Steven Brust - Phoenix

"Oh." I considered. "Why don't we do the recognition symbol bit?"

"A ring or something?"

"Yeah. Go get a few rings made, and give me one, one to Sticks, and keep one yourself. And keep close track of what happens to them all."

"All right, I'll talk to Sticks and take care of it this afternoon."

"Good. Another thing: I want to know what happens at this big get-together they're supposed to be having today in South Adrilankha."

"Okay."

Within six hours my arrangements with the firm of Tomas, Oscar, and Ramon had paid off. First, they managed

to find Aibynn a job with a musician of the House of the Issola who played Eastern instruments to accompany his singing of pre-Interregnum ballads. Second, they were the ones who, through Sticks, brought me word that most of Kelly's organization, including Cawti, had been arrested.

Lesson Eight

DEALING WITH MIDDLE MANAGEMENT II

One of the easiest and yet most effective offensive uses of sorcery involves simply grabbing as much energy from the Orb as you can handle without destroying yourself, channeling it through your body, and directing it at whomever or whatever you want to damage. The only defense is to grab as much energy as you can handle without destroying yourself and use it to block or deflect the attack.

It so happens that I've acquired a length of gold chain which, used properly, acts to interrupt any sort of spell sent against me, so I'm pretty safe from this kind of thing. But once, in the middle of a battle I should never have been in, I was hit from behind.

It felt like I was burning from the inside, and for what seemed like minutes I could feel veins, arteries, and even my internal organs burning. Every muscle in my body contracted, and I felt the muscles in my thighs attempt to break both of my legs and almost succeed. A Dragon warrior who was standing about fifteen feet in front of me was struck by an arrow at about that same time, and I spent minutes watching him fall over. I smelled smoke, and saw that it was coming from under my shirt, and realized with a horrible sick feeling that the hair on my chest and on the backs of my arms was burning. I knew that my heart had stopped, and my eyeballs felt hot and itchy. All sound vanished from the world, and returned only very slowly, beginning with a horrible buzzing, as if I'd been stuck in a bee's nest. It amazed me that there was no pain, and amazed me even more when I realized that my heart had started beating again. Even then it wasn't over, because for a while I couldn't stand up; efforts to move my legs only made them twitch. When, after several minutes, I was able to stand, I remember trying to pick up my sword and being unable to, because trying to take a step toward it led me off in a different direction, and efforts to extend my hand caused it to reach somewhere I had not intended. It was twenty or thirty minutes, I believe, before the effect wore off, during which time I was in the grip of a terror the like of which I'd never felt.

Since that time, the memory has come back at odd times, and always very strongly. It isn't like pain, which you don't really remember—the incident was burned, and I think I mean that literally, into my brain—so sometimes all the sensations wash over me, and I can't breathe and I wonder if I'm going to die.

This was one of those times.

The incident on Greenaere was the fourth time I'd been imprisoned. The first was the hardest, just because it was first, but none had been easy. By removing someone's freedom of movement, you remove some measure of his dignity, and the thought of this happening to Cawti, to the woman whose eyes crinkled when she grinned, and who threw her head back when she laughed so her dark, dark hair rippled across her shoulders, to the woman who had guarded my back, to the woman who—to the woman who didn't know if she loved me anymore, to the woman who was throwing away her happiness and mine for a pail full of slogans. It was almost more than I could stand.

"You all right, boss?" said Sticks, and I came back to an awareness of him, staring up at me and looking worried.

"After a fashion," I said. "Get Kragar." I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Presently I heard Kragar's voice. "What is it, Vlad?" "Shut the door."

The latch, Kragar's footsteps, his body settling into the chair, the rustle of Loiosh's wings, my own heartbeat. "Find me detailed plans of the dungeons of the Imperial Palace." "What?"

"They're below the Iorich Wing."

"What's going on?"

"Cawti's been arrested."

A break in the conversation stretching out to the horizon, infinite, timeless. "You can't be thinking of—"

"Get them."

"Vlad—"

"Just do it."

"No."

I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked at him. "What?"

"I said no."

I waited for him to continue. He said, "A few weeks ago you lost control and almost got yourself killed. If you lose control again you're on your own."

"I haven't asked you—"

"But I'm not going to cut wood for your barge."

I studied him carefully, my thoughts running quickly, although I don't recall the substance.

At last I said, "Get out."

He left without another word.

I don't remember any nausea following the teleport to Castle Black, nor do I remember what Lady Teldra said in greeting when I came through the portals. I found Morrolan and Aliera in the front room of the library, where the chairs are the most comfortable and he most enjoys sitting. It is the largest of the rooms, but has fewer books than the others, with more room for browsing, sitting, or pacing. Morrolan sat, Aliera stood, I paced. "What is it, Vlad?" he said after I made a few trips past him.

"Cawti's been arrested. I want your help in breaking her out."

He marked his place with a thin strip of gold-inlaid ivory and set his book down. "I'm sorry she's been arrested," he said. "With what is she charged?"

"Conspiracy."

"Conspiracy to what?"

"It isn't specified."

"I see. Will you have wine?"

"No, thank you. Will you help?"

"What do you mean by breaking her out?"

"What does it sound like?"

"It sounds like what we did to get you off of Green-aere."

"Exactly."

"Why do you wish to do that?"

I stopped pacing long enough to look at his face, to see if this was some form of humor. I decided it wasn't. "She broke me out," I told him.

"It was the only way to free you."

"Well?"

"I would suggest, with the Empire, that we try other methods first. Her former partner is the Heir, after all." |

I stopped. I hadn't thought of that. I allowed Morrolan to pour me some wine, which I drank and didn't taste.

Then I said, "Well?"

"Well what?" said Morrolan, but Aliera understood and excused herself from the room. I sat down and waited. We didn't speak until Aliera returned, perhaps ten minutes later.

"Norathar," she said, "will do what she can."

"What is that?" I asked.

"I hope enough."

"Had she known?"

"That Cawti was arrested? No. It seems there has been quite a bit of trouble in the Easterners' quarter, though, and that group she's in has been in the middle of it."

"I know."

"There are several such groups, actually, all over South Adrilankha, and the Empress is worried about the potential for destruction."

"Yes."

"But Norathar has some influence. We shall see." "Yes."

I brooded for a while, staring at the floor between my feet, until Loiosh said, "Careful, boss," at the same time Aliera said, "Who is 'she' and who is 'he'?"

"Eh?"

"You just said something about why did she want him dead."

"Oh. I didn't realize I was speaking aloud."

"You weren't exactly, but you were broadcasting your thoughts so strongly you might as well have been."