Iorich (14 page)

I ducked into the doorway in front of me without waiting to figure out where it went. I was in a narrow hallway with a flight of stairs at the end. I went up without stopping, swallowing the acidic panic that comes with only having one direction to go when you know someone is after you. If Sethra had been sober, she’d have thought of that, dammit.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. I opened it without clapping, my right hand brushing the hilt of Lady Teldra.

The Warlord seemed to have been napping; her head snapped forward and she stared at me. If she’d gone for a weapon, which wouldn’t have been all that unthinkable, there would suddenly have been a lot more people than the Jhereg looking for me—or else no one at all.

She blinked a couple of times as I caught the door and shut my breath, or whatever I did.

“Vlad,” she said.

I stood there, trying to neither pant nor shake. “Hi there,” I said.

Her office was tiny; just enough room for her, a chair, and a small table. There was another door to her left.

“I must have dozed off,” she said. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing. As you see, I came in anyway.”

“Shall we find somewhere more comfortable to talk?”

“I don’t mind standing. Thanks for seeing me, by the way.”

She nodded and looked up at me—an unusual experience for both of us. “Last I heard,” I said, “you were Dragon Heir. I guess congratulations are in order.”

She gave something that could have been a laugh. “I guess.”

“Are you addressed as Warlord, or as Your Highness now?”

“Depends on the subject.”

“Is there a story there? I mean, in how it is that you happened to become Warlord?”

“Not one I’m inclined to talk about.”

“Is your becoming Warlord related?”

“To what?”

“Eh, I thought you knew why I was here.”

“Sethra said you wanted to see me about Aliera.”

“Yes.”

“To that.”

“What is it you wanted to see me about exactly?”

“Aliera’s situation.”

She hadn’t answered my question. Just wanted to let you know I caught that. Can’t get one past me.

“I’m not sure how much I can tell you,” she said.

“Lack of knowledge, or are there things you aren’t permitted to say?”

“Both. And maybe things I could say but choose not to.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I’ll ask, you tell me what you can.”

“It isn’t that I don’t care about Aliera,” she said.

I nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Norathar to feel she had to justify herself to me. I leaned against a wall, trying to look relaxed. When she didn’t say anything, I cleared my throat and said, “In my own way, I have some understanding of duty.”

She nodded, staring past me.

“So, what happened?”

She blinked and seemed to come back from wherever she was.

“Aliera was caught practicing Elder Sorcery, which is illegal.
For good reason, by the way. It was used to destroy the Empire. By Aliera’s father. The Empire frowns on being destroyed. It tends not to like things that can do that.”

“Yeah, I know. That adds a certain—uh. Wait. How much of this is because of her father?”

“I don’t know. That’s probably what made her the perfect—I mean, that may be why. . .”

She trailed off.

I should have thought of that sooner.

“And how does she—I mean the Empress—feel about it?”

“Beg pardon?”

“She’s Aliera’s friend. How does she—?”

“You know I can’t give you personal details about Her Majesty.”

Since it was exactly the personal details I was looking for, it was a little sad to hear that. “All right,” I said. “Did you hear about Aliera’s arrest before it happened?”

“I don’t understand.” She was giving me a suspicious look, as if I might be mocking her but she wasn’t sure.

“Oh,” I said. “You were given the order.”

She nodded.

“I don’t know how these things work, but that seems unusual. I mean, arresting criminals isn’t what I think of as the Warlord’s job.”

“It usually isn’t,” she said. Her lips were pressed tightly together.

“But—?”

“With someone like Aliera, I can’t see it happening any other way. She wasn’t going to dispatch a, a constable to do it.”

“It would be disrespectful to her position.”

She nodded. I need to work harder on communicating irony.

I said, “Who carried out the arrest?”

“I did.”

I grunted. “Must have been fun.”

She gave me a look.

“Sorry,” I said. “Was she surprised?”

“Is this necessary?”

“I want to know if she had any warning.”

“Oh. Yes, she was surprised. She thought I was joking. She said—”

The wall over her head was blank, a pasty color. She should put something there. I resolved not to tell her that.

“Sorry,” she said.

“How long was it from the time you were given the order until the arrest?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Had you expected the order?”

She studied me carefully. “No,” she said. “I was told I was now Warlord, and ordered to arrest Aliera, and to deliver the communication relieving her of her position.”

I tried to imagine that scene, but I couldn’t do it. I was glad I hadn’t been there to see it.

“Had you expected something like this to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aliera was arrested to distract attention from something the Empress doesn’t want people thinking about. Had you expected—”

“That’s your theory,” she said, as if refuting it.

“Uh, yeah. That’s my theory. Had you been expecting Zerika—”

“Her Majesty.”

“—Her Majesty to do something like this?”

“I don’t concede your premise,” she said.

“Um. Okay.” I looked around the room. Maybe one of the walls had secret writing that would tell me how to pull the information I needed from Norathar. Nope, guess not. “I’d have thought the Warlord would have a bigger office.”

“This isn’t the office, it’s more of a private retreat. The office is through there.” She indicated the door to her left.

