Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) by Steven Brust Page B

me.”
    “Does she?” said Aerich, with something of a smile. “More than the last one did?”
    “Oh, the last one couldn’t help it, so I didn’t mind.”
    “You have unusual standards.”
    “Perhaps I do.”
    “So then, what will you do now?”
    “I wish I knew. Aerich—”
    “Well?”
    “Do you think I ought to search for him?”
    The Lyorn nodded slowly. “If you wish my opinion—”
    “I always wish your opinion, Aerich.”
    “Well then, yes, I think you ought to at least speak to him.”
    “Ah, well!”
    “Yes?”
    “I must tell you, first, that I do not know how to find him.”
    “Yes, and after that?”
    “After that? Well, if I did find him, I do not know what to say.”
    “As to what you will say, well, I cannot tell you. It may be there is nothing to say that will do any good. But you must try. And, as to finding him—”
    “Well?”
    “Perhaps, working together, we will discover a way.”
    “You will help me?”
    “Khaavren! How can you doubt it?”
    “You are a good friend, Aerich.”
    “Well,” said the Lyorn, shrugging and permitting a smile to touch his lips.
    At this moment, there was a clap outside of the door.
    “Who is there?” asked Khaavren.
    Someone whose voice he did not recognize said, “If that is the Lord Khaavren, late of Her Majesty’s Guard, then I would beg a moment of your time.”
    “It is I,” said Khaavren, rising and opening the door. “And I believe I have a moment to spare.”
    The woman on the other side of the door, who seemed rather old, with lines of care on her forehead and marks of worry beneath her eyes, was dressed as a warrior, entirely in black with not the least speck of color, and had the distinctive ears and eyes of the House of the Dzur. She bowed to Khaavren and said, “My lord, I am called Sennya.”
    Khaavren’s eyes widened, and he said, “Your Highness? I rememberyou from the days before the Disaster, though you perhaps never noticed me.”
    “Indeed, I remember you very well, the Captain of Tortaalik’s Guard. And yes, I am the Dzur Heir, but it is not as Dzur Heir that I wish to exchange thoughts with you.”
    “Nevertheless, madam, please accept my respectful salute, and permit me to name my friend the Duke of Arylle.”
    Aerich, who had also risen to his feet, bowed. Sennya, for her part, returned the courtesy and, addressing Khaavren once more, said, “Perhaps we ought to speak in private, my lord.”
    Aerich bowed again and made a motion as if he would leave, but Khaavren said, “Not at all. Indeed, I believe I know the matter about which you would address me, and it is exactly what my friend Aerich and I have been discussing.”
    The Lyorn turned an inquiring look upon Khaavren, who said, “Her Highness Princess Sennya is, in addition to being Dzur Heir, also the mother of Ibronka.”
    “Ah. I comprehend,” said Aerich.
    The Lyorn pulled up a chair for the Princess, then waited. After a moment, as if she had to make up her mind, she sat; Khaavren and Aerich did the same.
    “I have been deciding,” said Sennya, “whether to begin by saying, ‘You are the man whose son has corrupted my daughter.’ ”
    “The reverse,” observed Khaavren, “would be equally valid.”
    “Certainly. And, whichever way it were put, there can only be one result of such a statement, and I would welcome it.”
    “You wish, then, to fight?”
    “I am in no condition to fight. It would be a slaughter, and that is why I would welcome it.”
    Khaavren bowed his head. “I hope Your Highness will not think it too familiar of me to say that I understand.”
    “What happened?”
    “I have not the least idea in the world, Highness. I gave her permission to accompany me when I left on an errand in the service of the Empire. I feared what I would say to you if she were killed—”
    “Oh, I nearly wish she had been!”
    “But this, I never expected this. Do you know, she had a friend?”
    “No, I know nothing of any friend.”
    “And