Read Online Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) by Steven Brust - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Brust
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that?”
“Obstinate fool, I asked!”
“That is true!”
“Well?”
“It is from,” said the Teckla, slowly and carefully pronouncing each word, “His Venerance, Temma, the Duke of Arylle, Count of—”
“Aerich!” cried Khaavren. “You have a message for me from Aerich! Quick, hand it over, you idiot.”
“Here it is, my lord.”
Khaavren grabbed the message from the Teckla’s hand, ripped it open, and greedily devoured the words. What exactly these words were, we will discover to the reader in due course. For now, however, we will only observe that, upon finishing it, Khaavren turned on his heel and returned to Daro’s apartment, where, after greeting her affectionately, he addressed these words to her: “Madam, I have had cause to change my mind, and, in fact, I should like, of all things, to attend to-morrow’s entertainment at Castle Black.”
Daro smiled. “I am delighted to learn this, my lord, as I have not been to an entertainment since leaving the court. But, if I may ask a question—”
“Madam, you may ask ten.”
“Well, to what shall I attribute this sudden change?”
“Oh, as to that, you may see for yourself,” he said, showing her the message.
This message read as follows: “My dear friend, I am entirely at your service regarding whatever undertaking you may require. If you wish to confer with me, I have been prevailed upon to be to-morrow at Castle Black, where Morrolan is giving an entertainment, and where I know you have been invited. If you wish, I shall be glad to consult with you at your convenience. Please convey my humble respects to the Countess. I remain, as always, your friend, Aerich.”
“Well,” said Daro, “that is clear enough. Only—”
“Yes?”
“How are we to get there? You perceive, my lord, that not only is this entertainment to be held seventy leagues away, but it is also a mile in the air.”
“My understanding is that the Lord Morrolan is prepared to levitate his guests up to the castle, so then, we need not worry about the vertical mile.”
“Well, but there are still the horizontal seventy leagues.”
“That is true.”
“So then?”
“It seems we must teleport.”
Daro frowned. “Yes, I know that teleports are now simplicity itself for a skilled sorcerer. But, do we know anyone capable of such a thing?”
Khaavren reflected upon this question, which proved that it was a good one. “I will attempt to discover this,” he said.
Taking his leave of the Countess, Khaavren returned once more to the front hallway, where to his surprise he found that the Teckla was still waiting. “Well?” he said. “Did you wish for something?”
“Only to know if there is a reply, my lord.”
“No, there is no reply.”
“Then, will there be anything else?”
“What else could there be?”
“Oh, as to that, I don’t know, my lord, only that I am to ask.”
“Well, no, there is nothing else.”
“Very good, my lord,” said the Teckla, who then bowed respectfully and left for the servants’ entrance with an obscurely disappointed expression on his countenance.
Khaavren put on his sword, hat, and cloak, and left through the front door, where, the instant he was outside, he found his old comrade, the current ensign of the Imperial Guard, on duty. He said, “Sergeant,” this being that gentleman’s name, he being the son of an old comrade of Khaavren from the days before the Interregnum.
“Yes, Captain?” said Sergeant.
“I am required to be in the duchies. What is the fastest way to get there?”
“Why, by teleporting, Captain.”
“Yes, but, alas, I do not know how.”
“The court wizard is adept at this.”
“This is personal, Ensign, and I am, as you know, no longer in the Imperial service.”
“Then the fastest method would involve finding a sorcerer who has set out his public mark and who specializes in teleportation.”
“There are such?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“I had begun to suspect this might be
“Obstinate fool, I asked!”
“That is true!”
“Well?”
“It is from,” said the Teckla, slowly and carefully pronouncing each word, “His Venerance, Temma, the Duke of Arylle, Count of—”
“Aerich!” cried Khaavren. “You have a message for me from Aerich! Quick, hand it over, you idiot.”
“Here it is, my lord.”
Khaavren grabbed the message from the Teckla’s hand, ripped it open, and greedily devoured the words. What exactly these words were, we will discover to the reader in due course. For now, however, we will only observe that, upon finishing it, Khaavren turned on his heel and returned to Daro’s apartment, where, after greeting her affectionately, he addressed these words to her: “Madam, I have had cause to change my mind, and, in fact, I should like, of all things, to attend to-morrow’s entertainment at Castle Black.”
Daro smiled. “I am delighted to learn this, my lord, as I have not been to an entertainment since leaving the court. But, if I may ask a question—”
“Madam, you may ask ten.”
“Well, to what shall I attribute this sudden change?”
“Oh, as to that, you may see for yourself,” he said, showing her the message.
This message read as follows: “My dear friend, I am entirely at your service regarding whatever undertaking you may require. If you wish to confer with me, I have been prevailed upon to be to-morrow at Castle Black, where Morrolan is giving an entertainment, and where I know you have been invited. If you wish, I shall be glad to consult with you at your convenience. Please convey my humble respects to the Countess. I remain, as always, your friend, Aerich.”
“Well,” said Daro, “that is clear enough. Only—”
“Yes?”
“How are we to get there? You perceive, my lord, that not only is this entertainment to be held seventy leagues away, but it is also a mile in the air.”
“My understanding is that the Lord Morrolan is prepared to levitate his guests up to the castle, so then, we need not worry about the vertical mile.”
“Well, but there are still the horizontal seventy leagues.”
“That is true.”
“So then?”
“It seems we must teleport.”
Daro frowned. “Yes, I know that teleports are now simplicity itself for a skilled sorcerer. But, do we know anyone capable of such a thing?”
Khaavren reflected upon this question, which proved that it was a good one. “I will attempt to discover this,” he said.
Taking his leave of the Countess, Khaavren returned once more to the front hallway, where to his surprise he found that the Teckla was still waiting. “Well?” he said. “Did you wish for something?”
“Only to know if there is a reply, my lord.”
“No, there is no reply.”
“Then, will there be anything else?”
“What else could there be?”
“Oh, as to that, I don’t know, my lord, only that I am to ask.”
“Well, no, there is nothing else.”
“Very good, my lord,” said the Teckla, who then bowed respectfully and left for the servants’ entrance with an obscurely disappointed expression on his countenance.
Khaavren put on his sword, hat, and cloak, and left through the front door, where, the instant he was outside, he found his old comrade, the current ensign of the Imperial Guard, on duty. He said, “Sergeant,” this being that gentleman’s name, he being the son of an old comrade of Khaavren from the days before the Interregnum.
“Yes, Captain?” said Sergeant.
“I am required to be in the duchies. What is the fastest way to get there?”
“Why, by teleporting, Captain.”
“Yes, but, alas, I do not know how.”
“The court wizard is adept at this.”
“This is personal, Ensign, and I am, as you know, no longer in the Imperial service.”
“Then the fastest method would involve finding a sorcerer who has set out his public mark and who specializes in teleportation.”
“There are such?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“I had begun to suspect this might be
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