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 532nd 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 aske
d,” 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?”
“He? Well, yes and no, I think.”
“How, yes and no?”
“He is healthy, yet he is not happy.”
“He is not happy? Has, then, something happened to make him unhappy?”
“Something happen? I nearly think so! Did you not hear that His Majesty had a search made of his daughter’s quarters in the House of the Dragon, or the Dragon Wing, I forget which?”
“Well, yes,” said Khaavren. “It seems to me that I did hear something of that, now that you mention it.”
“Well,” said Tazendra.
“Were you able to cool his temper?”
“Oh yes,” said Tazendra. “I spoke most soothingly, and he listened to everything I said. And of course, our friend Aerich was of some help.”
“So that he was no longer angry when you left?”
“He was as gentle as a winneasaurus, content to let us make our investigations and do nothing until he learned what the results were.”
“Investigations, my dear Tazendra?”
“Yes, certainly.” Then she stopped and her eyes grew wide. “Ah, fool that I am, I was not to mention that to you.”
“How, you were not to mention that?”
“Exactly.”
“What were you not to mention?”
“That we have determined to investigate.”
“Well, then I will pretend that you said nothing of any investigations.”
“Oh, would you do that?”
“Cha! It is nothing. Though I confess that my self-love is a trifle damaged, Tazendra, that His Highness felt I could not be trusted.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that, I assure you.”
“Well, but then, what was it?”
“He merely wanted to avoid putting you in a position where you must choose between your duty and your friendship.”
“I see. Then it was a noble gesture.”
“Was it not? I’ve always thought Lord Adron every inch a gentleman.”
“Oh, certainly. Yet, I fail to see how an investigation you are conducting could cause a conflict between my duties and my friendship.”
“Well, would you like to know something, Khaavren?”
“Certainly, my friend.”
“I don’t understand either.”
“How, you don’t understand?”
Tazendra solemnly shook her head.
“Then,” said Khaavren, “it must be a deep matter indeed.”
“Oh, the deepest.”
“It must involve intrigue.”
“I think it does,” said the Dzurlord, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“And the court,” said Khaavren, lowering his voice to match hers.
“Oh, of course, the court,” said Tazendra. “Why else mention Jurabin?”
“Ah, that is who they wish to investigate?”
“None other.”
“It is, I suppose, Aerich who is investigating Jurabin?”
“No, no. Aerich has remained with His Highness. It is Aliera and Sethra who are speaking with Jurabin.” Then she winced. “Bah! I cannot keep my tongue under control. I was not supposed to mention that, either.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Khaavren who was, meanwhile, thinking of it a great deal.
“Ah, I am vexed with myself.”
“But what were you to tell me?”
“Only that we saw His Highness, and passed the evening with him.”
“That is all you were to tell me?”
“Not a word more.”
“And whence came these orders?”
“Bah! From whom would these orders come except from His Highness?”
“But, then, who told you to pass on that you had seen him and that he was well?”
“Oh, that was Aerich.”
“I see,” said Khaavren. “Yet it seems to me that you have done just what you were asked to do.”
“I have?”
“Why, yes. You have told me that you spent the evening with His Highness. So, you perceive, you have done what you ought to have done.”
“Have I?” said Tazendra. “Well, then I shan’t worry about it.”
“And you will be right not to.”
They continued speaking for some little time then, as old friends will, but they confined the discussion to reminisces and to praise for their friends and for each other.
“Well,” said Tazendra, after a certain amount of time had passed, “I have seen you, and seen once more these rooms that were so important to me, and I have told you what I came to tell you. Now I shall be off, and I will, no doubt, see you at home this evening.”
Tazendra stood up, and Khaavren did the same, and they embraced once more and parted with compliments. Khaavren returned to his duty of inspecting his guardsmen and reading the reports of the previous night’s events, and was on the point of leaving to see if His Majesty required anything when he was informed that he had another visitor.
