The Phoenix Guards Page 10

  Khaavren set his glass carefully on the table, for though it was only his fifth in as many hours, still he felt that his head was beginning to swim. “Well,” he said carefully, “it was a well-done piece of work today.”

  “You think so?” said Tazendra.

  “I am sure of it.”

  “Well, then I’m satisfied. The Orb! Did you mark our friend Pel?”

  “What of him?”

  “The look on his face while he fought. Who would have thought such a thing of a Yendi? We had not yet engaged, so I was able to observe his battle, and hang me for a thief if I’d not have surrendered myself if I saw his countenance charging me, as if all the were-beasts of the Paths had been let loose. And then, when his man had surrendered, he was as polite as an Issola. ‘Good sir, you have given me your sword, be assured I will keep it among my valued heirlooms.’ Were those not his words, good Khaavren?”

  “To the very expression, Tazendra. And did you not as well admire our friend Aerich? He stood like a mountain of iron, impervious and unmoved, and then, when he saw his chance, Kieron’s Boots! Such speed!”

  “That is true. He reminded me of—” Tazendra abruptly broke off her speech and turned red.

  “Well, of who?”

  “Ah, it is of no importance.”

  “Come now, good Tazendra. Let there be no secrets among us.”

  “No, no, it matters not. Come, let me get you more wine. But what is this, there is no bottle and the innkeeper asleep? Well, we will help ourselves, then, and here’s some good sausages to go with it, for you know I dislike drinking without eating at the same time. It is said to be bad for the health. Hence, we will satisfy our gastronomical needs and our palates at the same time.”

  “Tazendra, you reason like an Athyra. Yet don’t expect me to match you glass for glass; you are aware that I drink but a little.”

  “My god, I think so! Here I am with the remains of four good bottles of Ailor, and you have only finished a bottle of Khaav’n, which, if I am not mistaken, our good friend Tuci helped you with.”

  “But what then, we can not all be Dzurlords.”

  “Ah, that is true, and, if truth be known, I think it would be a dull world if all were.” Tazendra, who had drained her glass and filled another by this time, went on to say, “My mother, the Countess, used to say, ‘Remember, we are only one part of this great body of Empire. And if we hold on to the valor, then others must needs take care of the rest.’”

  “A wise woman, your mother,” said Khaavren. “And, no doubt, a valorous one.”

  “Of a certainty she was. Who would have thought she—” and Tazendra broke off here, frowning.

  “You were saying?” said Khaavren.

  “I? I was saying nothing.”

  “Oh, indeed, you were speaking of the valor of your mother.”

  “Bah! It means nothing.”

  “Oh, but come, Tazendra, she must have been bold enough for two Dzurlords; where else could you have gotten such courage? For we all know that character passes from mother to daughter, just as from father to son. Cracks in the Orb, haven’t the Dragon wizards proved it?”

  Tazendra said, in a whisper Khaavren could barely hear, “And yet she ran.”

  “Bah. From what?”

  “From a battle she was losing.”

  “What? Is it true?”

  “It is what I was told. One day while I was still a child, barely thirty years of age, in fact, there was a great rumbling which woke me up. My mother and father and my nurse came into my chamber, and I remember my mother was wearing her cutting sword, not the thrusting sword, and my father wore a leather harness from which hung his greatsword and a dagger. I said, ‘But why are you armed? They only shook their heads, and hugged me and entrusted me to the care of the nurse.”

  “Well, and what then?”

  “Then I was taken out of our castle, and I never saw them again. I was later told that they had been attacked by an army of Dragonlords hired by someone who coveted our holdings, and that they had been cut down by sorcery as they’d tried to flee the battle.”

  “But what of their own army?”

  “Army? They had no army.”

  “But then, it was the two of them against a battalion of Dragonlords?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you think they should have fought?”

  “Well, they should not have run.”

  “I will never understand the Dzur,” said Khaavren. “But then, who was this enemy?”

  “That,” said Tazendra, “I never found out, though I long to know.”

  “But, if he took your holdings, couldn’t you find out who now owns them?”

  “Well, I was, in fact, just setting out to discover this when I happened to meet you and Aerich in that charming little town. But now that I have joined the Guards, my time is not my own.”

  “Cha! We are allowed leaves from time to time. You could use one for your search, could you not?”

  “I nearly think so. Will you help me in this search?”

  “I should be delighted to.”

  “Well, we will consider the matter to-morrow, then.”

  “We will do so.”

  It happened, however, that Tazendra, who had had a great deal to drink, didn’t recall this conversation for some time, and since Khaavren had also been drinking, the thought likewise didn’t cross his mind.

  Nevertheless, it is the case that from this day forward the four friends were firmly and irrevocably accepted into the brotherhood of the Red Boot Company of the Imperial Guard, and passed many a gay evening dicing, playing cards, and drinking with their new comrades.

