Five Hundred Years After (Phoenix Guards) by Steven Brust Read Free Book Online

have already had occasion to mention, and the fine, noble chin and high brow, surrounded by black curls which made the color of his eyes all the more vivid. In other words, as far as Khaavren could see, he had lost none of the beauty of face that he had traded on so heavily years before. Khaavren stared, remembering how the Yendi had been accustomed to sorcerously change the color of his eyes from apparent whim, and change his opinions the same way, and how one could never know if there
were a reason behind any of these changes. And yet, at the same time, he remembered a score of battles in which Pel’s irrepressible blade and fierce humor had been instrumental in saving them all.
    Khaavren stared at his visitor as these thoughts and their accompanying emotions flitted through his mind and heart, then he repeated softly, “Pel. And here I was, this very instant, thinking to myself … Pel.”
    “Most of him,” agreed the other.
    “How, most of him?” said Khaavren. “What, then, is missing?”
    “Why, the sword,” said Pel, smiling inscrutably.
    “Cha! You no longer carry one?”
    Pel held his arms up, to show that he was, in fact, weaponless. Khaavren laughed. “Well, it is clear, then, that at least you do not come here to fight.”
    Pel’s eyebrows rose. “You thought I came to fight?”
    “My good Pel, when an unknown is announced as desiring to see one on a personal matter while one is on duty, well, has it been so long that you no longer remember what that is likely to mean?”
    “I assure you, my dear Khaavren, that I had all but forgotten those days, and I thank you for recalling them to me. But when did I become an unknown to you?”
    “Cha! When you entered by a name I have never before heard pronounced.”
    “What, you pretend you never heard my name?”
    “Not in this life, my friend. But, come, what is this? I am leaving you standing. Sit, my good Pel, which name I use from familiarity and because curse me if at this moment I can remember the other.”
    Pel smiled easily and sat, without apparent discomfort, on one of the stiff, military stools that faced Khaavren’s over his small writing table. “Galstan,” said Pel coolly.
    Khaavren shook his head. “The Duchy of Galstan,” he said. “I confess, it escapes me.”
    “Escapes you? But, my dear Ensign, it is not running from you. Nor, for that matter, am I. Rather, I am coming to see you. In fact, I am here.”
    “Now this circumstance I had noticed, and even remarked upon, albeit only to myself.”
    “And, no doubt, you wish to know the reason for my visit, because, now that you are older, it would not occur to you that I might come to see you purely from friendship.”
    Khaavren shifted uncomfortably. “And would I be wrong in this?”
    “Not the least in the world,” said Pel. “And the proof is, I will tell you why I am here.”
    “I am waiting for you to do so,” admitted Khaavren.
    Pel smiled—a small, gentle smile that, on the one hand, brought back to Khaavren scores of warm remembrances, and, on the other, brought the realization that Pel might well be using that smile to evoke those remembrances. “I come to you,” said Pel, “in all honesty, in the hopes that you will give me certain information.”
    “I will be happy to do so,” said Khaavren. “Always providing, of course, that it is not information I am sworn to keep secret.”
    “Of course,” said Pel.
    “That understood,” said Khaavren, “ask me anything. What do your questions concern?”
    “The state of the Court.”
    “The state of the Court?” said Khaavren. “You? Asking me? One would think you an Emperor. No, do not ask me why I said that, but, rather, tell me why, of all the people in this Palace, you would ask these questions of me?”
    “Well, and why should I not?”
    “Because, my dear friend, should I have any questions about the Court, you are the first person I would ask.”
    “Ah, you have a good memory, my friend, but you seem