Phoenix Read online

  Sethra shook her head. "They haven't actually fought since before the Interregnum."

  "Last time we fought Elde," said Aliera, "Greenaere was on our side."

  "Yes," said Sethra. "And they lost half their fleet for their trouble."

  "Fleet?" said Morrolan. "Then they have a navy?"

  "They have many fishing boats, and most of them are capable of long voyages. The fishermen become their navy when they need one."

  "Do they have a standing army?" asked Aliera.

  "Not to speak of," I said.

  They both looked at me. When I didn't elaborate, Morrolan cleared his throat and said, "Elde does."

  "It seems strange," I said, "that they think they can win against the Empire."

  "Perhaps," said Aliera, "they're hoping it won't come to war."

  "In that case, they're stupid," said Morrolan.

  "Not necessarily," said Aliera. "They haven't done so badly in the past. There have been nine wars with Elde, and-"

  "Eleven," said Sethra. "Twelve if you include the first invasion of Dragaerans, but I suppose we oughtn't to include that one."

  "However many," said Aliera. "The Empire has never won decisively. If we had, they'd be part of us."

  Morrolan made a dismissing gesture. "They've always been hurt worse than we have."

  "Not always," said Aliera. "They attacked during the Ash Mountain uprising, and we had to negotiate a peace. A common ancestor of ours was beheaded for that fiasco, Morrolan."

  "Ah, yes," he said. "I remember. But other than that—"

  "And during the fifteenth Issola reign, they attacked again and we had to sue for peace."

  "There was a war with the East at the time." "All right, so as long as we're not distracted—" "So," interrupted Sethra. "Just what is going on in

  South Adrilankha, Vlad?" First Morrolan, then Aliera stopped and looked at me as the significance of what she'd said hit.

  "Good question," I said. "I've been wondering about that myself."

  Among my enforcers and bodyguards was a guy called Sticks, named for his favorite weapon. I called him into my office and had him sit down. He did, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his demeanor relaxed. He always seemed relaxed. Even when he was in action, which I've seen close up during a recent incident I don't care to dwell on, he never seemed to be hurried or upset. I said to him, "You told me once that you used to work connecting musicians with inns that wanted music." He nodded.

  "Do you still have much connection with it?" "Not really."

  "Do you know the others in the business?" "Oh, yeah. There are eight or ten who keep it pretty well locked up."

  "Name some names."

  "Sure. There's a woman named Aisse. I wouldn't work with her, though." "Why not?"

  He shrugged. "She never seems to know quite what she's doing. And when she does, she never lets the musicians know. Word is she lies a lot, especially when she screws up."

  "Okay. Who else?"

  "There's a fellow named Phent who doesn't lie quite as much, but he's about as incompetent and he charges twice what everyone else does. He's got a lock on the low-life places. They suit him."

  "I might need him. Where can I find him?" "Number fourteen Fishmonger Street

  ." "Okay, who else?"

  "There's Greenbough. He's not too bad when he isn't drunk. D'Rai will keep you working, but she'll also get a hold on you and try to keep everything you play sounding the same. Most of the musicians I know don't like that." "Blood of the goddess, Sticks, isn't there anyone good in the business?"

  "Not really. The best of the lot is an outfit run by three Easterners named Tomas, Oscar, and Ramon. They have South Adrilankha and a few of the better inns north of town."

  "How do I reach them?"

  "About a mile and a half up Lower Kieron, behind the Wolves' Den, upstairs."

  "I know the place. Okay, thanks."

  "Mind if I ask why you're interested, boss?"

  "I'd rather not say, at the moment."

  "All right. That all?"

  "Yeah. Have Melestav send Kragar in." As he shut the door, Kragar said, "Mind if I ask why you're interested, Vlad?"

  I jumped, stared at him, and said, "Were you here the whole time?"

  "I didn't know it was private."

  "It doesn't matter. I'm after a couple of things. One is to see if I can help Aibynn find work. The other is to get another source of information in South Adrilankha. Musicians hear almost as much gossip as whores."

