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Authors: Steven Brust

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BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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In Which Method is Applied to Mayhem, and Khaavren, To his Advantage, Recalls Certain Filial Advice
I
N THE MEANTIME, WE WILL leap ahead, with our readers’ kind indulgence, to the early evening, when a cool breeze from the east blew across our friends before the high wrought-iron and stonework Dragon Gate of the Imperial Palace. They had just settled down to wait when four Dragonlords appeared from within. They approached the four friends and, without arrangement or study, each stood before one and bowed.
The young man who bowed to Khaavren wore knee-length black boots, heavy black hose, a black, cheaply woven and loosely fitting cotton doublet with copper buttons and silver-colored strips along the side and at the cuffs. He carried a heavy broadsword at his side. Khaavren at once determined that he was the sort of fellow whose arrogant blue eyes and quarrelsome countenance would have already earned him scores of duels.
“Good day, my lord,” said our young hero. “I am Khaavren.”
“I am Frai e’Terics,” said the other. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, we can begin at once.”
“I should be honored,” said Khaavren.
“Yes,” said the other.
Khaavren looked at him quickly, but saw no trace of a smile. He shrugged to himself, however, and allowed the Dragonlord to lead him toward the Street of the Nine Pleasures. This was a narrow, east-west running street that had been named for the inns, brothels, gaming halls, and other entertainments that could be found there. No one knew what all of the nine pleasures were, and much entertainment was derived among the lower classes (and, we are forced to admit, sometimes the upper classes) by speculating upon what these pleasures were, or imagining that a tenth had been found. One that was often spoken of, in jest, was the pleasure provided by the narrowness of the street, which hardly permitted the passing of a single hand-cart.
The pleasure provided by this feature was that of standing in a doorway when two nobles, particularly two Dzurlords, met; especially if each had a greatsword worn in such a way that it would project out to the side. When this occurred, as it did several times a day, one of the nobles would be obliged to turn to allow the other to pass, thus being subject to the loud hoots and jeers from hidden onlookers; or else both must stand fast, in
which case it was unlikely that both would resume the journey under their own power. It is certainly true that there were other streets in Dragaera City as narrow, but none as narrow and as well-trodden by the nobility.
To this street, then, came Khaavren and Frai. On this evening, ribbons had been hung from building to building—ribbons of all colors, but gold predominating; buildings of all types, but square wooden frames of two or three stories and round balconies being the most common. During the walk, they had not said a word to each other, Khaavren contenting himself with watching the festivities. These, it should be said, ran the gamut from public, with hundreds of revelers singing songs together, attempting to reclaim in volume whatever might be lost in pitch, to private, with a single Teckla holding a bottle of wine and laughing uproariously at a joke only he understood. Sometimes, the revels were organized, as the parade they passed which included bits of wood and wax thrown from buildings, and fireworks shot back and forth between the balconies of opposing inns in a sort of mock battle, at other times to the completely disorganized, as the bathing party in the public fountain near Maretta’s House.
After some few minutes of walking along the street and watching the festivities, Frai indicated that they should enter an inn beneath a sign which showed an issola contorting itself around a thin tree. The inn was crowded, as all such places were on this evening of celebration. The patrons were of mixed Houses, but Khaavren noticed a high proportion of Dzur and Jhereg. He mentioned this to Frai, but the latter gave him a look which said, as plainly as Aerich could have said it with a shrug or the Captain with a grunt, that the observation was useless.
The host, who stood behind a long counter nearly as high as his chest, noticed the two men in gold cloaks at once, and nodded to them. Walking down to the end of the counter and reaching under it, he appeared to pull on something. Khaavren was at a loss to know the result of this at first, but Frai continued to the far wall, through a door in it, and came at last to a hallway, where he stopped opposite a part of the wall that appeared no different from the rest of the passage. Frai glanced at Khaavren as if to say, “watch closely,” then clapped his hands five times in a particular sequence. Almost at once, a door was revealed in the wall, and the two Guardsmen passed through.
