Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) (42 page)

“Yes, the mission?”

“It has been completed.”

“How, completed?”

“Entirely.”

“What do you tell me?”

“I have the honor to inform you that the Duke of Kâna and the Marchioness of Habil are now in an upstairs room of this manor, with guards outside of their door, and another outside of the window—which window, incidentally, I also caused to be barred, because I should have been embarrassed to have to arrest them again.”

“Then they are here? Prisoners? In this house?”

Khaavren bowed.

“And you say they are under this roof?”

“Yes, Majesty, and guarded. I have even made certain this morning, before I did myself the honor to wait upon Your Majesty, that they have gone nowhere.”

“So then—”

“They are here, awaiting whatever fate Your Majesty might select.”

“As to their fate,” said Zerika grimly, “there is no possible doubt.”

“I should imagine not,” observed Khaavren, shrugging to indicate that this was no concern of his.

“But, how did you find them?”

“Does Your Majesty wish me to relate the history?”

“Yes, yes! By all means!”

“In that case, I shall do myself the honor to describe the process by which I found them.”

“Yes, yes. That is what I wish. And this instant, if you please.”

“Very well. I concluded, in the first place, that if I were in command of an army determined to attack the city from the west, I should place my headquarters somewhere within five or ten miles of the city on Lower Kieron Road.”

“Not the Hartre Pike?”

“Lower Kieron is not only wider, it is also flatter, which provides more places where a headquarters might be established.”

“And therefore?”

“Therefore, I searched, and I found the headquarters at the site of Barlen’s Pavilion, which Your Majesty may or may not be familiar with.”

“Oh, I know it; but how did you recognize it?”

“It is not difficult, Majesty, to find a headquarters that has been abandoned in a hurry.”

“How, it is not?”

“Not in the least. In the first place, there was an abandoned flag with the Duke’s sigil.”

“Well, yes, I understand how that would be a good indication.”

Khaavren bowed. “But, even without that, there were pieces of paper scattered everywhere. One cannot have a headquarters without paper, and one cannot abandon a headquarters quickly without leaving a great deal of it behind. To be sure, much of the paper had been burned, and much had been scattered about by the winds, but there was certainly enough left to leave no doubt about what the place had been used for.”

“Very well,” said the Empress, “and so you found the headquarters. But they were not there, were they?”

“Oh, no. As I have had the honor to say, it was abandoned.”

“So then, finding it was not of great use.”

“On the contrary, Your Majesty. Finding the headquarters was so useful that, once I had found it, I knew that my quarry could not escape me.”

“But, how can that be?”

“Why, all I had to do was to inspect it.”

“Inspect it? But, for what?”

“Why, for indications of how they had fled, and where they were going.”

“What sorts of things would tell you this?”

“Does Your Majesty wish to know this?”

“Certainly I wish to know. You perceive, I asked.”

“That is true. Well then, Your Majesty will soon see.”

“Very good. And so, you inspected the abandoned headquarters area?”

“I covered the ground as thoroughly as a redhound searches the grasslands for waterfowl to startle for a skilled slingman.”

“Well, and what did you find?”

“In the first place, certain papers, crumbled and thrown at the fire, but not destroyed. That is to say, there were many such, but two in particular struck my eye.”

“And what were these interesting papers?”

“They were both addressed to a certain Grita—someone who is of considerable importance to me, but not to Your Majesty, and someone who is, moreover, now deceased—and they both contained phrases such as,
we have lost this round
, or,
we have suffered a severe set-back
.”

“Or, from our standpoint, we have won.”

“Well, yes, that is true; it is all a matter of perspective.”

“Yes. Go on, then.”

“But each expression was slightly different, and neither of the notes were complete.”

“So you concluded that these were …?”

“Drafts of a message to be sent to Grita, who, in addition to being important to me, as I have said, is someone of no small importance to Kâna and Habil.”

