Sethra hadn’t moved. “If you wish,” she said. “However, there are two things I want to say.”
“Say them.”
“First, I made the accusation because that was my duty to the House of the Dragon as I saw it. Second, while I’m not as fanatical about it as Lord Morrolan, I dislike killing my guests. Remember who I am, lady!”
As she said this, she stood and drew Iceflame—a long, straight dagger, perhaps twelve inches of blade. The metal was a light blue, and it emitted a faint glow of that color. Anyone with the psionic sensitivity of a caterpillar would have recognized it as a Morganti weapon, one which kills without chance of revivification. Anyone with any acquaintance with the legends surrounding Sethra Lavode would have recognized it as Iceflame, a Great Weapon, one of the Seventeen. Whatever power it was that hid in, under, and around Dzur Mountain, Iceflame was tied to it. The only other known artifacts with power to match it were the sword Godslayer and the Imperial Orb. Loiosh dived under my cloak. I held my breath.
At that moment, I felt, rather than saw, a knife fall into Cawti’s hand. I felt a tear in loyalties that was almost physically painful. What should I do if there was a fight? Could I bring myself to stop Cawti, or even warn Sethra? Could I bring myself to allow Sethra to be knifed in the back? Demon Goddess, get me out of this!
Norathar stared back at Sethra and said, “Cawti, don’t.” Cawti sighed quietly, and I breathed a prayer of thanks to Verra. Then Norathar said to Sethra, “I’d like my sword, if you please.”
“You won’t hear my reasons, then?” asked Sethra, her voice even.
“All right,” said Norathar. “Speak.”
“Thank you.” Sethra put Iceflame away. I exhaled. Sethra sat down and, after a moment, so did Norathar, but her eyes never left Sethra’s.
“I was told,” said the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain, “that your ancestry was questionable. To be blunt, I received word that you were a bastard. I’m sorry, but that’s what I was told.”
I listened intently. Bastardy among Dragaerans is far more rare than among Easterners, because a Dragaeran can’t conceive accidentally—or so I’ve been told. In general, the only illegitimate children are those who have one sterile parent (sterility is nearly impossible to cure, and not uncommon among Dragaerans). Bastard, as an insult, is far more deadly to a Dragaeran than to an Easterner.
“I was further told,” she continued, “that your true father was not a Dragon.” Norathar still didn’t move, but she was gripping the table with her right hand. “You were the oldest child of the Dragon Heir. It was necessary to bring this to the attention of the council, if it was true.
“I could,” she went on, “have sneaked into your parents’ home with my apprentice, who is skilled in genetic scanning.” Aliera gave a barely audible sniff here. I imagine she had her own opinion of Sethra the Younger’s abilities. “I chose not to, however. I confronted Lord K’laiyer. He held himself insulted and refused to allow the scan. He declared war and sent an army after me.
She sighed. “I’ve lost count of how many armies have tried to take Dzur Mountain. If it’s any consolation, he was a masterful tactician, certainly worthy of the e’Lanya line. But I had the assistance of several friends, a hired army, and Dzur Mountain itself. He gave me a bit of trouble, but the issue was never in doubt. By the end of the engagement, both of your parents were dead.”
“How?” asked Norathar through clenched teeth. A good question, too. Why weren’t they revivified?
“I don’t know. They were in the battle, but I didn’t kill them personally. They both had massive head injuries, due to sorcery. Beyond that, I can’t tell you.”
Norathar nodded, almost imperceptibly. Sethra continued. “I formally took possession of their castle, of course. We found you there. You were about four years old, I think. I had my apprentice do the scan, and you know the rest. I turned your castle over to the House. I don’t know what became of it, or your parents’ possessions. Perhaps there are relatives . . . ”
Norathar nodded again. “Thank you,” she said. “But this hardly changes—”
“There’s another thing. If my apprentice made a mistake, it reflects on me. Further, it is obvious that my actions were the immediate cause of all this. I trust Aliera’s abilities with genetics more than anyone else’s—and she says you are the product of Dragonlords on both sides, with e’Lanya dominant. I want to know what happened. I intend to investigate. If I kill you, that will make it more difficult. If you destroy me, of course, that will make it impossible. I would appreciate it if you would withhold any challenge until I’ve made this investigation. Then, if you wish, I will entertain a challenge on any terms you name.”
“Any terms?” asked Norathar. “Including plain steel?”
Sethra snorted. “Including a Jhereg duel, if you wish.”
The least shadow of a smile crossed Norathar’s lips as she seated herself. “I accept your terms,” she said. Cawti and I relaxed. Morrolan and Aliera, as far as I could tell, had been interested but unworried.
Morrolan cleared his throat and said, “Well then, perhaps we should discuss just how we’re going to proceed.”
Sethra said, “Tell me this: if there was a plot of some kind, could Baritt have been involved?”
Aliera said “No” at the same instant that Morrolan said “Yes.” I chuckled. Aliera shrugged and said, “Well, maybe.”
Morrolan snorted. “In any case,” he said, “is it likely that they could fool an Athyra? And would an Athyra be involved in a plot of this type? Not to mention a Lyorn? If this was a plot, as you say, they would have had to convince the Athyra to help, and I have trouble believing they could do that. And there is no Lyorn in the world who would go along with it—that is why they’re included in things like that.”
Sethra nodded to herself.
I said, “Excuse me, but what is the procedure for getting a Lyorn and an Athyra to help with something like this? I mean, do you just walk over to the House of the Lyorn and yell, ‘We’re doing a genetic investigation, anyone want to help?’ What do you do?”
Sethra said, “With the House of the Lyorn, it is an official request, through the Empire, for the assistance of the House. With the Athyra, someone will propose a wizard he knows or has heard of, and the council approves it.”
“And the House of the Lyorn is likely to choose someone who’s familiar with this kind of thing,” I added.
Sethra nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “But—Aliera, how hard would it be to fool a genetic scan?”
“A complicated illusion spell would do it,” she said slowly. “If whoever did the scan was incompetent.”
“What if he wasn’t?”
“He wouldn’t be fooled.”
“Could Sethra the Younger be fooled?”
“Easily.” She snorted.
I shot a glance at Sethra Lavode; she didn’t seem convinced. I set it aside for the moment. “What about Baritt?”
“No,” said Aliera.
Morrolan agreed. “Whatever he is—was—he was most assuredly not incompetent.”
“So,” I continued, “if someone did a spell to make it look like she wasn’t a full Dragon, Baritt must have been in on it. The Lyorn could have been fooled.”
“Vlad,” said Morrolan, “the Athyra would have to have been in on it, too—and you’ll have to convince me of that.”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted. “But one thing at a time. Sethra, how did Sethra the Younger first hear about this?”
“I don’t know, Vlad. It was more than four hundred years ago.”
“At your age, Sethra, that’s almost yesterday.”
She raised an eyebrow. Then her eyes moved up and to the left as she tried to remember. “She said that she heard through a friend who’d been drinking with Lady Miera. She said that Lady Miera had told her friend about it, and her friend told her.”