The Phoenix Guards (13 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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“Excellent,” said Khaavren. “We’ll leave it to you. And the second, good Aerich?”
“The second issue,” said the Lyorn, “is this: just exactly how are we to find Kathana e’Marish’Chala in order to effect her arrest?”
“Oh, as to that,” said Khaavren.
“Well?”
“You may leave it entirely in my hands.”
In Which Khaavren Attempts To Learn
The Whereabouts of Kathana e’Marish’Chala
W
E TRUST THAT OUR READERS will forgive us if we have not lingered over every aspect of the day to day lives of those personages whose history we have chosen to explore. It is our contention that, facts being as numerous as grains of sand in the desert of Suntra, mere recitation of detail will both weary and confuse, whereas careful selection will entertain and enlighten. Thus, we have not deemed it necessary to educate our readers on exactly how it was that Srahi came to find a launderer, nor on the means Pel used to select perfumed note-paper on which to write to his mistress, nor on the treatment for the leather Aerich used on his boots to prevent them from leaking when it rained, nor on how Tazendra would contort in preparation for her morning exercises.
Yet we are forced to admit that, from time to time, we will discover that a detail of no more moment than these will take on a far greater importance than we had ever thought to assign it. When this happens, we find ourselves hesitant to amend what we have already written, but will instead go forward, forward, ever forward, as Undauntra would say, and let the stragglers fill the gaps.
It therefore becomes our duty to confess that we have erred in failing to mention that Khaavren had spent some portion of nearly every day in one of the Imperial libraries in the Palace. It had occurred to him that Pel had his secrets, Aerich his contemplations, and Tazendra was happy to gamble and carouse while she waited for the opportunity to gain glory with her sword, but if he, Khaavren, were ever to achieve greatness, he must at once remedy the ignorance which afflicted him. His impoverished family had barely been able to afford to send him to a classroom tutor, from whom he had learned to read and to calculate sums along with the children of Vallista and Chreotha, which hardly provided him the knowledge he craved; he therefore arranged his time so he could spend some portion of every day with books in each of the five great categories: magical and natural science, history, philosophy, books-written-to-be-performed, and books-written-to-be-read.
What is significant was that, as he approached these studies, darting from one to the other as a bee in a flowerbed, he would, naturally, meet librarians. He had, in point of fact, met several. In the Caffissa Library,
taking up the first three stories of the southern quarter of the Athyra wing, all of the librarians were Athyra, and they were only as polite to Khaavren as was necessary to avoid the challenge which any astute observer could discover always waiting on the wings, as it were, of the Tiassa’s countenance. In the halls of Silver Library, outside the Palace proper but quite close to the Lyorn Wing, all of the librarians, themselves Lyorn historians, were helpful, but often too helpful, and Khaavren frequently became lost in their recommendations and counter-recommendations, and corrections and notations.
But in the Zerika Library, in the basement beneath the Imperial Wing, there was an Easterner, one Ricardo, a rotund fellow with, as is common with those of his short-lived race, more hair growing on his face than on the top of his head. His walk had a trace of the waddle one finds in the smaller species of wildlife that dwell along the Yellow River, and the tip of his tongue appeared to have made a permanent home between the teeth on the right side of his mouth. Yet in him, Khaavren found a veritable fountain of information, which, at the least pressure, that is to say, at the slightest provocation, would gush forth until the Tiassa thought he might drown in it. For while the Phoenix rate philosophy very high among the branches of knowledge, still it was as yet the aftermath of the reign of the Athyra, a House with as little use for impractical knowledge as the House of the Dragon would have for anything which didn’t cut or thrust. All of this had the result of leaving poor Ricardo destitute for patrons in a poorly maintained library, and one which was visited but seldom; hence his high regard for Khaavren when the latter first appeared.
It need hardly be added that the young Tiassa benefited greatly by the association; where by nature he was inclined to flit from book to book and from thought to thought with no order or method, the Easterner displayed some of the characteristics of a tsalmoth—attacking any problem from a dozen angles simultaneously, but never letting go until it was solved. The result is that Khaavren, though he never developed more than a passing interest in philosophy, that is, in the science of science, still he received two benefits; the first being the acquisition of some skill in how to approach a problem, the second being the friendship of this learned Easterner.
It was to Ricardo then that Khaavren went, and brought with him news of the crime of Kathana e’Marish’Chala. Ricardo listened to the entire history as he listened to everything, with his whole attention, asking no questions, his eyes fixed on Khaavren’s mouth as if he were reading the words as they emerged.
When Khaavren had finished, the Easterner suggested that Khaavren return in several hours while he, Ricardo, requested of one of the records libraries certain documents which he claimed would be most revealing. To this Khaavren agreed, and, after a light luncheon of fruit and cheese in one of the small inns connected to the Phoenix Wing, he returned to find Ricardo bent over a large stack of folios, with slips of paper, red, brown,
green, yellow, or blue, emerging from them like the tongues of snakes. Upon closer inspection, the folios were filled with columns of numbers, names, dates, and locations. Raising his eyes from these, Ricardo looked at him blankly, as if forgetting who Khaavren was and why he was there. Then he gave his head a small shake and said, “Ah, you are back.”
“That is true, good Ricardo,” said the Tiassa. “And it seems you have something there.”
“These documents I requested from the Imperial Records Service, which oversees all matters pertaining to taxation.”
“Ah. Taxation.”
“Exactly.”
“But, if you will pardon me Ricardo, what has taxation to do with the whereabouts of Kathana e’Marish’Chala?”
