B.T.V. -- Session 06 Interlude: A Lyre's Play
She rose from her bed although she had barely slept. There was no lying in, although this was a day to herself. It wasn’t an entire night’s sleep wasted. Lyra had at least come to one decision. I need to chance being asked some difficult-to-answer questions. The risk would happen when I get into the Halls of Athyra. Not in the Hall but once inside the Shelves. Then there’d be a mess if I’m found. There would be records kept there that could begin to unmask the hidden person behind whatever was going on. She fussed with her boot’s straps, fingers refusing to manage to buckle them the first time.
Come on girl, get yourself together. You’re Dzur. Faced forty-three deathfights without a tremor. No one will ask me what I’m doing there. A Dzur reading up on Dzur—an Athyra... Nothing wrong in that. I wouldn’t be suspicious if I were the guardian on duty in the shelves. The guardian would likely be a Chreotha. They were the type to learn to fight but make sure they only fought against those intent on stealing a glance at some dusty book. That's a fight I’d enjoy: a creaky, Chreotha guardian against a nosey, Iorich scholar.
Lyra looked at herself in the downstairs mirror. Her teeth shone stellar through her slightly parted lips at the idea. Trust you to think of a duel like that. Two Houses like those, frequently entrusted with records and bookkeeping. I shouldn’t be mocking anyone trustworthy. The guardian would have every right to query my looking into the captain’s family records. A suspicious act. I wouldn’t call what I’m going to do that. I wouldn’t but I’m too trusting. Everybody says so. And if the guardian does ask, I can’t just say, ‘An Easterner made a claim against the captain’s reputation so I instantly decided there must be something to it. No, that doesn’t sound too oddly amorphia-driven at all. I shouldn’t be considering it whatsoever...
It was only that Selador seemed quite sure of himself. What he left unsaid and I’m sure he kept something back, is that there’s a greatly strange... something-or-other going on. The captain had always been one to use me on the most interesting assignments. “I like what you bring to the unit.” He’d said it without trace of innuendo. I don’t get that often. I liked him right off. The last three years had been good with the captain. And there was nothing to the idea that he promoted me over others, even those more deserving than me. Odd looks aside, nobody had ever come out with a suggestion that the captain and I were involved. He was an Athyra! I could never be with an Athyra. What would Fa and Na say? Do I find him attractive? I think so... if he were a Dzur, of course that would help but even being of another House, I can see his good qualities. It was Dzur that Selador claimed the captain was. What would an Easterner know about picking between a Dzur and an Athyra? That’s the problem, girl. Selador must know that nobody would give his ideas credit. Saying it to me means he should be arraigned. Straight to Ironhook’s mercy to await sentencing. Yet he took the chance. On me. Now, can I do less? Maybe he knew that as a Dzur I couldn’t reject a risk-laden challenge like this. It could mean my career... Na had repeatedly made sure I knew that only by risking my all could I become a proper member of the House. I hope she’ll understand if it all goes Jhegaala-shaped.
Lyra had managed to attach her emblem to her preferred spot, just behind her left ear so that the back of it peeked out above her shoulder. She could throw back her ‘Special indigo’ over that shoulder and the emblem would often as not snag it so that the dark-blue cloak was out of her way. When action was needed it was a useful thing to be able to do. Grangoeete had actually gone ahead and added a clip he’d had made to his emblem so that a cloak could be purposely held in a similar way. Still owes me that three orbs for the idea that he’d promised. I’ll never see it. If I had all the money people owed me I’d be melting down what I have.
A decanted cast and her hair was swept away from her face, a bit more on the left than the right, the way she wanted it. She directed a particular face at the silvered glass. The look on her face had always made Sho laugh and she made herself smile this time. On her way to the front door she reached over her head with both hands and touched the ceiling.
“Reach for the sky and catch the hidden stars.” she said aloud. “For luck’, Fa had told me. Fa always had tried to make me feel good about my height. Not many Draegerans could reach most ceilings and I was touching some before I was finished growing. I hope I’m not reaching up at the guardian’s command soon. Ironhook is bad enough when you’re sent there officially. I don’t want to be sent there to stay.
Outside the door, Lyra paused to decant an alarm-cast that would signal in her ear should anyone attempt to enter her rooms. That done, she walked along the runner that led to the front door. The air was close. I miss the air of the northern mountains. It might be clearer in Adrilankha but the prevailing winds brought more of the miasma-laden air from where the former Draegeran capital had been.
Several students were laughing about something one of them had said. Their laughter might have become boisterous if they hadn’t seen her.
“Don’t let the indigo stop you. I’m not here to enforce minor transgressions. Off-duty today.” Lyra said with a small grin.
“There’s an edict though.”, said one boy.
An Iorich for sure. “Yes, but the ‘Foot is ‘ways off. It would be a technicality, if I were to use that to arrest you.”
“Technicalities are what separate us from the lower orders.”