Khaavren found himself in a large room set in the back of the inn. There were six or seven round tables, and seated at each were five or six persons, mostly Jhereg and Dzur, and they appeared to be playing with the Sivali-Yangorra Stones, which were at that time becoming one of the more popular means of parting with or gaining excess funds.
For an instant, Khaavren wondered why the gamblers had taken the trouble to conceal themselves, as apparently they had done, but the idea suddenly came to him that a game thus concealed would be safe from Imperial taxes, and this would allow the inn to keep a larger portion of the profits. He was on the point of asking Frai how he had uncovered this
place, and if they were to arrest all of the participants as well as the owners, when he noticed that no one in the room seemed surprised or concerned by their presence. In fact, at that very moment, a short, pale Jhereg approached them, with an ingratiating smile on his lips.
“Good evening, my lords,” he said.
Frai said, “You will be so kind, my good Corris, as to keep your pleasantries to their home within your mouth, and merely hand over to me that for which I have come.”
“With pleasure, my lord,” said the Jhereg, giving Frai a moderately heavy purse. “Is it your pleasure to stay for a few hours and increase this amount, or to offer us the chance to regain some portion of it?”
Frai only growled and signified to Khaavren that the interview was at an end. As they passed back into the main part of the inn, and presently, back onto the street, Khaavren said, “Tell me, my friend Frai, does what I have just had the honor to witness represent a common occurrence?”
They crossed the street and were immediately inside another inn, almost identical to the first, save that the counter was lower, darker, and on the other side of the doorway. The floor had once been tiled, which indicated that the inn used to be of the expensive sort, but the tiles were now broken and chipped, and the plain hardwood of the walls seemed in need of some repair. Light was provided by lamps hung along the walls, as well as a large one in the center of the single large room. This hostelry was, like the first, filled nearly to overflowing, although Khaavren noticed only a few Chreotha and Vallista among the throng of Teckla.
“I do not believe, my lord Tiassa,” said Frai, “that I have done you the honor of calling you my friend. And as to your question, I think you will soon learn the answer.”
“A moment, sir,” said Khaavren, who suddenly felt his blood rushing to a spot behind his eyes. “Could it be that I have the misfortune to have done you some injury of which I am unaware? If so, I hope you will do me the honor of telling me of it. Yet, if I may say so, it seems unlikely that I could have yet had the chance to have given you an injury, since all we have had to do with each other is to collect a few gold Imperials, which you have not even deigned to share with me, as, I think, a good comrade would.”
“You have done me no injury, sir,” said Frai, who, stopping just inside the doorway of the inn at the beginning of Khaavren’s speech, had become more than a little warm by the end of it. “You have done me no injury, yet I confess that I think little enough of you.”
“Indeed,”. said Khaavren haughtily. “If you would be good enough to tell me the reason, perhaps we can come to an accord of some kind.”
“Reason?” said the other, in fully as haughty a manner as Khaavren’s before him. “I need no reason. You are a Tiassa; that is sufficient.”
“You pretend, then, that there is some blemish upon my House?”
“Not the least in the world. Only—”
“Well?”
“You are not a Dragon. Hence, you see, you have no place in the Imperial Guard.”
“And yet, it seems to me that membership in the Guard is open to all who earn it.”
“Oh, as to that; that is a matter of law. I speak of what is proper.”
“Sir,” said Khaavren, only keeping control of his temper with great difficulty, “I am anxious to improve your opinion of me.”
“That is unlikely,” said Frai.
“I know a way,” said Khaavren.
“I should be happy to learn of it.”
“It is the only way a man of honor has to repair an insult to his House, or rid himself of an annoying companion.”
“I annoy you then?” said Frai with some surprise.
