The Book of Taltos (56 page)

“When are we going to do it?” said Morrolan.

I asked Sethra, “How much time will you and Daymar need to prepare?”

“At least until tomorrow. We won’t know until we start looking at the problem.”

“All right. Tentatively, tomorrow afternoon. If you aren’t ready by then, we’ll see. In the meantime, I have to run home and get somebody.”

“Who?”

“You’ll meet him. He’s a drummer.”

“From Greenaere?” said Sethra.

“Yep.”

“Think he’ll help?”

“If he’s a spy, which I think is possible, he’ll be glad to. If he isn’t, he might not.”

“If he’s a spy—”

“It won’t matter for what I’m trying to do.”

“Very well, then,” said Morrolan, and called for dessert, which involved fresh berries of some kind and a sweet cream sauce. It arrived, and I ate it, but I don’t remember how it tasted. After dinner I made sure my grandfather was settled in as well as possible, studied Kragar’s notes a bit more, then walked out to the courtyard of Castle Black.

“Loiosh, you and Rocza stay real alert.”

“I know, boss. I’m not happy about this at all. They were waiting for you once—”

“I know. How’s your lady doing?”

Rocza shifted on my right shoulder and nuzzled me a little. I got my mind fixed on a place across the street from my flat and teleported there. Loiosh and Rocza left my shoulder as we arrived and buzzed about.

“No one here, boss.”

“My compliments to Rocza. She’s learning the business, I think.”

“She’s got a good teacher. You okay?”

“I didn’t lose my dinner, anyway. Give me a minute and stay alert.”

“Check.”

When I felt better I walked up to the flat. I was in luck: Aibynn was there, and there were no assassins.

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Not bad. How’d you like to help me out?”

“Doing what?”

“Ending the war.”

“That sounds fine. What do I have to do?”

“Come with me, and let someone read your mind while you remember everything you can about that spot on Greenaere where we met.”

“I could do that.”

“You’ll have to take your pendant off while you do it.”

“What? Oh, this?” He fingered the Phoenix Stone around his neck, then shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“Good. Come with me.”

“Just a minute.”

He collected his drum and stood next to me. I took a look around the flat, wondering if I’d ever see it again, then we teleported right from there, because I still didn’t feel very safe.

Aibynn stared around Castle Black in amazement. “Where are we?”

“The home of Morrolan e’Drien, House of the Dragon.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah.”

Lady Teldra greeted him like an old friend; he grinned from ear to ear. I went back up to the library and performed introductions. He was pleasant, and either didn’t know or didn’t care who Sethra Lavode was, not to mention Aliera and Morrolan. They were polite to him, and then Lady Teldra showed him to a room. I found my own room and slept for about fourteen hours.

L
ATE THE NEXT MORNING
I saw Morrolan in his workshop, where he was showing Noish-pa around. I found myself fascinated by the door that led to the tower that held the windows. Morrolan caught me staring at it, but asked no questions. Instead he mentioned something else: “I’ve had an official emissary from House Jhereg.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been asked to surrender you.”

“Ah. Are you going to?”

He snorted. “What did you do to them, Vlad?”

“Actually, nothing. It’s what they think I’m going to do.”

“What is that?”

“Kill someone important.”

“Are you?”

“Only if we escape Greenaere successfully. First things first, you know.”

“Of course. What about the Empire?”

“I’m going to see to that in a few moments.”

“Can I help?”

“Perhaps. Can you arrange for the Empress to see me?”

“Certainly. When?”

“Now.”

He stared at me and his mouth worked for a moment. Then he concentrated, and was silent for about two minutes. It was interesting trying to piece together the conversation from the expressions that crossed Morrolan’s face. He shook his head twice, shrugged once, and once his face twisted up into an expression I couldn’t fathom. At last he opened his eyes and said, “She is expecting you.”

“Excellent. Can you arrange a teleport?”

“In the courtyard.”

“Thank you.”

I took a last look at the door to the tower, smiled at Noish-pa, who was already absorbed in work of some sort, and made the long hike, down and around and up and through to the library. I gave Lady Teldra a big smile, which left her a bit puzzled, I think, then I went out into the courtyard where one of Morrolan’s sorcerers greeted me respectfully and sent me to the square outside the Imperial Palace that is reserved for those arriving via teleportation.

My stomach had settled down by the time I entered the Palace proper, but I hardly noticed it in any case, my mind was racing so. I was led through hallways and past terraces and inconspicuous guard locations, and at last out into the throne room, with its massive seventeen-sided dome and windows of colored glass. As I approached, I noticed Count Soffta among the courtiers, and I gave him a big smile. His brows came together, but other than that he betrayed no expression.

I bowed to Her Majesty, my heart thumping with excitement, my brain pounding with ideas.

“I greet you, Baronet Taltos.”

“And I, you, Your Majesty. Care to take a walk?”

Her eyes widened, and that time I heard the courtiers gasp. But she said, “Very well. Come with me.” And she led the way behind her throne.

The walls were still white and featureless, but this time, in my excitement, I nearly outpaced her. For some reason, I no longer had such awe of her as I’d had before; whether it was the state of my mind, or the events of the past few days, or a combination, I don’t know.

She said, “Are you here to plead for your wife, or to reprimand your Empress for her actions among the Easterners?”

“Both, Your Majesty.”

“Neither will move me, Baronet. I’m sorry, because in all honesty I like you. But to threaten the Empire is unforgivable, which is my only answer to both entreaties.”

