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“Well, I wish to reflect upon this: If our assumption is correct, and this Easterner did take the artifact from the home of Dathaani—”

“Yes, if she did?”

“Then what might she have done with it?”

“Ah, yes. I must say, Brigadier, that that is a good subject upon which to reflect.”

“I am gratified that you think so, Palaniss.”

“So, then, I am now reflecting.”

“As am I.”

After some few moments of silent reflection, Khaavren said, “It is possible that she has it concealed in her home.”

“Yes, that is possible.”

“Or she may have given it to someone else.”

“What of selling it?”

Khaavren frowned. “If it is made of solid silver, it is not without value, and yet—”

“Well?”

“Something tells me that, whatever her reasons for acquiring it, it was not for its monetary value.”

“I know you too well, Brigadier, to mistrust your instincts.”

“So, then, who might she have given it to?”

“She has a son, Brigadier.”

“Ah, has she? Well, that is certainly a possibility.”

“And then, of course, we must not forget her estranged husband, Count Szurke.”

“In fact, Palaniss, it was toward him that my thoughts were tending.”

“You think she gave it to him?”

“It is not impossible.”

The Dragonlord nodded. “It certainly seems to be a possibility, perhaps even a likelihood.”

“But then, if it is true, you perceive our situation?”

“I am not certain I understand what the brigadier does me the honor to tell me.”

“Why, we are searching for the silver tiassa, are we not?”

“That is true.”

“Well, if it is in the possession of Count Szurke, that gains us nothing, as we have no way of finding him.”

“Ah, that is true. So, in fact, this intelligence does us little good.”

“That is my judgment, Palaniss. Nevertheless, I may be beginning to see the start of a pattern here.”

“A pattern? Can you describe it?”

“Not yet,” said Khaavren, frowning. “I must reflect.”

“I will point out, in case you have forgotten, that the Jhereg are after Count Szurke.”

Khaavren shook his head. “This is not the Jhereg. There is no direction, no goal. These are events that are occurring without a mind guiding them. There are many elements, many goals, many tracks. That is to say, we are seeing the result of a clash of intentions, not the working out of a plan.”

“I see. But then, what must we do?”

Khaavren’s eyes widened slightly. “Why, that was very well said, Palaniss.”

“How, was it?”

“I assure you, it was.”

“I am glad of that, Brigadier, only—”

“Yes?”

“I am uncertain what I said.”

“Why, you asked what we must do.”

“That is true.”

“Yes, it is the answer.”

“I confess myself puzzled, Brigadier.”

“How, are you?”

“I give you my word, I am.”

“That is all right, I have been puzzled at times.”

“I am relieved to hear it.”

“Shall I explain?”

“I would be pleased if you did.”

“This is it, then: There are, as we have said, too many tracks and elements and directions to see how they fit together.”

“And so?”

“And so we will not see how they fit together, rather we will bring them together. I believe that the best way to learn about the relationships among these people, is simply to put them in the same place, and see what they do. That is to say, we are done with reflecting. It is time to act.”

CHAPTER THE FIFTH

 

How Khaavren Became Involved

with the Entertainment Industry,

and Her Majesty Permitted

the Captain, That Is to Say,

the Brigadier, to

Ask Her Certain Questions

 

The first thing Khaavren did after dismissing Palaniss was to send for Dinaand, the Dzurlord, who arrived within five minutes, proving that he was always ready to respond to the brigadier’s wishes, and that he was one of those with a keystone that permitted teleportation within the Imperial Palace. He entered, bowed, and, in response to Khaavren’s gesture, sat.

“You summoned me, Brigadier? I presume, then, that there is sorcery to be contemplated?”

“In fact,” said Khaavren, “it is not your skill in sorcery that I require on this occasion, but rather your knowledge in other areas.”

“Other areas? To which other areas does the brigadier refer?”

“Music, good Dinaand.”

The Dzurlord’s eyes widened a little, then he smiled. “I sometimes forget, Brigadier, how thoroughly you have studied those of us with whom you work.”

“And so?”

“It is true that I spent some years as a musician, and any knowledge I happen to have acquired is at your disposal.”

Khaavren knew, in fact, that the Dzurlord had been successful as an itinerant singer of medium quality and an outstanding player of the fretted vi’cello for a good score of years, and might be doing so yet had a drunk patron not been loudly disrespectful at one of his performances, the results of which had put an end to the patron’s life and Dinaand’s career. The brigadier, naturally, made no mention of this circumstance. Instead he said, “What made you decide to play a certain place, and not another?”

Dinaan laughed. “Why, money, of course.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, not all, but certainly it was important. You perceive, I had no access to any of my family funds, and so if I wasn’t paid, I didn’t eat, whereas if I was paid well, I ate well.”

“Yes, that is perfectly clear. But what were some of the other factors?”

The Dzurlord frowned. “It mattered if the room sounded good, and was clean. And, of course, the chance to play with particular musicians I admired was worth a great deal.”

“How, was it?”

“Oh, of course! You must understand, for a musician to play with other musicians who excite and challenge him, why that is a special sort of joy. I had the honor to play with the harpist Liscreta once; a memory I shall always treasure. And on another occasion—”

“I understand, Dinaand. What is it that makes another musician desirable to play with?”

The Dzurlord frowned. “Well, he must be at least as skilled as one’s self, preferably a little more skilled, so one feels challenged. And one must share similar tastes—Brigadier?”

“Yes, my friend?”

“Perhaps if you were to tell me what you are attempting to discover, I could be of more help?”

“Well, that is true.”

“And so?”

“I will tell you.”

“I am listening.”

“This is it, then: I am setting a trap for a musician.”

“Ah! A trap!”

“Yes.”

“For?”

“Lady Saruchka.”

“Ah, of course. I performed with her once. She is well known. Her House nearly exiled her, and her family all but disowned her.”

“For playing music?”

“For playing social music.”

“Ah, yes. Compositional music would be acceptable.”

“Some in my House feel the same way,” said the Dzurlord.