  "Makes sense."

  "Since you've already got the information, why don't you go make contact with that group behind the Wolves' Den?"

  "What, you want me to do something safe and easy for a change? Sure. What about this Aibynn? Will they need to hear him?"

  "Maybe. I'll talk to him and send him by. But first see if they're interested in making a little money on the side, without needing to know who's paying them."

  "Okay. Anything else?"

  "No. Anything here?"

  "Tevyar got excited again."

  "Oh?"

  "Some lorich owed him money and started acting tough, and Tevyar tried to handle it on his own, got enthusiastic, and killed him. You know how he is."

  "Yes. He's an idiot. Revivifiable?"

  "No. Crushed his head."

  "Double idiot. Is it likely to cause any trouble?"

  "Not as far as I can tell. He didn't leave any traces."

  "That's a relief."

  "Should we do anything about it?"

  I considered for a moment, then shook my head. "Not this time. Having to cover the loss ought to teach him something. If not ..."

  "Right."

  Loiosh flew over to my shoulder from the coat rack. I scratched under his chin. "What about Kelly's people? Anything to report?"

  Kragar shifted in his chair and his normally expressionless face fought with itself for a moment, as if uncertain how to settle down.

  "The Empire has begun conscription in South Adrilankha." "So soon?"

  He nodded. "Only Easterners, too." "Interesting. Have Kelly's people done anything about it?"

  "They had some sort of parade. About a thousand people, give or take."

  I whistled. "Anything happen?"

  "No. It looked like they were going to send in press gangs, but they didn't."

  "With a thousand crazed Easterners, I'm not surprised."

  "There's supposed to be some sort of meeting or rally tomorrow evening."

  "Okay. Anything else?"

  "Routine stuff. It's on your desk."

  "Fly, then, and let me know what happens."

  When he was gone, I looked at the scribbled notes he and Melestav had left. I okayed credit for a couple of good customers, agreed that we needed some new furnishings in one of my gambling places, refused a request for additional manpower at another, and made a few notes on my calendar for business meetings. None of which I really needed to attend. In fact, I wasn't really needed for much of any of this. Things had reached the point around the office where it would practically run itself. I suppose I could have been bothered by this, but actually I was pleased. I had worked very hard to get it to this point. The irony was that it came just when I had the additional problem of South Adrilankha to worry about, so I couldn't really enjoy it. It crossed my mind that I would probably never reach the point where I could just sit back and watch the money roll in, and only deal with major problems.

  But, on the other hand, maybe if that ever happened, I'd have too much time on my hands.

  Loiosh shifted on my shoulder and I scratched his chin. Conscription in South Adrilankha. Why? Was war with Greenaere really imminent? Was the war scare an excuse to harass Easterners? If the war was real, had I caused it? If so, why had Verra sent me to shine the King? Well, that part was easy: because she wanted the war. Why?

  I called out to her, just to see if she felt like responding, but she didn't. I wished I could ask her directly. I'd like to be able to find out wh
at was going on in the strange, non-human mind of hers.

  I entertained sacrilegious thoughts for a while, but they got me nowhere, so instead I considered the war. If you looked at a map of the Empire, the notion of war with Greenaere would seem laughable—this huge monster of a landmass next to a little splotch shaped like a banana. It made no sense. They must know that. The Empire must know it. What was going on? Who was pushing whom, to try to do what? What sort of intrigues were being played out in the Imperial Palace? What sort of lunacies on Greenaere? What sort of machinations in the Halls of Judgment?

  "You know, boss, it might not matter. You might be out of it, now that you've done what you were hired for."

  "Do you really think so?"

  "No. "

  "Neither do I."

  I spoke to Aibynn that evening while waiting for Cawti to come back home. I told him about that group behind the Wolves' Den. He nodded, his eyes focused on something else.

  "Why don't you go in and see them?" I said.

  "What? Oh. Yeah. I'll do that."

