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“I rec­og­nized your name.”

“Oh. I’m fa­mous.”

“If you wish.”

“Can you tell me where to start look­ing?”

“You could ask the Em­press.”

“Okay.”

His eye­brows rose a frac­tion of an inch. “I wasn’t se­ri­ous.”

“Oh?”

“You know the Em­press?”

“We’ve spo­ken.”

“Well, if you think you can get her tell you any­thing, I won’t stop you.”

“All right,” I said. “If that doesn’t work?”

“Lord Del­wick, of my House, might be able to tell you some things, if he’s will­ing to talk to you. He’s our Im­pe­ri­al Rep­re­sen­ta­tive.”

“Okay,” I said. “A word of ad­vice: Don’t do any­thing to mess up his re­la­tion­ship with the Em­pire. The House hates that.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

“All right, I’ll get start­ed, then.”

He opened up a desk draw­er, dug around for a while, and then hand­ed me what looked like a cop­per coin with the Iorich in­signia. “Show him this, and tell him I sent you.”

I ac­cept­ed it, put it in my pouch, and said, “I’ll check back with you from time to time.”

“Of course.”

I stood and gave him a bow, which he ac­knowl­edged with ges­ture of his head, then I let my­self out.

I made my way back to the en­try­way of the House with­out too much ef­fort, as­sist­ed by Loiosh, who has a pret­ty good mem­ory for twists and turns.

I sent him and Rocza out ahead of me to spot any as­sas­sins lurk­ing in the area, was told there weren’t any, and made a brisk walk across the way to the en­trance of the Palace. I went as straight through as the twists of the Wing would per­mit, and out in­to the Im­pe­ri­al Wing.

Wher­ev­er you are in the Im­pe­ri­al Wing (all right, wher­ev­er I’ve been) you’ll see pages and mes­sen­gers scur­ry­ing around, all with the Phoenix badge, usu­al­ly car­ry­ing a green fold­er, though some­times it will be a gold one, and oc­ca­sion­al­ly some­thing oth­er than a fold­er. I al­ways re­sent them, be­cause they give the im­pres­sion they know their way around the place, which is ob­vi­ous­ly im­pos­si­ble. Doors, cor­ri­dors, stair­ways are ev­ery­where, and go­ing off at ab­surd an­gles as if de­signed by a mad­man. You have no choice but to ask di­rec­tions of some­one, usu­al­ly a guards­man, who will of course let you know ex­act­ly what they think of East­ern­ers who can’t find their way around.

It’s an­noy­ing.

To the left, how­ev­er, find­ing one of the rooms where the Em­press is avail­able to courtiers is one of the eas­ier tasks, and af­ter on­ly a cou­ple of mi­nor hu­mil­ia­tions I ar­rived out­side that wide, open, chair­less room called the Im­pe­ri­al Au­di­ence Cham­ber or some­thing like that, but in­for­mal­ly known among the Jhereg as As­skiss Al­ley.

There were big dou­ble doors there, with a pair of guards out­side of them, and a well-​dressed man who could have been a rel­ative of La­dy Tel­dra—when she was alive—stand­ing at his ease with a half smile on his face. I want­ed to touch La­dy Tel­dra’s hilt, but re­strained my­self. In­stead, I placed my­self be­fore this wor­thy and bowed like I meant it.

“Vladimir Tal­tos, House Jhereg, and Count of Szurke, at your ser­vice.”

He re­turned my bow ex­act­ly. “Harn­wood,” he said, “House of the Is­so­la, at yours, my lord.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the pro­ce­dure”—he gave me an en­cour­ag­ing smile—“but I would have words with Her Majesty, who may wish to see me.”

If the re­quest was sur­pris­ing, he gave no in­di­ca­tion. “Of course, my lord. If you will come with me in­to the wait­ing room, I will in­quire.”

He led me to an emp­ty room paint­ed yel­low, with half a dozen com­fort­able chairs, al­so yel­low. They prob­ably called it the “yel­low room.” They’re cre­ative that way. He gave me an­oth­er smile, a bow, and closed the door be­hind him.

I sat and wait­ed, think­ing about how long it had been since I’d eat­en.

