“I understand,” I said. “But if you did . . .”
“Yes? If I did?”
Okay, sometimes luck will out.
“You would probably be interested in knowing that the fire is getting hotter.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Questions are being asked.”
“And are the answers forthcoming?”
“No.” And I added, “Not yet.”
Her lips tightened. “Some,” she said, “might interpret that as a threat.”
“No, no,” I said. “Not a threat. But you know Lord Shortisle.”
“Do I?” she said. “What makes you think so?”
“I mean, you know how he works.”
“I thought I did,” she said. “But now you say he’s not threatening me, and yet—”
Well, well. All the way to the top. I said, “He’s not. What I mean is, he’s getting pressure from, well, you can guess where the pressure’s coming from.”
She frowned. “Actually, I can’t. The Phoenix is off cavorting with her lover, as I understand it, so it can’t be her, and there isn’t anyone else who is in a position to threaten us, or has the desire to.”
Now, that was extremely interesting. I said, “Because Her Majesty is gone doesn’t mean she’s out of touch.”
For the first time, she looked worried. “It is her? Something has slipped?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What?”
“I don’t know; I’m just a messenger.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad—yet. It’s just a whisper. But Lord Sh—That is, certain parties thought you should be informed.”
“Yes, yes. What does he say I should do?”
“Do you know Lord Loftis, who is running the—”
“Of course I do.”
“That’s where the pressure is coming down.”
“Has he slipped?”
“Not badly, but enough so there’s some danger. You should be prepared to move.”
“Huh? What do you mean, move?”
“I mean run.”
“Oh. Do you think it might come to that?”
“We hope not.”
She nodded. “All right. Why didn’t—uh—why wasn’t I reached directly? Why send you?”
Hmmm. Good question. “Why do you think?”
For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to be able to come up with anything, but her eyes got big. “The Empress? Using the Orb? She wouldn’t! She’s a Phoenix!”
I shrugged. “She hasn’t yet, and she may not, but it would be the obvious next step, wouldn’t it?”
“Impossible. Shortisle is getting paranoid.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Probably.”
“Certainly. No one has done that since the seventh Jhereg Reign, and you know what happened then!”
“So is there any harm in being careful?”
“No, I suppose not.” She shook her head. “We should have been more careful from the beginning—we should have arranged for methods of making contact, and signals.” That’s right, you should have. “But then, no one planned anything—it just happened, one thing led to another.”
“Yes,” I said. She looked like she was about to start asking questions, so I finished the wine and stood up. “There’s a great deal to do, but nothing that should be impossible.” That was general enough that I didn’t think I could get into trouble with it.
“Of course,” she said. “Tell him I’ll await his word, but that I’ll be ready to, as you put it, move.”
“Very good. I—or someone—will be in touch. For the future, whoever it is will say he’s from the Adrilankha Eleemosynary Society.”
“Adrilankha Eleemosynary Society,” she said. “All right. Good luck.”
“Yes,” I said. “And you be careful.”
I didn’t realize how tense I was until I walked out the door. And even then I couldn’t completely relax, because they might be watching me. I didn’t think I gave myself away, but I couldn’t be sure; Vonnith was the sort who could play the game on me that I thought I was playing on her.
I got up to the road and teleported to the Imperial Palace’s Orca Wing just in case they decided to trace the teleport. It crossed my mind to visit the Ministry of the Treasury while I was there, but on reflection there was too much chance of my being recognized by the Jhereg who have business there from time to time, so I just waited for about ten or fifteen minutes, then teleported back to the cottage.
Vlad was talking to Hwdf’rjaanci, probably about Savn’s condition, while Savn slept. When I came in, Vlad said, “Well?”
“I don’t know,” I told him. “I think it went well, but—”
“What did you learn?”
Buddy insinuated his nose into my person. I petted him and pushed him away. Loiosh, who was on Vlad’s left shoulder, twitched his head in what was probably laughter. “It goes all the way to the top,” I said.
“You mean Big Shot Treasury is Shortisle himself?”
“Not necessarily, but Shortisle is involved somewhere along the line.”
Vlad whistled softly. “Let’s have the details,” he said.
I gave him the conversation as well as I could remember it, and a few notes on architecture as well, after which he said, “Yeah, Shortisle’s in it, all right. I suspect the Empress is not going to be happy about this, and I suspect that, if any of a number of people find out what we’re doing, we could be in some very serious trouble.”
“Right on both counts,” I told him.
“Could Shortisle have enough pull to enlist the Tasks Group?”
“No chance,” I said. “There has to be someone else.”
“Okay.” I could see him accept that. “The Tiassa? Lord Khaavren?”
“I know about him. I don’t believe it. And you’re the one who heard the way Loftis talked about him, and I threatened Loftis with telling him.”
“The Empress?”
“Even less likely. I’d even risk ‘impossible.’”
“Then who, dammit? Who else can order the Tasks Group to do something like this?”
“No one.”
“Oh, good. Well, that’s helpful.” He frowned. “I remember I was at Dzur Mountain once—have you ever been there?”
