Eventually they got my arms pinned, though I did them some harm first. A lot of harm, if you remember how much stronger than an Easterner a Dragaeran is. I remember being really annoyed that I had no access to any of the magic, Eastern or Dragaeran, that would help me recover quickly, whereas they’d have their bruises seen to in an hour or so and be feeling fine. It didn’t seem fair, you know?
When they were finished I let them have the satisfaction of seeing me lie there, curled up on the floor, while they walked away. I might have been able to stand up, but if they’d taken it as a signal to start again, I wasn’t sure I’d have the self-control to keep things non-lethal.
“Just like the old days, eh?”
“You all right, Boss?”
“In every important sense, yeah.”
I stood up, which took a long time, and wasn’t any fun; I had to use the wall for support and push up against it, then when I made it up I leaned against it. Nice wall. Good wall. That wall was my new best friend.
Breathing hurt. So did a few other things, though not as much as they were going to. And I was shaking, of course; I always shake after I’ve been through something exciting, no matter how I feel about it.
“Any idea what it was about?”
“One idea. If I’m right, then it may have been worth it just to find out.”
“Someday, Boss, let’s talk about ways for you to learn things that don’t involve people kicking you.”
“Good plan.”
I was glad to be in the room—which may have been an unused coat closet or something—instead of out in the hall, because I didn’t want anyone coming along and asking questions. Or, worse, being sympathetic. Loiosh was carefully not sympathetic; he knows me.
I wanted to get somewhere to bind up my rib. Ever have a cracked rib? Avoid it if you can. Walking hurts. Breathing hurts. Don’t cough. And for the love of your favorite deity, don’t even think about sneezing. And if you make me laugh I’ll kill you. Later.
When I’d caught my painful breath a bit, I pushed away from my friend the wall and wished I hadn’t.
“Where to now, Boss?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t decide if I ought to wait a day or two until the bruises are nice and purple.”
“Wait for. . .?”
“Nah, too much is going on to waste a day on cosmetics. This way.”
I strolled back into the hallway, and then ambled around the corner, after which I sauntered. Anything to look like walking didn’t hurt as much as it did. Which was okay; it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it would tomorrow. As I walked, my heart rate returned to normal. My tongue played with a tooth that was wobbly, but I didn’t think I’d lose it; punches to the face are the easiest to slip, if you don’t mind your neck snapping a little.
The few people I passed—Dragonlords—glanced at me and then looked away, carefully unconcerned. After what seemed like a long, long time, I made it to the long, narrow stair I was looking for. It seemed very, very long indeed, just now. I started up it, using the time to plan. I knew what I wanted to do, I just had to figure out the nuances. The planning distracted me; it wasn’t too bad.
This time I clapped outside of the office. I heard a brusque “Enter,” and did so, suddenly realizing that she might not have been in, and I’d have made that climb for nothing. It would be smart if I thought of those things ahead of time, wouldn’t it?
She glanced up as I came in, and said, “What is—” then stopped and looked at me closely.
“I’d been thinking,” I said, “of waiting a day so you could see the results in all their splendor.”
“That eye is going to swell shut,” she said.
“I imagine it will.”
“It can’t have been the Jhereg, or you’d be dead.”
“It wasn’t the Jhereg.”
“Do you know who?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “Are we playing a game here?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I came up here to find out.”
“If you have a question, Vlad, just ask.”
“Did you send them?”
She looked shocked. I think she was shocked, which she shouldn’t have been, whether she was guilty or not. She went through some facial contortions, then said, “What kind of game are you playing?”
The kind where I lose if you know the rules. “No game. I just want to know if they were yours.”
“They were Dragons?”
“Oh, yes. Phoenix Guards.”
“And you think I sent them?”
“It had crossed my mind. So I’d thought I’d ask if you did. And, if so, why you didn’t, I don’t know, drop me a note instead.”
“I didn’t send them,” she said.
“All right.”
“And I think you know that,” she added.
“I—”
“Which makes me wonder what you’re trying to do by accusing me.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“All right. Asking me.”
She was studying me carefully, suspiciously.
I shrugged, which was a mistake. “What am I supposed to think? I start asking nosy questions about you, and the next thing I know—”
“What questions have you been asking about me?”
“Your suddenly being made Warlord, of course. Why it happened, what’s behind it. You wouldn’t tell me, so—”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
I gave her a brief discussion of fertilizer. She seemed unimpressed with my agricultural expertise. “Believe what you like,” she said. It was good to have permission, but I resisted telling her so.
“Either way,” I said. “If it was intended by you or someone else to make me stop looking into this, it isn’t going to work.”
“I don’t care—”
“Not to mention that if there were nothing to it, why would anyone beat me up over it?”
“Are you sure that’s what it was about?”
“Seems like a good guess.”
“But you don’t actually know.”
I made a disgusted sound.
She started to say something, stopped, inhaled, and let it out slowly. “Very well. We’ll assume you’re right.”
“Thanks.”
She ignored the sarcasm. “I had no part in it,” she stated.
“All right.” She still looked suspicious, as if she didn’t believe I genuinely thought she might be involved. She’s a Dragon; that doesn’t automatically mean she’s an idiot. Besides, she’d spent years in the Jhereg. I said, “Then they acted without your knowledge. Why? What is it every Dragonlord knows that they don’t want a humble Easterner to find out?”
“How should I know?”
I looked at her. I’m not an idiot either.
She sighed. “There are things I’m not permitted to tell you.”
“I figured that part out. What I’m working at is, I’ll bet there are things you could tell me if you wanted to. Things that might help Aliera. Things that might explain why I just got a tooth loosened. Things that—”
“Shut up.”
I did so, and waited.
She looked past me; I gave her time to think.
“It isn’t easy,” she said. “My loyalties are divided. I don’t think there are any right answers.”
I nodded.
“All right. I’ll tell you this much. Her Majesty is not very happy about all of this.”
“Norathar. Warlord. Your Highness. Whatever I’m supposed to call you. I picked up on that.”
She nodded, her eyes still focused past me; I had the feeling that I wasn’t there. “Her friendship with Morrolan goes way back, you know.”