  On one such occasion, at an inn which was called The Rose Bush, Khaavren chanced to be sitting near a window with Aerich on his right and Pel on his left as they watched Tazendra, who was engaged in losing a good sum of money, playing with two gentlemen of the House of the Iorich. Pel had engaged Khaavren in an animated discussion comparing two of the more common breeds of horse, about which Pel seemed to know enough to startle Khaavren, while Khaavren was expert enough to surprise Pel. Aerich, as was usual, merely listened.

  “You cannot deny,” said Khaavren, “that the Megaslep is rather slow, and, in fact, has little endurance.”

  “I do not deny this,” said Pel. “Yet it is of high intellect, and can be trained easily.”

  “Oh, as to training, yes. But the Browncap can also be trained, save for the stallions, which are often unmanageable. The Browncap is, moreover, faster for shorter distances, can run longer, and carry more weight. Should I be called upon to enter into battle on horseback, its courage would serve as well as its other virtues.”

  “Well, then,” said Pel, “I admit to you that were I to enter a campaign, as seems likely enough, I could wish for nothing more than a Browncap mare or gelding, and yet—”

  “Well,” said Khaavren. “What then?”

  “I only wish to say this: there are other uses for horses than to ride to campaigns upon them.”

  “Indeed, yes,” said Khaavren. “You refer to draught animals, or to carriage beasts?”

  “I was thinking more of the pretty little Megaslep.”

  Khaavren shook his head, “And of what use is such an animal, then?”

  “Well, you understand, the Megaslep is a fine animal to be seen on, both for its features and its gait. And under certain circumstances, one might wish for nothing more than a fine-looking animal, impractical though it may be.”

  “Under what circumstances are these?” asked Khaavren, as Tazendra won a small sum back and began her turn at dealing out the cards.

  “Well, for example,” said Pel, “if you will look out on the street there, you will see a young man of the House of the Phoenix, leading a Longear mare. The gentleman is engaged in an animated conversation with a lady of the same House. It seems that, should he actually wish to impress her, he might have a little Megaslep to dance for her, and bow its—but stay, good Khaavren, what is the cause of that r
emarkable expression which has just crossed over your features?”

  For, in fact, Khaavren was staring quite fixedly at the Phoenix lady his friend had just pointed out, and he realized that she was none other than the lady with whom he had traveled, she in the guise of an Issola, on his journey to Dragaera City. “A moment, good Pel,” he said, “but I believe I recognize someone I have seen before. Allow me a moment to discover if I am deceived.”

  Chapter the Eleventh

  In Which the Plot, Behaving in Much the Manner

  Of a Soup to which Corn Starch Has been Added, Begins, at Last, to Thicken

  WITHOUT AWAITING AN ANSWER, KHAAVREN ran from the inn. Once outside, however, he paused long enough to ask himself what he would say to her, to whom his thoughts had returned on more than one occasion since they had parted company. Therefore, it was with hesitation that he approached, stopping only when he was close enough to hear the words being spoken, with the intention of stepping in at the exact point in the conversation when he should deem it most propitious. This did not, however, prevent him from taking the opportunity to listen to the discourse, in which, at this moment, the lady was speaking.

  “But then, dear brother, you say she scarcely noticed you?”

  “Hardly, my sister. That is to say, she caught my eye once or twice, but, beyond the barest flicker of her brows, which could (I must say it) have been only an imagining on my part, she hardly acknowledged me or my gift.”

  “A woman of frost!”

  “Well, I haven’t given up.”

  “Well then, brother, what next?”

  “We must either surrender the battle, or find a new means of attack.”

  “Surrender, my brother, is impossible. You know what is at stake: for you, for me, for our friends, for the Empire. I repeat: surrender is impossible.”

  “Then a new direction must be found.”

  “Well, have you one in mind?”

  “I, sister? But it is always you who have the ideas.”

  “And, in truth, you have seen how far my last one took us. Come, you must find one of your own.”

  “And, if I do?”

  “Then I will endeavor to support you with all the means at my disposal.”

  “Well then, here is my idea: we must find a way to give her that which she most wants.”

  “That is not badly taken, brother. But what is it that she wants more than anything else? Had she only her husband’s love of jewels, the answer would be simple.”

  “No, it is not jewels she wants. It is something else.”

  “But do you know what it is?”

  “Well, my sister, I think I do.”

  “What? You know?”

  “Yes. And not only that, but so do you.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Ah! But how?”

  “I don’t know. I will consider. Do you, on your part, consider also.”

  “Well, I will. We will speak together to-morrow, at the place you know, and discover if our thoughts have brought us anything.”

  “Excellent, then. Until to-morrow.”

  “Until to-morrow.”

  Upon saying this, the cavalier turned, mounted his horse, and rode off down streets which had not been designed for a horse to travel on, forcing him to pick his way carefully among pedestrians, hand-carts, and doorsteps. Khaavren was able to observe, as he went by, that this brother was the gentleman who had been her pretended husband on the coach-ride. We must add, then, that, upon discovering this, the first idea that crossed Khaavren’s active mind was that if he was her brother, perhaps she had no lover; for it is clear that it is easier to fill a position for which a vacancy has been posted than to replace someone who has been carrying out his duties in a satisfactory manner.

