Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards) (27 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards)
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“In fact,” said Adron grimly, “it is the other way around.”
“No, Your Highness. We support His Majesty with our gold; the Emperor supports us with his majesty.”
“So it should be,” said Adron. “It is rarely so.”
Aerich shrugged.
“Khaavren is a good friend,” put in Tazendra. “And so is Pel. If they were having difficulty in which we could help, they would not hesitate to tell us.”
Adron bit his lip. “Nevertheless,” he said, “for now, we should keep this to ourselves.”
“Father,” said Aliera.
“Yes?”
“What are you planning?”
Adron smiled at his daughter—a smile in which there was a certain degree of paternal fondness, odd as that may be to think of when discussing Adron and Aliera e’Kieron. Yet it was true, as all the accounts of the time agree, that these two giants of history, father and daughter, cared for one another even as fathers and daughters among commoners might. Adron said, “You are not easy to deceive.”
“Well?”
His eyes strayed to the covered board in the back of the room, then he said, “I am planning nothing that I wish to discuss, Aliera.”
“Very well,” she said.
Aerich’s eyes narrowed; Sethra’s lips pressed together; and Tazendra’s eyebrows rose.
“Then our plans?” said Aliera.
“Someone must speak with Jurabin,” said Adron.
“I will do so,” said Aliera.
Adron nodded. “You must attempt to learn what he knows of the search of your room, and do not stop until you are certain you have emptied him of this knowledge.
“And I will try to learn as well,” said Aliera, “what His Majesty’s intentions are toward you.”
“If you wish,” said Adron, shrugging his shoulders.
“And I,” said Sethra, “shall accompany the Lady Aliera, lest anything untoward happen to her while she is at the Palace.”
“I will remain with His Highness,” said Aerich, not saying anything more—to put into words that he feared for Adron’s safety would, of course, have been an insult.
“And I,” said Tazendra. “I will …” she frowned. “I’m not certain. What ought I to do?”
Aerich thought for a moment, then said, “You and Mica return to the house, and tell our friends that we have been in conference with Lord Adron. Of course, you must mention nothing of our plans, or of our concerns about Jurabin.”
Tazendra nodded brusquely. “Very well,” she said.
Sethra’s eyes appeared to twinkle for a moment as she looked at Aerich,
but if he noticed this he gave no sign of it. Tazendra rose and said, “If we are to go, we ought to take our leaves of Your Highness.”
“Yes,” said Adron, who seemed distracted, but came back to himself long enough to say, “Though I am not undisturbed by the news you have brought, still, I am delighted to see you, my friends, and I could not ask for better companionship for my daughter.”
Tazendra and Aerich bowed deeply to Adron, after which father and daughter embraced. Then Sethra and Tazendra called to Mica, who appeared in the doorway, his faithful bar-stool slung over his shoulder.
“We are ready to leave,” said Tazendra.
“Yes, my lady. I shall bring the horses.”
“Aerich will be remaining here with His Highness.”
“Yes, my lady.”
As Mica went to fetch the horses, Aerich suddenly turned to Aliera and said, “My lady, there is one question that I wish to ask you, for there is a matter upon which I am curious.”
“How, you are curious about something?” said Aliera. “Well, you may ask.”
“Then tell me this,” said the Lyorn. “What exactly was this object that His Majesty discovered in your chambers, and that justified the search?”
Aliera shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just a small purple stone.”
Which Treats of Small Purple Stones,
And of Irregularities in
Dress.
 
 
 
 
T
HIS IS NOT THE FIRST time the astute reader will have noticed these purple stones appearing in our narrative. Those with a knowledge of magical and natural history will, of course, have recognized them long hence, and be aware of their significance, and the threat posed by their very presence. It remains, then, our duty to assist those who have not had the privilege of making these studies, so that all of our readers will be, as it were, at the same place from this point forward, when those events which shape the conclusion of our narrative begin to coalesce into the patterns from which the final form of our history will emerge—or, to put it more simply, we must now ensure that all of our readers have the knowledge necessary to understand why those matters we are addressing fell out in the exact manner in which they did.
It has been theorized, and by such learned scholars as Richor of Mountcalm, that these stones were first created by the Jenoine—those mysterious, powerful, half-historical, half-mythical earliest dwellers on the world, who at last faded into the primal mist from which they emerged, or blew themselves up forming the Great Sea of Amorphia, or vanished to another plane of existence, or whatever theory the reader holds dear. It has also been theorized that the first of these stones occurred naturally near the edge or the “shore” of the Great Sea, although this seems unlikely.
Whatever their cause, the secret of creating them was discovered by wizards of the House of the Athyra late in the Ninth Cycle, and they were put to devastating use by sorcerers of the House of the Dragon early in the Tenth, for which reason the Lyorn Emperor Cuorfor II passed edicts forbidding their use or creation—edicts which have at times been rigorously enforced, at other times all but ignored. We should note that elder sorcery had been outlawed from the beginning of the Empire, and many believed—and still believe—that use of these stones was nothing more than a particular form of the sorcery that
predates the Orb and the Empire; on this subject the historian will take no position.
