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  “I don’t know. But look: the part of this that could most reasonably be a slip is that you and Norathar are still alive. So the only thing that should have been accomplished, so far, is the deaths of you two. Now of the two of you, it makes the most sense that someone would want Norathar killed, and it probably has to do with her background. What if we assume that’s the case and go from there. What does that get us?”

  “It still doesn’t explain the war on you. Why not just kill her? Or, if he wants to be devious, give us the job of killing you and hire someone else to finalize us there?”

  I nodded. “There’s more to this than I can see,” I admitted. “I know just the person we’re going to want to talk to about it.”

  “Who?”

  “What Dragonlord do you know of with the most interest right now in who the heir is? Who could have set this whole thing up, just to have Norathar dead, then revivified, then made the Dragon Heir? And maybe make attempts on my life just to make things look good? Who is it who most wants to find a new heir to the throne?”

  She nodded. “Aliera.”

  “I’m going to arrange a teleport,” I said.

  * * * *

  Cawti and I leaned on each other for support. We stood in the courtyard of Castle Black, which floated above a small village about 175 miles northeast of Adrilankha. The tip of Dzur Mountain could be seen to the east, which was a more pleasant view than looking down provided.

  “I’m sick,” I remarked conversationally.

  Cawti nodded.

  “The couple that heaves together, cleaves together.”

  “Shut up, Loiosh.”

  Cawti chuckled. I glanced at her sharply.

  “Loiosh, did you say that to her, too?”

  “Shouldn’t I have?”

  “You shouldn’t have said it at all. But that isn’t what I meant. It’s just . . . interesting.”

  By then our stomachs had settled down a bit; we approached the doors. They opened, displaying a wide hallway and Lady Teldra. She bestowed compliments upon us, during which we learned that Aliera was with Morrolan in the library. I told her we could find our own way. We went up the stairs, not stopping, as I usually did, to look at the artwork, and clapped at the door to the library.

  “Enter,” said Morrolan.

  We did, and I could tell by looking at their faces that a remarkable thing was occurring: they weren’t arguing about anything.

  “Is one of you sick?” I asked.

  “No,” said Morrolan. “What leads you to ask?”

  “Never mind. I have to talk to you, Aliera. Morrolan, this probably concerns you, too, so you may as well hear it.”

  “Sit down, then,” he said. “Wine?”

  “Please.” I looked over at Cawti. She nodded. “Two,” I said. “Where is Norathar?”

  “She is being examined,” said Aliera.

  “Oh. Probably just as well.”

  One of Aliera’s fine eyebrows climbed. “She shouldn’t hear this?”

  “Not yet, anyway.”

  As we pulled up chairs, a servant appeared with wine. Morrolan favors sparkling wines, whereas I think such things are an abomination. But, since he knows that, he brought a dry white, nicely chilled. I raised my glass in salute, sipped, and let my tongue enjoy itself while I tried to figure out how to tell Aliera what I had to tell her, and how to find out from her what I wanted to know.

  When she’d had enough of waiting, she said, “Yes, Vlad?”

  I sighed and blurted out the story of the assassination attempts as best I could, not going into any more detail than necessary about my own affairs, and never actually saying that Cawti had admitted trying to kill me. I mean, Aliera knew it, but habits are hard to break.

  As I spoke, she and Morrolan became more and more alert. They occasionally exchanged glances. I finished up by saying that I could see no reason why Laris would have wanted Norathar dead, but I couldn’t explain things any other way. Did they have any ideas?

  “No,” said Aliera. “But it doesn’t matter. And, as soon as I can track him down, it will matter even less.”

  Morrolan coughed gently. “I would suggest, my dear cousin, that you at least wait until the Lady Norathar’s position is confirmed. You are currently the heir, and the council hardly approves of Dragons involving themselves with Jhereg.”

  “So what?” she snapped. “What will they do to me? Find me unfit to be Empress? Let them! Besides, Norathar is certain to be confirmed.”

