Above His Proper Station (33 page)

“I do not like disorder,” Anrel said. “I want to see Lord Allutar punished, yes, but punished in accordance with the law. Wanton destruction should not be encouraged, no matter the excuse.”

“I see. And you seem to put a great deal of trust in this Quandish sorcerer, while claiming to be a loyal Walasian.”

“I
am
a loyal Walasian,” Anrel said. “That does not mean I must consider every foreigner a scoundrel and villain, or every Walasian a paragon. We are all human, Walasian and Quandish alike, and I judge Lord Blackfield to be a good man, worthy of my trust.”

“Let us hope you are correct in that assessment—but forgive me if I do not take it as proven.”

“You are, of course, free to form your own estimate of his character.”

“Of course.” For a moment the two men were silent; then Gluth said, “Delegate li-Parsil tells me you were a student in the court schools.”

Anrel nodded. “Four years.”

“Then I take it you can write a fair hand.”

“I suppose I can, yes.”

“We may have a use for your services soon.”

“Oh? Who is ‘we'?”

“The committee.”

“Taking notes? I had thought someone had already assumed that chore.”

“Oh, Master Fuilier is recording our proceedings. No, I meant something else entirely.”

“What would that be?”

“Copying the Great List.”

Anrel blinked. “What?”

“Oh, not the entirety! I assume it is a massive document, and most of it would be useless to us. But I believe we might find a portion of it useful.”

“I had thought … why would we need any of it copied? We want Lord Allutar's true name, of course, and perhaps a handful of others we choose to investigate, but noting those down should hardly tax the skills of whichever of our representatives is given access.”

“Indeed—but I think we may find it advantageous to obtain a little more information than that, while we have the chance.”

“I suppose we might,” Anrel admitted. “But we would need the emperor's permission, surely, and as I understand the ancient pact, he should not give that permission.
He
is to be the sole keeper of the list.”

“That was the old agreement, yes, but we are the Grand Council, Delegate Murau. We are free to change the terms of the pact should we believe it will benefit the empire.”

Anrel stared at him, unable to think of a response.

Gluth stared back for a few seconds, then turned away.

“We will call upon you when the time comes, Delegate Murau,” he said. “Do not disappoint us.”

“I will hope to avoid it,” Anrel murmured.

He watched, puzzled and wary, as Gluth moved away to speak to someone else.

26

In Which Anrel's Services Are Called Upon

On the fifth day after Anrel's appointment to the Grand Council negotiations between the three representatives of the Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery and the emperor's court were said to be progressing nicely, but all details were held in secret, even from the remainder of the committee. Zarein Lorsa seemed to be reasonably satisfied, at any rate, with what his three envoys told him.

Not that he allowed that to temper his speeches, which remained fiery—so fiery that even some of the other Hots were clearly uncomfortable with his open denunciations of various sorcerers.

Anrel was not comfortable with
any
of the Hots, and had retreated to the Atrium for the morning conferences. He still remained active on the Committee for the Regulation of Sorcery, though, where he tried to restrain Lorsa's wilder enthusiasms.

Nivain Lir was still hesitating over the propriety of allowing her daughters to take up employment in the home of two unmarried young men, and whether or not she wanted to remain in her own present position as housekeeper to a prosperous wine merchant and his family, so Anrel and Derhin still tended to their own needs in the town house on Lourn Street.

The Committee for the Restoration of Order was said to be collaborating with the burgrave of Lume in compiling a list of individuals to be questioned, and a list of actions to be taken. Everyone knew that Anrel's name headed that first list, but it was taken for granted that nothing but planning would be done until everything had been properly prepared and the Grand Council as a whole had received a report of the committee's intentions.

The remainder of the Grand Council was continuing its endless debate of various schemes for revising the empire's governance, and listening to reports of disasters great and small. A sense of urgency was building, though—where before various plans had been suggested that would take years, or even decades, to implement, most proposals now were targeted at a mere season or two in the future. It was now acknowledged that simply finding and storing enough food to make it through the next winter without widespread starvation might be a more important issue than the emperor's debts.

