“Yes.”
“Is it possible,” said the Empress slowly, “that this entire threat is false?”
“Possible, yes,” said Norathar. “But it’s more likely the Jhereg learned of it and decided to exploit it for their own purposes.”
“The Jhereg?” said the Empress.
Cawti cleared her throat.
“Speak up.”
Cawti forced herself to ignore the irritation she felt and said, “It would be more accurate to say elements within the Jhereg.”
“I will find them and destroy them.”
“Your Majesty—”
“But until we know, we must assume the threat is real.”
The Countess said, “Was that the royal we, Majesty, or did you mean the four of us?”
The Empress chuckled, and the Orb briefly flickered white. “I meant the four of us.”
“What would you like us to do?”
“I’m not the one with the plan,” she said. “They are. True, Your Highness?”
“True, Your Majesty.”
“Let’s hear it, then.”
“Your Majesty,” said Norathar. “We want to test this theory by asking you to feign locating Count Szurke, and then give a false location. If we are wrong, Your Majesty can always give the true location later.”
“And this false location will be?”
“A place Cawti and I will choose.”
“What will happen at this false location?”
“We will see who arrives there.”
“And report back to me?”
“Of course,” said the Dragon Heir, staring at a place on the wall over Her Majesty’s shoulders.
Zerika stared at her, frowning.
“All right,” said the Empress at last. “I’m willing to do that much. But I want to know what’s behind this.”
“After it’s over?” said Norathar.
“Very well. When do you want to begin?”
Cawti caught her friend’s eye, and nodded. “We’re ready now,” said Norathar.
The Orb flickered again, and Her Majesty said, “Very well; the wizard will be in the throne room shortly. Have you selected a place?”
Norathar looked at Cawti. “Do you have something in mind? It should be far enough from the city to be believable.”
“Remember that little hamlet just east of Candletown?”
Norathar smiled. “It would be hard to forget. Bevinger’s House.”
“Yes.”
The Princess bowed to the Empress. “Your Majesty may take the location from me. I’m thinking of it now.”
“I have it. Go. I’ll return to the throne room and make sure everyone knows what I’m doing. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
Norathar led the way out, taking a long detour around the throne room. The Countess walked with them.
“I am concerned for the Empire,” she said.
“As am I,” said Norathar.
“I’m not,” said Cawti. The Countess gave her a look, but Norathar just smiled.
“Not,” added the Countess, “that I have any special concern for what happens to the Jhereg.”
“There we all agree,” said Norathar.
“But the last thing the Empire needs is warfare within the Empire. The Interregnum did not end so long ago. A battle among Houses, and the slaughter of Imperial personnel, would not be good just now.”
“I don’t think the Jhereg would have much of a chance,” said Norathar. “But still, you’re right.”
“So, what do we do about it?”
“What I’m going to do about it is deal with the immediate threat.”
“The threat to—?”
“You don’t need to know that, Countess,” said Norathar.
Whitecrest started to speak, but then stopped and nodded. “Very well. If I am there when Her Majesty does the location spell—”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps I can discover who will be taking the information.”
“How?”
“Her Majesty might tell me, if I ask nicely.” She smiled.
“Then what?” said Norathar.
“Then I’ll tell you.”
Norathar nodded. “I’ll expect to hear from you, then.”
“Good luck.”
“And to you.”
The Countess left; Cawti and Norathar continued out of the Palace.
“Are you comfortable doing the teleport?” asked Cawti.
Norathar nodded. “I’m fine with it.”
They left the Palace through the Hearthfire Door, and took the path toward the Athyra Wing, stopping in Songbird Circle. “This is good,” said Norathar.
“I’m ready,” said Cawti.
Norathar concentrated, and, just to be safe, gestured. Cawti felt the world spinning, and the ground seemed to move. She closed her eyes and knelt down.
“It’s been a while,” she said. “I’d forgotten how much I hate teleporting.”
“Take your time.”
Cawti nodded and regretted it; then just waited for it to pass. When it did, she stood up and opened her eyes.
“It hasn’t changed,” said Norathar.
They had appeared behind the inn, between a pair of oak trees near the stable, blocked from view of the back door by an old well.
“This is the spot you gave the Empress?”
“Not exactly. Closer to the well.”
“Good. A triangle, then.”
“Yes. Do we give him a chance?”
“Can’t afford the time; it’s liable to be someone good.”
Norathar nodded.
Cawti said, “Testing me, sister?”
“Yes. It’s been a while. I need to be sure—”
“Now you’re sure.”
Norathar nodded.
Cawti looked around, moved to a place two feet in front of the stable, and drew her daggers. Norathar walked to a place equidistant from Cawti and the well, and drew her sword.
Cawti felt her shoulders relax. The daggers felt cool in her hands, forefingers at the balance points, middle finger for leverage, palms up just above her hips, pointing just a little bit toward each other. For knife-fighting, she would be using different weapons, holding them with the points inward and the edges out—but this wasn’t for fighting, this was for killing.
“Ready, sister?” said Norathar.
“Just like the old days,” said Cawti softly.
“Just like. I’m telling Her Majesty to go ahead.”
Cawti nodded. Her eyes unfocused, and she felt her breath coming evenly and slowly. “Good,” she said, a little surprised to hear the soft, distant monotone of her own voice. “Let’s get it done.”
Then there was the wait.
There was always the wait.
If nothing else had brought it all back, that would have—the familiar easy tension, the hint of excitement, the trace of anticipation.
Gods! Do I miss this?
Across from her was Norathar, sword relaxed in both hands, point slightly off to the side, face like stone, eyes like ice.
She isn’t missing this.
One endless moment from when she took her position to the appearance of—may as well say it—the targets. More, stretching from the first target, a cleaner’s assistant who couldn’t keep his hands off the stock. All the way from him, and twenty-eight others. Twenty-nine, counting Vlad. In, then out, then back in. Like stepping in and out of a different world; the colors were duller but the edges sharper, and nothing and everything mattered and didn’t matter. All moments were one moment of waiting for the targets that were all the targets, with her sister, Norathar, silent and steady and ready and dire, like two walls that could never fall over because they were leaning on each other.