Steven Brust - Yendi

Cawti and I happily accepted Morrolan’s hospitality in the form of a good lunch. Then I excused myself and went back into the now deserted library to think.

All of this business with Norathar, I decided, was fine, but it wasn’t helping me find Laris, or at least get him off my back. Cawti and Aliera could talk about killing him, but they couldn’t find him any more than I could, even if Aliera was telling the truth. And I couldn’t afford to wait. If this kept up, I’d be out of business in a matter of weeks, at best.

It occurred to me that I might be able to get a message to him, proposing a truce. But he wouldn’t go for it. And when I remembered Nielar’s body, lying in the rubble of his shop, and the years I’d worked with Temek, and with Varg, I knew that I wouldn’t go for it either.

Which brought me back to finding Laris, which brought me back to the big questions: Who had been working with Baritt shortly before his death? Was this person Laris’s patron? How did this fit in with the business with Norathar? Was it Aliera? If not, who? And how to find out for sure?

I had reached that point when Cawti, Morrolan, and Aliera walked in. Before they could even sit down, I said, “Morrolan, did you find out anything yet about that Athyra?” I tried to keep an eye on Aliera as I asked the question, but her face betrayed nothing.

“No. Sethra is looking into the matter. Is there something in particular you wish to know?”

“Yes. You said that an Athyra is likely to be recommended by someone: can you find out who recommended the one used in Norathar’s earlier examination?”

He nodded. “I see why you are asking. We must assume that the Athyra was, as you would say, ‘a ringer,’ and whoever recommended her may have known this. Very well, I’ll see if I can find out. But I doubt that it was recorded, and it is unlikely that anyone remembers.”

“Except the one who did it, of course. Hmmm. Is there any way of putting together a list of everyone who could have made the suggestion?”

Morrolan looked startled. “Why—yes, that should be possible. I shall look into it immediately.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It is nothing.”

“How much will that help, Vlad?” asked Aliera after Morrolan had left.

“I don’t know,” I said carefully. “It’s impossible in something like this to tell who’s a willing dupe, who’s an unwilling dupe, and who might be behind it. But if we can find out who made the recommendation, it’ll at least be a start.”

She nodded. “What about the Lyorn?”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet. But look: I was told that the Lyorn was only there to make sure all the forms were followed. Say they were. There isn’t any reason why the Lyorn couldn’t have been taken in by whoever fooled Sethra the Younger about the first examination.”

“True.”

“So, of the people involved, we have: Sethra the Younger, who was duped or involved; the Lyorn, who was duped or involved; Baritt, who was duped or involved and then assassinated; and someone posing as an Athyra, or an Athyra using a false name.”

“In other words, we have nothing.”

“Right. We have to find out who that ‘Athyra’ was; she’s our only clue to whoever is behind it—if, in fact, she isn’t behind it herself.”

“Well, Vlad, don’t you have the name of the Lyorn noble? Why don’t you ask her? She’s liable to remember, or at least have written it down—Lyorns write everything down.”

“Now there,” I said, “is an idea.” I considered for a moment. What would Aliera do if . . . “But Lyorns don’t like to talk to Jhereg,” I said suddenly. “Is there any chance that you can find out for me?”

“What is her name, and where does she live?”

I told her.

“I’ll find out for you,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She bowed to Cawti and me, and left.

“Why did you do that, Vladimir?”

“To find out what Aliera will do about it. If the Lyora shows up recently dead, we have our answer. If not, we’ll see what Aliera says the Lyora told her.” I sighed, and settled back to think. Cawti came up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders. I reached up with both hands and touched hers. She leaned over my head and kissed me upside down, dislodging Loiosh.

“ You two are disgusting .”

“ Quiet. I’m busy .”

There was a clap at the door. We sighed and Cawti straightened up.

“Come in,” I called.

Norathar came in, death written all over her face. I stood up and glanced at Cawti, whose eyes were locked with Norathar’s.

“The examination showed you aren’t a Dragon,” I suggested.

“Wrong,” she said.

“Then what happened?”

“I am now confirmed as a Dragonlord—but not as the heir.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. If you two would rather—”

“It isn’t that,” she snapped. “They wish to ‘observe’ me for a while before making me the heir. I have to serve a stint in the Phoenix Guard, to ‘prove’ myself. As if I have any desire to be Emperor, anyway!”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t any Dragonlord ever want to be Emperor?”

“No,” said Norathar.

“Okay. You’re upset that they don’t trust you enough to make it immediate?”

“Some. But I found out something else. I’m afraid that it isn’t something I can discuss with you, Lord Taltos. But my sister and I—” She stopped, and I guessed that she and Cawti were conversing psionically. After a moment, Norathar turned to me and said, “So you know.”

“About why your attack on me failed? And what it means?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll understand why my sister and I must leave for the moment. We have to attend—”

“How did you find out?”

“I was told.”

“By whom?”

“I swore not to say.”

“Oh.”

“Farewell for the—”

“Wait a minute, please. I have to think. There’s something, before you go . . . ”

“Make it quick.”

I ignored the looks of inquiry Cawti was giving me, and reached out—“ Morrolan! Come back here, quick! ”

“ Why? ”

“ No time. Hurry! ”

And then, “ Aliera, there ’ s trouble. Morrolan ’ s on his way, you should be here, too. ” Whether Aliera was innocent or not, she would want to stop Norathar—I hoped.

Morrolan came bursting into the room, Aliera following by a second or two. Morrolan’s blade was at his side, but Aliera was holding eight feet of glistening black steel. They looked at me.

“What is it, Vlad?” asked Morrolan.

“The Lady Norathar wants to go out Jhereg-hunting.”

“So?”

“So the Dragon Council has—”

“This isn’t any of your business, Lord Taltos,” said Norathar coldly, her hand on the hilt of her blade.

“—accepted her as a Dragon, but—”

Norathar drew her blade. Loiosh hissed and gathered himself on my shoulder. I had a brief glimpse of Cawti, a look of anguish on her face, but then Morrolan’s longsword, Blackwand, was in his hand. He gestured with it toward Norathar, and her blade swung and buried itself deeply into a wooden beam against the wall of the library. She looked at Morrolan, wonderment in her eyes.

“My lady,” he said, “at Castle Black, I do not allow the killing of my guests except under conditions where they can be revivified. Further, you, as a Dragonlord, should not have to be reminded of treatment of guests.”

After a moment, Norathar bowed. “Very well,” she said. She wrenched her sword out of the beam and sheathed it with the plain efficiency of a Jhereg, instead of the flash of a Dragonlord. “I’ll be leaving then. Let’s go, sister.”