“Is this a temporary position for you?”

An eyebrow went up. “Well, it certainly won’t last longer than the next Dragon Reign.”

“I meant more temporary than that.”

“I don’t know.”

“How did it happen in the first place?”

“How did what happen?”

“The incident that started it all. You’re the Warlord now, you must have access to—”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“I don’t mean the details.”

“Then what? Getting philosophical on me?”

“Sarcasm aside, yes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“How does it happen? I’m told you served in the army, in wartime, in the line.”

“Briefly.”

“In combat.”

“Briefly.”

“And you need to ask how something like that happens?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

She shook her head. “Pay no mind. If that’s all, Lord Szurke, I’m rather busy.”

I wondered if “Lord Szurke” were intended as a cut, and if so what the insult was supposed to be. “I’ll try to be brief,” I said.

She did the lip thing again. “Very well.”

“If I can’t ask about the Empress, I’ll ask about you.”

“Hmmm?”

“What are you hoping will happen?”

“I have no hope.” Nor much inflection in her voice, either.

“Things were easier in the Jhereg, weren’t they?”

She looked up at me, eyes narrowed; then she shrugged. “Different, anyway.”

“Generally, the only ones who get it are those who deserve it.”

“And not all of them,” she said.

“Fair point.”

“What else?”

I hesitated. “Does it seem odd to you that this law is being used against someone in Aliera’s position?”

She shrugged. “There’s been talk about that at Court. I don’t pay much attention.”

“So you can’t explain it?”

“If I have any guesses, I don’t care to share them with you.”

“Norathar, are we enemies all of a sudden?”

“I serve the Empire. That means I serve the Empress.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Her fingers rolled on the tabletop. “No,” she said. “We aren’t enemies.”

“Good, then—”

“We’re opponents.”

“Um,” I explained. “I’m trying to get Aliera out of this mess. Aren’t you her friend?”

“If you can find a way to do that without unacceptable consequences, I’ll be glad to work with you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping you’ll help me find.”

“I know.”

“Norathar, you aren’t giving me a lot of help here.”

“Is there a reason why I should?”

“I don’t know. Old times’ sake? I mean, my son is named after you.”

She looked down and drew a circle with her finger on the table. I did the same thing, back when I had a desk; it was a little strange seeing her do it. She said, “Cawti would like to see you.”

After a bit, I managed, “Are you sure?”

“No,” she said. “But she said so.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“She knows I’m in town?”

“Evidently.”

After a bit she said, “Will you see her?”

“Yes,” I said. “If I can do so without getting her killed.”

“I think she can look after herself, don’t you?”

“You think so? Against the Jhereg? If they decide to take after her to get at me? Not to mention the Bitch Patrol, who developed a sudden interest in her activities a few years ago, and who don’t like me much.”

“They guaranteed to leave her alone. And they’ve done so.”

I nodded. “So far.”

She scowled. “If they don’t—”

“What will you do? Bring the House of the Dragon against them? Or the Empire?”

“I’ll bring me against them.”

I nodded. “And the Jhereg quakes in fear.”

“You, least of all, should mock me.”

I clenched my teeth and nodded again. “I’ll go see her,” I said.

That marked the end of the interview. I gave her a bow that I tried to make devoid of irony and started to leave the way I came, only she stopped me.

“Use the other door. You can get into the Palace that way; the way you’re going leads outside.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Nice to know you haven’t forgotten some things.”

“There are things you don’t forget,” said Her Highness.

I went out the way she indicated, got lost in the Dragon Wing, got lost in the Palace, and eventually made my way onto the streets of the City, where I hailed the fourth closed footcab to come by, and gave directions to the Punctured Jug in the Summergate section of Adrilankha. Loiosh and Rocza flew above the cab, watching and complaining.

This was a place I’d been to a few times. I’d heard a few different stories about who actually owned it. It was variously put as (1) belonging to everyone on the Council, operating through shells; (2) belonging to a guy with no ties to the Organization, but lots of pull at Court; or (3) owned jointly by the Council, so there’d always be a safe meeting place. Whichever;
it was one of a dozen or so places in the City where you could eat without worrying about unpleasantness, no matter who was after you.

Of course, walking out the door afterward was your problem.

There’s an L-shaped bar running the length of the wall to the right and continuing to the far wall. The rest of the room is filled with chairs and a score of tables almost big enough for two people, all of which have four chairs in front of them; you usually end up holding your plate on your lap and keeping just your drink on the table. A row of small windows high on the wall lets in a token amount of light. The rest is provided by two massive candelabra behind the bar, and I imagine those who work there acquire a good number of head-bumps as well as a few odd burns until they get to know the place.

It was the middle of the day and not very crowded; about a third of the tables were occupied, mostly with the Chreotha and Jhegaala tradesmen that you’d think comprised most of the population of the City if your eyes pass over the innumerable Teckla. A hooded woman in dark clothing, with nothing to indicate her House, sat alone at a table near the door. I sat down opposite her; Rocza turned around on my shoulder to watch the door.

“Hello, Kiera. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”