by Steven Brust
She laughed. “What, Vlad? You don’t accept that there are those who may know what’s best, and use you for the good of everyone?”
“Not hardly,” I said. “Do you?”
“Only when I have no choice.”
“And I have no choice. Yeah. That’s what I love about it.”
“I imagine.”
“Actually, I do have a choice.” I touched Lady Teldra again.
“I suspect, Vlad, that that may not be the best option.”
“For whom?”
While she tried to work out an answer to that, I said, “In any case, that isn’t what you came to see me about. What’s on your mind?”
“Blood, death, friendship, the Jhereg, the Left Hand.”
“Odd. Those are the same things I’ve been thinking about. Care to be more specific?”
“You keep forgetting you have friends, some of whom are willing to help you, and some of whom worry about you.”
“Which are which?”
“I’m almost tempted to answer that, just because I know you don’t want me to.”
“Okay, one for you. But, Kiera, the Jhereg is after me. They want it Morganti. I can’t—”
“I know.”
“—get other people involved in this.”
“What would you do if someone were threatening Morrolan with a Morganti weapon?”
“Laugh at the stupid son-of-a-bitch.”
“Vlad—”
“All right, all right. But—”
“Do you know that Kragar has sent a message to Aliera?”
I blinked. “My word. Has he indeed?”
“He wants to know how to reach you, so he can offer to help.”
“I didn’t think he had that much nerve.”
“He does.”
“I mean, the nerve to risk a snub from Aliera.”
“I knew what you meant.”
“He’s nuts.”
“Maybe.”
“Kiera, he is in the Jhereg. He wouldn’t last three minutes.”
“So am I, and I’m not worried.”
“You should be.”
She smiled.
“Yeah, well, all right. Maybe not.”
“To answer your question, I’m here to see if you need any help.”
I sighed. “I’m not sure. My biggest problem is trying to figure out what’s going on, why the Left Hand is here. And I already asked you about that.”
“Yes. Have you learned anything?”
“There is a sorceress named Crithnak who doesn’t like me very much.”
For just an instant a flicker crossed her face. Either my reading skills are way off, or she knew that name, but then remembered that she wasn’t supposed to know that name.
“What else?”
“Power struggle within the Jhereg.”
She frowned. “Are you sure? I knew that Curithne had died—”
“How?”
“How did I know? Or how did he die?”
“The latter.”
She shrugged. “He was an old man, Vlad. His heart failed.”
“Are you sure?”
“One can never be sure, but I’m pretty well convinced.”
“All right.”
“You hadn’t known about him?”
“No. I’ve been away.”
“Sorry. I should have mentioned something. In any case, I haven’t seen signs of a power struggle; it’s just there isn’t anyone yet who has taken his place. It isn’t like there’s a big hurry; business goes on.”
“It always does. But, yeah, there haven’t been any bodies turning up, but there are signs of various people, including my old friend the Demon, trying to get into position to take his place.”
She frowned. “Are you certain of that?”
“I wouldn’t say certain. I don’t have access to the sources I used to. But I guess I can say there are good indications.”
“I hadn’t known that. They must be keeping things pretty quiet.”
“Yes. No bodies. For a Jhereg power struggle, that counts as pretty quiet. Does it change things?”
“Well, yes. No. I think so.”
“What I can’t figure out is, what that has to do with the Left Hand.”
She sat back and considered.
I said, “Terion.”
“What about him?”
“Do you know him?”
“We’ve met. I don’t send him salutations on the new year. How does he fit into this?”
“He’s the only Council member I’ve heard of with a connection to the Left Hand.”
“He has a … what is his connection?”
“Triesco.”
I could see the name register. “I see. Yes. That would do it. What’s the connection? Family?”
“His mistress.”
“Oh, grand. What do you know of her?”
“She’s a sorceress, born into the House of the Athyra, left it and became a Jhereg some years before the Interregnum.”
“Why?”
“For love.”
“Oh good grief,” said Kiera.
“Yeah.”
“This Triesco is, I take it, high up in the Left Hand?”
“I would imagine, but I know pretty much nothing of their structure. In any case, it’s another name to dig at.”
“Dig at?”
“I’ve been spending time at the Imperial library, trying to figure out what’s—”
“That’s where you’ve been hiding? In the Imperial library?”
“Well, not hiding exact—”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Vlad, you are priceless.”
“Uh, okay, what am I missing here?”
“Oh, nothing at all, I’m sure.”
“Kiera—”
“Aside from the idea of you just gallivanting across the Chain Bridge, or whichever one you use, twice a day—”
“I’m in disguise, you know.”
“—you can’t have failed to notice that Imperial library pretty much stares at the Jhereg Wing of the Palace.”
I shrugged. “No one who matters ever uses that wing anyway. Stop grinning, Kiera.”
“I’ll try.”
“You—”
“I’m just admiring, Vlad. The Imperial library, forsooth.”
I shrugged.
