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“Um. No, I imag­ine not.”

“There are worse cas­es. Around the Ko­rlaph, north of the Push­ta, they dis­cov­ered tin, and had a re­al la­bor short­age. The Count went on a statute ram­page, and by the time he was done, he not on­ly owned all the mines, but had made up the most ab­surd laws to have a few thou­sand lo­cals ar­rest­ed, and then sen­tenced them to work the mines.”

“He can do that?”

“Once in a while, some­one has enough fam­ily with enough mon­ey to bring a par­tic­ular case to the at­ten­tion of the Em­pire, and a par­tic­ular law gets over­turned.”

“And I thought the Jhereg was cor­rupt.”

“Law is a re­flec­tion of so­ci­ety, jus­tice is a re­flec­tion of an ide­al­iza­tion of that so­ci­ety.”

“You’re quot­ing some­one.”

He nod­ded. “Yurstov, Iorich Em­per­or of the Fifth Cy­cle, who tried to cre­ate an ac­tu­al jus­tice sys­tem. He failed, but he did some good.”

“And you stay with Edicts be­cause they aren’t as bad?”

He frowned. “I guess that’s part of it, though I don’t think of it in those terms. I had a client once who an­noyed some­one, and the some­one set him up to look like he’d com­mit­ted a crime. I got him off. That felt like jus­tice.”

“Was it? I mean, what had he done to an­noy the guy?”

Perisil shrugged. “I don’t know. As I said, the deep­er lev­els I leave to oth­ers. But that’s jus­tice to me. Sup­pose some poor fool of a Teck­la steals a chick­en from his land­lord be­cause he’s hun­gry. And some high-​and-​mighty Or­ca man­ages a scheme to cheat his crew out of half their pay. If the first guy gets off with a cou­ple of cuts, and the sec­ond goes to the Star, well, to me that’s jus­tice.”

“How of­ten does that hap­pen?”

“I don’t know; I don’t deal with those sorts of cas­es. Those have to do with tra­di­tion­al law, and I work with Edicts. More of­ten it’s the oth­er way around, I should think. Is there a point to all this, Lord Tal­tos?”

“I’m a cu­ri­ous guy, is all. And you’re—odd.”

“You’ve met ad­vo­cates be­fore.”

“Yes, but on­ly the ones in­ter­est­ed in mon­ey.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I sup­pose so.”

I stood up. “Sor­ry, I’ll let you work.”

“And you?”

“I need to think like a Jhereg.”

“I imag­ine that comes eas­ier to you than think­ing like an ad­vo­cate.”

“A lit­tle,” I said. “Oh, one oth­er thing. De­saniek. Where do I find her?”

His eyes nar­rowed. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m not sure. But I have no in­ten­tion of killing her.”

“If you even talk to her—”

“I doubt it will come to that.”

He hes­itat­ed, then said, “While she’s con­duct­ing the in­ves­ti­ga­tion, she’ll be work­ing out of the Of­fice of the Im­pe­ri­al Jus­ticer in the Im­pe­ri­al Wing.”

“What does she look like?”

He frowned again. He clear­ly didn’t like the way this con­ver­sa­tion was go­ing.

“Re­al­ly,” I said. “I don’t in­tend to kill her. Or beat her. I don’t know what I’m go­ing to do, but it could end up that I’ll be sav­ing her life, de­pend­ing on how things shake out.”

“All right,” he said. “But I’m not very good at de­scrib­ing peo­ple.”

“What’s the first thing you no­tice about her?”

“Um. Her face?”

“Any­thing spe­cial about how she dress­es, or what she wears—”

“She keeps her hair up, and she al­ways wears a stick­pin in it with a lot of lit­tle di­amonds.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That should do it. And don’t wor­ry about it too much.”

I took my­self out of the of­fice and back up to the main floor of the House. I need­ed to think, and I need­ed to find a place to do it. I crossed over to the Iorich Wing, stared for a mo­ment at the sculpt­ed thing and won­dered what it sym­bol­ized, then end­ed up let­ting my feet car­ry me to­ward the pris­ons while I tried to put the pieces to­geth­er.

I hadn’t got­ten any­where when I reached the big gates; the same guard was there. He said, “You want to see Aliera?”

“Yes,” I said, though I hadn’t ac­tu­al­ly for­mu­lat­ed the idea.

I just had to sign and seal one pa­per, af­firm­ing that ev­ery­thing I’d signed be­fore still ap­plied. Some­one I’d nev­er seen be­fore guid­ed me in.

I clapped at the door be­fore the guard could; she opened the door and let me in, say­ing, “One hour.”

Aliera was in the same place, the same po­si­tion she’d been in be­fore. I had the im­pres­sion she hadn’t moved since I’d left. On the ta­ble next to the couch were sev­er­al wine bot­tles, all emp­ty.

“Well,” she said, glar­ing at me.

“Ver­ra!” I said. “First Sethra, now you. Great.”

“Huh?”

“When I spoke with Sethra, she was drunk, too.”

“Is there some­thing I should be do­ing in­stead?”

“An­swer­ing my ques­tions.”

“Ask them.”

“First ques­tion: Did you know the Em­press is start­ing an in­ves­ti­ga­tion in­to the events in Tir­ma?”

“First an­swer: Why should I care?”

“Be­cause it was not want­ing to run that in­ves­ti­ga­tion that led to you be­ing ar­rest­ed.”

“So you say. And by the way, yes I knew. Some Iorich came in here and want­ed to ask me ques­tions about it.”

“And you were in just the shape you’re in now, right?”

She shrugged.

“Per­fect,” I said. “Can you re­mem­ber what she want­ed to know?”

“Sure. She want­ed to know if I en­joy slaugh­ter­ing in­no­cent Teck­la.”

“Did she ask that in so many words?”

Aliera made a vague sort of dis­miss­ing ges­ture.

I said, “You’re prob­ably too drunk for this to do any good, but I need to point out that if the Em­pire is in­ves­ti­gat­ing the re­al thing, then there’s no need for them to press fake charges against you.”

“And yet,” she said, “here I am.”

“Yes. I’m try­ing to fix that.”

She yawned. “Let me know how that works out.”

“If I come back to­mor­row, will you be sober?”

“If I stay drunk, will you stay away?”

I could have point­ed out that she wasn’t help­ing, but I was be­gin­ning to get the idea that this wouldn’t be a pow­er­ful ar­gu­ment. There needs to be a bet­ter word than “stub­born” to de­scribe a Drag­onlord whose pride has been of­fend­ed, and then a bet­ter word than that to de­scribe Aliera.

“So tell me,” I said. “Do you en­joy slaugh­ter­ing in­no­cent Teck­la?”

She stared at me for a minute, then burst out laugh­ing. Since I’d fig­ured it was ei­ther that or she’d kill me, I was just as pleased. She laughed for much longer than it was worth, but I at­tribut­ed that to her state. Even­tu­al­ly she wiped her eyes and said, “Yes, but not by proxy.”

“I doubt the Iorich would ac­cept that an­swer.”

“You nev­er know,” she said. “They might. I’ll ask my ad­vo­cate if we should base our de­fense on it.”

“Do that. I’ll ask the Em­press what she thinks.”

“Do that. I’m cu­ri­ous about what’s be­hind all of this.”

“Me too. That’s what I’m do­ing here.”

“What, you think I can tell you some­thing?”

“Al­most cer­tain­ly. And you might even be will­ing, if I knew what to ask.”

She swirled the wine in her glass and stared at it. “Maybe I would. What ex­act­ly is the prob­lem you’re try­ing to solve?”

I gave her a quick run­down about things as I saw it.