“Maybe they weren’t trying to kill you?”
“Then—oh. Yeah. Good point.”
There were things I’d heard of, though never used, that could supposedly make someone drowsy and pliable and willing to answer questions. I should have thought of that right away, and probably would have if whatever was used on me hadn’t fogged up my head. Still, a gutsy move to try it on an Easterner; they can’t have known if or how well it would work on me. There must be something they wanted to know very badly. Well, okay, there were things I wanted to know very badly as well.
“You two sure you’re all right?”
“We’re fine, Boss.”
“Okay. This might be boring, but it might not be.”
His only answer was to squeeze my shoulder.
I checked that my rapier was loose, tapped Lady Teldra’s hilt, and opened the door.
Yes, there were two of them, just across the hall, facing the door. I recognized them from earlier: one was the guy who’d been eyeing me curiously, the other was Trev, who said, “My lord, if you would care to wait, I’ll fetch someone.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’re welcome to leave. We have no orders to stop you.”
“Maybe I want to explore.”
Her eyes darted to Lady Teldra, but it was only a flick, then she said. “If you go beyond the limits, I’ll stop you.”
“Think so?”
“Yes.”
The guy was playing the “solid, silent partner ready to assist” bit, right down to the set of his jaw and the puffed-up chest. It was obvious that they’d both been in the room when Lady Teldra was out, and they’d both wear Purple Robes before they’d let me see how terrified they were.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
I went back into the room, moved the chair so it was facing the open door, and sat down. The guy went off to get someone while Trev waited. I was bored and, yeah, I admit it, a little nervous for about ten minutes, then I heard the gentle tromp-tromp-tromp of many people in heavy boots. Either things were about to get interesting, or things were about to get interesting.
I stood up as Gormin appeared in the door—I confess, he wasn’t who I expected. I saw the lieutenant over his shoulder, and there were a few others. Gormin turned, nodded to the lieutenant, then came in and closed the door. I sat down again and said, “Have a seat.”
“Sir,” he said, and remained standing.
I crossed my legs. “Why do you call me sir?”
“Sir?”
“Why ‘sir’ and not ‘my lord’ or something?”
“Sir? I don’t—”
“There’s obviously a subtle difference. I was called ‘my lord’ by someone else. Yet another said, ‘m’lord’ like it was all one word. Why? What does it mean?”
“I hardly know how—” He stopped and looked puzzled. It was like I’d asked him how he managed to move his arm.
“Okay,” I said. “Skip that. Why are you dressed as a Teckla?”
He stared at me.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You think I can’t tell an Issola when one is being polite to me?”
“I am,” he said slowly and distinctly, “of the House of the Teckla, sir.”
“But you weren’t born into it.”
“Sir, may I request we speak of other things?”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself. Who is Klaver?”
I suppose it was a cruel game I played with him, but he’d tried to drug me, so I wasn’t overwhelmed with sympathy. He was by this time so confused he said, “A Vallista, sir. A rival of Lord Zhayin’s, who is determined to learn Zhayin’s secrets.”
“But Zhayin hasn’t solved his problem yet, so how can he?”
“Sir—”
“Well?”
“I don’t know. I imagine he can’t.”
“Then it would be stupid to think I’m working for him, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t—I suppose.”
“Am I going to meet Zhayin?”
“I don’t think so, sir. He’s very—”
“What of his wife?”
Sweat appeared on his forehead. “His wife, sir?”
“Yes. Perhaps I could meet the Lady Zhayin?”
“She—I—sir.”
“Yes?”
“She is no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“There was an accident.”
“Involving Tethia?”
One way I’d known he was an Issola was the way he stood: like someone had shoved a stick up his ass but he’d learned to relax that way. Suddenly the relaxation was gone, and he was standing even straighter. “How do you know of her?” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
I shrugged. “You know. Word gets around.”
“Sir—”
“What sort of accident was it?”
“I could hardly say, sir.”
He was recovering.
“Where did it happen?”
He stiffened again. “Why would you ask that, sir?”
“Just curious. The bedroom? The bath? Out riding?”
“I really shouldn’t say.”
“The Halls of Judgment?”
He started coughing.
“Careful, mate. Don’t hurt yourself. Want some water? Maybe some wine? I can leave the drugs out of it if you’d like.”
He turned and left, looking like he was about to get sick. I guess Issola, or Issola-turned-Teckla, don’t like to do that in front of people. And actually, I’d lied to him: I didn’t have any wine to offer.
“Boss? How did you know she died in the Halls of Judgment?”
“I didn’t. It was a guess. Sort of. But if I ask about Tethia, and I’m answered about the death of her mother, then time is doing something weird. So, where does time get weird?”
“Okay. But I don’t see how that makes sense of things.”
“It doesn’t. It makes even less sense now.”
“Oh. Good. As long as we’re making progress.”
I considered whether to wait for Gormin, or maybe someone else, or whether I should just set out and explore, or maybe just leave. I mean, the whole “sixty hours” thing went under the hill when they drugged me, right? I didn’t know what to explore for anyway, and if I did set out, things would likely get bloody. How weird would it be if I killed Gormin, whom I’d met, I don’t know, some few hundreds of years in the future? I hadn’t even thought about that until now, and I had actually thought about killing him when I realized what he’d pulled on me. Now, though—yeah, maybe just leaving was the right move. What happens when you make something impossible happen? Is that how you make a path through time? I shook my head. That didn’t seem likely, but neither did I have enough information to make a good guess about how likely or unlikely something was.