  “Hardly,” said Morrolan. “She has a long history of associating with the Jhereg.”

  “Completely justified, under the circumstances.”

  “Nevertheless—”

  “Nevertheless, I don’t care. I’m going to find this Jhereg, and I’m going to show him Kieron’s Sword. You are welcome to assist me. Hindering me would be an error.”

  She stood up and glared at Morrolan. “Well?”

  I turned to Cawti and said in a normal tone of voice, “Don’t worry about it; they do this all the time.” She giggled. Neither Aliera nor Morrolan appeared to hear me.

  Morrolan sighed. “Sit down, Aliera. This is nonsense. All I am asking you to do is wait a day or two, until we know the results of the council’s decision on Lady Norathar. If she fails to become the heir, we will discuss it then. There is nothing to be gained by rushing out there like this. You have no way of finding him.”

  She glared at him for a moment longer, then seated herself. “Two days, then,” she said. “At the most. Then I kill him.”

  “I’ll help,” said Cawti.

  Aliera started to object, but Cawti interrupted. “It’s all right,” she said. “You forget: I’ve worked with Dragaerans before. I really don’t mind at all.”

  * * * *

  Cawti and I happily accepted Morrolan’s hospitality in the form of a good lunch. Then I excused myself and went back into the now deserted library to think.

  All of this business with Norathar, I decided, was fine, but it wasn’t helping me find Laris, or at least get him off my back. Cawti and Aliera could talk about killing him, but they couldn’t find him any more than I could, even if Aliera was telling the truth. And I couldn’t afford to wait. If this kept up, I’d be out of business in a matter of weeks, at best.

  It occurred to me that I might be able to get a message to him, proposing a truce. But he wouldn’t go for it. And when I remembered Nielar’s body, lying in the rubble of his shop, and the years I’d worked with Temek, and with Varg, I knew that I wouldn’t go for it either.

  Which brought me back to finding Laris, which brought me back to the big questions: Who had been working with Baritt shortly before his death? Was this person Laris’s patron? How did this fit in with the business with Norathar? Was it Aliera? If not, who? And how to find out for sure?

  I had reached that point when Cawti, Morrolan, and Aliera walked in. Before they could even sit down, I said, “Morrolan, did you find out anything yet about that Athyra?” I tried to keep an eye on Aliera as I asked the question, but her face betrayed nothing.

  “No. Sethra is looking into the matter. Is there something in particular you wish to know?”

  “Yes. You said that an Athyra is likely to be recommended by someone: can you find out who recommended the one used in Norathar’s earlier examination?”

  He nodded. “I see why you are asking. We must assume that the Athyra was, as you would say, ‘a ringer,’ and whoever recommended her may have known this. Very well, I’ll see if I can find out. But I doubt that it was recorded, and it is unlikely that anyone remembers.”

  “Except the one who did it, of course. Hmmm. Is there any way of putting together a list of everyone who could have made the suggestion?”

  Morrolan looked startled. “Why—yes, that should be possible. I shall look into it immediately.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It is nothing.”

  “How much will that help, Vlad?” asked Aliera after Morrolan had left.

/>   “I don’t know,” I said carefully. “It’s impossible in something like this to tell who’s a willing dupe, who’s an unwilling dupe, and who might be behind it. But if we can find out who made the recommendation, it’ll at least be a start.”

  She nodded. “What about the Lyorn?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her yet. But look: I was told that the Lyorn was only there to make sure all the forms were followed. Say they were. There isn’t any reason why the Lyorn couldn’t have been taken in by whoever fooled Sethra the Younger about the first examination.”

  “True.”

  “So, of the people involved, we have: Sethra the Younger, who was duped or involved; the Lyorn, who was duped or involved; Baritt, who was duped or involved and then assassinated; and someone posing as an Athyra, or an Athyra using a false name.”

  “In other words, we have nothing.”

