Vlad Taltos - Phoenix Part 10

"Spies?"

"No, although that's possible, too. I mean that the spells for listening through walls are far more readily available to the Empire than the spells to counteract them are to us."

"That's true, I guess." I didn't say that I had trouble imagining the Empire being concerned enough about them to bother; that wouldn't have gone over well. On reflection, what with the Phoenix Guards all over the place, it might not be true, either.

"All right," she continued. "That means that what we do can't really be secret. So it isn't. When we make plans, we a.s.sume the Empire could find out about them as they're made. So we don't hide anything. A question like 'How soon?' doesn't mean anything, because all we're doing is preparing. Who knows? Tomorrow? Next year? We're getting ready for it. Conditions there-"

"I know about conditions there."

"Yes," she said. "You do."

I stared at her for a moment and tried to come up with something to say. I couldn't, so I grunted, picked up my book, and pretended to read.

An hour or so later Aibynn clapped at the door and came in. He ducked his head like a Teckla, smiled shyly, and sat down. His drum was clutched under his arm, as was something that looked like a rolled-up piece of paper.

"Been playing?" I asked him.

He nodded. "I found this," he said, and unrolled the thing.

"Looks like a piece of leather," I said.

"It is," he said. "Calfskin." He seemed unreasonably excited.

"Don't you have cows on the island? I'm sure I saw-"

"But look how thin it is."

"Now that you mention it, it is pretty transparent. Are the cows different here?"

He shook his head impatiently, "It's the tanning and cutting. I've never seen calfskin this thin. It's as thin as fish skin, and warmer."

"Warmer?"

"That's how they make those big drums sound so good."

" What big drums?"

"The ones outside the Imperial Palace, that they play every day to announce the ceremonies and things."

"I've never noticed them."

"You haven't? They're huge, like this." He stuck his arms way out.

"And they get about ten of them going at once and-"

"Now that you mention it, I have heard some of that, behind the homs, doing the Reckoning every day."

"Is that what it's called? But now I know how they get the drums to sound that way. Calfskin. I'd never have believed it. They work better in the air here, too."

"The air?"

"The air in the city is really dry. I haven't been able to make my drum sound right since I got here."

This was the first time I'd ever heard anyone suggest that Adrilankha, a city pushed flat against the southern coast, was too dry. "Oh," I said.

"Why do they wear masks?"

"Who?"

"The drummers."

"Oh. Hmmm. I've never thought about it."

He nodded and wandered off to the blue room. As he left, he was running his fingers across the piece of leather, still holding his drum under his arm.

I noticed Cawti looking at me, but I couldn't read her expression.

"Calfskin," I told her. "They make the drums out of calfskin."

"Nothing to it, when you know," she said.

"Maybe that's our problem, though. Maybe the air here is too dry for us."

She smiled gently. "I've suspected that for a long time."

I nodded and settled back in my chair. Rocza landed on her arm and stared up at me quizzically. "Calfskin," I told her. She flew off again.

I sat in the lower east parlor of Castle Black and looked at the Lord Morrolan. He didn't look so tall sitting down.

After a while he said, "What is it, Vlad?" '

"I want to talk about revolution."

He c.o.c.ked his head and raised both eyebrows. "Please?"

"Revolution. Peasant uprising. Violence in the streets."

"What about it?"

"Could it happen?" - "Certainly. It has before."

"Successfully?"

"That depends upon the meaning you choose for success. There have been rulers slain by their own peasants. During the War of the Barons there was a case where an entire county-I believe Longgra.s.s-was turned into-"

"I mean more long-term success. Could the peasants take and hold power?"

"In the Empire?"

"Yes."

"Impossible. Not until the Cycle points to the Teckla, in any case, which will be several thousand years from now. We'll both be safely dead by then."

"You're quite certain?"

"That we'll be dead?"

"No, that it couldn't happen."

"I'm certain. Why?"

"There's this group of revolutionaries that Cawti's gotten involved with."

"Ah, yes. Sethra mentioned something about them a few weeks ago."

"Sethra? How would she know?"

"Because she is Sethra."

"Mmmm. What did she say?"

Morrolan paused, looking up at the ceiling as he remembered. "Very little, actually. She seemed to be concerned, but I don't know why."

"Perhaps I should speak with her, then."

"Perhaps. She will be coming here later this evening to discuss the war."

I felt a frown settle around my lips. "What war?"

"Well, there isn't one yet. But surely you've heard the news."

"No," I said hesitantly. "What news?"

"An Imperial cargo vessel, the Song of Clouds, was rammed and sunk yesterday by raiders from Greenaere." "Greenaere," I said, swallowing bile. "Oh."

