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Iorich

17

1. There were re­gret­table and even rep­re­hen­si­ble ac­tions tak­en by Im­pe­ri­al sol­diers in the vil­lage of Tir­ma on Ly­orn 2, 252.

2. Re­spon­si­bil­ity for these ac­tions must end with the in­di­vid­uals di­rect­ly in­volved (see Ap­pendix 23 for names and sug­gest­ed charges).

3. Any at­tempt to lay re­spon­si­bil­ity for this in­ci­dent on high­er lev­els of the Im­pe­ri­al mil­itary or­der will be in­con­sis­tent with jus­tice, and in ad­di­tion may have long-​term neg­ative con­se­quences for the Im­pe­ri­al army, and can­not there­fore be rec­om­mend­ed (see Part One, point 1).

I signed and sealed the oaths say­ing that as an Im­pe­ri­al Count I promised not to go any­where un­til my case had been dealt with, then was per­mit­ted to leave the Iorich Wing. My des­ti­na­tion was con­ve­nient­ly close, and by now fa­mil­iar.

I ran in­to Day­mar on the way to Perisil’s of­fice. I was go­ing to ask him where Kra­gar was, but I bethought my­self to take a look around and there he was. I stud­ied Day­mar in his black and gray, and thought about telling him he made a good Jhereg, but he didn’t so I didn’t.

I said, “How did it go?”

“Went well,” said Kra­gar. “I gave her a good runaround about ru­mors of new laws, and how could I prof­it from them, and she gave me a good runaround not an­swer­ing me. I don’t think she sus­pect­ed any­thing.”

“She will when some­one asks her why she was out of touch right when they need­ed her to get to the Em­press.”

“They might.” He didn’t seem con­cerned.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m like you, Vlad; it just tick­les me to have Aliera owe me one.”

That was a mo­ti­va­tion I could un­der­stand.

We reached the of­fice. The door was open, and Mor­rolan and Perisil were there. I in­tro­duced Perisil to Day­mar and to Kra­gar, whom he hadn’t no­ticed come in.

Perisil said, “I’ve just got­ten word from the Jus­ticer. They’re re­leas­ing Aliera.”

“Good.”

“And they’ll be in­ves­ti­gat­ing the events in Tir­ma.”

“Okay.”

“And Her Majesty wants to see you.”

“Oh,” I said. I cleared my throat. “When does Aliera get out?”

“They’ve al­ready dis­patched the re­lease or­der; she should be out with­in the hour.”

“Good.”

“Good work, Vlad,” said Mor­rolan.

“And you. All of us.”

“I should have more chairs,” said Perisil.

“Will Aliera be join­ing us here?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said.

I nod­ded. “Be­cause she’d pre­fer to sit, I’m sure.” That earned me a look from Mor­rolan.

It was like the old days in Mor­rolan’s li­brary, ex­cept it wasn’t. For one thing, Aliera wasn’t there. I couldn’t de­cide if I want­ed to see her. Most like­ly, she wouldn’t want to see me. She knew and I knew that, what with one thing and an­oth­er, thanks weren’t ap­pro­pri­ate; but you can’t help when obli­ga­tion makes you un­com­fort­able.

But more than that was the un­com­fort­able feel­ing that, while it was over, it wasn’t over. We couldn’t all re­lax and laugh and make fun of each oth­er, be­cause there was too much un­fin­ished. What would hap­pen with the Im­pe­ri­al in­ves­ti­ga­tion? Would the Left Hand go af­ter Cawti, as they’d threat­ened? When would the Jhereg fi­nal­ly get me? And then there was the un­re­solved mat­ter of—

“Kra­gar,” I said. “Do some­thing for me?”

“Hm­mm?”

“Some ass­hole was just ar­rest­ed for im­per­son­at­ing a Phoenix Guard. He was one of the ones who beat me. Find him, learn who his friends were, and break a few bones.”

He nod­ded. “How are you feel­ing, by the way?”

“Me? Fine.”

“Oh, you healed?”

“I . . . yeah.”

He let it go. He knows me. They all know me. Some­times that’s not en­tire­ly com­fort­able. I know them, too, but I don’t mind that part so much.

Mor­rolan said, “I’ve just heard from Aliera. She went home. Care to join us?”

I shook my head. “I need to speak with my ad­vo­cate.”