“Well, it seems to be the day for it. Who is this?”
“The Duke of Galstan.”
“Ah, ah! Send him in!”
Pel came in, once more dressed as a student of the Art of Discretion: fully covered in plain robes the color of the mud that formed at the edge of the Dragaera River. “Pel, my friend! Sit down, sit down. Do you know, you have not missed our friend Tazendra by more than an hour.”
“How, she was here?”
“In the very chair you now occupy.”
“Well, but did she have a reason for her visit?”
“Oh, indeed yes. Aerich sent her to tell me that Adron is furious, and may be contemplating doing something rash, and is, moreover, investigating Jurabin, because they suspect, as we do, that Jurabin may, for his own reasons, have prevailed upon His Majesty to be lenient toward Aliera.” He frowned. “Our dear Jurabin cannot have had an easy time of it.”
“I should think not,” said Pel, smiling.
Khaavren shrugged. “Now you know what I know.”
“That is true,” said Pel, “but you do not yet know what I know.”
“How, you have learned something since last night?”
“Indeed yes, and I will tell you if you wish.”
“I wish for nothing else in the world.”
“This is it, then: we were right about Her Majesty. She was behind the search of Aliera’s quarters.”
“Ah,” said Khaavren. “How did you learn this?”
“I spoke to her, in my role as a student here. I asked if she had anything she wished to speak to a Discreet about.”
“And yet, if it was told you in confidence—”
Pel laughed. “Not in the least. She denied requiring a Discreet, after which we had a pleasant conversation together, during which I learned much from her.”
Khaavren nodded slowly, recognizing Pel very well in this tale.
“So, now what, my friend?”
“Now what?” said Pel. “I am not certain. Yet if, as seems to be the case, there is troub
le brewing between the Consort and the Prime Minister, and at such a time as this, well, nothing good can come of it, Khaavren.”
The Captain nodded, for he had been thinking exactly the same thing. Then he sighed. “I must think, and you do too, and we will see if, together, we cannot formulate some plan. For I will tell you, Pel, that I am frightened of this situation; and you know, I think, that I am not easily frightened.”
The Yendi nodded solemnly and could think of nothing further to say. Khaavren rose and walked with Pel back to the Imperial Wing, after which Pel turned toward the Athyra Wing, walking at a slow, dignified gait so at odds with the spring in his step when he was garbed as a cavalier. Khaavren watched him, smiling. “Ah, my friend,” he said softly. “How many of you are there? Do you even know anymore? And how do you keep them all distinct in your mind?”
He took a step toward the Portrait Room and His Majesty, when, on a sudden impulse, he changed direction and made his way up to the suite of rooms belonging to Noima, Her Majesty the Consort. Now this suite, located on the east side of the Imperial Wing, featured an extension which had been grafted on above the Jhegaala Wing to provide a sort of balcony or parapet or porch where Her Majesty could sit on fine days and look down on the Dragaera River or the hills of Eastend. This balcony, for so we will call it, was entirely secluded from the rest of the Palace, and could not be reached except through the Consort’s own bedchamber, which was always watched by a pair of guards (not to mention the other three pair who guarded the different entrances to the Consort’s suite). All of this, in addition to providing an excellent setting for Luin’s farcical murder drama, Who Dropped Her First? had the result that, if the Consort wished for privacy, all she need do was inform the guards to her room that she did not wish to be disturbed, and these guards would let no one, not even His Majesty, pass without word from the Consort.
No one, we should say, except their superior officer, Khaavren of Castlerock.
We ought to mention that it was not, in fact, Khaavren’s intention to eavesdrop—his plan was to speak openly and frankly with Noima in hopes of pleading with her on Aliera’s behalf. But when his clapping produced no response, and when the two guards informed their Captain that the Consort was, in all probability, taking the air on the balcony with her maids of honor, Khaavren simply shrugged and walked through the door, thinking nothing of it.