just past noon, all dressed up in my Jhereg colors, with my boots brightly polished, my cloak freshly cleaned, and a jerkin that fairly glittered. I had found my pendant of office and put it around my neck; just about the first time I’d worn it since I’d inherited it. I had thought for a long time about leaving Loiosh behind, and he’d politely refrained from the conversation, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so he sat proudly on my right shoulder. Rocza, who had been left behind, wasn’t very happy about it, but there are limits to how much of an outrage I wanted to be the first time I officially appeared before the Empress.
Appear before the Empress.
I was a Jhereg, the scum of society, and an Easterner, the scum of the world. She sat with the Orb revolving about her head, in the center of the Empire, and at her command was all the power of the Great Sea of Chaos, as well as all the military might of the Seventeen Houses. She had survived Adron’s Disaster, and braved the Paths of the Dead, rebuilding, almost overnight, an Empire that had fallen to ruin. Now she wanted to see me, and you think I was in shape to take notes on architecture?
I’d seen her once before, but that was in the Iorich Wing, when I’d been questioned concerning the death of a high noble of the House of the Jhereg. It seems that a minor boss in the Organization, a certain Taishatinin or something, had bought himself a Dukedom in the House and then proceeded to get himself killed. I can’t imagine why he wanted it except perhaps to feed his self-esteem, but there it was; he was a Duke, and when a Duke is murdered, the Empire investigates.
And somehow my name came up, and, after spending a couple of weeks in the Imperial Dungeons, I was ordered to testify “Under the Orb,” with the Empress there to observe, and all these peers of House Jhereg who had no power at all in the running of the Organization. I was asked things like, “When did you last see him alive?” and I’d say, “Oh, I don’t know; he was always pretty dead,” and they’d rebuke me sternly. They asked my opinion as to who killed him and I said that I believed he had killed himself. The Orb showed that I was telling the truth, and I was; messing with me the way he’d been doing was like asking to die. The only time the Orb caught me lying was when I made some remark about how overwhelmed I was to be speaking before such an august assembly.
I remember catching a glimpse or two of the Empress, seated behind me to my left, and wondering what she thought of the whole thing. I thought she was pretty for a Dragaeran, but I don’t remember any of the details, except for her eyes, which were gold.
This time I noticed a little more. After a vague period of feeling as if I were being handed from one polite functionary to another, and in which I gave my name and titles more times than I had in the last year put together, I was allowed into the Imperial throne room, and then I heard my name, stepped forward, and became aware of myself and my surroundings for the first time that day. Globes and candles were lit, and the place was full of aristocrats, all in a festive mood, or pretending to be in a festive mood.
I was aware of her, too. She wore a gown that was the color of her eyes and hair, and her face was heart-shaped, her brows high and fine. I stood before her in the Hall of the Phoenix. Her throne was carved of onyx and traced with gold in the representations of all Seventeen Houses. I instinctively looked for the Jhereg, and saw part of a wing near her right hand. I also discerned unobtrusive black cushions on the throne and didn’t know whether to be amused or not.
The seneschal announced me and I stepped forward, giving her the best courtesy I knew how to give. Loiosh had to adjust himself to keep from falling off, but did so, I think, fairly gracefully.
“We give you welcome, Baronet Taltos,” she said. Her voice was just a voice; I mean, I don’t know what I expected, but I was surprised when she sounded like someone you’d meet at the market pricing coriander.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I ask only to serve you.”
“Indeed, Baronet?” She seemed amused. “I suspect the Orb would detect a falsehood there. You are usually more careful in your evasions.”
She remembered.
“It is a pleasure not to have to dissemble before Your Majesty,” I said. “I prefer to lie directly.”
She chuckled, which didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was the lack of scandalized murmuring from the faceless courtiers behind me. Perhaps they knew their Empress. She said, “We must speak together. Please wait.”
“I am at your service, Majesty.”
As I’d been coached, I stepped backward seventeen steps, and then to the side. I wondered if watching an hour or so of Imperial business would be boring or if it would be interesting. In fact, it was startling, because I had momentarily forgotten the festivities, and the first thing I noticed was Aibynn holding his drum to the side and speaking with the singer I recognized, and someone I didn’t know who was holding an instrument similar to the Eastern Hej’du.
I went over and said hello. Aibynn seemed faintly surprised to see me, but also distracted. Thoddi was more gregarious, and introduced me to the other musician, an Athyra whose name was Dav-Hoel.
“So, there are three of you now,” I remarked to Thoddi.
“Actually there should be four of us, but Andler refused to play before the Empress.”
