The Phoenix Guards (45 page)

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Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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“Well,” said G’aereth, “my way is clear, and that is to see His Majesty.”
“For my part,” said Lytra, “I will accompany you.”
Allistar, who had been listening to the conversation carefully, shifted uncomfortably and seemed about to speak, but then evidently thought better of it.
Suddenly Jenicor, who had been deep in thought, burst out laughing.
“Well?” said Lytra.
“Ah, Excellency, it is too droll. I understand everything now.”
“You do?”
“Yes, indeed. Come, my friends, we have no more business here. And as for you, my lord,” she said, addressing Thack, “I assure you that you have my complete pardon.”
“How, you pardon me?”
“I do, and more, I wish you a quick and complete recovery.”
“You are too kind, my lady.”
“Not at all, my friend, not at all.”
While she spoke, Allistar, who had said nothing the entire time, took Lytra aside and spoke to her for some few minutes in a quiet tone, during which time the Warlord’s countenance turned dark. At the conclusion of the conversation, she shrugged, as if to say, “It is now out of my hands,” after which they rejoined G’aereth and proceeded from the house.
As for Jenicor, she remarked, looking into the distance as if speaking to someone who wasn’t present, “Ah, Cavalier, you are truly a Yendi.”
In Which our Friends
Spend some Time in Prison
A
T THIS TIME, AS LYTRA, Jenicor, and G’aereth leave the ailing Guardsman, we will turn our attention once more to those personages whom we have so patiently followed across the continent and back.
Aerich and Khaavren had been given the same cell, and Khaavren, who was convinced that Pel’s idea, whatever it was, would bear fruit, was attempting to remain as calm as Aerich, who was placidly crocheting. We would be less than honest if we allowed our readers to infer that Khaavren was to any degree successful at this. First, he walked the length of his cell in that activity which has been the prerogative of prisoners as long as the class has existed. Then he studied the cell, which had two small windows high on the wall.
“Aerich,” he said.
“Well?”
“Could either of us fit through those windows?”
The Lyorn glanced at them. “No, and, moreover, they are barred.”
“Well, I’m just as glad we have been given a room with windows anyway.”
“It is because we are gentleman.”
“Suppose we were princes?”
“Then we’d be a floor higher.”
“Well, and?”
“And we would not only have windows, but they would be placed so we could see out of them.”
“Well, I understand. But what of poor Mica?”
“He doubtless has no window at all.”
“Cha! This is intolerable.”
“Well, didn’t you tell me yourself that our friend Pel had a plan?”
“Yes, or so he pretended to me.”
“Then we need only wait.”
“Wait, by the Orb! Wait! How I loathe waiting!”
Aerich shrugged.
Khaavren continued to pace and wonder, but, as Aerich is truly as calm as he seems, and Khaavren is imbibing hope of release with every breath, let us pass on.
Tazendra was in the same cell as Kathana, because it was the custom of the time to separate prisoners, first by class, and afterwards according to sex, and finally by the type of crime. Since the governor of the prison had not been informed of what crime these gentlesouls were accused, he at least knew enough to put them together.
Tazendra had at once sat down on one of the straw pallets, crossed her legs, and frowned mightily. Kathana’s first action was to request a visit from the jailer, a small Iorich named Guinn. “Did your ladyship do me the honor to summon me?” he asked with a bow.
“Oh, summon,” said Kathana. “That is too strong a word. I merely asked that you might attend me for a moment.”
“Well, it’s all the same,” said Guinn, who seemed, nevertheless, pleased with the courtesy. “If there is something that I, in my capacity as host, can do to make your stay here more pleasant, why, insofar as it lies within my ability and does not conflict with my duties, I will do it.”
“Well,” said Kathana, “since you make such a frank and generous offer, I will be equally frank in accepting it.”
“I ask nothing better,” said the jailer, who was, moreover, becoming curious. We should say that Tazendra was as well, for she stared in amazement at this powerful Dragonlord who was speaking in such friendly terms to the Iorich.
“Well then, I have called you over that I might find out the terms of imprisonment.”
“That is only right,” said the jailer. “They are: no communication with anyone outside, or even anyone inside, with the exception of your host;” here he bowed to indicate himself.
“Very well, pass on.”
“With that understanding, no paper or writing utensils are to be permitted.”
“I understand. And next?”
“You are to be given four meals every day, which meals are to be served at the eighth hour past midnight, again at the thirteenth, then at the third hour past noon, and at the eighth hour past noon, and which meals will consist of roasted meats, fresh bread, any fruits which are in season, along with suitable wine; and you are in addition to be allowed two hours each day in which to exercise in the yard, with said exercise to begin at exactly noon.”
“That is sufficient for me, I think, the more so as the cell is large enough for calisthenics, if these are not forbidden.”
“Not in the least.”
“Well, and next?”
“You must not speak, even to me, of whatever crime brought you here; these are particular orders for you and your friends, and do not apply to other prisoners.”
“Very well, then, I understand. What else?”
“Those are the only restrictions, madam.”
“Very well, but may I say something?”
“Of course, as your host, you may tell me anything at all, so long as it relates to your accommodations.”
“Well, I must tell you that this cell displeases me.”
“How, it displeases you? In what way?”
“Oh, several ways.”
“Well, perhaps we can see about another, my lady.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary, this one can be put in good order, I think.”
“Well, let us see, then, what needs to be done.”
“First, we need a little wood for the fire.”
“In the summer?”
“Yes. My companion suffers from the chill.”
“How?” said Tazendra. “The chill? I suffer from no chill.”
Kathana shot Tazendra a looking imploring her to keep silent, and said, “Yes, yes, the chill. She doesn’t realize it herself, my good Guinn, but she has been shivering in a most alarming manner.”
“In fact,” said Tazendra, “I do feel slightly cold.”
