Tiassa (15 page)

She fell in next to the curly-haired Dragonlord and said, very softly, “Thank you.”

“My lady?”

Daro smiled at him. He let a slight smile pass his lips and said, just as softly, “You’re welcome, Countess. I assume you don’t wish your husband the captain to hear of this excursion?”

“He would want to protect me, and that would be inconvenient.”

“I understand, my lady. I trust you’ll protect me from him if he hears?”

“I’ll do my best.”

In her normal voice, she said, “Where are we going?”

“They live just ahead there, upper flat. That is, she lives there; he used to.”

“All right.”

“If you don’t mind, my lady, I’d prefer to go up first.”

“You think she’s a threat?”

“I’ve been told she’s an assassin. And it is all but certain that her husband is.”

Daro felt her mouth curl up in distaste. “What a family,” she said. “Very well.”

“She can’t be that bad,” said the other. “She used to run around with Princess Norathar.”

“Not anymore; not since the Princess’s matters were put right.”

“Doesn’t matter; let’s do this.”

She and the one called Wyder waited for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. She noticed Wyder becoming more and more disturbed, his fingers tapping against the hilt of his sword. She said, “What did this Cawti and Norathar do together?”

“It’s said they killed people. For money.”

Daro nodded. “I did hear something about that; gossip during her coronation.”

“I’ve heard the same, don’t know if it’s true. Dammit, where is he?”

“If you wish,” she said, “I’m sure I’ll be fine here.”

“No, my lady. We must—there he is.”

“Sorry for the delay. It seems she’s moved, and it took some work to find out where.”

“But you found out?” said Daro.

“South Adrilankha. I have the directions.”

“We’ll have to clear it,” said Wyder. “And get horses.”

“Oh, would you?”

“I’ll ask.”

“That would be splendid.”

“Yes, my lady.”

An hour later they were in South Adrilankha.
This part of the city is part of my county,
she reminded herself as she worked to keep the distaste off her face.

As they turned onto Elm, she said, “This neighborhood isn’t all that bad, really.”

The long-haired Dragonlord, whose name Daro discovered was Sahomi, said, “I was stationed in South Adrilankha for a couple of years. This is one of the better parts. Clean. They pick up after themselves, at least sometimes. The streets aren’t always full of—”

“Sahomi!” said Wyder.

Sahomi coughed. “Sorry, m’lady.”

“I thought it was the horse,” she said.

“Beg pardon?”

“Never mind,” she said, keeping her smile to herself.

“This is the house,” said Wyder. “If my lady will be willing to wait a moment—”

“No,” she said, studying the house. “I’ll do this myself. Wait here.”

“My lady—”

“Sahomi, explain who I am. You are under my orders. You’ll wait here. If things go wrong, and I die and this destroys your careers, you have my apologies.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Sahomi.

“Amazing you can speak so clearly with your teeth clenched like that,” said Daro as she dismounted.

She strode up to the little house, noting clear signs of a child’s presence in the holes dug in the yard and the toys scattered around it. She stood in front of the wooden door and clapped. She heard movement through the door, but it didn’t open. She clapped again.

She heard approaching footsteps and the door opened. A small, dark-haired Eastern woman stood before her, frowning and looking wary.

“You are Cawti?” said Daro.

She watched the Easterner’s eyes focus behind her, on the two Phoenix Guards who remained mounted in the street. “Who are you?” she said.

“I am called Daro, Countess of Whitecrest.”

The Easterner took a step back, as if startled. “Are you indeed! Yes, I am Cawti.” She hesitated, then took another step back. “Please, come in.”

Then Daro in turn hesitated, but from what she could see, it looked clean, so she took a step forward.

“Sit, if you wish. May I get you something? Wine? Klava?”

“I’m fine.” The room
looked
clean, but still.

A small boy came into the room; Daro had no idea about what the age would be in an Easterner, but he was just over knee-high, and able to walk well enough on his own. Cawti picked him up, gave him a hug, and set him down again. “Go play outside, hun. In the back yard.”

“Why in back?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because it would be impolite to say in front of our guest.”

“Why?”

“Vlad, make your bow and go to the back yard.”

“Yes, Mama.”

When the boy had left, Cawti said, “What does my lady wish?”

Daro wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard a certain emphasis on “my lady.” She said, “He calls you Mama.”

Cawti tilted her head, as if to say, “I can’t imagine you’d say such a thing.”

“I’m sorry,” said Daro, feeling herself blushing. “My son addresses me more formally, and I suddenly found myself wishing—never mind. I believe I will sit after all. Klava would be lovely.”

“Of course.”

Daro seated herself on a stuffed chair while Cawti went through an archway into what was presumably the kitchen. The room was small, and tastefully sparse save for a surprising number of books on two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Daro resisted the temptation to inspect them.

Cawti returned with only one glass.
It’s going to be like that, is it?
thought Daro.

Cawti seated herself at one end of a plain brown couch and said, “Now, to what do I owe the honor?”

The stress on the word “honor” was just barely there. Daro felt a flash of anger, but sipped her klava until it had passed. It was good klava. She said, “You are married to a certain Vladimir Taltos, are you not?”

Cawti stared at her until it was almost rude, then looked away. “We are separated.”