“I take it, at least, that it’s been productive?”
“I’d say so, yes. I mean, I learned about the power struggle in the Jhereg, and the connection between Terion and Triesco.”
“Good. So, what do you need?”
A list began to form in my head, but not one I was inclined to share with Kiera. “Mostly,” I said, “someone to kick ideas around with.”
“I can do that. Start kicking.”
She was in the chair, so I sat on the bed. “Okay, then. We know there is a power struggle within the Jhereg—the Right Hand—and we know that the Bitch Patrol is involved. We’re pretty sure that this Triesco is trying to see to it that Terion gets the head seat on the Council. So, the question is, how does the Left Hand being involved in South Adrilankha help Terion in his maneuvering?”
She shook her head. “I think you have it backward.”
“Oh?”
“South Adrilankha is the price Terion is paying for the support of the Left Hand.”
I frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Payment in advance?”
“That’s the usual method.”
“True. That’s going to create conflict in the Jhereg—I mean, the Right Hand—and in South Adrilankha. And I have no idea if it’ll do anything to the Left Hand.”
“No more do I.”
“But the conflict in South Adrilankha itself might create an opening for me. I can do things here that most Jhereg can’t.”
“What sort of things do you mean?”
“I don’t know yet; I don’t know enough about what’s going on. But something could open up. I need information sources.”
“For South Adrilankha, I ca
n’t help with that.”
“I understand.”
I considered what she’d told me. “Okay, then the question becomes, exactly how is the Left Hand, or maybe just Triesco, helping Terion? And, secondly, what does this have to do with the sorceress attacking me? Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I got a piece of that.”
“Yes. Now that I think of it, me too. The Jhereg wants you badly enough that Terion delivering your head will put him in a good position.”
“Yeah. Or else it was part of the deal to begin with. Either way, it means that sorceress was planning to kill me. Good. That makes me feel better.”
“It does?”
“Yeah, a little anyway.”
“Uh, you’ll have to explain that to me.”
“I haven’t told you what Daymar learned.”
“Daymar? Yes, I remember him. What did he learn?”
I told her.
“Okay,” she said. “Yes. That makes sense. And the sorceress is called Crithnak?”
I nodded.
“I should see what I can learn about her.”
“I would certainly appreciate that. Then, I have to see how I can get her to attack me on ground of my choosing.”
Kiera frowned. “Get her to attack you?”
“Why, yes,” I said innocently. “Sethra Lavode once told me that defending is stronger than attacking.”
“Ah. I see.” Her face gave away nothing. “Well, I wouldn’t know, but I imagine that, first of all, she was speaking tactically, not strategically. And, second, that she would tell you that this depends on the particular tactics involved at the time. She might mention that there are times—such as when offensive battle spells have acquired an advantage over defensive battle spells—that the reverse is true.”
“Oh. You think she’d say that?”
“I’m just guessing, but yes.”
“I’ve never been clear on the difference between strategy and tactics anyway.”
“Haven’t you? Tell Sethra that. She’ll probably make you a general.”
“Because of what I don’t know?”
“Because you don’t have the preconceptions that tactics are always tactics, strategy is always strategy, and the one never turns into the other.”
“I didn’t realize they did turn into one another.”
“But you didn’t assume they don’t, which is a problem Dragons tend to have. Strategy only remains strategy, apart from tactics, in our heads. Once you get into battle, into war, they may turn into one another at any time. Dragons often have trouble with that. That’s why Dragons always try to recruit a few Dzur. Or, at any rate, that’s what I think Sethra would tell you.”
“At which point Sethra would have lost me entirely.”
“When a Dzur sees an opening, he’ll take it.”
“And Dragons don’t?”
“Some do. But too often they get an idea into their heads and just plow through with it, regardless of what the obstacles are, or if a better way has appeared.”
“I think of Dzur as just charging in, no matter what.”
“They do that, too, but in different ways. The Dzurlord will charge into a fight without thinking, because they do their thinking in the middle of the fight.”
“I’m not sure if you can call that thinking.”
“Maybe. Sethra would tell you it’s the purest form of thinking.”
“Well. Good thing Sethra isn’t here. I never win arguments with her.”
I considered Morrolan and Aliera and what Kiera had told me about preconceptions. After a moment, I decided to file it away for future thought. I said, “Dzur are more complex than they appear.”
“Yes.”
“But then, everyone is.”
“You’ve changed, Vlad.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. You talk different. You, I don’t know. You’re different.”
“Maybe. I suppose it was going back East. That was—”
“You went back East?”
“Yeah. Scouting for Sethra the Younger.”
She gave me a courtesy smile and said, “How was it?”
“It managed to be nothing like I expected. Which was odd, since I went in with no expectations.”
“What happened?”
I let my memory drift for a moment, then said, “I lost a finger, and gained …”
“Hmmm?”
“Nothing. Another time.”
Kiera nodded. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“There’s another who wishes to know if you need his help yet.”