  “Right. We have to find out who that ‘Athyra’ was; she’s our only clue to whoever is behind it—if, in fact, she isn’t behind it herself.”

  “Well, Vlad, don’t you have the name of the Lyorn noble? Why don’t you ask her? She’s liable to remember, or at least have written it down—Lyorns write everything down.”

  “Now there,” I said, “is an idea.” I considered for a moment. What would Aliera do if . . . “But Lyorns don’t like to talk to Jhereg,” I said suddenly. “Is there any chance that you can find out for me?”

  “What is her name, and where does she live?”

  I told her.

  “I’ll find out for you,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  She bowed to Cawti and me, and left.

  “Why did you do that, Vladimir?”

  “To find out what Aliera will do about it. If the Lyora shows up recently dead, we have our answer. If not, we’ll see what Aliera says the Lyora told her.” I sighed, and settled back to think. Cawti came up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders. I reached up with both hands and touched hers. She leaned over my head and kissed me upside down, dislodging Loiosh.

  “You two are disgusting.”

  “Quiet. I’m busy.”

  There was a clap at the door. We sighed and Cawti straightened up.

  “Come in,” I called.

  Norathar came in, death written all over her face. I stood up and glanced at Cawti, whose eyes were locked with Norathar’s.

  “The examination showed you aren’t a Dragon,” I suggested.

  “Wrong,” she said.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I am now confirmed as a Dragonlord—but not as the heir.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. If you two would rather—”

  “It isn’t that,” she snapped. “They wish to ‘observe’ me for a while before making me the heir. I have to serve a stint in the Phoenix Guard, to ‘prove’ myself. As if I have any desire to be Emperor, anyway!”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t any Dragonlord ever want to be Emperor?”

  “No,” said Norathar.

  “Okay. You’re upset that they don’t trust you enough to make it immediate?”

  “Some. But I found out something else. I’m afraid that it isn’t something I can discuss with you, Lord Taltos. But my sister and I—” She stopped, and I guessed that she and Cawti were conversing psionically. After a moment, Norathar turned to me and said, “So you know.”

  “About why your attack on me failed? And what it means?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll understand why my sister and I must leave for the moment. We have to attend—”

  “How did you find out?”

  “I was told.”

  “By whom?”

  “I swore not to say.”

  “Oh.”

  “Farewell for the—”

  “Wait a minute, please. I have to think. There’s something, before you go . . . ”

  “Make it quick.”

  I ignored the looks of inquiry Cawti was giving me, and reached out—“Morrolan! Come back here, quick!”

  “Why?”

  “No time. Hurry!”

  And then, “Aliera, there’s trouble. Morrolan’s on his way, you should be here, too.” Whether Aliera was innocent or not, she would want to stop Norathar—I hoped.

  Morrolan came bursting into the room, Aliera following by a second or two. Morrolan’s blade was at his side, but Aliera was holding eight feet of glistening black steel. They looked at me.

  “What is it, Vlad?” asked Morrolan.

  “The Lady Norathar wants to go out Jhereg-hunting.”

  “So?”

  “So the Dragon Council has—”

  “This isn’t any of your business, Lord Taltos,” said Norathar coldly, her hand on the hilt of her blade.

  “—accepted her as a Dragon, but—”

  Norathar drew her blade. Loiosh hissed and gathered himself on my shoulder. I had a brief glimpse of Cawti, a look of anguish on her face, but then Morrolan’s longsword, Blackwand, was in his hand. He gestured with it toward Norathar, and her blade swung and buried itself deeply into a wooden beam against the wall of the library. She looked at Morrolan, wonderment in her eyes.

  “My lady,” he said, “at Castle Black, I do not allow the killing of my guests except under conditions where they can be revivified. Further, you, as a Dragonlord, should not have to be reminded of treatment of guests.”

