My first reaction was relief, my second was annoyance. Yeah, this place was familiar—I knew how to reach Sethra’s home from this spot: it involved climbing more stairs than ought to exist in the world. I wondered if the sorceress had brought me to this entrance deliberately. I still wonder.
I replaced the amulet then entered through a wooden door that wasn’t nearly as flimsy as it appeared. You don’t clap when entering Dzur Mountain—depending on which door you use, at any rate. I’ve wondered about that, and I think it’s because in some way the mountain itself isn’t her home, only the parts of it that she claimed as her residence; and so I passed through the first door into the mountain, and started climbing stairs. It seemed much louder this time, my feet on the stone stairway made echoes and echoes of echoes; my memory was doing the same thing.
You don’t need to hear about it; it was a long, long way up. Partway up, I passed the place where Morrolan and I had almost slaughtered each other; it bothered me a little that I couldn’t identify the exact spot.
Eventually I reached the top, clapped, and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Her residence doesn’t seem all that big once you’re aware of the size of the mountain; but then there’s probably a lot I haven’t seen. And, at her age, I imagine she needs lots of space to store stuff she’s accumulated.
I wandered a bit, hoping to run into her, or her servant, or someone. The halls—dark stone here, pale wood there—all echoed strangely and gave me the sudden feeling that Dzur Mountain was deserted. It wasn’t, actually—I came across her in one of the smaller sitting rooms that she put here and there. She was drinking a glass of wine and reading a thick, heavy book with a cover I couldn’t see. She wore a black garment that seemed to wrap around her, pinned with a gold or copper bracelet at the left arm, and looping through a jeweled necklace high on her chest, with another loop on her right hip with similar jewels. She said, “Hello, Vlad,” without looking up. I took that as a cue to stand there like an idiot, so I did, and presently she marked the book with something that looked like it had silver tracings on it and gave me a nod. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“It takes a while for word to reach the outlands. That’s a nice dress you’re wearing. Are those sapphires on the necklace?”
“A gift from the Necromancer. Have a seat. Tukko will bring you wine.”
I sat in a chair that faced her at a slight angle. “And I will drink it. Good. We have a plan.”
A courtesy smile came and went.
Tukko showed up with wine and a scowl. The wine was less offensive; a strongly flavored red that should have had some heavily spiced meat to go with it, but I didn’t complain. I sipped, nodded, and said, “So, what can you tell me?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
“Heh. I just came in from out of town.”
“Yes, and found an advocate, got Aliera to accept him—which ought to rate you as a master sorcerer—and you’ve been snooping around the Imperial Palace since then. So—what can you tell me?” She smiled sweetly.
I stared at her, remembering things about her I sometimes forget. Then I said, “If you were trying to impress me, it worked.”
“Permit me my small pleasures.”
“I’d never think of denying them to you,” I said. “All right. In brief, the Empress seems to be prosecuting Aliera to distract attention from some massacre in some little town no one cares about. The mystery is that she picked Aliera, who I’ve always figured was a close friend. The charge, as far as I can tell, is nonsense.”
She nodded slowly. “It isn’t as if the Empress hasn’t known about Aliera’s studies for years.”
“Right.”
“When you spoke to Her Majesty, what was the Orb doing?”
“Eh? Floating over her head.”
“I mean, what color was it?”
“Green at first. Orange when I annoyed her. It turned blue around the end of the conversation. She said she had to go do something.”
“What shade of blue?”
“Um, shade?”
“Did it seem cold, icy?”
“Sorry, I don’t have that good a memory for colors.”
“All right,” she said.
“Can you explain—?”
“Not really. Just trying to learn everything I can. I wish I’d been there.”
“Yes. That brings up another interesting point.” I cleared my throat. “Why weren’t you?”
“Beg pardon?”
“That’s what I really wanted to ask you. Why is this my job?”
She frowned. “No one is forcing you—”
“That’s not my point. Aliera has friends coming out her—Aliera has a lot of friends. Most of them are more influential than an ex-Jhereg Easterner on the run. What’s going on here?”
She looked away from me. When everything in Sethra’s home is very quiet, there is a soft, continuous sound, as of air slowly moving down a tunnel. It seemed to me I’d noticed it or almost noticed it before.
Finally she said, “You’ve spent a day or two with the Justicers now. What do you think?”
That didn’t seem to have anything to do with my question, but I’ve known Sethra long enough to know that not every change of subject is a change of subject.
“They’re pretty obsessive,” I said.
“About what?”
“About the law, and its quirky little ins and outs.”
“And what do you think about the law?”
“Most of my thoughts about the law involve ways to circumvent it,” I said.
She smiled. “I always knew you had the makings of an Emperor.”
“Eh?”
She waved it aside. “What are all those laws for?”
“Oh, come on, Sethra. I know better than to try to answer a question like that, from you of all people.”
“Fair point.” She frowned and fell into thought for a moment. Then she said, “Some people think the law is about protection—you have the Imperial Guard and the local constabulary to make sure the innocents are protected. Others think it is about justice—making sure no one can do anything bad without getting what he deserves. Still others see it as revenge: giving peace to the victim by hurting the perpetrator.”
She stopped. I waited.
“The House of the Iorich is near the bottom of the Cycle right now,” she said.
I nodded. I always forgot about that stuff. Well, I mean, obviously since I’m unlikely to live long enough to see the Cycle move even once, whereas a Dragaeran might live to see it shift two or three times. And then there’s Sethra; we won’t talk about her.
“Okay, I trust that ties into this somehow?”
She nodded. “The Iorich is the House of justice.”
“Yes, I know. The courts, the advocates, the law-scribes, all of that.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t justice; that’s the law.”
“If you’re telling me that the law has nothing to do with justice, you aren’t giving me any new information.”