How rigid for a student. His parents would be proud.
Lyra allowed only a trace of her smile to remain as she said, “Very well, I suppose I could make an example of one of you. Any volunteers?” There were five of them; two girls who appeared to be Iorich, like the spokesman, one boy who might be Vallista and the other boy who was likely a Issola.
The Issola said, “It would only be correct for this guardswoman to apprehend one of us. I could offer to go with, but I fear I am not only without funds to pay the fine but have a verbal examination in the morning. Sadly, I must decline to volunteer anything but the idea that Felismolla be the one to go with her.”
Lyra bowed formally toward the boy, “Make certain that you do well in the examination and I will consider letting you go a worthwhile travesty of justice. Who is Felismolla?”
The boy bowed even more formally to Lyra. He's Issola for sure, for all the great weapons!
One of the girls said, “I am Felismolla. Do I have to go with you?”
Lyra addressed the question to the Iorich boy, “Does she? What do your technicalities suggest?”
He looked torn. Ah, he likes Felismolla!
“She would have to go. An edict, made for the safety of citizens and to keep them from the warranted attentions of the Jhereg schedules, must be preserved and defended by all members of the Imperial Forces, regardless of outcome, for the benefit of the citizenry of Adrilankha and despite their protestations to the contrary or excuses given.” With this he turned apologetically to Felismolla, who was turning a shade of upset pink at his ‘betrayal’. He said, “You had best go along now, Felis.”
“It is your lucky day. I am off-duty and also about something of vitality to the empire. In such circumstance and Stig preference, I can let you get along.” She’d said ‘Stig’ but this meant ‘STG’ and was the way people pronounced the acronym of the Special Tactical Group.
The Issola boy bowed sharply so as to be polite but allow him to quickly tug one of the girls away with him. The Vallista boy who had said nothing, grinned and strolled off whistling a tune just becoming popular in the charterhouse and YardDocks districts. Felismolla looked at the Iorich. Lyra could tell the girl was placing a lot of faith in his next action.
“Remember, I’m a Dzur.”
“Yes, your House likes the impossible challenge. The worse the odds for success, the more your lot like it. Here there is no challenge at all. Two students. Both Iorich. A Dzur could do little but lose some reputation in taking these into a dispute.” An advocacy is in this boy’s future!
“Your name, Iorich?”
“I am, Delavyn ean’Conzelle.”
“I am moved by your logic... today. Don’t try this reasoning on anyone else though or you may find yourself bobbed before you can turn.”
Delavyn looked like he was drawing breath to make a retort. Felismolla slapped his thigh with the back of her hand and drew him away. Lyra watched the pair head toward the Bridge of Feathers. I need a gondola.
There’s more chance of a quick and less seen entry into the Beacon that way...
Lyra eyed the gondolier. The oar-pole looked to rest easily in her hand. Lyra knew that female gondoliers had to prove themselves more than their male counterparts. It suited Lyra to use her. “Available, Gondola?” “Su, Mistress.” “Take me to the Beacon but not a hard landing.” “Su, a soft landing is extra, Mistress. I make it two imps for the trip.” “Here have six. Two for the trip. Two for both your lips to keep them pressed together. The last two for some balm, the wind is up and your skin will suffer without it.” “You are a defender most certain. Step a’gunwales.” Lyra got in, drew her indigo about her face and settled long and low in the boat. It would take some time for the boat to make its way to the Beacon. Time for her to think some more. Her thoughts came at her in a steady progression in time to the splat of the gondola’s oar-pole on the water’s surface. There was no denying it. As different as their minds were from mine, the Easterners seemed sure of theirs. They believed what they were telling me. They – well, Balazs for certain and likely Selador had been told by Balazs – knew that telling me was a risk. If I report their words to Sadderome the Easterners would be charged. Charged, they might well be killed, bodies given over to the spirit wardens with certain instructions and that would be that. Captain Sadderome would not leave it otherwise. Dead with no revivification. Lyra pulled the indigo to herself, feeling her skin crawling at the idea. She was one of the fair-skinned, Dzur so when this happened her skin became remarkably pale next to her indigo tunic, like a fog brightened by the moon, over a lake, in some western land. It’s terrible to think of that kind of death. Worse to try and ignore it. I can’t report them. They’d be more than lost. I can’t imagine being able to forget reporting it never mind being responsible. And what if Sadderome vil’Paqqe wasn’t an Athyra? What if he was a Dzur as Selador claimed? Does it even matter? Make him anything different than what he is? He’d still be a captain in the Special Tactical Group, wouldn’t he? It wouldn’t make any bit of difference. Except, it would. His name wouldn’t be real. Not if he was, in truth a Dzur. His real family name would be; s’Tatronne, ri’Eviekien, by’Thalioppe or y’Evatour or one of the other families of Dzur. He’d have been at this deception a long while. Longer than I’ve been in the Specials. Almost a cycle. Just shy of it. Two hundred and forty-eight years. Not an insignificant amount of time, as friend Shoanarre used to say. Friend. The word had meant a lot. Not so much that it had made any difference in the end. Why did you do it, Sho? I could have helped you with it. Mustn’t get thinking about that again. That doesn’t wind-up too well. Where in the gods am I? Imperial Way. That’s good, She’s not wandering us about aimlessly.
