Tiassa (16 page)

“That is still not much on which to risk the safety of the city.”

“It isn’t much of a risk. I just want a little time to find out if my guess is right.”

“And you won’t tell me what this guess is?”

“It would be wrong for me to say anything until I’m sure.”

“And when you’re sure?”

“It won’t matter to you or the Empire.”

“You just want it delayed? Not stopped? I am to simply ask Her Majesty to wait before locating your husband?”

“Estranged husband. Yes.”

“And if she asks for how long?”

“Be vague.”

“And if she asks why?”

“Be evasive.”

“And if she doesn’t agree?”

“Be convincing.”

“You aren’t giving me much.”

“My word is good. Ask Norathar, if you must.”

Daro spoke slowly. “Your hus—that is, Lord Taltos once did a significant service for my son. I have felt that I should repay that service, if I ever had the chance. Can you speak for him? And is this the service?”

Cawti laughed, but didn’t explain what she found amusing. “Yes, to the first, and most definitely yes to the second.”

“All right. I agree.”

“Let me know when you’ve spoken with her.”

“And not what she says?”

“If you have any sense, you’ll tell me she agrees whether she does or not. I won’t even be able to tell if you really spoke with her, will I?”

“You said you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you. But I have no choice. Let me know when you’ve spoken with her.”

Daro nodded, focused, and reached the Empress, who was, fortunately, not especially busy.

“Majesty, it is Whitecrest.”

“Yes, Daro?”

“You have been asked to find this Easterner?”

“Count Szurke, yes.”

“Majesty, might I beg you to wait before doing so?”

“Why?”

“I have reason to believe that—”

“What is it?”

“Majesty, I have suspicions I do not even wish to hint at until I have verified them.”

“This sounds serious, Countess.”

“Majesty, it is.”

“You know we only have a day or two?”

“This will only take a few hours.”

“Perhaps you should come and see me in person, Daro.”

“I will do so at once, Majesty. Until then?”

“I won’t locate Szurke before then.”

“Thank you, Majesty.”

She opened her eyes and said, “Her Majesty agrees.”

“I am grateful. I will do my best to see to it you don’t regret trusting me.”

Daro stood. “I appreciate the sentiment. And now, I am off to the Palace.”

“The Palace, my lady?”

“Her Majesty wants to see me.”

“I see. May I accompany you?”

Daro frowned. “Why?” Then she felt herself blushing. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“There is someone there I want to see, and I’d enjoy the company.”

You’re lying, Jhereg,
thought Daro. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Countess,” said Cawti, rising to her feet. “If you would be good enough to wait outside, I will join you shortly. I must arrange for the care of my son.”

“Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

The Easterner was gone for some few minutes. She returned and said, “A moment more, please, and I’ll be ready.” Cawti vanished into the cottage’s other room, pulling a drape across the door. It seemed to Daro that the drape wasn’t used very often. There was the sound of rustling, and of heavy objects moving; when Cawti emerged, she wore a cloak of Jhereg gray, and a wide leather belt with a sheathed dagger at each hip.

“Thank you for waiting, my lady. I’m ready now.”

Daro rose. “I see that you are.”

“I’ll need a horse. There is a livery a quarter of a mile west.”

“All right.”

They walked out of the cottage. Daro gave the guards a sign to dismount, and so the four of them walked to the stable. The Easterner’s face was set, determined. But determined to do what?

“If I may ask,” said Daro as they walked, “why are you accompanying me?”

Cawti smiled. “Perhaps I want my share of the credit.”

The aristocrat laughed. “Not likely.”

“No, I suppose not. I have a friend at the House of the Dragon.”

“And you just decided that now was a good time to visit?”

“Perhaps there is more to it than that.”

They reached the livery and Cawti picked out a tall gelding. Daro offered to pay for it, but the Easterner declined with a smile that tried to be polite.

When they set off from the stable, one guard rode ahead, the other behind.

The Countess didn’t speak for a while; then she said, “I don’t expect you to trust me. And I shan’t attempt to compel you to tell me. But if whatever you’re doing has an effect on my mission, it may be to your advantage to tell me of it.”

After another quarter of a mile, Cawti said, “Why?”

“It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Do you generally rely on your feelings, my lady?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Perhaps Easterners are different; I haven’t known many.”

“You mean you haven’t known any, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“We scare you a little, don’t we?”

Daro looked over at her, then returned her eyes to the road.

“Yes,” said Cawti. “I’m impertinent.”

Daro nodded. “You are that.”

They reached the Stone Bridge and started across. Daro watched the river, and inhaled its scent—so different from the ocean. The swells pushed their way toward the ocean as if they were solid objects. On the upriver side, a barge was being worked into a berth by bargemen and dockside sorcerers.

“The river,” she said, “is so peaceful. I mean, compared to the ocean-sea.”

“You live on the cliffs, don’t you?”

“Yes. In the mornings when the weather is fine, my lord the captain and I breakfast on the terrace so we can watch it.”