“Oh, it has everything to do with it.”
“How is that?”
“Well, I will explain.”
“Do so, please.”
“What you must remember, young sir,” said the Easterner, forgetting that Khaavren was, in point of fact, rather older in years than he was, “is that Dragonlords never hide. Therefore, if your quarry seems to you to be in hiding, to her she must be doing another thing entirely.”
“And what might that be, good Ricardo?” inquired Khaavren, patiently allowing the librarian to arrive at the point in his own way.
“Any of a number of things are possible. And yet, she is an artist. So, what would be the most natural thing for an artist to do, if she wished to remain out of sight for a long period of time?”
“Well, she might go paint a picture,” suggested Khaavren.
“Exactly my thought,” said Ricardo.
“But, you perceive, she could paint it anywhere.”
“She could, but she wouldn’t. That is, she is actually in only one place.”
“With this, I agree. But how are we to determine where? That is, after all, the very question with which I came to you.”
“And it is the question which I now propose to answer.”
“What, now?”
“Indeed, yes.”
“How, then?”
“By making a determination.”
“Ah! A determination.”
“Yes. By determining for whom she is working. I have here the reports on all expenditures within the last month for every one of the ten thousand wealthiest nobles in the Empire. These reports are broken down into categories, and each details the expenditures made by that individual. One category on which these people must report is the amount spent on cultural matters.”
“That is true, Ricardo; for the Empire is always interested in encouraging culture among the nobility; hence the lack of taxes on any such expenditure.”
“Precisely.”
“And you have looked through ten thousand of them?”
“Oh, hardly that. The Emperor would be saddened to learn how few have actually spent anything at all on improving their knowledge of the arts; but for us, why, we are pleased, for there were a scant thousand, and most of those could be dismissed at a glance.”
“I see. So, you have discovered who has spent money on artistic pursuits.”
“Yes. And more.”
“What, more?”
“Of a certainty. The Empire requires more than the bare amount; on the contrary, anyone wishing to avoid these taxes must include the amount spent, the type of work, and the name of the artist.”
“Ah, the name of the artist!”
“Exactly.”
Khaavren considered for a moment, and said, “But surely she would not be listed by her own name in such a thing.”
“It is unnecessary that she be so listed.”
“Well, then?”
“Do you know by what means an artist earns his livelihood?”
“Well, by being paid for his art.”
“But then, who pays him? One can hardly expect an artist to put his work out for sale in the market, as if it were a clutch of eggs.”
“No, the artist must have a patron who agrees to purchase the work, or else must make an agreement beforehand.”
“And will this agreement state the amount to be paid for the work?”
“Assuredly, though one expects to pay more than the agreed-upon price.”
“And do you suppose that an artist who is also a Dragonlord, such as Kathana e’Marish’Chala, would, even in hiding, accept a fee below her usual standard?”
“Why, I should not expect so.”
“Well, there you have it. We need only look for who has commissioned a painting within the range that the Baroness of Kaluma, that is, Kathana e’Marish’Chala, generally commands.”
“And it is just such a list that you have, my good Ricardo?”
“Indeed, Sir Khaavren, and I have already perused it.”
“And you have a result? That is to say, you have discovered her whereabouts?”
“Oh, as to that, I could hardly be certain of such a thing. And yet I have discovered that Baroness Kaluma has received, for her last several
works, payment between one thousand three hundred and two thousand one hundred Imperials.”
“Blood! So much?”
“It is so.”
“And you have found someone who has commissioned a work for that amount?”
“Many, in point of fact.”
“Then we must determine which it is.”
“Your pardon, but I have already done so.”
“Done so!”
“Indeed.”
“But how?”
“Why, when I looked at the names of the artists listed, there were some few I recognized.”
“Ah, then those could be eliminated at once.”
“Exactly.”
“And then?”
“Well, then I looked at the others.”
“And what did you find?”
“One, I found, was called, Fricorith.”
“Very well, one is called Fricorith.”
“Exactly.”
“But I fail to see—”
“Ah. You do not yet comprehend.”
“You are correct; I do not comprehend.”
“Fricorith, in the old North-western tongue, which is still preserved by the House of the Dragon, as well as the House of the Lyorn, means, ‘Nearly-the-End-of-Winter.’”
“How is it you know this, good Ricardo?”
“Why, it is in this language that most of the library documents are written, since most Lyorn still speak it, as I have had the honor to mention.”
“I see. But then, how did this information help you make your determination?”
“By the simplest means. The Baroness of Kaluma is of the e’Marish’ Chala line; that is, she was named after Marish’Chala, who was Warlord of the Empire during the fourth Dragon Reign. At that time, she, that is, Marish’Chala, was called Marishori Cvorunn Chalionara, which name I took the precaution of looking up against the chance that it would be useful to know.”
“And that was well thought.”
“I am gratified that you think so.”
“But, then, tell me what it means.”
“I will do so. Marishori is a Northwestern name that signifies ‘keeper of trust.’”
“And yet, good Ricardo, I do not see how this is of help to us.”
“It is not. But then, I did not stop there.”
“You did not?”
“No. I acquired translations of the other names as well.”
“And what did you find?”
“Cvorunn, I found to be very close to the Serioli Kvirinun, which means, ‘time of melting snows,’ that is, spring. And Chalionara is similar to another Serioli word, that being Shuloon!re, which means, ‘to arrive prematurely.’ The combination, you perceive, would be ‘spring arriving early?” and at what time of year would spring arrive early?”

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