Thinking is a bad thing. Sho had said that a lot too. I left the thinking to you, Sho. Look where it got you. Suicide with a morg – NO, I won’t think about finding you with that blade still pulsing at your… Sho. I can’t… I need to think about something else. The Easterners and Sadderome… Sadderome may not even be his name. Captain? That much is true for certain. Captain, it shall be. The Easterners and the Captain it is. Why would a Draegeran join the imperial armed forces under an assumed House? It would have to be for something grand in scope. There was no reason to do it on an issola’s chance. There’d be a big reason. Something overwhelmingly big. Big enough to risk changing his House and those closest to him would have to be aware and keep it to themselves. Hardly likely -- harder to manage. Impossible really. Imagine my family trying! My family is too large for something like that to remain a kept secret. It could never work. Selador is mad to think of it being possible. He just doesn’t have enough knowledge of our ways. If he did, he’d realise that it can’t be true. A secret shared is a secret revealed. Na said that all the time. I miss her. Lyra’s smile froze on her face. This resulted in her round, prominent cheekbones starting to ache. She dropped her smile. It didn’t make sense to smile anyway, as she’d just had another thought. I know, Sho, I know, ‘Less thinking and more slinking.’ Her expression at these words of memory flew across her face like a swift’s shadow. Then the new thought returned, if it had ever left her mind. It could not be distracted by memories this time. What if the captain had a small family? It rarely happens. If it was the case though, then what? The secret might be made easier to keep, I guess. I could check the registry. The Book of Houses would list the families of Athyra I have the right to look. I’m Stig after all. The Easterners could be using me. They just need a Dzur to do this for them as they have no hope of managing it themselves. They could be up to something. Easterners shouldn’t be overlooked, even if they were impossible not to look down upon. Lyra’s breath escaped across her lips in a small sound of amusement, like a pleasant breeze that interrupts a mood. The gondola too, interrupted her silent thinking with, “Su Mistress. We are nowhere.” Lyra thanked her three times, in the preferred way for Orca and stepped easily from the boat. She headed toward the Beacon. It was a quicker route from there into the Halls. Lyra knew that this would also mean less chance of meeting anyone who knew her. Explaining her need to go to the Hall of Athyra was something she’d rather not have to lie about. Easier to manage that lie than what might come of the truth I might learn. Selador had mentioned that he and Balazs had been asked to work for Calcitrant y’Kieron and that the Dragonlord might have the skill to perceive the captain’s true nature. It was a solution that raised more problems to solve. If it proved that the captain was a Dzur, did that make the captain’s actions suspicious? What if it was some private family matter that forced him to change Houses? What if he was working undercover for some important purpose? Perhaps the Empress had tasked him with this? It would have to be an almost unimaginable thing but did that make it impossible? The Specials’ command might have placed him in this situation with instructions to maintain the ‘disguise’ at all costs. Whatever the source, the House of Athyra or the House of Dzur must lie at the bottom of this shaded well of an idea. Lyra stepped into the relative, bright light of the Beacon’s arcade. From this end she could see through the opposite opening and see the plaza’s far wall. There was no need for gates on the Beacon. The shops here were defended by sorcerous means. Only thin curtains ‘protected’ these stores’ goods from theft. Lyra strode down the tiled arcade without pause. Her long legs carried her quickly to the other end of the interior. Da. I miss you. Remember how you teased me about my legs? Called me Princess Issola? I knew it was just to make me squirm. My legs really are too long for my torso. Short-waisted, Na had called it. That was meant to be better than too long-legged but I preferred not to bring my waist into the discussion. Being called an issola was bad enough! Would the captain be any more comfortable being called an Athyra if he wasn’t one? Not just called it, but announce it as his own? It went against all reason. It went beyond reason. It went into the heart of what it meant to be of a House. To deny your own place in the world would make a Draegeran... like an Easterner. Even if you were an Easterner nobleman, with several titles giving right to property, without belonging to a House, you’d be something, I suppose but nothing Draegeran. The House means that much to my identity, it would be terrible to give that up. Could the captain have done it? Pride. The captain had it. I can tell just looking at him. Could he be prideful of a House he didn’t really belong to? Would the House of Athyra take him? I hadn’t even thought of this before. The Athyra would have to know the captain was not one of them. The Athyra weren’t Jhereg. They didn’t let others ‘become’ Athyra. It didn’t even... it didn’t seem right to think it. Athyra were clever and difficult to know. They love sorcery and things that depend on it. Supposing someone in the captain’s, ‘vil’Paqqe Athyra family’ had made him a place, what would be the point? There’d need to be a point. The vil’Paqqe would have to gain something important from doing this. She swept down the Beacon’s wide stairs three at a time. Out into the oppressive light of the Adrilankhan day. Lyra had often envied the darker complexioned Houses for their skins’ ability to retain its nature under the sky’s enclouding