On the advice of Derhin li-Parsil and Pariel Gluth, Anrel had had no further contact with Lord Blackfield; associating with a Quandish sorcerer and suspected spy was deemed too dangerous to his reputation. The glorious Alvos could not be permit himself to be tainted by familiarity with such people.

Due to her employment and her mother's reservations, Anrel had seen much less of Tazia than he had hoped. Perynis had been equally absent, but that was of far less concern to him. He had also lost all contact with the various unfortunates and scoundrels he had known during his residence in the Pensioners' Quarter; he believed that Mieshel, Shoun, and Po were reporting regularly to Lord Blackfield, but Anrel had cut that connection, and he still had no idea what had befallen Doz or the rest.

He wished he knew more of their circumstances. He wished that he could spend his time in Tazia's company, rather than at the Aldian Baths listening to speeches and arguments; he wished he could see more of Lord Blackfield than an occasional glimpse of him in the gallery. He wished he knew that Doz and Mieshel and Shoun and Po were all safe and well. He wished he knew how Lord Dorias and Lady Saria were faring. He saw Lord Allutar at the baths, and was tempted to ask after his fiancée, but thought better of it—any discussion with the landgrave was likely to turn ugly very quickly.

Anrel was not comfortable with many of his fellow delegates, in fact, while others were not comfortable with him—the legendary Alvos did not fit easily into their society.

As a result, he sometimes felt himself to be very much alone and at loose ends when the Grand Council was not actually in session, and on that fifth day, after the Council adjourned in midafternoon, he resolved to do something about his relative isolation.

He had hoped that Lord Dorias and Lady Saria might track him down, as Tazia had, but as yet there had been no indication that they were making any such attempt, so he decided that he would save them the trouble, and obtained their address from Delegate Gluth, along with directions on how to reach it. Tazia would be working for another two or three hours, and Derhin was lingering in the atrium with his friends, so Anrel set out alone to find his uncle.

The Adirane town house was on Wizard's Hill Court in the Old Heart, just down the slope from the Forbidden Street—a much older neighborhood than either Dezar House or Lourn Street, but one that was still very respectable. Old Heart had, as the name suggested, once been the core of the city, but that had been long, long ago, centuries before the Old Empire fell. Now it was a quiet backwater, and Wizard's Hill was one of the older, quieter neighborhoods therein.

Anrel had been to Adirane House only once before, very briefly, when his uncle had brought him to Lume to be enrolled in the court schools, and he had not paid any particular attention to its location at the time, so he had not remembered how to find it. He followed Pariel Gluth's directions carefully, making his way along the narrow, cobbled streets of Old Heart, walking under the watch's arches and past statues worn faceless by centuries of rain and wind.

These streets did look familiar from that one prior visit, but Anrel did not remember any specific landmarks, and relied on the delegate's guidance.

There were few people on the streets, and those he did see seemed to eye him warily before hurrying on about their business. The only coach he saw passed him without incident.

The directions brought him at last to an entry that he was fairly certain led into Wizard's Hill Court; it was sufficiently familiar from that brief visit five years ago that he was sure the directions he had followed had been accurate. He glanced up and saw no watchman standing on the arch above this entry, but as he started forward a man in a black coat and hat stepped out of a doorway and put an arm on his sleeve.

Startled, Anrel turned.

“What is your business here, sir?” the man in the black coat asked, his voice firm.

Anrel was very tempted to say, “None of yours,” but he resisted. “Why do you ask?” he said instead.

“Because I am the warden for this block, and I do not recognize you.” He pointed to a badge of red cloth sewn to the lapel of his coat, with the word
WARDEN
embroidered on it in yellow.

Anrel looked at the warden a little more closely, and saw that he had a cudgel thrust in his belt. The hand that had touched Anrel's sleeve was hovering near it.