“That must be very pleasant.”

“You and your husband, did you have such customs?”

“My lady the Countess, are you attempting to find common ground with me?”

She laughed a little. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And of all the things we might have in common, all you can find is marriage?”

“It was just my first try; we still have a long ride before us.”

“Your first try wasn’t about me, but about who I’m married to. Is who you’re married to the most important thing in your life?”

“I’d never thought about it. Would that be so horrid?”

“Just odd. Seems like a strange way to live.”

The horses of the Dragaerans were shod with iron; Cawti’s was shod with an iron and copper alloy, producing a higher-pitched sound. The combination was oddly musical.

“Out of curiosity,” said Daro, “do you hate me because I’m human, or because I’m a Tiassa?”

“I don’t hate you, my lady.”

“No?”

“Hate is personal. I don’t know you.”

“I see.”

“I doubt that is true, my lady.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

They reached the Palace without further conversation. When they were before the Imperial Wing, Cawti said, “I thank you for the company, my lady.”

“You are most welcome.”

Daro dismounted and turned her horse over to the care of a groom, while Cawti continued on toward the House of the Dragon. Daro entered the Palace and followed the familiar path to the Last Antechamber, where she gave her name and asked to speak with Her Majesty. She was admitted in less than two minutes, and at once walked up to the Empress, making the proper obeisance.

“What is it, Countess?”

“Your Majesty, may we speak privately?”

Zerika frowned. “Very well.” She rose, as did everyone else in the room. She nodded to the nearest guard and announced, “I will be in the Blue Room for a few minutes.”

Daro followed her out the east door and down a very wide stairway that had, in Daro’s opinion, far too much gold filigree. The second door on the right was the Blue Room, named not for the walls, which were an inoffensive beige, but for the furnishings—a long couch and three comfortable chairs. There was also a table, upon which a servant deposited an open bottle of wine and two glasses. Neither Daro nor the Empress so much as glanced at the wine.

Her Majesty sat in one of the chairs and nodded to Daro, who sat at the end of the couch.

“What is it, Countess?” The Orb, slowly circling her head, was a pale green.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

CAWTI

The Easterner left the Tiassa who dressed like a Lyorn and spoke like an Issola. Then she continued on to the House of the Dragon, where she put her horse into the hands of a groom, with instructions to return her to the livery stable in South Adrilankha. The groom bowed, and Cawti tipped him, thanked him, and approached the House itself.

The doors stood open; she walked past the guards who flanked it, ignoring the way they ignored her. They’d seen her before, and had learned not to interfere with her, but they didn’t have to like it. She walked through the Grand Hall and took the White Stairway up three floors and so to the private chambers of the Heir. A single guard stood beside the pale yellow door with the e’Lanya symbol embossed in silver. This guard, too, recognized Cawti, and pulled the rope hanging next to the door.

Presently the door opened to reveal Her Highness Norathar. “Cawti! Come in!”

Cawti smiled and entered. “Greetings, Princess. Ouch!”

“I told you I’d smack you if you called me that again. Sit. What are you drinking?”

“Nothing. I need a clear head. You aren’t drinking either, sister.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Don’t play stupid; you see how I’m dressed.”

Norathar nodded. “Either something is up in South Adrilankha, or it’s about Vlad.”

“Nothing is up in South Adrilankha.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“The beginning would be when Her Ladyship the Countess of Whitecrest came to my door.”

Norathar sat back. “Really! She came to your house? That’s priceless!”

“Isn’t it just?”

“What did she say?”

Cawti described the conversation; Norathar appeared to enjoy it; especially the negotiation.

“So,” said the Dragon Heir. “We have a Jenoine invasion—”

“The
threat
of a Jenoine invasion.”

“Right. And an artifact that can help that is supposedly in Vlad’s possession, and an Empress agreeing to use the Orb to locate him.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve drawn the obvious conclusion.”

“I’m glad it’s obvious to you, too, or I’d have to wonder if paranoia were contagious.”

“It’s obvious. Any idea how they’re going to do it?”

“Not yet.”

“What is this silver tiassa?”

“I don’t know anything about its history or properties, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s something Vlad used in a caper a few years ago. Before we were married, in fact. So far as I know, it doesn’t actually do anything. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It was pretty.”

“And it reminds you of Vlad.”

“This is a lovely room. Is the still-life new?”

“Cawti—”

She sighed. “I’m not the Countess of Whitecrest.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Everything I do does not, in fact, revolve around the guy I used to live with.”

Norathar stared at her. “Where would you get the idea that I thought it did?”

“All right. It was a strange conversation with the Countess. I mean, while we were riding over. Nothing significant, just strange.”

“It must have been.”

“Have you met László?”

“The Empress’s … I mean, the Easterner?”

“Yes.”

“Sure, we’ve met.”

“He’s one of the finest masters of witchcraft the world has ever seen. Ever. He has two familiars, which as far as I know has never … he has extended his life for hundreds of years. You can’t do that with witchcraft. He—”