illumination. Not her though, her skin was made flat and almost ruddy in the red-black light of the overcast. With a smile and nod she passed between four soldiers of the army who stood, paired, on either side of the small, steel gate along the exterior wall of the imperial grounds. Lyra had access through here. A privilege of her designation, not her House. They’re watching me. That’s not supposed to happen. They could get served if an officer happens to see. Why risk that? Getting past the next set of guards will be the same. Keep smiling, girl. It always works. Almost always... Lyra didn’t exactly stop of her own desire at the next guard position. It was more like being jerked up short by a leash. In this case, the ‘leash’ was the pair of spears that clicked together and at the same moment, pressed against her chest. Embarrassing! The spears are pushing my -- against my – and that’s enough of that. Lyra stepped back. The guardsman on her right didn’t hide his smile. Lyra knew it was a certain smile reserved for a particular thought process. She’d learned to watch out for these types. Although they tended to be less worrying than other types. Those types never grinned. They took their interest in her more seriously. I don’t know how women from other Houses deal with these occasions. It’s good to be Dzur. She drew herself up to her full height. This put her at least half a foot above the two Orca guardsmen. Lyra said, “Uncross those spears or I’ll give you something to cross your legs for instead.” The unsmiling Orca said, “I had something like that in mind.” “I’m here on... Lavodes business.” This was the way she meant it to be said. A Lavode had recently appeared in Adrilankha. Lyra had meant for this to make the Orca worry. They’d looked terrified. Only after she’d passed by them, did Lyra realise that they must have thought she’d said “Lavode’s business”. Bless the apostrophe and all other little things. If I remember right, the Athyra Shelves are along this corridor, left at the staircase and then up to the second course. Past the Hall of Jhegaala if it was still there! Now then, three flights up and left, left and right. There it was. The entrance to the Shelves of House Athyra. No one stood at the entry. See Lyra? Touching the ceiling works every time! Lyra moved in shorter steps than she was accustomed to. Dzur were not brought up to move cautiously unless it was for the purpose of taking a large group by surprise. That, in itself would still require some explaining, with deference being made to valour’s opinion of discretion. Athyran Physikers… Famine’s Wrighting… Cockatrice Familiars… Brack tribes… Don’t the Athyrans know about the alphabet? There was no sense to the way the writings were arranged. It was almost like – they had a system known only to the guardians of the Shelves… Tremendous. “Can I help thee with thy search, officer Dzur?” The voice was at once calm, refined and all the more worrying for its lack of menace. “I, yes, I… Need a book?” “Su, a book? Here?” Verra’s Hindquarters! You idiot. “Not any old book, guardian. Well, old it might be but not just an old book. One that will not be found in my own Hall or of the other Halls. Only in the Shelves of Athyra can this work be located.” “I’d like to say, I see. Why would I allow you to read a book that is unique to my House?” “I grant that it’s an unusual request.” “It would be if you’d asked.” Not good, girl! He’s an Athyra too. Damned, aloof bastards. “No I didn’t ask. There’d be no point as you Athyra care only for the metaphysical things. I’m surprised dusty tomes and rotting ledgers are of any value to your House.” The Athyra sighed, his bony frame shifting around inside his long cloak of office. “I am a rare bird for my interest. There are many Athyra who are authors of works of philosophy. Some more make great efforts to record their studies of decanting the mysteries of the minds of men. Few ever take to caring for the works previous. For most it is sufficient to be published and then move on to other matters. I cannot say whether it is they or myself who is the more academically inclined. A debateable point.” “Sad isn’t it?” I hope that sounded comforting. “Sadness doesn’t matter. An emotion wasteful in the extreme unless it moves the one who is sad to more constructive emotions. Vengeance or spite. Perhaps cruelty? Determination possibly. Speaking of determination, I am determined that I will need to determine what to do with your being here uninvited and uncalled for.” “Ah yes but not unasked for? Captain Sadderome vil’Paqqe told me to come here.” “vil’Paqqe? A quiet family name of the House. Rarely birthing a child as I recall.” “You know the captain?” Please Verra, please… “No, I have little to do with, warriors.” “We can’t all be shelf guardians.” Lyra tried to conquer with her most silver smile. The old Athyra looked uncomfortable, as though he might be about to entirely shrivel and be whisked off by an errant breeze. He doesn’t look that old! Just a warm body that’s not too hideous? Lyra shifted her stance to bring her next to the Athyra. “Being a warrior, I have little to do with books. I could use your assistance. You see the captain wanted to check on an important family date. He believed there was a registry of some kind that might be complete enough to actually mention his family’s.” The guardian was stooped with age making him only the height of an average Easterner. Lyra leant into him, making as if to encourage his movement to the shelf required. It meant she had to put her arm through his. “Is it over this way?” Head tilted for best views of books or the floor, the guardian Athyra really couldn't see Lyra's face or much of her figure. With her next to him, her firm but gentle touch and her decanted scent, were made more apparent to him. “Warriors.”