“Refused?”
“He’s an Iorich, and he’s upset about, you know, the conscription in South Adrilankha, and the Phoenix Guards, and that kind of thing.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” I said. Thoddi nodded as if he understood, which I doubted. “Anyway,” I said, “good luck.”
Shortly after that, they were called on. Thoddi began to sing some old tavern song about making candles, full of innuendo and bad rhymes, but I watched Aibynn. He had the same dreamy smile as always, as if he were hearing something you couldn’t hear, or seeing something through his half-shut eyes that you couldn’t see.
Or knew something you didn’t know.
Such as, for instance, that he was about to assassinate the Empress.
“He’s going to do it, Loiosh.”
“I think you’re right, boss.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Can you think of any way to leave?”
“Well, no.”
“What do we do?”
“You come up with a plan. I’m fresh out.”
I watched with a horrified fascination as Aibynn began to move, the drum cradled against his left side. He spun in place for a while, then began to dance out and back as the singing died and they just played. Was he moving closer to the Empress? I tore my eyes away from him and saw her having a low-voiced discussion with a lady of the House of the Tiassa. The Empress smiled, and though she spoke with the Tiassa, her eyes were on the musicians. She had a good smile. I wondered if it was true, the tavern gossip about a lover who was an Easterner.
Aibynn was, yes, closer now. If he had concealed a knife, or a dart, or a blowgun, he could hardly miss, and no one was near him. I began to move forward. I glanced back at the Empress, and she was looking at me now. I stopped where I was, unable to move, my heart thundering. She smiled at me, just a little, and almost imperceptibly shook her head. What was she thinking? Did she think that I . . . ?
The song ended on a roll of the drum and a clatter of the lant-like instrument Thoddi played, and the musicians bowed. Aibynn returned to the side, and they started another song, an instrumental piece I didn’t know. I stepped backward, shaking and confused. What had just happened? What had almost happened? How much had I imagined?
Dav-Hoel’s instrument teased the melody the same way Aibynn’s drum was teasing the rhythm. On the other hand, I wished they’d just play the song, but everyone else seemed very impressed, and the Empress looked positively excited. I’ve never been very knowledgeable about music.
After that they did a silly song about snuff, then an instrumental they introduced as the Madman’s Dance, and then Loiosh said, “Boss, wake up! The Empress!”
“Huh? Oh.” She was gesturing to me, still looking amused.
I came forward, bowed once more, and she said, “Come with me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She stood, stretched quite unselfconsciously, threw a purse to the musicians, and went behind the throne through a curtained doorway. I followed, feeling self-conscious enough to make up for both of us. She turned back to me and nodded that I was to catch up to her. I did, and the four of us, the Empress Zerika, the Orb, Loiosh, and I, walked together in silence. Was it stranger for her to be walking with a Jhereg, a jhereg, or an Easterner? On the other hand, if it was true that she had a human lover—
She caught me staring at her and I turned away, feeling myself blushing.
“You were thinking improper thoughts about your Empress?” she said in a voice that sounded more amused than offended.
“Just speculating on rumors, Your Majesty.”
“Ah. About an Eastern lover?”
“It’s true,” she said. “His name is Laszlo. He isn’t my lover because he is an Easterner, nor despite it. He is my lover because I love him, and he is an Easterner because that is the house in which his soul resides.”
I licked my lips. “How can you read my thoughts without my familiar catching you at it?”
She laughed, just a little. “By watching your face, and by guessing. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
“That’s all?”
“It is often enough. For example, I saw you try to foil an attempt on my life that was not going to take place. Had you forgotten the Orb, which protects the life of the Emperor?”
I blushed once more. I had forgotten. To cover, I said, “It hasn’t always worked.”
“You,” she said, “are not Mario. And neither is your friend from Greenaere.”
“Then I imagined the whole thing?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“You were not troubling to keep your worries from your countenance, and you are an assassin.”
“Who, me?”
“Yes,” she said, “you.”
There was nothing to say to that, so I said nothing. We went around a corner and through more plain white halls. She said, “For some reason, I do my best thinking when walking right here.”
“Like a Tiassa,” I said without thinking.
“What?”
“Excuse me, Your Majesty. Something I heard somewhere: Tiassa think walking, Dragons think standing, Lyorn think sitting, and Dzur think afterward.”
She chuckled. “And when do you think, good Jhereg?”
“All the time, Your Majesty. I can’t seem to help it.”