I shrugged.
“Yeah. Well, I was there once, talking to Sethra Lavode, the Enchantress—”
“I know who she is.”
“Right. She was telling me about the Dragon-Jhereg war.”
“Yes.”
“It was pretty ugly as I understand it. Were you involved in that?”
“Sure,” I said. “On the side of the Dragons.”
He gave me a polite smile. “The Dragons had the real power, but the Jhereg had one advantage—they always went for the top. While the Dragonlords were busily killing every Jhereg they came across—whether he worked for the Organization or not—the Jhereg were carefully wiping out all the military leaders in the House of the Dragon. It was a nasty little war, and, by the end, Sethra Lavode had to get involved. Do you know about that?”
“Go on.”
“All she did was announce that she was in charge, and then, as she told me, she did nothing—she just sat in Dzur Mountain and waited for the Jhereg to try to assassinate her, and wiped them out as they did, which was pretty stupid on the part of the Jhereg, really. No one is going to assassinate the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain, unless maybe Mario reappears. But that’s not the point. She also mentioned a time in Eighth Cycle when she was Warlord, and she had six hundred troops to defend this little hill against—”
“What’s your point, Vlad?”
“That they’re occupying the strong position—they don’t have to do anything. We’ve been nipping at them here, and scouting them there, and we’ve learned a lot, but mostly what we’ve learned is that they’re way tougher than we are, and they’re in a secured position. All they have to do is dig in, and we can’t touch them. If we tell the Empire what’
s going on, they’ll go to ground and it’ll take a hundred years to sort everything out. If we keep nibbling away at them, it’ll take even longer.”
“I see your point. So what do we do?”
“We need to get Sethra Lavode to leave Dzur Mountain—figuratively speaking.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I see what you’re getting at. How do you propose to do it?”
“They’re scared as it is,” he said. “That is, Loftis has been given the job of covering over Fyres’s murder, and Vonnith is obviously up to something, and so is Shortisle. So I propose we give them something to chase—like me. Then we turn the chase around and nail them.”
“Uh-huh. And, if they do chase you, how are you going to stay alive long enough to, as you put it, turn the chase around?”
He rubbed the spot above his lip where his facial hair was just starting to grow back. “I haven’t worked that part out yet,” he said.
“Yeah. Well, be sure and let me know when you do.”
“Well, so what’s your bright idea?”
“Let’s go back to the beginning, Vlad. What do we know about Fyres?”
Vlad shrugged. “Not much. We have something to start with, but—”
“Yeah. I’d like to find out more.”
“Kiera, that could take years. We have some of his private notes, okay. But between empty companies, and fake ships, and loans without backing, and reams of paper—most of which we don’t have—we’re never going to be able to track down what was really going on.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But remember Stony?”
“Your Jhereg friend? Sure.”
“I’m thinking that if the Jhereg has been involved in this, then someone, somewhere, knows what’s going on.”
“And why would you think that?”
“Sheer number of Jhereg, Vlad. There are so many of us involved in financing this kind that at least one of them was bound to have been smart enough not to jump in, but to investigate the guy. All we have to do is find out who that is and get the information already collected.”
He looked skeptical. “Do you think you can do that? That is, find just the right guy and get the information without giving the game away?”
“I can do it,” I told him.
He shrugged. “Okay. Go to it.”
“It may take a few days.”
“All right.”
“And there’s something else I want to do, but we’re going to have to think about whether it’s a good idea.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You’re wise, Vlad. I’m not sure it’s something we ought to do, but I’m thinking about it.”
“Let’s hear it, Kiera.”
“You like honey in your klava, don’t you?”
“Ah. So that’s how it is?”
“You’re very quick.”
“Only because I’ve been stung. Let’s hear what you have in mind.”
I gave him the general outline, omitting details he didn’t need and wouldn’t have been happy knowing. He listened very intently, then he said, “Yes, indeed. And we don’t even have gloves, much less whatever you’re supposed to use to protect your face. The question is, how big is the swarm, and how nasty do they get when they’re roused?”
“Yeah, that’s the question. And can you think of a better way to find out?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, Kiera, I can’t.”
“So I should go ahead?”
He nodded briefly, like he didn’t enjoy the prospect. Well, neither did I, come to that. I said, “What are you going to do while I’m off gathering sweets?”
A peculiar sort of smile came to his lips. “I’ll think of something,” he said.
* * *
ALL WE HAD TO DO was keep our heads down and keep learning things, and eventually, maybe, we’d start to get an idea about what was going on; then, just maybe, we’d be able to figure out what to do about it. That, at least, was what I was thinking as I stepped out of the little cottage and repaired home to make myself annoying in a couple of different ways to several different people.
The next two days were no more fun than I’d thought they would be—most of those I spoke to I didn’t like, and they didn’t like me, and they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me anything useful, anyway—but in the end I came up with some hard information. I noted it down carefully, and, psychic communication being impossible while Vlad wore the Phoenix Stones, I had to hold on to what I’d learned until I would see him next: tomorrow or the day after, depending on how things went tonight. When I was done asking irritating questions of irritating people, which was in the afternoon of the second day, I picked up the tools I was going to need and prepared to do what I was good at.