I hate wait­ing.

I hate be­ing hun­gry.

I shift­ed in the chair and chat­ted with Loiosh about our pre­vi­ous en­counter with Her Majesty—she had grant­ed me an Im­pe­ri­al ti­tle be­cause of ac­ci­den­tal ser­vices ren­dered. I sus­pect she knew they were ac­ci­den­tal, but felt like re­ward­ing me for her own rea­sons. I hap­pened to know she had an East­ern­er as a lover, maybe that had some­thing to do with it. Loiosh made a few oth­er sug­ges­tions for rea­sons, some of which were prob­ably trea­sonous.

Or maybe not. I’ve heard that in some East­ern king­doms it is a cap­ital crime to fail to treat the king with prop­er re­spect, but I had no idea if that was true in the Em­pire. I imag­ined that I could ask Perisil, and get an an­swer much longer than I want­ed that would come out to: some­times. Im­pe­ri­al law seems to work like that.

This close to the Orb, I could eas­ily feel my link to it, and knew when an hour had passed.

A lit­tle lat­er, Harn­wood re­turned with pro­fuse apolo­gies, a bot­tle of wine, some dried fruit, and word that Her Majesty begged me to be pa­tient, be­cause she did wish to speak with me. My heart quick­ened a bit when I heard that; isn’t that odd? I’d known Mor­rolan e’Drien, and Sethra Lavode, and had even been face-​to-​face with Ver­ra, the De­mon God­dess, and yet I still felt a thrill go through me that this wom­an want­ed to talk to me. Strange. I guess it shows what con­di­tion­ing can do.

Harn­wood left, and I drank the wine be­cause I was thirsty and ate the fruit be­cause it gave me some­thing to do and be­cause I was feel­ing half-​starved. Loiosh ate some for the same rea­sons (dried fruit not be­ing a fa­vorite of his); Rocza seemed to have no prob­lems with dried fruit.

Then I wait­ed some more.

It was most of an­oth­er hour be­fore Harn­wood came back, look­ing even more apolo­get­ic and say­ing, “She will see you now, Lord Szurke.”

That was in­ter­est­ing. She would see Lord Szurke, not Lord Tal­tos. I didn’t know what the sig­nif­icance of that was, but I was pret­ty sure there was sig­nif­icance. That’s the trou­ble with the Court, you know: Ev­ery­thing is sig­nif­icant but they don’t tell you ex­act­ly why, or how, or what it means un­til you’re swim­ming in it. Maybe in my next life I’ll be a Ly­orn and be taught all that stuff or an Is­so­la and know it in­stinc­tive­ly. More like­ly not, though.

I stood up, dis­cov­er­ing that sit­ting there for most of two hours had made my body stiff. I won­dered if I was get­ting old.

I fol­lowed Harn­wood out and down the hall, where we went past the door he’d been sta­tioned out­side of, then turned left, through a door­way, and in­to a much small­er hall­way that end­ed in a flight of eight stairs—two few for it to be a stair­way up to the next floor. I don’t know; I nev­er did fig­ure that out. But at the top was a door that was stand­ing open, and past it was a long, nar­row room with a few stuffed chairs set hap­haz­ard­ly about. At the far end was Her Majesty, speak­ing qui­et­ly with a man in the col­ors of the Iorich and a wom­an in the col­ors of the Drag­on. As I en­tered, all three glanced up at me, with uni­form lacks of ex­pres­sion.

The Orb as it cir­cled the Em­press’s head was a light green, which should have told me some­thing about her mood, but it didn’t. She turned to the two she’d been speak­ing with and said, “Leave us now. I wish to speak to this gen­tle­man.”

They gave her a deep bow, me a rather shal­low­er one, backed up, and left by a door at the far end.

The Em­press sat in a chair and mo­tioned me to stand in front of her. I made an obei­sance and wait­ed, not en­tire­ly sure of the eti­quette, and wish­ing I had La­dy Tel­dra in the flesh, as it were, to tell me what I was sup­posed to do. Zeri­ka didn’t look as if I’d vi­olat­ed any sort of pro­to­col. I re­flect­ed that the Em­pire did things rather more sim­ply than these things were done in the East.