“There, you see how it is? For her health, a fire is indispensable.”
“Well, as you are a lady, you are allowed nine fagots of wood each day, and bark and twigs as needed. This is generally only granted when the weather is cold, but there is no rule that says you may not have it now.”
“Then you will see to it?”
“I will do so at once.”
“We shall be in your debt.”
“So, that is the fire seen to. What else?”
“Well, next, the walls are not clean to my standards.”
“Ah, ah, you are fastidious?”
“It is a failing, but after all, we cannot change what we are.”
“Well, that is true. But the servants, you perceive, are all busy.”
“Well, then, don’t trouble yourself about the servants; if you supply me with a bucket of water and a scrub-brush, I will clean them myself.”
“Well,” said Guinn, “there is no difficulty in that. What next?”
“That is all, my dear jailer. If you could supply these things, well, I will be in your debt, I promise you.”
“I will attend to them at once.”
When the jailer had gone, Tazendra said, “I assure you, Kathana, I have no notion at all of what you are about.”
“Oh, it is not such a great thing, but, as we may be here for some time, I must find amusement where I can.”
“How, it amuses you to send our jailer for a pail of water and a few fagots?”
“No, but it will amuse me to get them.”
“Why is that?”
“You will see by and by.”
The jailer returned with the water, brush, and the wood. Kathana, after thanking him, lost no time in starting a small fire, which, because of its size, did not make the cell intolerably hot. When the fire was well going, she at once applied the brush and the water to the walls, with a thoroughness that indicated she may indeed have been a charwoman in some previous lifetime. Tazendra soon became bored with watching her, and so, for no other reason, called for a second brush, with which, upon being given it, she began to work with the Dragonlord in making the walls fairly shine.
When this had been done, the jailer returned to collect the bucket and brushes. Kathana begged to be allowed to keep the bucket, which she pretended made a more comfortable chair than the pallet. Guinn allowed her to do so, and, when he had gone, she gave a satisfied smile.
“Well?” said Tazendra. “And now?”
“Now, observe. Do you see these?”
“They seem to be a few bristles from the brushes.”
“Exactly. And this?”
“A piece of straw from your pallet.”
“Well, observe what I am doing.”
“You are pouring a small quantity of our drinking water into the bucket.”
“And now?”
“You are adding ash from the fire, thus rendering the water unfit to drink.”
“Exactly. And now?”
“Now you are dipping the straw into the water, and—the Orb! You are drawing on the walls!”
“Exactly. It will make the time pass quickly, don’t you think?”
“You are as clever as, as Khaavren! And that is no small thing, for I know of no one more clever than he is.”
Kathana bowed, and offered straw and bristles to Tazendra, who said, “But I do not paint.”
“Well, but this is, as you yourself have remarked, more akin to drawing, and, by the gods, everyone draws a little.”
“Well, you are right, and I shall be honored to draw with you. Only—”
“Yes?”
“What shall we draw?”
“Why, scenes depicting our experience in the last few weeks.”
“Well, yes, we could do that.”
“We more than could, we ought to.”
“And the reason, good Kathana?”
“The reason is that someone may ask about these drawings, and we will then tell him, and in this way, word might get out of our predicament.”
“It does not seem likely.”
“With this I agree. But then, have you a better plan?”
“I admit that I do not.”
“Well, and then?”
“Then, my dear Baroness, let us draw.”
Accordingly, the two women at once set to work to make the cell, if not more beautiful, at least more interesting, and to amuse themselves in the meantime.
Neither Uttrik nor Pel had the least interest in the cell they occupied. Pel took the opportunity to question his jailer, first, about the conditions under which they were incarcerated, next, upon the goings-on in the city, such as the jailer might know. As Pel was both clever and charming, he accordingly found out much more than the jailer realized. As for Uttrik, he was a campaigner, and, as such, knew how to make the time pass under circumstances when he could do nothing else; accordingly, he slept.
And let us not forget Mica, who, not being a gentleman, was imprisoned in a room with a score of Teckla, many of them ruffians of one sort or another, as well as a good number of drunkards, tax-evaders, and debtors. One might suppose that, of the entire group, he would have been the most miserable, but nothing could be further from the truth. The fact that he wore livery made him of interest to all, and that he wore the livery of a Dzurlord was even more interesting. When we also consider that this clever Teckla was a gifted speaker, and was both willing and able to relate to his fellow-prisoners the details of the adventures he had been a part of, we may see that his status soon rose directly to the top of prison hierarchy. He enjoyed this status with the honest pleasure a Teckla always takes in simple enjoyments, and thus, though he would have preferred to be free, he was, in fact, the happiest of the seven souls who had been incarcerated at the same time.
Yet, what a difference sixty hours can make, when those hours are spent in prison or in jail. To better understand this, we must make clear that there is a difference. Prison is where those who have been sentenced await execution of that sentence, or take up residency if the judges have condemned them to confinement for a greater or lesser period. Jail, on the other hand, is where those who are arrested but not yet convicted wait for the judges to determine their fate. There is no difference in treatment, nor is there a difference even in location, but the difference in the psychology of the prisoner is everything. While in jail, it is difficult to become resigned; while in prison, it is difficult to hope. For those, like our friends, who did not know in which situation they were, the hours become burdens in increments that would require a mathematician to explain.
By the time they had been in for two days and two nights, Khaavren had given up even trying to remain calm, and Aerich, the coolest of the Guardsmen, was still engaged in crocheting, but his fingers trembled slightly as he worked.
Kathana and Tazendra had quite filled the walls of their cell with studies of each other and reminisces of their recent adventures, and had fallen into the unhappy stage of criticizing their own work, after which it would
only be a matter of a short time before they took to criticizing each other’s, with unpleasant results sure to follow.

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