It would, without doubt, require the services of an Athyra or a Dragon to reveal the details of their working—and it should be pointed out that such knowledge is available to those willing to look. Yet this history does not require such explicit detail—it is enough to say that to carry one of these stones about one’s person will, over time, give one some understanding of the uses of that queer and dangerous branch of science called
elder sorcery
, and that these stones can also serve as a means of calling, storing, and dispersing the energies, taken from the very ether in which we live, that this sorcery calls upon and manipulates in its workings.
Where the sorcerer achieves his effects through the careful and subtle control of the powers we are granted, by the grace of Her Majesty, from the Orb, which controls and channels the energies from the Great Sea, elder sorcery, by its nature, eschews subtlety, instead relying on the sheer power of the amorphia. Is it any wonder that its use has been outlawed? Is it any wonder that no one save the crazed or the desperate will touch it? The difference between using these techniques—epitomized by the purple stones which we have now seen several times—and using the raw, naked power of the amorphia itself, is one of degree, not of kind.
And yet we must, for the sake of honesty, add that the Orb itself was fashioned (by Zerika the First, according to legend; by the Jenoine, according to myth) by this same pre-Empire sorcery. If so, then what power could be unleashed, what dreams of man could be fulfilled, if it were possible to achieve nice control of these powers, such control as the creators of the Orb must have had?
There is no answer to this question, so let us instead ask another: what sort of man might set himself the task of finding out? Who might take upon himself all of the dreadful risks of unleashing such energy, wild and uncontrolled, in order to harness this power for mankind, or in order to further his own aims?
The answer, as the reader will already have surmised, is Adron e’Kieron, who had devoted more than four hundred years of his life to the study of this illegal and dangerous science—devoted those years to studying in the same fashion he did everything: with the enthusiasm of a Tiassa, the courage of a Dzur, the subtlety of a Yendi, the ferocity of a Dragon, and the thoroughness of a Lyorn.
What were Adron’s aims in harnessing this power? This is a difficult question to answer, for he, himself, did not know. In all probability it began with simple curiosity—he wished to understand the nature of sorcery, which led him naturally and inevitably to a study of amorphia. Later, in all likelihood, he became aware of the potential in such power, and became, therefore,
enamored of it as a tool he could unlock. Nowhere in his diaries is there any evidence of a lust for personal power, yet there are hints that he wished to have his name remembered, and he had, it is certain, a burning desire to create. We might even say that the same drives which led him to organize and lead the Breath of Fire Battalion led him to study ways to release and control the energies of the amorphia. While he had been growing steadily less happy with the court since observing Tortaalik’s mismanagement of the White Goblet affair, and he had been livid about the debacle along the coast that had left an entire district, and one critical to Imperial trade, without a liege, there is no reason to believe he had ever contemplated revolt—and certainly no reason to believe that it ever entered his dreams to use the power of amorphia, or of elder sorcery, or of the purple stones, in any sort of bid for personal gain.
But there can be no doubt that, when His Majesty went so far as to deliver a direct insult to Adron’s daughter, who was, in Adron’s mind, doing nothing more than entering a study of one of the more esoteric (and, therefore, worthwhile) branches of magic, Adron’s motivations, goals, and methods underwent a drastic, abrupt, and irrevocable change.
It is possible that Aerich sensed some of this, and that it was in the hopes that the Lyorn’s gentle wisdom would temper the fire in the Dragonlord’s heart that Aerich wished to remain in Adron’s presence, as much as to protect His Highness, toward whom the Lyorn felt some sense of duty and no small degree of affection. It is not impossible that Aerich realized this, whether aware of it or not, and this was why Adron welcomed Aerich’s company.
Now that the reader has some understanding of these artifacts which have caused such furor, let us look in on our various friends in the early morning light of the fifteenth day of the month of the Vallista in the 532
nd
year of the Reign of Tortaalik the First. We will begin with Pel, for, after a night’s drunken debauch with Khaavren, he returned to the Institute of Discretion, and, at the time of which we write, he is doing nothing more than sleeping soundly. The reader ought to appreciate this moment, for it is rare indeed that we will have the opportunity to come upon our Yendi when he is not doing three, four, or five things at once!
Next is our Tiassa, Khaavren, who, notwithstanding the rigors of his night’s feast of wine, nevertheless rose at his accustomed time, feeling, thanks to his iron constitution, none the worse for the debauch to which we have already alluded, and made his way as usual to the Dragon Wing of the Palace, and so on to meet His Majesty in time for the morning rounds.
Sethra, Aliera, and Tazendra, who had all returned to the house on the Street of the Glass Cutters before Khaavren and Pel had taken themselves to bed, were, in fact, awakened at about the time Khaavren was reaching the Palace. They were awakened, in fact, by Mica and Srahi bringing them klava.
