Tiassa by Steven Brust Page A

and the troops can do little enough against the Jenoine, but are all we have against unrest.”
    “I understand, Majesty.”
    “Good, then. You each have your tasks; be about them.”
    The wizard and the captain rose, bowed to Her Majesty, and took their leave.
    Their paths, as it happened, ran together for a considerable part of the long walk through the Imperial Wing. As they walked, Kosadr said, “Captain, may I make a confession?”
    “I’m not a Discreet, but feel free.”
    “I have to admit, I’m looking forward to this.”
    Khaavren looked at him.
    “I know, I know. It’s terrible. But the fact is, I’ve held this post for twenty years, and I’ve spent my time re-wrapping spells before they unwind, and supervising interrogations. This is what I’ve trained for, you know what I mean?”
    “I guess I do. But if you don’t mind a word of advice—”
    “Not at all.”
    “Don’t let it go beyond me. I don’t think Her Majesty would be pleased.”
    “Yeah, you’re right.”
    Kosadr went off toward his chambers while Khaavren continued on to the Dragon Wing. Once there, he asked if the Warlord was in, and, upon being told that she was at her residence in Castle Black, asked that a message be sent requesting a meeting with her. He then dispatched another messenger to inform his staff where he was, and he settled in to wait. Being an old campaigner, he waited by, if not sleeping, then let’s say dozing heavily.
    He woke up, fully alert, nearly an hour later when he heard the words, “The Warlord will see you now.”
    He rose, bowed to the messenger—a young Dragonlord with light brown hair done into a tail that went halfway down his back—and entered the Warlord’s chamber.
    “Lady Aliera,” he said. “Thank you for seeing me.”
    “Lord Khaavren. Always a pleasure.”
    “We are expecting an attack by Jenoine.”
    Aliera stared up at him, then slowly sat behind her desk. “Sit,” she said.
    Khaavren did so, noticing that Aliera’s eyes were turning from green to blue, which he had never seen before; he wondered if she did so sorcerously, or if it was natural. She was, he reflected, not only a Dragonlord, but e’Kieron; anything was possible.
    “Give me the details,” said Aliera.
    “Kosadr will have more, but it seems there are signs of a buildup for a breakthrough. Magical signs. Something about the Esswora rods, or fluctuations. I don’t know. But from what he said, it seems strong, and imminent. He said we probably have a bit over two days or—”
    “I’ll speak with the Necromancer,” she said. “It may be possible to block it. I’ll coordinate with Kosadr, of course.”
    “Her Majesty wants troops available as well.”
    “Why? To die gloriously? What else does she imagine—?”
    “I don’t know, Warlord. I’m passing on what Her Majesty said. No doubt if you speak to her—”
    “Oh, I’ll speak to her!”
    Khaavren nodded. “If you can spare some for helping me control the city, and to help with evacuation, I’ll appreciate it.”
    “Evacuation?”
    “Probably. Anyone who remembers the Interregnum—”
    “Of course.”
    Aliera obviously didn’t care for her troops being used that way, but finally she grunted a sort of agreement.
    “Thanks,” said Khaavren. “Then that’s all I have.” He stood and bowed. “Thank you for seeing me, Warlord.”
    “Most welcome, Captain,” said Aliera. Then she scowled. “Jenoine,” she muttered.
    “Indeed,” said Khaavren, and took his leave, returning to his own quarters in the Dragon Wing. Once there, he pulled out his maps of the city, and lists of guard detachments, and began to work. Throughout the day he received reports of the state of the city, and was pleased that, although people were already starting to leave, there was as yet no sign of panic.
    It was fully dark in the city when he finally finished. He stood, stretched, and called for his retainers to see that his orders—an impressive stack of paper—went