  After a moment, Norathar bowed. “Very well,” she said. She wrenched her sword out of the beam and sheathed it with the plain efficiency of a Jhereg, instead of the flash of a Dragonlord. “I’ll be leaving then. Let’s go, sister.”

  “Aliera, stop them!”

  As I finished “speaking,” Morrolan turned to Aliera. “What did you just do?”

  “I put a teleport block around Castle Black,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Norathar’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “Lord Morrolan,” she said slowly, “I must insist—”

  “Oh, for the love of Verra,” I said. “Can you at least give me thirty seconds to finish my sentence?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  She stared at me, but Dragonlords have been trying to stare me down since I was nineteen.

  I said, “The Dragon Council wants to observe her for a while, before officially making her the heir. If she goes running off after Jhereg, that’ll do it. I felt you two should know, and at least have the chance to talk her out of it before she does something that commits her. That’s all. Now, the rest of you argue about it. I’m leaving before someone takes my head off.”

  I didn’t quite run out of the library. I went down to the entryway and found a small sitting room. I helped myself to a glass of cheap wine and quaffed it, thinking dark thoughts.

  * * * *

  The bottle was half empty when someone clapped at the door. I ignored it. It was repeated, and I ignored it again. Then the door opened. My scowl died when I saw that it was Cawti. She sat down.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Loiosh.”

  “Oh. What happened?”

  “Norathar has agreed to wait two days before doing anything, same as Aliera.”

  “Great.”

  “Vladimir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Do what? Stop her?”

  “Yes. Don’t you want someone to take Laris out?”

  “She isn’t going to have any better luck finding him than I will. The same goes for you and for Aliera.”

  “But, still, with more of us looking . . . ” She let the sentence die, and I didn’t pick it up again. After a minute or so, I remembered my manners and poured her some cheap wine, too. She sipped it, delicately, thumb and forefinger around the stem, little finger off in space somewhere, just like at Court. And she kept her eyes fixed on me the whole time.

  “Why, Vladimir?” she repeated.

  “I don’t know. Why ruin her chances for nothing?
”

  “Who is she to you?”

  “Your partner.”

  “Oh.”

  She set the glass down and stood up. She walked over to my chair and looked down at me for a moment. Then she dropped to one knee, took my right hand in hers, kissed it, and rubbed her cheek against it. I opened my mouth to make some smart remark about was I supposed to pat her head, or what, but Loiosh brought his head around and smacked me in the larynx so I couldn’t speak.

  Then, still holding my hand, Cawti looked up at me and said, “Vladimir, it would make me the happiest of women if you would consent to be my husband.”

  About three hundred years later I said, “What?”

  “I want to marry you,” she said.

  I stared at her. Finally I burst out with “Why?”

  She stared back at me. “Because I love you.”

  I shook my head. “I love you, too, Cawti. You know that. But you can’t want to marry me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, damn it, I’m going to be dead in a few days!”

  “You said Laris was bluffing.”

  “Maybe he is, but he won’t be if I keep coming after him. And whatever game he’s playing, he has to make it real sooner or later.”

  “He won’t get you,” she said calmly, and I almost believed her.

  I kept staring at her. Finally I said, “All right, I’ll tell you what. When this business with Laris is over, if I’m alive, and you still want to, I mean, well, um, of course I will. I, oh, Deathsgate, Cawti. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you, lord.”

  “By the Lords of Judgment, get off the floor! You’re making me feel like—I don’t know what.”

  She calmly got up off her knees and stood before me. Then she broke into a grin, jumped, and landed on my lap. The chair went over backwards and we ended up on the floor in a tangle of limbs and clothes. Loiosh barely escaped in time.

  * * * *

  Two hours and three bottles of wine later, we staggered back up to the library. Morrolan was alone there. I was just sober enough not to want him to know how drunk we were, so, somewhat regretfully, I did a quick sobering spell.

  He looked us over, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Come in.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I turned to Cawti, and noticed that she’d given herself the same treatment. A shame.