“Anoth—oh. Mario?”
She nodded.
“Not yet,” I said. “Perhaps soon, though.”
She stood up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You really shouldn’t risk—”
“I promise, Vlad. I won’t show my face in the Imperial library.”
“Ah. Well. That’s a great load off my mind. Really, Kiera. I’ve got you, Mario, and Lady Teldra working for me. What could they come up with that even presents a good challenge?”
“I assume that’s intended as irony.”
“Well, yeah, maybe a little.”
“Be well, Vlad.”
“Kiera—”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and went through the curtain.
11
Descani Wine
Mihi came and replaced the wine with a Descani, which is something like what you’d get if you poured half a glass of white into half a glass of red. It sounds awful, but it really isn’t that bad. And this, whatever it was, produced a very mild tingle on the tongue that went well with the sweetness of the candied rose petals.
“They seem to like you here,” said Telnan.
“Hmmm?”
“Just, the way that guy—”
“Mihi.”
“Yes. The way he always smiles at you.”
“Well, I’ve been a regular customer for a long time. And, of course, I’m an Easterner like they are.”
He nodded. He was right, though. I was pretty popular with the staff here. I’d found that out some years ago. I had accidentally come across Vili at an inn in South Adrilankha, and he’d been drinking. We talked a bit, and it turned out that, well, they sort of knew what I did, and they knew I was successful at it. In other words, I was an Easterner who walked around the upper echelons—or, the middle echelons at least—of Dragaeran society. I was one of them who’d made good, and the exact way I had either didn’t matter, or maybe even added a little spice to it.
And, in turn, knowing they felt that way made eating at Valabar’s all the more pleasant for me.
But I didn’t care to explain all of that to Telnan.
“How you doing, Boss?”
“Better. It was good of her.”
“It doesn’t scare you that she found you?”
“Not as much as it should.”
“So, what now?”
“I’m thinking about sending you to the Imperial library to continue my research.”
“That’s really funny, Boss.”
“Okay, then how about you find out everything you can about Triesco and Terion.”
“Sure, Boss.”
“Okay, then. Skip that. You’ll just keep guarding me when I step outside, and I’ll …”
“Yes?”
“I haven’t worked that part out, yet. Fortunately, however, I’m hungry and tired, so I can get some food, then sleep, and put off the decision for a while.”
“I knew I could count on you to have the answer, Boss.”
Having made a plan, I promptly put it into action. It worked perfectly.
The next day I returned to the Imperial library—albeit a bit more worried thanks to Kiera—and spent another day with Deleen. I didn’t expect him to turn up anything new, but I couldn’t think of anything else I should be doing instead.
In fact, he didn’t turn up anything new. As t
he long day drew near its end, he said, “I’m starting to think we’ve found what there is to find.”
“I imagine you’re right,” I said. “And I’d like to thank you—”
“It’s what I do,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed the challenge.”
“Good. It’s helped.”
“Helped?”
“I mean, you’ve found some information that will be of use to me.”
He frowned. I think it was just entering his head for the first time that I wanted that information for a reason. For a moment he looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. Then I could almost see him mentally shrug, dismissing the notion as having nothing to do with him or his life.
“Well,” he said, “good, then.”
“If there is anything I can do for—”
“No, no.”
He nodded and turned away, off to be about whatever business he had. I think he’d forgotten I existed before I left the building. On my way out, I gave one nervous glance at the gray slate Jhereg Wing of the Palace, rising over my head. No one seemed to be looking for me.
Kiera did have a point though. I was glad I wouldn’t be coming back this way. Just to be safe, I took the Five Mile Bridge. Most likely it didn’t make me any safer, but it gave me a few extra hours to walk and think.
The streets of Adrilankha, even South Adrilankha, were first dug out, I suppose, from whatever paths people happened to make, so long ago that I can’t conceive of it. They were paved with stone, and then trampled down farther into the ground, and new stones laid on top of the old ones. They tell me that the entire city has sunk several feet since it was first established; the streets sinking farther than the buildings, but both of them dropping. I don’t know if that’s true. I do know that by the time I got back to Six Corners, my feet hurt more than they had from walking hundreds of miles across the continent. It’s funny how, after being cut, stabbed, and beaten by professionals on both sides of the line of justice, one can still be deeply annoyed by a pair of sore feet.
I was certainly grateful for my new boots, though, or it would have been much worse.
Eventually I reached Devon’s House, a public house about a quarter of a mile east of Six Corners. I was early, so I sat in the corner and drank a white wine that was too sweet and not cold enough. My feet appreciated it.
The place began filling up—mostly workers from the slaughterhouses, to judge from the smell that accompanied them. There were a few tradesmen as well. And all Easterners. I felt safe, maybe safer than I should have, in disguise and surrounded by Easterners. I cautioned myself not to let myself feel too safe, especially when I didn’t have Loiosh and Rocza in the room to watch for me.