  As passers-by scurried into doorways to avoid the horseman, the lady turned away from him and was thus face to face with Khaavren, whom, to judge from the expression which crossed her features, she recognized at once. “Sir, Guardsman,” she said, “Did we not meet some weeks ago?”

  Khaavren bowed low. “Your memory is as perfect as—” he caught himself, and blushed. “That is,” he amended, “you are correct.”

  The Phoenix, either inobservant or tactful, gave no appearance of noticing Khaavren’s discomfort. “Your name is Khaav’n, like the wine, is it not?” she asked.

  “In fact, my lady, you remember nearly exactly, for though I style myself Khaavren, still the wine that calls my name to your thoughts is produced from grapes that grow in the very district from which I take my name. That is, the names are identical, but their pronunciation differs slightly. And now that my identity has been established, I am most anxious to learn yours, for I can hardly call you by the name you gave while pretending to be an Issola, and yet I must know your name so I can happily offer to perform for you any service you might require.”

  A slight flush came to her cheeks when he called to mind the deception she had practiced, yet she did not deny it. She merely said, “My name is Illista. And did you mean what you just said?”

  It took Khaavren a moment to realize to what she could be referring, and when he did, his heart gave such a leap that he was barely able to nod in answer.

  “Come,” she said, “walk with me to my carriage, for I have things to say to you.”

  Without a glance, then, at the companions he was deserting, Khaavren fell into step next to Illista. “Do you know,” he said, “that you have a lovely name? It recalls to me the waterfalls from the Trior River, a tributary of the Shallow River which flows near my home.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Do you think so?”

  “I do think so. Illista. It flows from my tongue.”

  “You will make me blush,” she said.

  “Oh, never,” he said. “But, you perceive that we have arrived at your carriage. What did you wish to say?”

  “Pray get inside, and I will tell all.”

  “You see, I am entering just as you wish, for I trust you completely.”

  “Oh, you are too good.”

  “Not the least in the world. But do not keep me waiting. What is it you have to say to me?”

  “Only this:—oh, I cannot.”

  “You cannot? That is what you wish to say to me?”

  “No, I cannot say what I wish to say to you.”

  “How, cannot?”

  “Oh, but I must.”

  “Must what?”

  “Tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “My lady Illista, it nearly seems as if you are in some distress.”

  “Well, and if I am?”

  “Then I only ask to be told the nature and cause of this distress, that I might remove it.”

  “Oh, if only you could.”

  “I can. I will. I swear to it. If it is a man, I will destroy him. If it is a thing, I will obtain it. If it is a cause, I will champion it. If it is a god—”

  “Well?”

  “Well, if it is a god, I will take him from his seat and escort you there, though all the phantoms of the Paths should guard the way.”

  “So you say. But what will you do?”

  “Ah, you wound me.”

  “I?”

  “Try me, that is all I ask.”

  “You swear you can be trusted?”

  “I will hold your secrets dearer than the whispers of my heart.”

  “Well then, I will tell you. But not now.”

  “Well, name for me the time and place.”

  “Do you know an inn where, some few weeks ago, you killed a man called Frai?”

  “Indeed, I could hardly forget it. But how do you know of it?”

  “Oh, as to that,” she said, “I know a great deal of what happens in the city. But since we are agreed as to the place, be there to-morrow when night falls, and I will whisper in your ear.”

  “I will be there without fail.”

  “I count on you, then.”

 
; “Not in vain.”

  “That is well. Go now.”

  “I go, as I arrive, at your bidding.” With these words, he leapt from the carriage and dashed back to the inn where his friends awaited him. Tazendra immediately began to question him, but he indicated with a sign that he would discuss the matter later.

  “Very well, then,” said Pel. “We were discussing, I believe, horses.”

  “But rather than that,” remarked Aerich, “we ought to discuss the aftermath of the little affair at the archery range.”

  As he pronounced the words, “archery range,” the two Guardsmen with whom Tazendra was playing smiled, as, in fact, did Tazendra. Pel and Khaavren, however, frowned, as they had sufficient perspicacity to catch something in Aerich’s voice when he pronounced the word, “aftermath.”

  “What of it, then?” said Pel.

  “The Captain did me the honor to speak to me of it today.”

  Khaavren shifted uncomfortably and said, “Does he know, then, that we were involved?” He had just recalled that the fight had taken place without the sanctions required by Imperial Law.

  “How could he not?” said Pel. “Do you pretend he is deaf and blind?”

  “But then, why are we not arrested?” said Khaavren.

  “That is,” said Aerich, “G’aereth knows; the Captain is, as yet, ignorant.”

  Khaavren nodded. “Then this discussion was without the Orb, as the saying is?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well then, what did he have to say?”

  “That someone wounded the Cavalier Dekkaan.”

  “And you said?” asked Pel.

  “I said it was a most unfortunate thing.”

  “Well, and did he agree?” said Khaavren.

  “He did more than agree, he concurred.”

  “Well?”