Iorich Read Free

Phoenix Stone amulet I wore about my neck. Its presence in my mind was like a low shepherd’s pipe playing quietly over the next hill.
    From here, it was only a couple of miles to the most northeastern entrance of the Imperial Palace; I didn’t think the Jhereg would be stupid enough to make a move on me once I was inside.Even the Jhereg Wing would be safe—the thought of going there just to taunt them was only briefly tempting.
    “As stupid moves go, Boss, this one isn’t bad. I mean, comparatively.”
    “Glad to hear it.”
    “I knew you’d be relieved.”
    Usually, if you’re a professional and you’re going to kill someone, it takes a while to set things up—you need to be sure of where to find your target, how you’re going to take him, all the escape routes, and so on. Arriving unexpectedly in town like this, I figured my chances of making it safely to the Palace were pretty good. And if anyone did try anything, it would be a clumsy, last-minute effort that I ought to be able to deflect.
    That, at any rate, was my thinking. And, right or wrong, I did make it; taking the Street of the Issola to what is called the Imperial Wing, though in fact it is not a wing, but the heart of the Palace, to which the other wings are attached. Once inside, I had to ask directions a few times, but eventually managed to walk quite nearly all the way around the Imperial Wing. In fact, I’d entered rather close to the Iorich Wing, but the Jhereg Wing was in between, and walking in front of it didn’t feel like a smart move, so I took the long way.
    The main entrance to the Iorich Wing from the Imperial Wing is through either of a pair of twin arches with no door. Above one arch is a representation of an empty hand, palm open like a porter expecting a gratuity; above the other is a hand holding an ax, like a porter mad at not getting one. These same symbols are on the opposite sides of the arch in the other order, so you can’t escape the ax. This would, no doubt, be a powerful statement if I knew what the images were supposed to symbolize. High above both of the arches is a representation ofan iorich, its toothy snout curving back as if looking over its low shoulder. Given what the ugly thing is famous for, that is another bit of symbolism that doesn’t make sense to me. I could find out if I cared.
    The Iorich like to make everything bigger than it has to be, I guess to make you feel smaller than you’d like to be. It was a long walk through a big, empty room where my footfalls echoed loudly. The walls were dark, only slightly lit by oddly shaped lamps hanging high overhead, and there were half a dozen marble statues—pure, white, gleaming marble, about twenty feet tall—depicting figures that I imagine were famous within the House.
    Loiosh gave no signs of being impressed.
    In front of me was a desk, elevated about two feet, with a square-shouldered middle-aged Dragaeran at it. Her straight hair glistened in the torchlight.
    I went clack clack clack clack against the hard floor until I reached her; her eyes were slightly higher than mine. She glanced at the jhereg on my shoulders, and her lips tightened. She hesitated, I suppose trying to think if she could come up with a law against their being there. She finally gave up and said, “Name.”
    Her voice and demeanor—brisk and slightly bored—went with the surroundings the way lemon juice goes with cream; she sounded more like an Imperial clerk in charge of tax rolls than a magistrate of the House of justicers. I said, “I want information about a case.”
    “Name,” she repeated.
    “Aliera e’Kieron, House of the Dragon.”
    “Your name,” she said, with the air of someone trying very hard to be patient in spite of provocation.
    But you can’t operate in the Jhereg without knowing some of the basics of the Imperial justice system; no one but an idiot breaks a law without knowing that he’s doing it, and what he’s risking, and the best ways to reduce the