“What do you expect?” said Khaavren. “I am, as you have done me the honor to notice, of the House of the Tiassa, and furthermore I am from the Sorannah, where no one utters careless speech, for we are all as warm as the winters are cool, and consequently we let little pass.”
“You wish, then, to play at sport?”
“Exactly. And of a particular nature.”
“Well, I find myself suitably equipped.”
“Where shall we play, then, my lord? Perhaps a stroll out into the evening is in order?”
“For what reason, my lord? Here is fine, I think.”
“And yet, need we not find seconds, and a judge, and a witness, to stay within the agreements of the law?”
“How then?” said Frai. “Who is likely to arrest us?”
“That is true,” said Khaavren. “For my part, I am unlikely to arrest myself, and you will soon be in no condition to arrest anyone.”
“That is unlikely,” said the Dragonlord. “And as for seconds, well, as you are only lately come from the duchies you have had insufficient time to make friends; it would therefore be unbecoming of me to have the advantage of a second when you have none.”
“You speak with courtesy as well as wisdom, my lord.”
“And, as to whether I will, as you suggested, be in no condition to make an arrest should I wish to do so, well, it is likely that you are mistaken.”
“Come, then, let us find out,” said Khaavren, stepping into an aisle between rows of tables, and backing to the far end of the room, where he removed his cloak, and drew his sword.
The Dragonlord moved to a spot in the same aisle, near the door, and removed his own cloak. It should be added that the guests, so numerous the moment before that movement was all but impossible, had, by the particular magic of crowds, made a large clear space for the contest without any of them actually leaving the room.
“Have a care,” said Frai. “I should hate to take advantage of you by breaking your stick.”
“Oh, that is of no consequence,” said Khaavren, taking his dagger into his left hand. “If you will be so kind as to draw, you will make me the happiest of men, I assure you.”
“I am only too delighted to please you, sir,” said Frai, and took his heavy broadsword into both of his hands, weaving it through the air quite expertly. Khaavren noticed that, with the Dragonlord’s doublet as apparently ill-fitting as it was, there was no need for it to be removed to allow him full freedom of motion. Khaavren’s tunic, of course, made no interference with his own motion.
Meanwhile, the patrons of the inn, delighted by the rare spectacle of a contest between a pair of Guardsmen, drew well back and cleared away several tables. The host, while worried about damage to his inn, was also aware of how good it would be for his business for weeks to come to have such an event occur there.
Khaavren, watching Frai’s blade-work, would have been frightened at the skill the Dragonlord was showing, except that his anger, by this time, had passed beyond the reach of fear. He stamped his foot, then, and said, “Sir, I am awaiting you impatiently.”
“Oh, there is no need of that,” cried Frai, and immediately charged, sweeping his broadsword down at an angle to strike Khaavren’s neck on the left side, which would have ended the discussion at once.
Khaavren, however, not wishing to feel the bite of such a large blade in the region of his neck, and knowing that his thin blade could hardly parry a strong cut from the larger broadsword, took half a step backward. Now, although he was quite warm, Khaavren’s sense had not deserted him, and he knew that he must consider carefully his approach to the contest. First, he noted with pleasure that the other’s blade was no longer than his. Second, he observed that both of his opponent’s hands were involved in maneuvering the heavier sword, while he, Khaavren, had his left hand free to use his dagger. Third, the broadsword was considerably heavier, but then, it ought to be slower, notwithstanding the fact that the Dragon was using both of his hands.
As Frai struck again, this time for the other side of Khaavren’s neck, the Tiassa continued observations. “From the blades,” he said to himself, “let us pass to the wielders. Now, I am in extremely good health, and ought not to tire easily, yet I would be surprised indeed if he were not. So. Yet he is larger than I am, and, moreover, his arms are longer than mine, so I ought to contrive to position myself closer to him than he is to me, to make up for it. This, alas, is unlikely. However, I ought to be that much quicker. We can call that even as well. So much for the questions of reach and endurance.
BOOK: The Phoenix Guards
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