Vlad and I, back in the old days, used to compare our respective crafts, and one of the things common to both was the need for preparation, and, in conjunction, how dangerous it was to try to do anything in a hurry. The trouble was, things were happening too fast, and I had the feeling they were going to happen even faster.
Well, I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. After getting what I needed from home, I spent the rest of the afternoon going from place to place in Adrilankha, trying to get the information I needed to have a chance to pull this off.
I wished I had a familiar to grumble at while I did so. Vlad’s told me about several times Loiosh has saved his life, or suggested the solution to a problem, or provided the necessary help to complete a witchcraft spell, but I have the feeling that the most important thing Loiosh does for Vlad is give him someone to grumble at. You feel stupid grumbling to yourself, so I didn’t.
The day was waning when I had finally acquired everything I needed. I took about four hours to study the situation, curse about everything I didn’t know, and come up with a tentative way in, a provisional agenda, and a possible way out, with maybe a couple of alternatives for the last, all of which I knew would likely be rendered useless if something went wrong. For the first time in more years than I could remember I actually thought about how humiliating it would be to get caught, because for the first time in more years than I could remember it seemed like a real possibility.
I cursed yet again and made my way to the Imperial Palace, Orca Wing.
The phrase “breaking into the Imperial Palace” has been used among people I know for a long time as an expression of the unthinkable: “Argue philosophy with an Athyra? Might as well break into the Imperial Palace,” or, “Bet the round stones? Sure. And then we’ll break into the Imperial Palace.” That sort of thing. It’s a fascinating little phrase, because it only makes sense if it goes back to the early days of the Empire, when all that existed was the old nucleus that became the Imperial Wing; breaking into the Imperial Palace is as easy in the execution as it is meaningless as a concept: most of the doors you can just walk into; where in the Imperial Palace do you want to break into?
And, of course, to do what?
In any case, I “broke into the Imperial Palace” by walking into the Orca Wing. I wore a nice, full coat of Jhereg grey with natty black fringe, a hood in case it got cold, and one that was sufficiently voluminous to hide my tools. I nodded to the tired-looking Orca watchman as I went by.
So let’s see. One, two, third corridor to the left, up the stairs, down the hall to the statue. A long way. There was no bloody statue of Sealord Cren; how old was that information, anyway? Well, it had to be either this passage or this one, and . . . yes, there were the marks where the statue used to be. Good. Now another stairway, and two more turnings, and it had been quite some time since I’d seen anyone. The Orca were forced to work long, irregular hours when at sea; they made up for it ashore by working no more than they had to.
There were supposed to be a couple more watchmen to circumvent right before I reached my destination, and I became worried when I didn’t see them. But I waited in the corridor outside the doorway into the Ministry until at last I heard one walk by; the foots
teps were measured and casual and went away after a while. Nine and a half minutes later I heard a different set. Eleven minutes later the first set returned. I spent another half hour there, just to make sure of the timing, then moved.
The door into the Ministry had only the most cursory lock, and the alarm was trivial. Once past it, I had to get into Shortisle’s office, and I spent most of the seven minutes I’d given myself in checking for alarms; then I retreated once more to wait for another cycle of the watch. The next time I spent only five minutes more checking for alarms, about a minute disabling them, and maybe twenty seconds opening the door, slipping through, shutting it, and locking it again. Then I put the alarms back up in case the guards checked them. I put some cloth under the door so that no one would see light peeking out, then looked around.
There was a door in his office that had a nice little sign on it reading, “Records.”
If Shortisle was engaged in anything shady—or, in fact, even if he wasn’t—he wouldn’t make it easy to get to the financial records of the Empire, so I intended to take this carefully and slowly, and make sure I’d found everything before I moved.
I studied the door, the floor, and the ceiling first, looking for anything obvious, and found nothing. Next I looked as closely as I could through and into the keyhole, but I didn’t see anything that looked like an alarm.
The next step was to feel for the presence of sorcery in the area, and, yes indeed, it was all over the place; there was nothing subtle about it. Was it double-trapped? That is, would looking at it closely set off an alarm? Well, there are the tendrils of spells that hang in the real world like abandoned cobwebs; and one knows the feel of these strands if one has ever walked through a dark and gloomy place-so, too, were these bits of amorphia all around me in that place that was dark to the outer eye, but now filled with light to the inner. I can brush past cobwebs without making them fall, but what if the web is not abandoned, after all? Then the spider will know I am there; and if there is anyone watching the spider, then I cannot brush her or her threads aside without all the world being aware of me.
Ah, little spider, you have a bite, do you? And someone watching over you? Well, let him watch, little spider, and you—find me if you can, for I know cobwebs better even than you, and I will send up my own spider that will look like you, and act like you, and gobble you up, and then sit fat and happy in your place while the watcher watches, oblivious.