“Oh?”

“Long sto­ry.”

He hes­itat­ed. “Will you be around long?”

“Un­less they catch up to me.”

“I meant, around town.”

“Oh. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“I’ll be go­ing,” said Day­mar. “Good to see you again, Vlad.”

“You too.”

“Haven’t seen you much these last few years. Where have you been?”

“Um. I’ll tell you about it some­time.”

“All right.” He waved and van­ished; my ears popped. Peo­ple shouldn’t tele­port out of small rooms.

Mor­rolan was more po­lite; he thanked Perisil again, bowed, and walked out the door, leav­ing me alone with my ad­vo­cate. Oh, and Kra­gar. I looked around. Nope, just the two of us.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Need an­oth­er client?”

I gave him the short ver­sion, and he agreed to take it on, and I paid him. I was start­ing to feel a bit of a squeeze with mon­ey, which was some­thing I hadn’t had to wor­ry about for sev­er­al years, and thought I’d nev­er have to wor­ry about again. A shame about that. But liv­ing on the run can be pret­ty cheap if you do it right; that’s one good thing about it.

We left it there while I head­ed over to the Palace to have a lit­tle chat with the rel­ative­ly ab­so­lute ruler of the Dra­gaer­an Em­pire.

I reached the place with no in­ci­dents, and there was Harn­wood, bow­ing as deeply as he could with­out hav­ing me think I was be­ing mocked, af­ter which he said, “If m’lord will ac­com­pa­ny me, Her Majesty will see you now.”

My good­ness. How the fall­en have be­come mighty.

He led me to a small (for the Palace, at any rate) room done in gray mar­ble, with a six-​sid­ed mar­ble ta­ble at which sat the Em­press, nib­bling on bread and cheese. As have done mil­lions be­fore me, be­fore I even bowed I couldn’t help but glance at the Orb to see if I could judge the Im­pe­ri­al Mood. I couldn’t, re­al­ly. It was a kind of rusty brown, which might mean any­thing.

“Your Majesty,” I said.

There was a soft click as Harn­wood shut the door be­hind him.

“Sit,” com­mand­ed the ruler. I did so. “Eat,” was the next com­mand. Now that wasn’t some­thing I need­ed to hear twice, so I helped my­self. The cheese was very sharp, and the sort I’d nor­mal­ly think too salty, but it seemed to work. The bread had a thin, hard crust and an odd slight­ly sour taste, re­mind­ing me of some­thing Cawti had once brought home years be­fore.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It comes from Naarsten Coun­ty, in the So­ran­nah. It’s from a spe­cial breed of goat, and on­ly the best of the breed. They make five pounds a year, and it on­ly comes here, to the Palace.”

“Im­pres­sive,” I said. Ac­tu­al­ly, the cheese wasn’t that good.

“Yes,” she said. “Oth­er than the cheese, there isn’t a whole lot about this job I like.”

“Makes the com­pen­sa­tions more valu­able, that there are few­er of them.”

She had an­oth­er bite of bread and cheese, and nod­ded. “By now, Aliera should be home.”

I nod­ded.

“Just like it nev­er hap­pened,” she said.

“Uh huh. What of the in­ves­ti­ga­tion?”

“She’ll be cleared of any wrong­do­ing, I’m sure.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Vlad, a squad of half-​drunk, frus­trat­ed, an­gry sol­diers in Coun­ty Nowhere go berserk, and we’re go­ing to blame the War­lord? She wasn’t even there.”

“The squad?”

“One was ca­reer mil­itary, used to see­ing civil­ians as ei­ther in­con­ve­nient undis­ci­plined id­iots, or else un-​uni­formed sneak killers. The oth­ers were peas­ant boys who weren’t used to see­ing their friends die with­out hav­ing any­one to take their frus­tra­tions out on. Peo­ple fight, peo­ple die, be­cause the al­ter­na­tive is to let some lo­cal baron set his own tar­iffs for pas­sage of ship­wood, which will out­rage the Ly­orn who own the forests and the Or­ca who buy the wood. I can’t risk of­fend­ing the Ly­orn be­cause they’re too high on the Cy­cle, or the Or­ca be­cause they’re al­ready look­ing to form al­liances with the Jhereg. So a few peas­ants have to die. More cheese?”