“Drafts …”

“The Pretender or his cousin had written these messages, and, the
phrasing not being entirely correct, had abandoned the effort and, presumably, tried again, until it satisfied the writer.”

“Well, but what then?”

“There were phrases on these notes that indicated thoughts such as,
we will make contact with you when we are safe
.”

“Well, and then?”

“Why, this proves that they had a means of escape in mind.”

“How, does it?”

“I give you my word, if they were simply running, with no destination in mind, it would have been phrased differently.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Moreover, there was suggestion that this Grita was not alone—but, rather, that there was another whom Grita was to inform of the circumstances. Of course, as it happens, I know who that other person was.”

“Illista.”

“How, Your Majesty knows this?”

“Never mind, Captain. Continue. You were saying that the note suggested that someone was with Grita.”

“It also suggested to me something else.”

“And that was?”

“That the two of them—that is to say, Kâna and Habil—were likely to be escaping alone, and together.”

“I understand the together, this is implied by the
we,
but why alone?”

“Because Grita, to whom this note was addressed, was not there in their encampment, otherwise, why write a note? Moreover, I know where she was. And she was important, or why be concerned that the expression of thoughts is exactly right? In such an undertaking as this, well how many conspirators can there be who are important; that is, who cannot be abandoned when all is lost? One? Perhaps two? They wanted no one with them who would slow down the escape, or would attract the attention a large group attracts. And so, if there were one or two who were not present, who else would accompany them in their escape?”

“I believe I understand. So what did you do then?”

“Oh, I continued searching.”

“And what did you find?”

“Water bottles.”

“Water bottles?”

“Exactly. Water bottles.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“Is this significant?”

“Extremely.”

“How so?”

“Because Kâna and Habil did not take them along when they fled.”

“But, because some water bottles were left behind does not mean that other water bottles were not taken.”

“Oh, certainly. But how many water bottles would there be in a headquarters area? Certainly not hundreds—they would be in a commissary area, or the supply depot, which is different, although perhaps nearby. Not hundreds, then, and probably not scores. A dozen, perhaps? Fifteen? Even twenty?”

“Well, and if there were twenty?”

“If there were twenty, and our friends only bothered to take ten, then that limits how far they expected to travel without stopping: they would not have wanted to stop on the road more than necessary. Now if it
was
twenty, that perhaps means very little; yet I was inclined to think there were not so many.”

“And this meant?”

“First, that they did not plan to travel far on the first day—in other words, that they had arranged a safe place to hide in case of disaster, and that it was not far away. And permit me to add, Majesty, that from what we know of Kâna and his cousin, this didn’t startle me.”

“Very well. What else?”

“If they were only going a short distance, they had no need to spare their horses.”

“Yes, I can see that this is useful information. But then?”

“Cha! Your Majesty, if, knowing that I was looking for two horses, riding together, and galloping as fast as they could go, I could not identify the tracks of these horses leaving the headquarters area, well, I am not the tracker I thought I was. Your Majesty must know that with stride, shoeing, size, and weight, well, it is unlikely that a close observer will be unable to identify the tracks of a particular horse.”

Zerika took a moment to work out all of the negatives in the sentence, then said, “Well, I understand that. But surely you could not
track them on the road, with its hard pavement, and hundreds of horses a day on it even if there were tracks to be seen!”

“I had no need to. Once I knew which horses I was looking for, and knowing that they planned to leave the road soon, I had only to look each time I came to a side road and see if those tracks were there.”

“And did you find these tracks?”

“Certainly I found them; how could I not? They turned off onto a small road.”

“Which you followed?”

“Exactly. Fortunately, there was still daylight, so I did not have to use a lantern, which would have slowed me down.”

“Well, and then?”

“After a short time, and a few additional turnings, I found a little cabaret with the tracks of their horses leading directly to it.”

“And then?”

“And then?” Khaavren shrugged. “There is little enough left to tell, Majesty. I then went to the room, acquired admission, and begged the Duke and his sister to have the goodness to accompany me back to Adrilankha. They consented, and here we are.”