Of all the pleasures brought by riches (and we, unlike certain desert-born mystics we could mention, will not deny that riches can, in fact, bring pleasure), there is, perhaps, none to compare to being awakened, while still in bed, by a lackey bringing hot klava to which honey and cow’s milk have been liberally applied, and realizing that one has the leisure to enjoy this first mug before arising. It was this pleasure which our friends Tazendra, Aliera, and Sethra experienced—we shall not, therefore, disturb their happiness by watching them, but will allow them their klava in peace; we will return to them again when they have arisen and are ready to begin their day’s activities.
This brings us to His Highness, Adron e’Kieron, and to Aerich, both of whom began the day in military fashion—that is, at exactly the same time as Khaavren. Aerich accompanied His Highness on the morning inspection of the battalion, after which they broke their fast together on fresh, warmed bread with butter, both of which were purchased, at a good price, from nearby peasants. Aerich could see that the Prince was distracted, and that he had certain ideas frothing through his mind, but the Lyorn could not fathom what those ideas might be. He therefore watched gravely as Adron stood before the wooden board on which strange patterns were formed of purple stones; Adron worked hastily at first, removing stones and replacing them so that entirely different though equally abstract patterns appeared; then Adron began to slow down, until he spent long minutes staring at the design before moving a single stone. Aerich, while he did not understand precisely what the sorcerer was doing, nevertheless felt a deep disquiet as he watched the process.
Khaavren, after finishing the rounds with His Majesty, who appeared to be in excellent spirits, went off to find Jurabin in the hopes of learning from him something of what had passed, and what had not passed, between Aliera and His Majesty. Jurabin, however, was, it seemed, busy in one of the meeting rooms with which the second floor of the Palace abounded, and could not be disturbed. Khaavren shrugged and returned to his offices, where he discovered that he had a visitor, and an unexpected one at that. “Tazendra!” he cried.
“Ah, my dear friend,” said the Dzurlord.
Khaavren rushed forward to embrace her, after which he insisted she come into the office that had been Captain G‘aereth’s but was now Khaavren’s, and that she sit and converse with him.
She sighed happily as she sat down. “You cannot know what memories it brings back to be here again.”
“And,” said Khaavren, “what memories it brings back to see you here.”
“Yes, but, Khaavren, do you know, there is hardly anyone that I recognize?”
“Well, but what would you have? There aren’t many who wish to make a career of the Guard. You, yourself, are a splendid example of this very fact.”
“How, am I?” she said, smiling proudly, not entirely sure what Khaavren meant, but convinced that he had paid her a compliment.
“Entirely,” said Khaavren. “There is no one who is a better example than you.”
“Well, it is kind of you to notice.”
“Not at all.”
“I have worked hard to become so.”
“Yes, I perceive that you have.”
“But enough of this, what of your own affairs?”
“My own affairs? Cha! Of what affairs are you speaking?”
“Why, I haven’t the least idea in the world,” she said. “Yet you were out last night very late.”
“Oh, as to that, I was drinking with our old friend Pel.”
“With Pel?” cried Tazendra. “Drinking? Does he still drink then?”
“Like the sea drinks the river, my dear friend. And you should have seen him, for he was dressed like the Pel of old. Ah, what a fine companion he was! The innkeeper brought us the coals and tongs, but Pel would have none of it. In a motion as graceful as a dancer’s, he broke the neck of the bottle and, spilling not a drop, filled our glasses in the same motion.”
“And was he still as graceful at the end of the night as he was when he began?”
“Shards, I nearly think so! My head was all in a spin, and the lights of the tavern replicated themselves behind my eyes, yet Pel was as cool as if he had not touched a drop, though I will swear he kept pace with me glass for glass.”
“Well, I wish I’d been there, for I assure you it was wearying enough where I was.”
“And where was that?”
“Where was that? How, you don’t know?”
“If I knew, I would not have asked,” Khaavren reminded her gently.
“Ah, that is so, that is so; you were always economical with questions.”
“And so I still am, my dear Tazendra. And yet I find I must ask you again: Where were you?”
“Where were we? Oh, we were at Lord Adron’s encampment, as the note said.”
“Note, my dear Tazendra? I received no note.”
“Bah! You did not? You received no letter explaining where we were and saying that you ought to join us?”
“No, for if I had, well, I should have done so.”
“The Horse! That is true! And yet, I was so certain that I had written a note. And, look! I did write a note, for here it is in my pocket.”
“Well, Tazendra, if it is in your pocket, that is why I did not get it.”
Tazendra laughed. “Ah, ah! I wrote it, yet I did not remember to put it where you would find it. The fault is mine, good Khaavren, and I apologize.”
Khaavren signified that it didn’t matter, and added, “But I hope Lord Adron is well?”

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