“I’m sorry. I should have realized; I heard that he has left town. Do you know where he is?”

The Easterner’s surprise at the question seemed genuine. “My lady, do you think that, if I knew, I would simply tell you?”

Daro frowned. “He is in hiding?”

“Yes, he certainly is.”

“I didn’t know. Who is he hiding from?”

“The Jhereg, my lady. For years now. They want him very badly.”

“Why?”

Cawti looked away. “You would have to ask them, Countess.”

“I see. Then perhaps you could tell me something else. Are you familiar with an artifact, supposed to be of divine origin, called the silver tiassa?”

“I imagine,” said Cawti, “that you already know I’m familiar with it. I hadn’t been aware that it was of divine origin.”

“Perhaps it isn’t. It is being sought by the Empire. I come to you because it is rumored to be in the possession of Lord Taltos, and because—” She hesitated. “And because there is something about this that feels wrong.”

The Easterner’s features remained impassive. “My lady, is there a reason you would expect me to help you?”

“You must have heard of the threat to the city.”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.”

“There is a story that this artifact can help. In fact, can stop it.”

“I see.”

“I assume whatever your resentment of me in particular, or the aristocracy in general, or the Empire in total, or whatever it is you resent, you are not anxious for the Jenoine to replace the Empire, or kill us all, whichever they’ll do?”

“Let me think about that while you recover your breath,” she said.

“Take your time.”

“I hadn’t realized it showed.”

“Your resentment?”

“I’m not sure that’s the right word, but yes.”

“Whatever the word is, yes, it shows.”

“No, I wouldn’t care for a Jenoine victory.”

“So, will you help?”

“My lady, you said you heard a story. How reliable is it?”

“I’ve no idea. Why?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the item. Or, at least, with a small tiassa made out of silver that could be what you’re referring to. But I had no idea there was anything to it other than a nice piece of silver-work. It seems unlikely.”

Daro nodded. “It seems unlikely to me, too.”

“It does? Then why are you here?”

“Because there’s something going on that I don’t understand, and it intrigues me, and worries me.”

Cawti sat back on her couch. “I see,” she said.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” said Daro.

“Which is why you came to my home, rather than summoning me?”

Daro nodded.

“But you brought a pair of Phoenix Guards with you.”

Daro nodded again.

“In fact,” said the Easterner, “I don’t trust you. But I was a Jhereg once—I’m used to working with people I don’t trust.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Give me the details. I’m no Tiassa, but I’ve been known to have an idea now and then.”

Daro let it pass. “All right, here’s what I know: There is an artifact called the silver tiassa that is reputed to be able to stop the Jenoine from manifesting. At one time, it was supposedly in the hands of your husband, then it was given to a certain Lord Feorae, and then passed again to your husband. That, at any rate, is the story. Hence the desire to find him.”

“So, who is attempting to locate him?”

“I don’t know. Presumably Kosadr.”

“Who?”

“The Court Wizard.”

“Oh. He cannot be found with sorcery.”

“He cannot?”

“He has protection. Phoenix Stone.”

“What is Phoenix Stone?”

Cawti laughed a little. “I was hoping you could tell me. But I know sorcery can’t find him, nor witchcraft, nor—”

“Witchcraft?”

“The Eastern magical arts.”

“Are those real?”

“Some think so. But for finding Vladimir, they may as well not be. Those with psychic skills won’t find him either.”

“I see. What of the Orb?”

“The Orb?”

“Yes. What if Her Majesty should use the Orb to locate him?”

“Can she do that? I know little of the Orb, of what it can do.”

“I am no expert. But it should be possible. It must be, because there are laws regarding under what circumstances she may or may not do so.”

Cawti nodded. “It makes sense, then.” The Easterner appeared to be speaking to herself.

“What does?” said Daro.

“I believe I know what is going on, Countess. And you were right to be suspicious.”

“What is it?”

Cawti closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, “I beg a boon, Countess.”

“A boon? That can’t have been easy for you to say.”

“It wasn’t.”

“What is this boon?”

“You can reach the Empress at any time, can you not?”

“Anyone can.”

“You’re the Countess of Whitecrest. You can do so without running the danger of having your mind burned out if the Empress is in a bad mood.”

“All right. What do you wish?”

“Ask her to delay finding Vladimir.”

“To delay? She may be doing it now.”

“Then Your Ladyship must hurry.”

“And in exchange for this delay?”

“I called it a boon, my lady. Not a trade.”

“Then you’d best explain why you want it.”

“Because I know who is doing what, and why.”

“My l—that is, Cawti, I think you ought to explain that to me.”

“You asked if I trusted you. Will you trust me?”

Daro took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Is this a test?”

The Easterner seemed to consider for a moment. “No.”

“You are a friend of the Princess Norathar, are you not?”

“You’ve checked on me.”

“Only a little.”

“Yes, we’re friends. Why does it matter?”

“I’m looking for a reason to trust you.”

The Easterner pressed her lips together. “I see.”

“I understand,” said Daro, “that it isn’t flattering. But you’re asking me to ask the Empress to delay finding an artifact that might prevent the Jenoine from invading the city. I am to do that merely on your word?”

“And on your own instincts, which have told you that all is not as it seems.”