He gestured, and time passed during which I was nowhere, then I was somewhere else. I took the amulet out again, put it on, and looked around. Imperial Wing; good enough.
It took me a good hour to find my way out of the Palace, mostly because I wanted to leave through the Iorich Wing, so I could cross to the House of the Iorich as quickly as possible. Yes, there’s a constant strain in knowing you’re being hunted, but even that is something you can get used to. You take sensible precautions, and minimize risk, and don’t let it get to you.
At least, that’s the theory.
The House of the Iorich (as opposed to the Iorich Wing of the Palace—just so you don’t get confused. I wouldn’t want you to get confused) was distinguished by a high door with a gilt arch, over which stood the representation of the House; this one, unlike the one in the Wing of the Palace, looking forward. The door was open. The two guards, in the colors of the Iorich, glanced at me but let me walk past without saying anything.
An elderly Dragaeran in a simple gown of brown and white approached me, gave her name (which I don’t remember), and asked how she could serve me. I told her I was in need of an advocate, and she said, speaking in very low tones even though no one else was around, that if I cared to tell her the general nature of the problem, she could perhaps recommend someone.
“Thank you,” I said. “That isn’t necessary, if you’d be so good as to tell me if Lady Ardwena is available.”
Her face closed up like the shutters of a house in the East, and she said, “Of course. Please come with me, and I’ll show you to a waiting room.”
I did and she did, with no further words being exchanged. I guess she knew what sort of clients Lady Ardwena took, and she didn’t approve. A blight on the House, I’ve no doubt.
The room was small and empty; it felt comfortable, though, lit with a pair of ornate oil lamps. While we waited, I exchanged remarks about the decor with Loiosh, who didn’t have much to say about it.
After about five minutes, she came in herself, stopping at the door, looking at me, then stepping in and closing it. I stood up and gave her a slight bow. “Lady Ardwena. It has been a few years.”
“I can do nothing for you,” she said. There was a lot of tension in her voice. I couldn’t blame her, but neither was I overwhelmed with sympathy.
“Just need some questions answered.”
“I shouldn’t even do that.”
She wouldn’t have put it that way if she’d intended not to; she wouldn’t even have seen me. I said, “It isn’t even about me. My problems aren’t legal.”
“No,” she said. “They aren’t. Who is it about?”
“Aliera e’Kieron.”
Her eyes widened a little. “You know her?”
Heh. And here I’d thought everyone knew that. “Yes. She needs an advocate. I need you to recommend one.”
“I’ve heard she’s refused advice.”
“Yes, that makes it harder.”
She nodded and fell silent for a bit. “I’ve heard of the matter, of course. Part thirty paragraphs one, two, and five, isn’t it?”
“Just one and two.”
She nodded. “They’re moving on it quickly.”
“Which means?”
“Which means that they don’t like their case, or else they need it prosecuted for political reasons, and the issue isn’t the issue, as it were.”
“That’s good to know.”
She chewed on her lower lip and sat down. I sat down too and waited while she thought.
“You’ll need someone who can handle a recalcitrant client, and someone who’s done a lot of work with Folio ninety-one. Imperial Edicts are different from both Codified Traditions and Statutes. They’re a bit like Ordinances except with the full force of the Imperium behind them, which makes them a bit of a niche. And then there’s the fact that the Empire is moving so quickly. . . all right.” She pulled out a stub of pencil and a tiny square of paper. “See him. If he won’t do it, maybe he’ll be able to recommend someone.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She stood up, nodded to me, and glided out. With the amount of money I’d given her over the years, I figured she owed me at least this much. She probably didn’t agree, but was afraid that I was in a position to make life difficult for her if she didn’t help me. And I was.
Iorich
2
By “The State” we mean that body that holds the monopoly on the use of violence within a geographic region and has the power and authority to determine how much and in what manner and under what circumstances this monopoly will be delegated, authorized, or commissioned to other bodies or individuals. This power is expressed and interpreted through the body’s various legal systems, coded or uncoded.
By this definition, (cf. Lanya), it is clear that to accept the existence of a State is to accept the monopoly on violence, and so too in reverse. The question, therefore, of the legitimacy of any act of violence by the State, whether deliberate or accidental, must first of all be determined according to:
1. The legitimacy of the State.
2. The legitimacy of the interests of the State in which the violence occurred.
3. The appropriateness or lack thereof of the particular acts of violence in serving those interests.
It is for this reason that, for example, any violence committed by a rebellious vassal is inherently illegitimate; any act of violence by agents of the State that are committed for personal motivations are considered criminal misappropriation of authority; and any act of violence that, in intent, fails to advance the cause of the State is considered negligent.
The committee began its investigation into the events in Tirma on this basis.
The name on the paper was Perisil. I’d never heard of him, but then, the only Iorich I’d ever heard of were those who were willing to take Jhereg as clients—a relatively low number.
I went and showed the name and got directions to a subbasement of the House, and from there to a narrow side passage that looked like an afterthought to the construction; it was meaner and the ceiling was lower and the lighting not so good. Here, unlike in the rest of the House, there were names over the doors. I wondered if somehow having your name over the door meant you were less important. In any case, it helped me find the right one.
I clapped and waited. After a while, I clapped again. I still heard nothing, but the door opened a little and a pair of odd violet eyes were peering at me, then at Loiosh and Rocza, then at me.
“Yes?” he said, or rather squeaked. His voice was high-pitched and small; I couldn’t imagine him arguing before the Court. I mean, do you want the Justicer laughing at your advocate? Well, I don’t know, maybe that would help.
“May I come in?”
He opened the door a bit more. He was only a little taller than Aliera, who was only a little taller than me. His shoulders were broad, and for a Dragaeran he’d have been called stocky. His dress was casual, to the point where the laces on his doublet were only loosely tied and his gloves were unevenly hanging on his belt. For an Iorich, that’s casual, okay? He said, “An Easterner. If you’re here on your own behalf, or one of your countrymen, I’ve never done anything with the Separation Laws, though I’ve looked through them of course.”