It wasn’t a ‘no’ so Lyra felt emboldened. “The vil’Paqqe have their own Register?” “No. The smaller names share a Register. It is only logical to keep them together rather than have to hunt for them. Such a cataloguing nightmare would be a thing for only a crazed verdosau…” Lyra realised just in time that he was waiting for her to laugh. She laughed her brightest laugh. Her father hadn’t been able to resist her laugh. Few had. The guardian didn’t prove to be unique. In ten minutes he was sitting close by her side, turning the pages of the ‘Athyran Register of Nobles Families Joined’. “I had no idea of how many Athyra there were. It is impressive.” Yes, my House has ruled and served the empire with the best of sorceries. This means that these sorcerers were very often rewarded for their service with longer lives and therefore some, shall we call them, late starts? An old decanter might only have one or two children, su?” “Oh su, su.” “Here they are. The vil’Paqqe. Only three alive. Two sisters and of these, one has a son, Sadderome.” “That would be the captain.” A total waste of time and flirting. “He must be a serious warrior, this captain of yours. Most dedicated to his craft, such as fighting is, of course.” “Serious, certainly.” “He uses some decanting to make himself useful?” What is he on about? The captain uses a bit of sorcery. Don’t we all? You would use some daily. He does as well.” “The Register is categorical. It states that Saderome vil’Paqqe was born on the date of another occasion... Adron’s Disaster... As might well be expected, the birth had its own share of the calamitous. He was born without a skeletal system. A terrible affliction. Your captain walks as well as he fights, I imagine? A practical sorcery indeed.” Sorcery? Gods! Sadderome hadn’t ever come close to suggesting anything like this about himself. He must have said something. Revealed sometime… Was there any chance she’d missed this in the past three years? No skeleton at all! How would a child survice to adulthood? Say it had. Would he become a fighter? Wouldn’t the risks to his body be too great to chance it? A Dzur family might embrace such a challenge to a child but the Athyra? Not likely. Athyra were very self-involved and prone to getting lost in esoteric studies. Maybe a child so afflicted would be an intriguing experiment? But to follow this child all the way to adulthood? That’s a long time for an Athyra to show interest in what would have to be considered an oddity of birth. Imagine a life without bones. Sorcery giving you structure. What would that feel like to –-- Lyra had stood and quickly, unweighting the bench she had been sharing with the guardian. He almost fell to the floor but without thinking she grabbed him under his arm. The guardian winced. “Careful Dzur, I am not a rabbit to be skinned.” Lyra held him until he could gain his balance and then released his arm. That was reminiscent of the time that I caught Sadderome just before he went over that roof gutter to the laneway below. He’d felt just the same as the guardian. More muscular, sure but the same… Then there was that night where he’d joked with her and some others about arm wrestling until he’d torn a ligament. Physiker I’m not but I’ll wager the Orb that a ligament doesn’t tear from anything other than bone. The captain was not Sadderome vil’Paqqe. Selador was right. There were more questions. Hard to answer for anyone but the captain. If he was involved in something wrong, he would not be answering those questions. He’d be tighter-lipped than a dark-hearted Jhereg in a cradle shop. I know some things about questioning and the most important is that the one asking the questions had to be the perfect person. If they weren’t, the questions wouldn’t be answered. I’ll have to get back to the Easterners and tell them what I’ve learned. “Many thanks, guardian. I might come back sometime.” The guardian rubbed at his arm for some time after it had ceased to be painful.