“Ah. I know the feeling.” We walked some more. She seemed very casual with me, but there was the Orb, circling her head slowly as we walked, and changing color occasionally; from the murky brown a few moments ago to a calm blue. I wondered if she was deliberately trying to confuse me.
“You are a very unusual man, Baronet Vladimir Taltos,” she said suddenly. “You bring someone you think might be an assassin into the Empire and allow him to appear before me, and yet you were ready to act to protect me when you thought he might really do something.”
“How did you know he is from Greenaere?”
“I suspected it when I found him psychically blank. I checked with the Orb, and there are memories recorded of the sort of clothes he wears and the type of drum he plays.”
“I see. Your Majesty, why did you summon me?”
“To see what you looked like. Oh, I remembered you faintly, from your skillful dancing around the truth during a certain murder inquiry. But I wanted to know a little better the man who threatened his own House representative right on the Palace grounds, and whose wife is best friends with my Heir.”
I chuckled at that, remembering the nature of that friendship.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I know all about it.”
“How?”
She shook her head. “Norathar has told me nothing. But I am, after all, the Empress. I suspect I have a better spy network even than you do, Lord Taltos.”
Ouch. “I wouldn’t doubt it, Your Majesty.” What didn’t she know? Did she know, for example, that I was the one who had started the war with Greenaere? Probably not, or I’d be in the cell next to Cawti. “Is this how you usually spend the New Year’s festivities, Your Majesty?”
“It is when we are threatened with war, and simultaneously with rebellion. I worry about these things, Baronet, and decisions must be made—such as if I am to step down and let the House of the Dragon take the Orb. I will spend today seeing everyone who I think may have a role to play in all of this.”
“What makes you think I will have a role to play in war and rebellion, Your Majesty?”
“I could give several answers to that, but the short one is, when I searched the Orb for names, yours was one that emerged. I don’t know why. Can you tell me?”
“No,” I said, keeping careful control of my features.
“Cannot, or will not?”
“Will not, Your Majesty.”
“Very well,” she said, and I breathed again.
I said, “Will there be war, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“As am I. The alliance of Greenaere and Elde will be a difficult one to defeat. It is all but impossible to effect a landing in either place, whereas we have too many miles of coastline to protect. In the end, we may have to crush them with numbers, and that will be costly, in lives and everything else.”
“What do they want, Your Majesty?”
“I don’t know. They don’t seem to want anything. Perhaps there is a madman behind it. Or a god.”
We went around another turn, again to the left, and there was a slight rise to the floor. “Where are we now, Your Majesty?”
“Do you know, I’m not exactly certain. This is a route I walk often, but I’ve never known exactly where it goes. There are no doors or other paths that I’ve found or heard of. I sometimes wonder if it was put here just for this purpose.”
“Then I suppose it would be pretty useless during the reign of a Dragon, Lyorn, or Dzur.”
She chuckled. “I suppose it would.”
The walk straightened out. “Your Majesty, why is my wife in your dungeons?”
She sighed. “First, let us be accurate. They are not dungeons. Dungeons are dank cells where Duke Curse-Me-Not keeps merchants he can’t justify executing but whose goods he likes more than the prices. The Lady Cawti of Taltos, Countess of Lostguard Cleft and Environs, resides in the Imperial prison on suspicion of conspiring against the Orb.”
I bit my lip. “Noted, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Now, as to why she is there: because she wants to be. There was a petition to release her, it was granted, she refused.”
“I know about that, Your Majesty. The Lady Norathar made this petition. What did she say upon refusing?”
“She didn’t specifically say she wanted to stay, but she wouldn’t sign the document we required for her release.”
“Document? What sort of document, Your Majesty?”
“One that said she would not engage in any activities contrary to the interests of the Empire.”
“Ah. That would account for it.” The Empress didn’t say anything. I said, “But, Your Majesty, why was she arrested in the first place?”
“I’m wondering,” she said slowly, “how much you know, and how much I should tell you.”
“I know that it was my own House that made the petition. But why was it granted?” In other words, since when did a Phoenix Empress care a teckla’s squeal about the business workings of House Jhereg?
She said, “You seem to think I am at liberty to ignore whatever requests I wish to.”
“In a word, Your Majesty, yes. You are Empress.”
“That is true, Baronet Taltos, I am Empress.” She frowned, and seemed to be thinking. The floor began to slope up and I began to feel fatigued. She said, “Being Empress has meant many things throughout our long, long history. Its meaning changes with each Cycle, with each House whose turn it is to rule, with each Emperor or Empress who sets the Orb spinning about his or her head. Now, at the dawn of the second Great Cycle, all of those with a bent toward history are looking back, studying how it is we have arrived at this pass, and this gives us the chance to see where we are.