“My apologies, sir,” Anrel said. “I did not recognize you, either. My name is Anrel Murau, and I am a relative of the Adirane family. I have heard that my uncle is in residence at number two Wizard's Hill Court, and I had thought to pay him a visit.”

The warden pursed his lips as he considered this, then glanced up and down the street. Then he looked up at the empty rampart atop the arch, then back at Anrel.

“Allow me to accompany you as far as the door, sir,” he said.

That was hardly an unreasonable request, and Anrel certainly wanted no trouble. “Of course,” he said.

That settled, the two men walked under the arch side by side into Wizard's Hill Court.

The court was circular, and the circle was entirely paved, with not a trace of greenery showing through the stones. Six houses fronted on the court, and the Adirane property was second on the left—although no numbers were visible, and his memory was not necessarily completely reliable, Anrel was absolutely certain he had found the correct address when he saw the escutcheon over the big black front door. It bore the same incomprehensible design he had so often seen over the fireplace in his uncle's study. When he was thirteen Anrel had asked Lord Dorias to explain the heraldry of that blazon, and Dorias had admitted its significance was long lost. The burgrave had been sure that the sinuous curve across the top was meant to be a vine of some sort, and not, as Anrel had first thought, a dragon's tail, but Uncle Dorias had said that Anrel's theory that the angular thing on the left was a book of some sort was as good a guess as any, and no one in living memory had ever been able to make any sense of the interlaced lines on the right.

With a glance at the warden, who waited on the cobbles, Anrel marched up the three granite steps to the door and lifted the heavy brass knocker.

A moment later the door opened a crack, and a familiar face looked out—Ollith Tuir, one of Lord Dorias's footmen, looking somewhat more haggard than Anrel remembered him. “Yes?” he said.

“Ollith!” Anrel said, smiling. “I'm here to see my uncle.”

The footman looked at the visitor's face and blinked. He hesitated. Finally he said uncertainly, “Master Murau?”

“Yes.”

“I will see if Lord Dorias is in,” Ollith said. He closed the door again.

That was a chillier reception than Anrel had expected. He stood on the step, surprised and puzzled, and waited. Three steps behind him the warden waited, as well. Anrel threw him a glance, but said nothing—he could not think of anything to say that would not have sounded stupid and empty.

Then the door opened again. “Lord Dorias is not at home, Master Murau,” Ollith said. “If you feel you have urgent business with him, you may leave a message.”

Anrel's mouth opened, then closed. He blinked. “Ollith, I …”

He caught himself.

Anrel had known Ollith Tuir since Anrel's arrival in Alzur at the age of four. They had never been friends, as their respective roles did not allow it, but Anrel had always thought Ollith liked him and thought well of him. To be treated as an unwelcome stranger by this man was surprisingly painful, but there was no reason to embarrass himself.

And his uncle was refusing to see him; that hurt, too.

But it was no reason to forget his manners. “Of course,” he said. “Please tell Lord Dorias that I was here, and that I would be delighted to call upon him again at his convenience. He and Lady Saria would also be very welcome to call at my own residence, at the burgrave of Naith's town house in Lourn Street. Number twelve. I understand that their home in Alzur has burned, and I had hoped to express my sincere condolences, and offer whatever aid I may. I have been appointed a member of the Grand Council, and if that connection might be of service to them, I would be happy to use it as they direct.” He paused, cleared his throat, then continued, “I realize that I have not communicated with my uncle, nor with my cousin, for more than half a year, and I tender my profound apologies for that extended silence, but my circumstances were such that it was not practical to make contact. If there is some other way in which I have displeased Lord Dorias, I do hope he will see fit to explain my failings to me, so that I might have an opportunity to set right whatever I have done wrong.”

“I will inform Lord Dorias, Master Murau,” the footman said with some visible discomfort.

“Thank you, Ollith. I'm very sorry to trouble you with such a message, and that I had not prepared a note, but I had not expected my uncle to be out. Perhaps if I were to stop by again in a few days…?”