Lyra eyed the gondolier. The oar-pole looked to rest easily in her hand. Lyra knew that female gondoliers had to prove themselves more than their male counterparts. It suited Lyra to use her. “Available, Gondola?” “Su, Mistress.” “Take me to the Beacon but not a hard landing.” “Su, a soft landing is extra, Mistress. I make it two imps for the trip.” “Here have six. Two for the trip. Two for both your lips to keep them pressed together. The last two for some balm, the wind is up and your skin will suffer without it.” “You are a defender most certain. Step a’gunwales.” Lyra got in, drew her indigo about her face and settled long and low in the boat. It would take some time for the boat to make its way to the Beacon. Time for her to think some more. Her thoughts came at her in a steady progression in time to the splat of the gondola’s oar-pole on the water’s surface. There was no denying it. As different as their minds were from mine, the Easterners seemed sure of theirs. They believed what they were telling me. They – well, Balazs for certain and likely Selador had been told by Balazs – knew that telling me was a risk. If I report their words to Sadderome the Easterners would be charged. Charged, they might well be killed, bodies given over to the spirit wardens with certain instructions and that would be that. Captain Sadderome would not leave it otherwise. Dead with no revivification. Lyra pulled the indigo to herself, feeling her skin crawling at the idea. She was one of the fair-skinned, Dzur so when this happened her skin became remarkably pale next to her indigo tunic, like a fog brightened by the moon, over a lake, in some western land. It’s terrible to think of that kind of death. Worse to try and ignore it. I can’t report them. They’d be more than lost. I can’t imagine being able to forget reporting it never mind being responsible. And what if Sadderome vil’Paqqe wasn’t an Athyra? What if he was a Dzur as Selador claimed? Does it even matter? Make him anything different than what he is? He’d still be a captain in the Special Tactical Group, wouldn’t he? It wouldn’t make any bit of difference. Except, it would. His name wouldn’t be real. Not if he was, in truth a Dzur. His real family name would be; s’Tatronne, ri’Eviekien, by’Thalioppe or y’Evatour or one of the other families of Dzur. He’d have been at this deception a long while. Longer than I’ve been in the Specials. Almost a cycle. Just shy of it. Two hundred and forty-eight years. Not an insignificant amount of time, as friend Shoanarre used to say. Friend. The word had meant a lot. Not so much that it had made any difference in the end. Why did you do it, Sho? I could have helped you with it. Mustn’t get thinking about that again. That doesn’t wind-up too well. Where in the gods am I? Imperial Way. That’s good, She’s not wandering us about aimlessly.
Thinking is a bad thing. Sho had said that a lot too. I left the thinking to you, Sho. Look where it got you. Suicide with a morg – NO, I won’t think about finding you with that blade still pulsing at your… Sho. I can’t… I need to think about something else. The Easterners and Sadderome… Sadderome may not even be his name. Captain? That much is true for certain. Captain, it shall be. The Easterners and the Captain it is. Why would a Draegeran join the imperial armed forces under an assumed House? It would have to be for something grand in scope. There was no reason to do it on an issola’s chance. There’d be a big reason. Something overwhelmingly big. Big enough to risk changing his House and those closest to him would have to be aware and keep it to themselves. Hardly likely -- harder to manage. Impossible really. Imagine my family trying! My family is too large for something like that to remain a kept secret. It could never work. Selador is mad to think of it being possible. He just doesn’t have enough knowledge of our ways. If he did, he’d realise that it can’t be true. A secret shared is a secret revealed. Na said that all the time. I miss her. Lyra’s smile froze on her face. This resulted in her round, prominent cheekbones starting to ache. She dropped her smile. It didn’t make sense to smile anyway, as she’d just had another thought. I know, Sho, I know, ‘Less thinking and more slinking.’ Her expression at these words of memory flew across her face like a swift’s shadow. Then the new thought returned, if it had ever left her mind. It could not be distracted by memories this time. What if the captain had a small family? It rarely happens. If it was the case though, then what? The secret might be made easier to keep, I guess. I could check the registry. The Book of Houses would list the families of Athyra I have the right to look. I’m Stig after all. The Easterners could be using me. They just need a Dzur to do this for them as they have no hope of managing it themselves. They could be up to something. Easterners shouldn’t be overlooked, even if they were impossible not to look down upon. Lyra’s breath escaped across her lips in a small sound of amusement, like a pleasant breeze that interrupts a mood. The gondola too, interrupted her silent thinking with, “Su Mistress. We are nowhere.” Lyra thanked her three times, in the preferred way for Orca and stepped easily from the boat. She headed toward the Beacon. It was a quicker route from there into the Halls. Lyra knew that this would also mean less chance of meeting anyone who knew her. Explaining her need to go to the Hall of Athyra was something she’d rather not have to lie about. Easier to manage that lie than what might come of the truth I might learn. Selador had mentioned that he and Balazs had been asked to work for Calcitrant y’Kieron and that the Dragonlord might have the skill to perceive the captain’s true nature. It was a solution that raised more problems to solve. If it proved that the captain was a Dzur, did that make the captain’s actions suspicious? What if it was some private family matter that forced him to change Houses? What if he was working undercover for some important purpose? Perhaps the Empress had tasked him with this? It would have to be an almost unimaginable thing but did that make it impossible? The Specials’ command might have placed him in this situation with instructions to maintain the ‘disguise’ at all costs. Whatever the source, the House of Athyra or the House of Dzur must lie at the bottom of this shaded well of an idea. Lyra stepped into the relative, bright light of the Beacon’s arcade. From this end she could see through the opposite opening and see the plaza’s far wall. There was no need for gates on the Beacon. The shops here were defended by sorcerous means. Only thin curtains ‘protected’ these stores’ goods from theft. Lyra strode down the tiled arcade without pause. Her long legs carried her quickly to the other end of the interior. Da. I miss you. Remember how you teased me about my legs? Called me Princess Issola? I knew it was just to make me squirm. My legs really are too long for my torso. Short-waisted, Na had called it. That was meant to be better than too long-legged but I preferred not to bring my waist into the discussion. Being called an issola was bad enough! Would the captain be any more comfortable being called an Athyra if he