  The conversation faltered, and he went back to the blue room. I chewed my lip, wondering. Loiosh stopped chasing Rocza around the flat long enough to echo my own thoughts: "What a strange fellow, boss."

  "Indeed," I said. "But just strange, or does he have a game of some sort?"

  Cawti hadn't come home when I went to sleep that night, and she still hadn't when I left the next morning. A year ago I'd have been frantic. Half a year ago I'd have attempted to reach her psionically. Things had changed.

  When I got to the office, Melestav said, "Heard the news yet?"

  I sighed. "No. Do I need to be sitting down?" "I'm not sure. Word is out that Greenaere has made an alliance with Elde Island." "Ah. Yes. I knew that." "How?"

  "Never mind. Has anyone actually declared war?"

  "I've heard that the Empire has declared war, that the island has declared war, that the island has apologized, claiming it was all a mistake, that Elde has come over to our side, that they have some great new magic that will destroy us all, that the Empire is surrendering and the islanders will be occupying the mainland, that—"

  "In other words, nothing official."

  "Right."

  "Okay, thanks."

  I went into my office to consider. Presently Kragar arrived and said, "I spoke with Ramon and he went for it, Vlad. Jumped at it like a dzur after dinner." I frowned. "Too eager?"

  "I don't think so. I think they just need the money." "All right. We can afford it, anyway. We'll need to set up someone to stay in touch with them, unless you want to do it yourself."

  "No, thanks," he said. "I have enough to do as it is. I hardly have enough time to—"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. How about Sticks?" He nodded. "That makes sense. I'll talk to him. Any suggestions for the information exchange?" "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, do you want it all going through Sticks, or through Sticks and me, or Sticks and you, or what?"

  "Oh." I considered. "Why don't we do the recognition symbol bit?"

  "A ring or something?"

  "Yeah. Go get a few rings made, and give me one, one to Sticks, and keep one yourself. And keep close track of what happens to them all."

  "All right, I'll talk to Sticks and take care of it this afternoon."

  "Good. Another thing: I want to know what happens at this big get-together they're supposed to be having today in South Adrilankha."

  "Okay."

  Within six hours my arrangements with the firm of Tomas, Oscar, and Ramon had paid off. First, they managed to find Aibynn a job with a musician of the House of the Issola who played Eastern instruments to accompany his singing of pre-Interregnum ballads. Second, they were the ones who, through Sticks, brought me word that most of Kelly's organization, including Cawti, had been arrested.

  Lesson Eight

  Dealing With Middle Management II

  One of the easiest and yet most effective offensive uses of sorcery involves simply grabbing as much energy from the Orb as you can handle without destroying yourself, channeling it through your body, and directing it at whomever or whatever you want to damage. The only defense is to grab as much energy as you can handle without destroying yourself and use it to block or deflect the attack.

  It so happens that I've acquired a length of gold chain which, used properly, acts to interrupt any sort of spell sent against me, so I'm pretty safe from this kind of thing. But once, in the middle of a battle I should never have been in, I was hit from behind.

  It felt like I was burning from the inside, and for what seemed like minutes I could feel veins, arteries, and even my internal organs burning. Every muscle in my body contracted, and I felt the muscles in my thighs attempt to break both of my legs and almost succeed. A Dragon warrior who was standing about fifteen feet in front of me was struck by an arrow at about that same time, and I spent minutes watching him fall over. I smelled smoke, and saw that it was coming from under my shirt, and realized with a horrible sick feeling that the hair on my chest and on the backs of my arms was burning. I knew that my heart had stopped, and my eyeballs felt hot and itchy. All sound vanished from the world, and returned only very slowly, beginning with a horrible buzzing, as if I'd been stuck in a bee's nest. It amazed me that there was no pain, and amazed me even more when I realized that my heart had started beating again. Even then it wasn't over, because for a while I couldn't stand up; efforts to move my legs only made them twitch. When, after several minutes, I was able to stand, I remember trying to pick up my sword and being unable to, because trying to take a step toward it led me off in a different direction, and efforts to extend my hand caused it to reach somewhere I had not intended. It was twenty or thirty minutes, I believe, before the effect wore off, during which time I was in the grip of a terror the like of which I'd never felt.

