Steven Brust - Yendi

“Not exactly,” she said slowly. “But I’m beginning to suspect that the answer lies mostly before the Interregnum, the first time this conspiracy acted. What were they after, exactly?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “We should at least look into it.” I glanced at Norathar; she looked like her teeth hurt. Well, I could hardly blame her.

“The motive for that one,” said Cawti, “seems clear at least: it was an attempt to gain the Orb.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been told that no Dragon wants the Orb.”

“What about Adron?” she asked, looking at Aliera.

Aliera smiled. “A point,” she said. “But my father didn’t really want the Orb, he was forced to make a try for it out of a sense of duty.”

I stared at her. “Wait a minute. Did your father know the Sorceress in Green?”

Aliera looked startled. “I . . . believe they were acquainted, yes. But if you’re thinking that my father was the one behind the whole thing—”

“I wouldn’t say I think so; I’m just checking into it.”

She glared at me, and her eyes turned to steely gray. “If you feel you must.”

“I feel I must. How well acquainted were they?”

“They often saw each other, and Sethra, at Dzur Mountain. Ask Sethra. She knows better than I.”

I turned to Sethra. “Well?”

“I doubt,” she said, “that Adron was behind a conspiracy of this type. It isn’t his style. Besides, he and Baritt got along quite well.”

“That proves nothing,” I said. “Or, if anything, it makes the case stronger against him. How well did he get along with the Sorceress in Green?”

Sethra closed her eyes, as if having trouble remembering. Then she said, “We all got along in those days. Adron was never especially close to the sorceress, though.”

“So,” I said, “if Adron felt it his duty to take the Orb, he might have felt it was his duty to make sure he was the next Dragon Emperor.”

“I don’t believe it,” snapped Aliera, becoming more angry by the minute. I started laughing. She stood up, glaring. “Mind letting me in on the joke, Vlad?”

“I just can’t help but see how funny it is. We’re talking about a guy who, trying to take the Orb, blew up half the Dragaeran Empire, created a Sea of Chaos where the biggest city in the Empire used to be, killed I don’t know how many millions of people, and you’re upset because I’m wondering if he faked a bit of evidence to make his path a little easier.”

Cawti started laughing, too. None of the others seemed to think it was funny. That made it even funnier, and, for a moment, I almost had hysterics. Aliera said, “That’s different. This involved tricking Sethra, who was a friend. There is such a thing as honor in the House of the Dragon.”

Strangely, that sobered me up. It wasn’t any less funny, but, in a way, it was sad, too. Presently Cawti got the better of her mirth. I said, “All right, Aliera. Maybe he didn’t do it himself, but the Sorceress in Green could have done it without his knowledge, couldn’t she?”

Aliera sat down again and sniffed. “I doubt it.”

“All right, then, how did Adron and Norathar’s father, K’laiyer, get along?”

Aliera shrugged and looked away haughtily. I turned to Sethra. She looked uncomfortable, but said, “They had disagreements, I remember. They weren’t bitter enemies, by any means, but they did disagree.”

“Of course they disagreed!” said Aliera. “My father felt the Dragons had to take the throne, K’laiyer didn’t.”

Sethra nodded. “That was pretty much it,” she said. “They didn’t agree on how immediate the problem was.”

“What problem?”

“The decadence of the Emperor. Phoenix Emperors always become decadent at the end of their reign, except every seventeenth Cycle, when we have a reborn Phoenix, such as Zerika. Since that was at the end of the Great Cycle—seventeen Cycles—it was especially bad. The Empire appeared to be falling apart, there were Easterners making encroachments on the eastern border, and Adron felt the Emperor should either step down or be removed.”

“And K’laiyer didn’t?”

“No. I remember him pointing out to me that the ‘encroachments’ were into territories where most of the population was made up of Easterners anyway. He said that it was basically their land, and he saw no reason why they shouldn’t have it back.”

“I think I would’ve liked the guy,” I said.

“Maybe,” said Sethra. “He was likeable enough. And he would have made a good Emperor, I think.”

“It sounds to me,” I said, looking at Aliera, “as if Adron was—”

“I believe it is time to dine,” said Morrolan. “Perhaps we should continue this after the meal?”

I smiled a bit, nodded, stood, and offered Cawti my arm. She took it, and we headed toward the small dining room. I hoped this meal would be easier to digest than the last one with this crowd.

Which set me to remembering that meal. Which set me to remembering the days I had spent in Dzur Mountain. Most of the memories were quite pleasant.

But I remembered one conversation . . . That couldn’t have anything to do with this. Could it? The whole thing, just to accomplish that? But then, Dragaerans are Dragaerans.

“Wait a minute.”

Morrolan sighed and turned around. “Yes, Vlad?”

“I just—”

“Can it wait?”

“Uh . . . let’s go in and sit down while I think about it.” My mind was racing like a cat-centaur. I think I bumped into a few people and walls as I found my place.

I noticed that we were sitting in exactly the same positions that we’d been in before. A servant brought wine. I drank some without tasting it.

“All right, Vlad,” said Morrolan, in a resigned tone of voice. “What is it?”

“I think I might have just figured out who’s behind this, and why.”

I suddenly had everyone’s attention.

“Go on,” said Morrolan.

“Verra, but this is convoluted. But, with the Sorceress in Green doing the planning, how could it not be?”

“Well, who is it?”

“Let me put it this way: I’m going to guess that, between two and three years ago, the Sorceress in Green had a falling out with a certain individual she’d been friendly with up until then.”

I turned to Sethra. “Am I right?”

She looked puzzled. Then, suddenly, her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. After a moment, she nodded.

“That’s it, then.”

“What, Vlad?” said Morrolan, still calm.

“ You’re enjoying keeping everyone in suspense, aren’t you, boss? ”

“ Shut up, Loiosh .”

“Okay, I’ll put it this way: Suppose Norathar has just been killed. By Morrolan and Aliera. End of problem. So, the correct heir to the throne is out of the way, right? Who’s next?”

“Aliera,” said Morrolan.

“Right. But information comes out that she was involved in a Jhereg war. Then what?”

“Mmmmm,” said Morrolan. “The council might—”

“Assume further that the council is being manipulated. Maybe just a bit, maybe a lot, but there are strings being pulled.”

“All right, so Aliera is out as heir, if that’s what you want.”

“Right. And, by the same logic, Morrolan, so are you. Who’s next?”

They looked at each other. “I don’t know,” said Aliera at last.

“Neither do I. But, in a sense, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure the Sorceress in Green knows. Whoever it is probably isn’t even involved—it’s merely someone whose politics are known. No Dragon wants to be heir, you said. What does every Dragon want to be?”

“Warlord,” said Aliera, with no hesitation.

“Right. Morrolan, why don’t you send for that list, if it’s ready now.”