Khaavren finished this recital with another self-deprecating shrug.

“Captain, you astonish me.”

“That is very gratifying, Your Majesty.”

The next day, Zerika had a private audience with the Pretender and his cousin, the results of which have not, alas, come down to us. Later that day an executioner’s star was constructed outside of Whitecrest Manor, and, after a few hours to arrange their affairs, the Marchioness of Habil and the Duke of Kâna were executed by having each limb struck off in quick succession, concluding with their heads. To their credit, it must be admitted that neither uttered a cry or a complaint, Kâna himself only observing, “I believe that I should not have made a bad Emperor, if I’d had the chance.”

How the Gods Considered The Events Which Had Lately Occurred in the Empire

W
e return now, for a last time, to the realm of the gods: the Halls of Judgment. On this occasion, a judgment is in progress, but not, as is usual, the judgment of the shade of a deceased mortal, but, rather, the living embodiment of one of their own number, that being, as the reader has no doubt already deduced, the god known as Tri’nagore.

We may consider, then, that he is standing in the middle of the circle we have already described, and is, moreover, held in place, although no bonds are visible, while the Lords of Judgment consider his actions, and the appropriate punishment. Tri’nagore himself has said little while they spoke.

“Above all,” observed Verra, “it was stupid.”

“Stupid?” said Barlen.

“Say rather, treacherous,” said Ordwynac.

“Not in the least,” said Verra.

“How, it was not treacherous?”

“Not as you mean it,” said Verra.

“Would you care to explain?” said Barlen.

In answer, Verra addressed Tri’nagore, saying, “Why don’t you explain why it is you thought it was safe to permit a Jenoine to enter our world?”

As this word was pronounced, several of the gods made various signs and gestures.

“I did not,” said Tri’nagore.

“You did not think it was safe?” said Barlen.

“I did not give Those We Do Not Name access to our world.”

“He is lying,” suggested Ordwynac.

“No, he isn’t,” said Verra.

“But then, if he is not,” said Ordwynac, “how did Those We Do Not Name Except For Verra Who Does gain access?”

“I don’t know,” said Tri’nagore.

“I do,” said Moranthë.

“How, you do?” said Barlen.

“Certainly.”

“And would you care to tell us?”

“I should be glad to.”

“Do so, then.”

“It was necromancy.”

“Necromancy?”

“Yes.”

“Who was the necromancer?”

“His name is Loraan.”

“But,” said Ordwynac, “we have been able to determine that this Kâna made a pact with our friend here.”

“Certainly,” said Verra. “In order to counteract the effects of witchcraft.”

“And that is all?” said Barlen.

“That is all,” said Verra.

“But,” asked Kelchor, speaking for the first time, “why did he help him at all, knowing that we had determined to aid Zerika?”

“As I said,” remarked Verra, “he was stupid.”

“That is all very well,” said Barlen. “But might we prevail upon you to be more specific?”

Verra shrugged. “He was gambling that Kâna would win, that’s all. If Kâna won, and he had a pact with him, well, more power for Tri’nagore. You must understand that he gets lonely with a few score of Easterners on this world, and perhaps twice as many on his own world, and a handful other places. But give him an emperor who is beholden to him, and it would be another matter.”

The gods glanced back and forth, considering this remarkable chain of reasoning, and, at the same time, curious about whether their associates found it plausible.

At length, Kéurana said, “That’s stupid.”

“So I have explained, sister,” said Verra.

Tri’nagore stood silent, indifferent, as if this conversation had nothing to do with him.

“For my part,” said Kelchor, “I am inclined to believe it.”

“As am I,” said Moranthë.

The gods studied Tri’nagore with various expressions of puzzlement, disbelief, annoyance, and disgust.

“Well,” said Barlen, “what do we do with him?”

“Nothing,” said Trout.

“How, nothing?” said Barlen.

“He is no longer able to manifest on that world,” said Trout. “That is sufficient.”