Free Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards) by Steven Brust Page A

suspicious of all the deaths, and thought to bring in a wizard to look for sorcery.”
    “It was a sorcerous murder?”
    “Yes. His heart was stopped.”
    “I see. But, Sire, did not Your Majesty pronounce the words, ‘all the deaths’?”
    “I did.”
    “Were there others, then, Sire?”
    “One other,” His Majesty sighed. “Gyorg Lavode. He was in his bed, sleeping, when his throat was cut.”
    “What does Your Majesty tell me?” cried Khaavren. “The Captain of the Lavodes?”
    “Himself,” said the Emperor grimly.
    Khaavren’s mind fairly reeled with the news. “In that case, my message will, I suspect, not be delivered.”
    “Message?” said the Emperor.
    “Yes, Sire. I had, just this morning, requested an audience with him.”
    “For what reason?”
    “To consult with him upon a matter that, it seemed to me, would best be
looked into by a skilled wizard who was also a warrior, and, moreover, one who had others of the same sort at his command.”
    “Well,” said the Emperor, “that certainly described Gyorg Lavode. But what was the matter upon which you wished to consult him?”
    “How, does Your Majesty wish me to explain?”
    “Yes, and this very moment.”
    “Well, Sire, last night, an attempt was made upon my life.”
    Rollondar gasped, and Jurabin took a step backward, as if afraid that the odor of death might still cling to Khaavren’s uniform. His Majesty stood up. “But this is infamous!”
    “Yes, Sire.”
    “Who was the assassin?”
    “I don’t know, Sire.” said Khaavren. “But I brought his body back with me, which body lies now in my antechamber. I had had the intention of asking Captain Gyorg what he could learn from examination of the corpse, but now …” Khaavren punctuated his sentence with a shrug.
    “But now,” agreed His Majesty. “Now we must decide what to do. It is clear that there is a conspiracy afoot, and that, whatever the object of this conspiracy, the conspirators aim at the very top of the Imperium.” His Majesty looked at those assembled before him. “How do we find them, and where do we look?”
    “We look first,” said Jurabin with a cold glance at the Warlord, “to the House of the Dragon, who may, perhaps, be desirous of seeing the cycle turn precipitately—that is, sooner than, in the natural course of events (if, indeed, any course of events in which men are involved can be called ‘natural’), the cycle might turn.”
    Rollondar e’Drien glared back at him and said, “Dragonlords do not employ assassins.”
    “That may be,” said Jurabin, “but—”
    “Please, gentlemen,” said His Majesty. “You may bicker at a later time. It is clear that we must do something, and soon at that. I am already late for my rounds, and everything else will of necessity be late therefore, and today is my day for wine-tasting; I will not be pleased if that is delayed. So let us, right now, determine a course of action, and you gentlemen may pursue this course, and I will return to running the Empire.”
    “Sire,” said Jurabin. “We must consider—”
    “You may not consider,” said His Majesty. “I will not have every activity of the day thrown into needless confusion, and have my schedule spoiled. I am willing to do what is necessary. Determine, then, what is must be done and then let us get on with our tasks.”
    Jurabin cleared his throat. “An investigation—” he began.
    “Yes, yes,” said His Majesty. “To be sure, an investigation. But who should investigate?”
    “I will,” said Rollondar.
    “You?” said Jurabin. “Have you the resources—”
    “With the help of the Captain, here,” said Rollondar, indicating Khaavren. “I have no doubt—”
    “Very well,” said His Majesty. “Is that all? You will investigate, and you will tell me what you have learned.”
    “Sire,” said Jurabin, “It seems to me that, at least, the Duke of Eastmanswatch ought to be summoned and questioned. As the Dragon Heir, he