wasn’t one? Not just called it, but announce it as his own? It went against all reason. It went beyond reason. It went into the heart of what it meant to be of a House. To deny your own place in the world would make a Draegeran... like an Easterner. Even if you were an Easterner nobleman, with several titles giving right to property, without belonging to a House, you’d be something, I suppose but nothing Draegeran. The House means that much to my identity, it would be terrible to give that up. Could the captain have done it? Pride. The captain had it. I can tell just looking at him. Could he be prideful of a House he didn’t really belong to? Would the House of Athyra take him? I hadn’t even thought of this before. The Athyra would have to know the captain was not one of them. The Athyra weren’t Jhereg. They didn’t let others ‘become’ Athyra. It didn’t even... it didn’t seem right to think it. Athyra were clever and difficult to know. They love sorcery and things that depend on it. Supposing someone in the captain’s, ‘vil’Paqqe Athyra family’ had made him a place, what would be the point? There’d need to be a point. The vil’Paqqe would have to gain something important from doing this. She swept down the Beacon’s wide stairs three at a time. Out into the oppressive light of the Adrilankhan day. Lyra had often envied the darker complexioned Houses for their skins’ ability to retain its nature under the sky’s enclouding illumination. Not her though, her skin was made flat and almost ruddy in the red-black light of the overcast. With a smile and nod she passed between four soldiers of the army who stood, paired, on either side of the small, steel gate along the exterior wall of the imperial grounds. Lyra had access through here. A privilege of her designation, not her House. They’re watching me. That’s not supposed to happen. They could get served if an officer happens to see. Why risk that? Getting past the next set of guards will be the same. Keep smiling, girl. It always works. Almost always... Lyra didn’t exactly stop of her own desire at the next guard position. It was more like being jerked up short by a leash. In this case, the ‘leash’ was the pair of spears that clicked together and at the same moment, pressed against her chest. Embarrassing! The spears are pushing my -- against my – and that’s enough of that. Lyra stepped back. The guardsman on her right didn’t hide his smile. Lyra knew it was a certain smile reserved for a particular thought process. She’d learned to watch out for these types. Although they tended to be less worrying than other types. Those types never grinned. They took their interest in her more seriously. I don’t know how women from other Houses deal with these occasions. It’s good to be Dzur. She drew herself up to her full height. This put her at least half a foot above the two Orca guardsmen. Lyra said, “Uncross those spears or I’ll give you something to cross your legs for instead.” The unsmiling Orca said, “I had something like that in mind.” “I’m here on... Lavodes business.” This was the way she meant it to be said. A Lavode had recently appeared in Adrilankha. Lyra had meant for this to make the Orca worry. They’d looked terrified. Only after she’d passed by them, did Lyra realise that they must have thought she’d said “Lavode’s business”. Bless the apostrophe and all other little things. If I remember right, the Athyra Shelves are along this corridor, left at the staircase and then up to the second course. Past the Hall of Jhegaala if it was still there! Now then, three flights up and left, left and right. There it was. The entrance to the Shelves of House Athyra. No one stood at the entry. See Lyra? Touching the ceiling works every time! Lyra moved in shorter steps than she was accustomed to. Dzur were not brought up to move cautiously unless it was for the purpose of taking a large group by surprise. That, in itself would still require some explaining, with deference being made to valour’s opinion of discretion. Athyran Physikers… Famine’s Wrighting… Cockatrice Familiars… Brack tribes… Don’t the Athyrans know about the alphabet? There was no sense to the way the writings were arranged. It was almost like – they had a system known only to the guardians of the Shelves… Tremendous. “Can I help thee with thy search, officer Dzur?” The voice was at once calm, refined and all the more worrying for its lack of menace. “I, yes, I… Need a book?” “Su, a book? Here?” Verra’s Hindquarters! You idiot. “Not any old book, guardian. Well, old it might be but not just an old book. One that will not be found in my own Hall or of the other Halls. Only in the Shelves of Athyra can this work be located.” “I’d like to say, I see. Why would I allow you to read a book that is unique to my House?” “I grant that it’s an unusual request.” “It would be if you’d asked.” Not good, girl! He’s an Athyra too. Damned, aloof bastards. “No I didn’t ask. There’d be no point as you Athyra care only for the metaphysical things. I’m surprised dusty tomes and rotting ledgers are of any value to your House.” The Athyra sighed, his bony frame shifting around inside his long cloak of office. “I am a rare bird for my interest. There are many Athyra who are authors of works of philosophy. Some more make great efforts to record their studies of decanting the mysteries of the minds of men. Few ever take to caring for the works previous. For most it is sufficient to be published and then move on to other matters. I cannot say whether it is they or myself who is the more academically inclined. A debateable point.” “Sad isn’t it?” I hope that sounded comforting. “Sadness doesn’t matter. An emotion wasteful in the extreme unless it moves the one who is sad to more constructive emotions. Vengeance or spite. Perhaps cruelty? Determination possibly. Speaking of determination, I am determined that I will need to determine what to do with your being here uninvited and uncalled for.” “Ah yes but not unasked for? Captain Sadderome vil’Paqqe told me to come here.” “vil’Paqqe? A quiet family name of the House. Rarely birthing a child as I recall.” “You know the captain?” Please Verra, please… “No, I have little to do with, warriors.” “We can’t all be shelf guardians.” Lyra tried to conquer with her most silver smile. The old Athyra looked uncomfortable, as though he might be about to entirely shrivel and be whisked off by an errant breeze. He doesn’t look that old! Just a warm body that’s not too hideous? Lyra shifted her stance to bring her next to the Athyra. “Being a warrior, I have little to do with books. I could use your assistance. You see the captain wanted to check on an important family date. He believed there was a registry of some kind that might be complete enough to actually mention his family’s.” The guardian was stooped with age making him only the height of an average Easterner. Lyra leant into him, making as if to encourage his movement to the shelf required. It meant she had to put her arm through his. “Is it over this way?” Head tilted for best views of books or the floor, the guardian Athyra really couldn't see Lyra's face or much of her figure. With her next to him, her firm but gentle touch and her decanted scent, were made more apparent to him. “Warriors.”