Lesson Seven.

MATTERS OF STATE I.

MORROLAN, ALIERA, AND I lunched in the small den, with an opening onto a balcony that looked down at the ground a mile below. I did not partake of the view. Morrolan's cooks prepared a cold soup of duck with cinnamon, an a.s.sortment of chilled fruit, kethna with thyme and honey, various green vegetables with ginger and garlic, and wafers dipped in a strawberry glaze. As was his custom, he laid out several wines with the meal, rather than selecting one for each course. I had a dry white from the Tan Coast, and stayed with it for the whole meal, except for dessert, when I switched to what my grandfather would have called plum brandy, but the Dragaerans called plum wine.

The subject was war. Aliera's green eyes were bright as she speculated about landings on Greenaere, while Morrolan thoughtfully considered naval commissions. I kept trying to find out why it was happening. After shrugging off the question several times, Aliera said, "How can we know why they did it?"

"Well, hasn't there been any communication between the Empire and the island?"

"Perhaps," said Morrolan. "But we know nothing of it."

"You could ask Norathar-"

"There is no need," said Aliera. "She'll tell us as much as she can, when she can."

I glowered into my duck and tossed down more wine. I don't usually toss wine down; I tend to drink it in installments of two or three gulps at a time. Aliera, who holds her gla.s.s like she's holding a bird, bottom two fingers properly under the stem, takes tiny lady-like sips at dinner, but when she's out in the field, as I happen to know, she'll slug it down like anyone else. Morrolan always holds the gla.s.s by the bowl, as if it were a stemless tumbler, and takes long, slow sips, his eyes looking across at his dinner partner, or the person with whom he is speaking. Now he was looking at me. He replaced his gla.s.s, which contained something thick and purple, and said, "Why are you so interested?"

Aliera snorted before I had time to speak. "What do you think, cousin? He was just there, and everyone was after him. He wants to know if whatever he did caused this. I don't know why he should care, but that's what he's after."

I shrugged. Morrolan nodded slowly. "What did you do?"

"Nothing I can talk about."

"He probably killed someone," said Aliera.

Morrolan said, "Did you kill someone of sufficient importance to prompt anger at the Empire?"

"Let's change the subject," I said.

"As you wish," said Morrolan.

Ginger and cinnamon were the main scents of this meal. Loiosh sat on my left shoulder and received occasional sc.r.a.ps. He thought there was too much ginger in the vegetable dish. I told him that, in the first place, there was no such thing as too much ginger and, in the second, jhereg don't eat vegetables. He was saying something jhereg in the wild versus civilized jhereg when one of Morrolan's servants, an elderly woman who moved like a Serioli water clock and had streaks of black in her grey hair, entered and announced, "Sethra Lavode."

We all stood. Sethra entered, bowed slightly, and seated herself between Aliera and me. She always preferred to be announced without t.i.tles; part of her mystique, I guess, though I couldn't say if it was sincere or contrived. You haven't met her yet, so picture if you will a tall Dragaeran wearing a black blouse with big, puffy sleeves drawn tight around her wrists, black trousers tucked into calf-high black boots, a silver chain from which hung a pendant depicting a dragon's head with two yellow gems for eyes, and long silver dangling- things on her ears that glittered when she moved. She had the high, sharp cheekbones of a Dragonlord and the pointed Dzur hairline. Her eyes, which slanted upward as a Dzurlord's, were dark and set deep in her head, and looking into them one always felt the danger of being lost in the thousands of years of un-dead memory she held. Iceflame, blue hilt against the black, created echoes inside my mind. She was a vampire, a sorcerer, a warrior, and a statesman. Her powers were legendary. Sometimes I thought she was my friend.

"You are discussing the war, I presume?" she said.

"We have been," said Morrolan. "Have you news?"

"Yes. Greenaere has formed an alliance with Elde Island."

Aliera and Morrolan exchanged looks that I couldn't interpret, then Morrolan said, "That's rather surprising, considering their histories."

Sethra shook her head. "They haven't actually fought since before the Interregnum."

"Last time we fought Elde," said Aliera, "Greenaere was on our side."

"Yes," said Sethra. "And they lost half their fleet for their trouble."

"Fleet?" said Morrolan. "Then they have a navy?"

"They have many fis.h.i.+ng boats, and most of them are capable of long voyages. The fishermen become their navy when they need one."

"Do they have a standing army?" asked Aliera.

"Not to speak of," I said.

They both looked at me. When I didn't elaborate, Morrolan cleared his throat and said, "Elde does."