“Your Majesty, I have, on the one hand, a proposal, and, on the other, information.”

She glanced sideways at me, appearing both amused and curious. “Proceed,” she said.

“Allow me, Your Majesty, to begin with some questions. May I?”

“You may.”

“Do you know why the citizens rebelled?”

“There were many reasons, Baronet. The press gangs, a necessary evil in time of war. The measures, the
justified
measures, taken against the irresponsible violence in which they engaged. Certain regrettable conditions under which they live.”

“Yes,” I said. “Let us consider the irresponsible violence. Would the massacres—and I use the word advisedly, Your Majesty, for that’s what they were—would the massacres have been necessary had the citizens not engaged in what you called the ‘irresponsible violence’?”

She considered. “Probably not,” she said.

“Well, then, suppose it was not the citizens who destroyed the watchstation in South Adrilankha, and I suspect committed several similar acts, but was instead a certain Jhereg, who wanted these Easterners suppressed.”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at me. “You have evidence of this?”

“His own words that he’d done it.”

“Will you swear to this?”

“Under the Orb.”

She resumed walking. “I see.” I gave her time to consider things further. After a bit she said, “Are you aware that, if you do so swear, by the law, you must do so publicly?”

“Yes.”

“So the Organiza—excuse me—your friends and your House will know that you have betrayed this person?”

“Yes.”

“And you are prepared to do so?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When we return to the throne room, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. I must say that, moving as this is, and as angry as it makes me, it does not free your wife from the responsibility for leading rebellion.”

“That, Your Majesty, is where my proposal fits in.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Your Majesty, I will, personally, bring about a peace with Elde and Greenaere, at no cost to the Empire and at no risk to you, if you will release my wife.”

Once more, she stopped and stared at me. She resumed walking. “What makes you think you can do this?”

“I have an idea of what they want, and why they began the war, and I think I can fix it.”

“Tell me.”

“No, Your Majesty.”

And again the sidelong look, followed by a low laugh. “Can you convince her to stop stirring up trouble in South Adrilankha, not to mention the rest of the city, or the rest of the country?”

“Probably not,” I said.

She nodded and chewed on her lower lip—a most non-Imperial gesture. Then she said, “Very well, my lord Jhereg. Yes, if you can do what you say, I will release your wife.”

“And her friends?”

She shrugged. “I can hardly release one without releasing them all. Yes, if you can publicly swear, under the Orb, that the violence was deliberately
caused by a Jhereg, and if you personally conclude a peace with Greenaere and Elde Island that costs us nothing, I will release your wife and her associates.”

“Good. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She stopped yet a third time and touched my shoulder. Above her, the Orb went white. She saw me looking at it and said, “What I am saying now is not being remembered.”

“Oh.”

“Lord Taltos, do you know the Organization will kill you if you betray them?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “They will certainly try.”

She shook her head. The Orb resumed its pinkish hue and the Empress led the way back to the throne room, where she announced a declaration under the Orb.

The court watched. The Orb floated over my head, and prepared, however it did so, to determine truth or falsehood. I phrased my accusation very carefully, so there could be no question of the truth, or of the guilt. All the time I spoke, my eyes were on Count Soffta, who was trying very hard to keep any expression from his face.

And I was smiling.

Basic Improvisation

I
RETURNED TO
C
ASTLE
Black and considered consequences.

My life was worth rather less than the small change in my purse, and if things went as I more than half expected them to, I would only have the satisfaction of cheating the Organization of the pleasure of killing me themselves. I indulged myself in a few minutes of soul-searching as I returned to my chambers to rest for a while.

This was nothing like the fatalism that comes upon certain Lyorn who take too long a view of life, and it wasn’t really the suicidal madness that had taken me for a short time after I’d been broken under torture. It was more that things had lined themselves up so that I had fewer and fewer options, so the one remaining had to be the right thing to do.

Which brought up the next question: When had I suddenly become enamored of doing the right thing, rather than the practical thing? Was it on the streets of South Adrilankha? Was it in my grandfather’s shop, when he said, so simply and quietly, that what I did was wrong? Was it when I finally realized, once and for all, that the woman I’d married was gone forever, and that, whoever she had become, she had no use for me as I was? Or was it that I was finally faced with a problem that couldn’t be solved by killing the
right person; could only be solved, in fact, by performing a service to the Empire that I hated?

That, I suddenly realized, was what had happened to Cawti: She had transferred her hate from Dragaerans to the Empire. There are fools who pretend that one can get through life without hating, or that the emotion itself is somehow wrong, but I’ve never had that problem. But sometimes your own hate can fool you as much as your own love, with results that are just as disastrous. It had been silly, at best, to think that I hated Dragaerans when all of my close friends were of the race. Cawti’s hatred of the Empire, which I now shared in my own way, was perhaps more reasonable, but ultimately frustrating. Noish-pa was right: Hatred is inevitable; allowing it to control your actions is foolish.

I didn’t know where that left me now, and I admitted, as I stared at the ceiling and hid my thoughts from Loiosh, that none of it mattered, anyway. By surrendering to “right” as opposed to “practical,” I had changed irrevocably. But once you allow yourself to recognize necessity, you find two things: One, you find your options so restricted that the only course of action is obvious, and, two, that a great sense of freedom comes with the decision.

By this time tomorrow, Vlad Taltos, Jhereg and assassin, would be dead, one way or the other. I made certain all of my documents were correct and decided that the time allotted for self-indulgent soul-searching had expired.