It wasn’t a ‘no’ so Lyra felt emboldened. “The vil’Paqqe have their own Register?” “No. The smaller names share a Register. It is only logical to keep them together rather than have to hunt for them. Such a cataloguing nightmare would be a thing for only a crazed verdosau…” Lyra realised just in time that he was waiting for her to laugh. She laughed her brightest laugh. Her father hadn’t been able to resist her laugh. Few had. The guardian didn’t prove to be unique. In ten minutes he was sitting close by her side, turning the pages of the ‘Athyran Register of Nobles Families Joined’. “I had no idea of how many Athyra there were. It is impressive.” Yes, my House has ruled and served the empire with the best of sorceries. This means that these sorcerers were very often rewarded for their service with longer lives and therefore some, shall we call them, late starts? An old decanter might only have one or two children, su?” “Oh su, su.” “Here they are. The vil’Paqqe. Only three alive. Two sisters and of these, one has a son, Sadderome.” “That would be the captain.” A total waste of time and flirting. “He must be a serious warrior, this captain of yours. Most dedicated to his craft, such as fighting is, of course.” “Serious, certainly.” “He uses some decanting to make himself useful?” What is he on about? The captain uses a bit of sorcery. Don’t we all? You would use some daily. He does as well.” “The Register is categorical. It states that Saderome vil’Paqqe was born on the date of another occasion... Adron’s Disaster... As might well be expected, the birth had its own share of the calamitous. He was born without a skeletal system. A terrible affliction. Your captain walks as well as he fights, I imagine? A practical sorcery indeed.” Sorcery? Gods! Sadderome hadn’t ever come close to suggesting anything like this about himself. He must have said something. Revealed sometime… Was there any chance she’d missed this in the past three years? No skeleton at all! How would a child survice to adulthood? Say it had. Would he become a fighter? Wouldn’t the risks to his body be too great to chance it? A Dzur family might embrace such a challenge to a child but the Athyra? Not likely. Athyra were very self-involved and prone to getting lost in esoteric studies. Maybe a child so afflicted would be an intriguing experiment? But to follow this child all the way to adulthood? That’s a long time for an Athyra to show interest in what would have to be considered an oddity of birth. Imagine a life without bones. Sorcery giving you structure. What would that feel like to –-- Lyra had stood and quickly, unweighting the bench she had been sharing with the guardian. He almost fell to the floor but without thinking she grabbed him under his arm. The guardian winced. “Careful Dzur, I am not a rabbit to be skinned.” Lyra held him until he could gain his balance and then released his arm. That was reminiscent of the time that I caught Sadderome just before he went over that roof gutter to the laneway below. He’d felt just the same as the guardian. More muscular, sure but the same… Then there was that night where he’d joked with her and some others about arm wrestling until he’d torn a ligament. Physiker I’m not but I’ll wager the Orb that a ligament doesn’t tear from anything other than bone. The captain was not Sadderome vil’Paqqe. Selador was right. There were more questions. Hard to answer for anyone but the captain. If he was involved in something wrong, he would not be answering those questions. He’d be tighter-lipped than a dark-hearted Jhereg in a cradle shop. I know some things about questioning and the most important is that the one asking the questions had to be the perfect person. If they weren’t, the questions wouldn’t be answered. I’ll have to get back to the Easterners and tell them what I’ve learned. “Many thanks, guardian. I might come back sometime.” The guardian rubbed at his arm for some time after it had ceased to be painful.
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Comments