"Then who does rule, Your Majesty?"
"When there is famine in the north, the fishermen in the south rule. When the mines and forges in the west are producing, the transport barons rule. When the Easterners are threatening our borders, the armies in the east rule Do you mean politically? Even that isn't as simple as you think. At the beginning of our history, no one ruled. Later it was each House, through its Heir, which ruled each House. Then it became the nobles of all the Houses. For a brief time, at the end of the last Cycle, the Emperor did, indeed, rule, but that was short-lived, and he was brought down by assassination, conspiracy, and his own foolishness. Now, I think, more and more it is the merchants, especially the caravaneers who control the flow of food and supplies from one side of the Empire to the other. In the future, I suspect it will be the wizards, who are every day able to do things they could not do before."
"And you? What do you do?"
"I watch the markets, I watch the mines, I watch the fields, I watch the Dukes and the Counts, I guard against disasters, I cajole each House toward the direction I need, I—what is that look on your face for, Baronet?"
"Each House?" I repeated. "Each House?"
"Yes, Baronet, each House. You didn't know the Jhereg fits into this scheme? But it must; otherwise why would it be tolerated? The Jhereg feed off the Teckla. By doing so, they keep the Teckla happy by supplying them with those things that brighten their existence. I don't mean the peasants, I mean the Teckla who live in the cities and do the menial work none of the rest of us are willing to do. That is the prey of your House, Baronet, for if they become unhappy, the city loses efficiency, and the nobility begins to complain, and the delicate balance of our society is threatened."
The slant of the floor was back down now; I decided my legs would probably survive. "And these people," I said, "are threatening the Jhereg, and so they must be removed. Is that it?"
"Your House thinks so, Lord Taltos."
"Then you don't really believe they are a threat to the Empire?"
She smiled. "No, not directly. But if the Teckla become unhappy, well, so will others. If there were no war looming over us, perhaps it wouldn't matter. But we may require more efficiency than ever, and to have our largest city disrupted, just at this moment, could have terrible consequences for the Empire."
I thought about a story I'd once been told by a Teckla, and almost said that if the Teckla were so damn happy, why didn't she just go become one, but I was afraid she might take it the way I meant it. So I said, "Is one Jhereg Easterner likely to make that much of a difference?"
"Will it matter to your House, Baronet?"
"I don't know, Your Majesty. But it won't matter to them as much as it will matter to me."
We passed through a curtain and were once more in the throne room. I heard the strings of Thoddi's instrument, the wail of Dav-Hoel's, and the clacking drone of Aibynn's drum. The courtiers bowed, and it was as if they were bowing to me, which was pretty funny. The Empress pointed to a woman in the colors of the House of the Iorich. The woman approached as Zerika sat herself in the throne. I backed away.
"I hereby order and require the release of and full freedom for the Countess of Lostguard Cleft and Environs," she said, and I damn near cried.
Lesson Twelve
BASIC SURVIVAL SKILLS
Two stony-faced dragons, each wearing the gold cloak of the Phoenix and a headband bearing an lorich, delivered Cawti to the steps of the lorich Wing of the Imperial Palace, a half hour's walk from where I had left the Empress. When they first appeared, each holding one of her arms, I almost put them down right there, but Loiosh spoke to me sharply. They released her on the bottom step, backed up, bowed to her once, turned together, and walked up again without a backward glance.
I stood three feet from her, looking in vain for signs of what she'd been through. Her eyes were clear and sharp, her expression grim, but she appeared unharmed. She stood for a moment, then her eyes focused on me. "Vlad," she said. "Are you responsible for this?" She held up her right hand, which contained a rolled-up parchment.
"I guess so," I said. "What's that? A pardon?"
"A release. It says we concede your innocence and don't do it again."
"At least you're out."
"I could have been out before, if I'd wanted to be."
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not." She smiled and nodded, being more understanding than I'd expected. "Perhaps it's for the best." I shrugged. "I thought so, when you broke me out." "Hardly the same thing," she said. "Maybe not. How was it?" "Tedious."
"I'm glad it wasn't worse than that. Would you like to come home?"
"Yes. Very much. I'd like to bathe, and eat something hot, and then—"
I waited. "And then what?" I asked after a moment.
"And then back to work."
"Ah. Of course. Shall we walk, or be sick?"
She considered. "Do you know, before the Interregnum, when teleportation was more difficult, there were Teckla who earned their livelihood driving people around the city behind horses and donkeys. Or sometimes they used only their feet, pulling small coaches. They wore harnesses like they were horses or donkeys themselves "
"I don't like horses. What are donkeys?"
"I'm not certain. A variety of horse, I think."
"Then I don't like them, either. You've been reading history, I see."
"Yes. Sorcery has changed our whole world and is still changing it."
"It has indeed."
"Let us walk."
"Very well."
And we did.
I found some dried black mushrooms, poured boiling water over them, and let them soak. After about twenty minutes I cut them up with scallions, leeks, a little dill, various sorts of peppers, and thin strips of kethna. I quick-fried the whole thing with garlic and ginger while Cawti sat on the kitchen chair, watching me cook. Neither of us spoke until the food was done. We had it over some pasta my grandfather had made. I had a few strawberries that were still good, so I put them in apalaczinta with a paste made from finely ground rednuts, cinnamon, sugar, and a bit of lime juice. We had that with a rare strawberry liqueur Kiera had given me, having found it in a liquor store she was visiting after hours.
"How," I said, "can you stay away from a man who can cook like this?"
"Rigid self-control," she said. "Ah."
I poured us each some more liqueur and set the plates on the floor for the jhereg. I leaned the chair back, sipped, and studied Cawti. Despite her bantering tone, there was no light of humor in her eyes. There hadn't been for some time. I said, "What would I have to do to keep you?"
She looked at the table. "I don't know, Vladimir. I'm not sure there's anything, anymore. I've changed." "I know. Do you like what you've become?" "I'm not certain. Whatever it is, it hasn't finished happening yet. I don't know if we can change together." "You know I'm willing to try almost anything." "Almost?" "Almost."
"What won't you do?" "Ask me and we'll see."
She shook her head. "I don't know. I just don't know." This was another conversation we'd had before, with variations and embellishments. I went into the other room, next to the window so I could hear the street musicians outside. I had thrown them a bag of coins now and again, so they often played right below the window; it was one of the things I liked about the place. I threw them a bag of coins and listened for a while. I remembered how it felt to walk down the streets with her, feeling her shoulder touch mine. It had made me feel taller, somehow. I remembered meals at Valabar's, and klava in a little place where made sculpture from empty cups and the sugar bowl. I made myself stop remembering, and just listened to the music.