  Since that time, the memory has come back at odd times, and always very strongly. It isn't like pain, which you don't really remember—the incident was burned, and I think I mean that literally, into my brain—so sometimes all the sensations wash over me, and I can't breathe and I wonder if I'm going to die.

  This was one of those times.

  The incident on Greenaere was the fourth time I'd been imprisoned. The first was the hardest, just because it was first, but none had been easy. By removing someone's freedom of movement, you remove some measure of his dignity, and the thought of this happening to Cawti, to the woman whose eyes crinkled when she grinned, and who threw her head back when she laughed so her dark, dark hair rippled across her shoulders, to the woman who had guarded my back, to the woman who—to the woman who didn't know if she loved me anymore, to the woman who was throwing away her happiness and mine for a pail full of slogans. It was almost more than I could stand.

  "You all right, boss?" said Sticks, and I came back to an awareness of him, staring up at me and looking worried.

  "After a fashion," I said. "Get Kragar." I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Presently I heard Kragar's voice. "What is it, Vlad?" "Shut the door."

  The latch, Kragar's footsteps, his body settling into the chair, the rustle of Loiosh's wings, my own heartbeat. "Find me detailed plans of the dungeons of the Imperial Palace." "What?"

  "They're below the Iorich Wing."

  "What's going on?"

  "Cawti's been arrested."

  A break in the conversation stretching out to the horizon, infinite, timeless. "You can't be thinking of—"

  "Get them."

  "Vlad—"

  "Just do it."

  "No."

  I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked at him. "What?"

  "I said no."

  I waited for him to continue. He said, "A few weeks ago you lost control and almost got yourself killed. If you lose control again you're on your own."

  "I haven't asked you—"

  "But I'm not going to cut wood for your barge."

  I studied him carefully, my thoughts running quickly, although I don't recall the subs
tance.

  At last I said, "Get out."

  He left without another word.

  * * * *

  I don't remember any nausea following the teleport to Castle Black, nor do I remember what Lady Teldra said in greeting when I came through the portals. I found Morrolan and Aliera in the front room of the library, where the chairs are the most comfortable and he most enjoys sitting. It is the largest of the rooms, but has fewer books than the others, with more room for browsing, sitting, or pacing. Morrolan sat, Aliera stood, I paced. "What is it, Vlad?" he said after I made a few trips past him.

  "Cawti's been arrested. I want your help in breaking her out."

  He marked his place with a thin strip of gold-inlaid ivory and set his book down. "I'm sorry she's been arrested," he said. "With what is she charged?"

  "Conspiracy."

  "Conspiracy to what?"

  "It isn't specified."

  "I see. Will you have wine?"

  "No, thank you. Will you help?"

  "What do you mean by breaking her out?"

  "What does it sound like?"

  "It sounds like what we did to get you off of Green-aere."

  "Exactly."

  "Why do you wish to do that?"

  I stopped pacing long enough to look at his face, to see if this was some form of humor. I decided it wasn't. "She broke me out," I told him.

  "It was the only way to free you."

  "Well?"

  "I would suggest, with the Empire, that we try other methods first. Her former partner is the Heir, after all." |

  I stopped. I hadn't thought of that. I allowed Morrolan to pour me some wine, which I drank and didn't taste.

  Then I said, "Well?"

  "Well what?" said Morrolan, but Aliera understood and excused herself from the room. I sat down and waited. We didn't speak until Aliera returned, perhaps ten minutes later.

  "Norathar," she said, "will do what she can."

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "I hope enough."

  "Had she known?"

  "That Cawti was arrested? No. It seems there has been quite a bit of trouble in the Easterners' quarter, though, and that group she's in has been in the middle of it."

  "I know."