Стивен Браст: Tiassa

She nodded. “And I’ve never met any.”

“And I think she’s pretty much confined to that one room, whether she’s a ghost or whatever else she is.”

Hevlika nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So I guess I’ll go talk to her.”

She nodded.

“I doubt I’ll run into you again.”

“It’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you. For dancing.”

She smiled and nodded, and I went through the door.

I had a theory.

I returned to the room where I’d slept, grabbed the rope hanging from the ceiling and pulled it twice, and waited. The wait went on far longer than it should have; I was about to conclude that my theory was wrong, or else you just can’t find good servants, when Gormin appeared, looking hesitant.

“Sir? You rang twice.”

“Yeah.”

“The call for Harro is once, and for me it is three times, so I was uncertain—”

“My mistake. I meant you.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Who is two?”

“No one, at present.”

“Of course. I’d like to speak with you. Want to sit?”

“I’d prefer to stand, sir.”

I knew he’d say that, but I had to ask. I sat down in the chair. It was like a repetition of the little drama I’d played out with Harro just an hour before. Or maybe that was the rehearsal, and this was the performance.

I said, “You remember me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean, from before, when you drugged me and tried to interrogate me.”

He stared over my shoulder and was silent.

“Answer,” I said. “Do you remember me?”

“I didn’t recognize you at first. And then I wasn’t sure.”

“But now you do, and you are.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m not altogether pleased about that, you know. Especially because to me it was only yesterday. But you suspected that, didn’t you?”

He did his “staring over my shoulder” thing again. If he kept that up I was going to get irritated.

“Answer me,” I said. “Did you suspect that?”

He nodded.

“So you know about paths through time.”

“I—know there are odd things. There are rooms we are not permitted to visit, and restrictions as to with whom we can speak. And I’ve known for a long time that my lord Zhayin was working to solve the problem of a structure that could reach other worlds.”

“But not that he’d solved it?”

“Not then,” he said.

“When?”

“Two days ago, I heard a scream. I tried to see where it came from and became lost. Eventually I reached a window, and we were on a cliff.”

“And that was your first clue that the entire manor had moved?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who screamed?”

“I don’t know, sir. I asked Discaru if he knew anything and he told me it was none of my concern.”

Well. Salute me and call me General. I hadn’t expected that. A mysterious scream, just as the manor is appearing at its new location. Another piece fell into place. I let it buzz around in my head for a minute, then I said, “Well, interesting as that is, it isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

He cleared his throat. “No, I imagine not.”

“And it isn’t about the unpleasantness when we met before, either.”

“Sir?”

“It’s about Hevlika.”

His jaw clenched, and he again fixed his eyes over my shoulder. I waited it out, and he said, “What about her?” His voice was a lot smaller.

“I know what happened. I know who had you expelled from the House.”

“Yes,” he said. “Harro. He was in love with her.”

I blinked. And there was another surprise. “Okay,” I said. “I hadn’t expected you to know that. When did you find out?”

“When he appeared. I suppose a couple hundred years ago.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“There didn’t seem to be anything to say, sir.”

“And you never spoke to her about it?”

“How could I?”

“Yeah, how could you. Tell me something else.”

“Sir?”

“The food. It comes from the old castle, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The servants cook it, bring it through the mirror room?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Sir?”

“Why not bring staff here? There’s a really nice kitchen, a big pantry. Why not use it?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Good. Yes. Perfect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, but I think I might be starting to.”

“What—?”

“No, don’t ask. It’s bubbling around in my head, and there are still things I don’t get. But it’s the mirrors, and it’s Discaru, and it’s Zhayin. And it’s the front door.”

“The front door, sir?”

“When I first spoke with Zhayin, he was surprised that I was able to get in, and he was surprised that the front door wouldn’t open. Had you ever gone in or out of that door?”

“Of course. Many times.”

“I mean, since the manor arrived here on the cliff.”

“Oh. No, I haven’t had occasion to.”

“Right. And what about the other door?”

“Sir? What other door?”

“Exactly. A house this size with only one door to the outside?”

“Well, there is the door to the courtyard.”

“Yeah. And there’s one on the side that goes to—have you ever gone out that one?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t. It’s disturbing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Necromantic paths to alternate worlds, doors that opened to different times but not really because you couldn’t go anywhere—

“Are you all right, sir?”

“I think I’m getting a headache.”

“Would you care for some springroot tea? It has been known to be efficacious—”

“No, no. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will figure all of this out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Adron’s Disaster changed everything.”

“Sir?”

“I’m just starting to realize what that means. You wouldn’t, because you’re living it, it’s part of your life. But I’m getting it.”

“I don’t—”

“Dragaeran history, as it was, started with the explosion that created the Great Sea of Amorphia, and it ended with Adron’s Disaster.”

He got that look you get when you don’t want to rile up the madman. I ignored it and kept going. “Right now, you’re operating on inertia. But none of the old rules apply. Everything’s changing. The Houses. The Cycle. All of it. And you could be part of it, old guy.”

“Yes, sir, no doubt—”

“All you have to do to be part of it is walk up to Hevlika and say, ‘I love you.’ See, I’m the most romantic assas—Easterner you’ll ever meet. But it’s true. That’s how this place, Precipice Manor, came to exist. Part of that same disruption, knocking holes in things. It’s shaken up everything. And one thing it’s going to do is change the Houses. Go ahead. Do it. Just go up to her—”

“I could never.”

I looked at him. I thought about Cawti, and the way she used to look at me, and the way she looked at me now, and I wanted to hit the idiot over the head with a chair. I knew it was none of my business, but I wanted to.

“Fine,” I said. “Tell you what. How about you just go watch her dance. See where it leads from there.”

He sighed. “If only I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

“My duties—”

“Right. I have the feeling your duties are going to be considerably lighter soon. I’d go and watch her when she dances. She likes having an audience.”

“I—all right. And sir?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“About?”

“Drugging you.”

“Oh. I never blame the dagger for where it’s pointed. Well, almost never.”