“The Emperor, Baronet Taltos, has never, in all our long history, ruled the Empire, save now and again, for a few moments only, such as Korotta the Sixth between the destruction of the Barons of the North and the arrival of the Embassy of Duke Tinaan.”
“I know only a little of these things, Your Majesty.”
“Never mind. I’m getting at something. The peasants grow the food, the nobility distribute it, the craftsmen make the goods, the merchants distribute them. The Emperor sits apart and watches all that goes on to see that nothing disrupts this flow, and to fend off the disasters that our world tries to throw at us from time to time—disasters you can hardly conceive of. I assure you, for example, that stories of the ground shaking and fire spitting forth from it and winds that carried people off during the Interregnum are not myths, but things that would happen were it not for the Orb.
“But the Emperor sits and waits and studies and watches the Empire for those occasions when something, if not checked, might bring disaster. When such a thing does occur, he has three tools at his disposal. Do you know what they are?”
“I can guess at two of them,” I said. “The Orb and the Warlord.”
“You are correct, Baronet. The third is subtler. I refer to the mechanism of Imperium, through the Imperial Guards, the Justicers, the scryers, sorcerers, messengers, and spies.
“Those,” she continued, “are the weapons I have at hand with which to make certain that wheat from the north gets south as needed, and iron from the west turns into swords needed in the east. I do not rule, I regulate. Yes, if I give an order, it will be obeyed. But no Emperor, with the Orb or without, can tell if every Vallista mine operator is making honest reports and sending every ton of ore where he says he is.”
“Then who does rule, Your Majesty?”
“When there is famine in the north, the fishermen in the south rule. When the mines and forges in the west are producing, the transport barons rule. When the Easterners are threatening our borders, the armies in the east rule. Do you mean politically? Even that isn’t as simple as you think. At the beginning of our history, no one ruled. Later, it was each House, through its Heir, which ruled each House. Then it became the nobles of all the Houses. For a brief time, at the end of the last Cycle, the Emperor did, indeed, rule, but that was short-lived, and he was brought down by assassination, conspiracy, and his own foolishness. Now, I think, more and more it is the merchants, especially the caravaneers who control the flow of food and supplies from one side of the Empire to the other. In the future, I suspect it will be the wizards, who are every day able to do things they could not do before.”
“And you? What do you do?”
“I watch the markets, I watch the mines, I watch the fields, I watch the Dukes and the Counts, I guard against disasters, I cajole each House toward the direction I need, I—what is that look on your face for, Baronet?”
“Each House?” I repeated. “Each House?”
“Yes, Baronet, each House. You didn’t know the Jhereg fits into this scheme? But it must; otherwise why would it be tolerated? The Jhereg feed off the Teckla. By doing so, they keep the Teckla happy by supplying them with those things that brighten their existence. I don’t mean the peasants, I mean the Teckla who live in the cities and do the menial work none of the rest of us are willing to do. That is the rightful prey of your House, Baronet, for if they become unhappy, the city loses efficiency, and the nobility begins to complain, and the delicate balance of our society is threatened.”
The slant of the floor was back down now; I decided my legs would probably survive. “And these people,” I said, “are threatening the Jhereg, and so they must be removed. Is that it?”
“Your House thinks so, Lord Taltos.”
“Then you don’t really believe they are a threat to the Empire?”
She smiled. “No, not directly. But if the Teckla become unhappy, well, so will others. If there were no war looming over us, perhaps it wouldn’t matter. But we may require more efficiency than ever, and to have our largest city disrupted, just at this moment, could have terrible consequences for the Empire.”
I thought about a story I’d once been told by a Teckla, and almost said that if the Teckla were so damn happy, why didn’t she just go become one, but I was afraid she might take it the way I meant it. So I said, “Is one Jhereg Easterner likely to make that much of a difference?”
“Will it matter to your House, Baronet?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty. But it won’t matter to them as much as it will matter to me.”
We passed through a curtain and were once more in the throne room. I heard the strings of Thoddi’s instrument, the wail of Dav-Hoel’s, and the clacking drone of Aibynn’s drum. The courtiers bowed, and it was as if they were bowing to me, which was pretty funny. The Empress pointed to a woman in the colors of the House of the Iorich. The woman approached as Zerika sat herself in the throne. I backed away.
“I hereby order and require the release of and full freedom for the Countess of Lostguard Cleft and Environs,” she said, and I damn near cried.