Tiassa by Steven Brust Page B

to the right places.
    Although entitled by his rank to transport provided by the Empire, Khaavren usually preferred a cab, because the chatter of the cabbie relaxed him. This time, however, it didn’t relax him at all. The cabbie kept hinting that he wanted Khaavren to tell him what was going on in the city; that something was stirring, and people were nervous. Khaavren answered in grunts and monosyllables, and after a long time, the cabbie shut up. Khaavren under-tipped him, then walked into the Manor feeling bad about it.
    Upon entering, he handed his cloak to Cyl without a word, after which he at once went to his den, where, in due time, Orile arrived with wine and to help Khaavren off with his boots.
    Khaavren sighed, wriggled his toes, tossed off half the glass of wine, and leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
    “A difficult day, my lord?”
    Hearing his wife’s voice, he smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. “You know me too well, Countess.”
    She pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him. “I’ve had dinner held. Do you want to talk about it?” As she spoke, she took one of his feet and began rubbing it.
    “We could talk about how adorable you are,” said Khaavren.
    “Or about the shoulder-rub I’ll be getting later,” she said, smiling.
    “Or that.”
    “Or about what’s bothering you, if it is something you’re permitted to discuss.”
    “No reason why not. Rumors are already circulating, you may as well hear the truth.”
    “What is it?”
    “Signs the Jenoine are going to attempt a breakthrough.”
    “The Gods!”
    “Yes. And this time, it isn’t by either sea, it’s right here, just outside the city.”
    “They’re going after the Orb?”
    “It’s possible.”
    The Countess exhaled loudly. “There was an attack only a year ago.”
    “Yes, by the Lesser Sea. Sethra Lavode herself dealt with that one, along with Aliera. This looks to be stronger. We don’t know how many there will be.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “Stationing guards to handle panic in the city and assisting evacuation. There will be a detachment around the Manor.”
    “I don’t need more—”
    Khaavren opened his eyes. “Countess!”
    “My lord, we have twenty good soldiers here at all times. If necessary, I can call up thrice the number again. That is more than sufficient to protect our home against civil disturbance.”
    “But—”
    “My lord! Just how frail do you imagine I am that you need to weaken the Empire itself just to see to it a glass window isn’t broken? In another minute, I’ll take insult.”
    Khaavren sighed. “Very well. It will be as you wish.”
    She gently set his foot down, put the other in her lap, and began rubbing it. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I’m told I’m very charming when people do what I want.”
    “You’re always charming. And that feels wonderful.”
    “Hungry?”
    “If I say yes, will it make you stop?”
    “Fifteen minutes on your feet, then time to clean up. Dinner in an hour. Capons in plum sauce, vinegar beef round with juniper berries and mustard seed.”
    “An hour, then. That will do very well.”
    The next morning Khaavren rose early, dressed, and called for his horse to be saddled. This was not a day on which he wanted to depend either on Imperial or public transport.
    He kissed the Countess, and set off for the palace, his eyes never resting as he watched the faces of the people he passed, and studied how and where they gathered.
    Upon arriving, he went first to his office to write out a few supplementary orders, then to the First Antechamber, to have the Empress told that he wished to speak with her at Her Majesty’s convenience.
    Her Majesty’s convenience came quickly; he was once more ushered into her breakfast room. This time, she didn’t ask: at a sign from the Empress he was given a glass of klava.
    “Good morning, Captain,” said Zerika.
    “Good morning, Majesty. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
    “It is