by Steven Brust
“He got up and walked out. I followed him, not ten steps behind, but he was gone when I stepped outside. Anyway that’s it. I think it may be a setup, boss, but—”
“When did it happen?”
“About two minutes ago. I looked for the guy, then got in touch with you.”
“Okay. Thanks. Get back to work.”
I folded my hands and thought about it.
“What was it, Vlad?”
I related the conversation to him. He said, “Kiera? Do you think he meant Kiera the Thief?”
I nodded.
“It must be a setup, Vlad. Why would—”
“Kiera and I have been friends for a long time, Kragar.”
He looked startled. “I didn’t know that.”
“Good. Then chances are, Laris doesn’t. And that means this is probably straight.”
“I’d be careful, Vlad.”
“I intend to be. Can you get some people over there, right now, to look it over? And have a teleport block set to keep everyone out?”
“Sure. Where did you say?”
“The Blue Flame. It’s on—”
“I know. Hmmm. You ‘worked’ there about a year and a half ago, didn’t you?”
“How the hell did you hear about that?”
He gave me an inscrutable smile. “There’s something else,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“The owner is into us for a hundred and fifty. I’ll bet he’s going to be real cooperative, if we approach him right.”
“I wonder if Kiera knew that?”
“Could be, boss. She, as they say, gets around.”
“Yeah. Okay. We’ve got about fifty minutes. Get to work.”
He left. I chewed on my thumb for a moment.
“Well, Loiosh, what do you think?”
“I think it’s straight, boss.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“Hmmm. Well, since it’s your job to have feelings, I guess I’ll go with it. But if you’re wrong, and they kill me, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
* * *
Miraf’n stepped outside first, followed by Loiosh, then by Wyrn. I came next, with Varg and Glowbug after me. Loiosh flew in high circles, gradually moving ahead of us.
“All clear, boss.”
“Good.”
All of this to walk one short block.
When we reached the Blue Flame, which was stuck between a pair of warehouses as if it were trying to hide, Glowbug went in first. He came back, nodded, and Loiosh and Varg went in, with me following. The lighting in the Flame was too dim for my taste, but I could still see well enough. There were four booths against the walls on either side, two tables of four in the middle, and three deuces in between. At a far booth, facing me, was a Jhereg named Shoen, whom Kragar had hired.
Shoen was one of those free-lance types who can do just about anything, and do it well. He was small, maybe six feet six inches, and compact. His hair was slicked back, like Varg’s. He ran muscle, hustled a little loan business, did some “cleaning,” sometimes ran shareba games—at one time or another he’d done damn near everything. For a while, he even worked as an organization contact in the Imperial Palace. He certainly did “work”—in fact, he was one of the more dependable assassins I knew of. If he weren’t so addicted to gambling, or if he were a better gambler, he’d have made enough to retire on years ago. I was very pleased that we had him on our side.
Sitting alone at a deuce on the other side was a young kid (maybe three hundred) named Chimov. He had been in the organization for less than ten years, but had already “worked” at least twice. This is considered good. (I did better, but I’m an Easterner.) His hair was black, straight, and cut neatly at ear level. His face had a sharpness reminiscent of the House of the Hawk. He didn’t talk much, which the Jhereg considers very good for someone his age.
All in all, I felt quite well protected as I sauntered into the back room. Wyrn, Miraf’n, and Loiosh checked it out in front of me. The room had one large, long table, ten chairs, and was empty.
I said, “Okay, you two, take off.”
Wyrn nodded.
Miraf’n looked doubtful. “You sure, boss?”
“Yes.”
They left. I sat down in one of the chairs and waited. The only door into the room was closed, there were no windows, and there was a teleport block around the building. I wondered how Kiera would get in.
Two minutes later I was still wondering, but it was academic.
“Good morning, Vlad.”
“Damn,” I said. “I would have seen you coming in, but I blinked.”
She chuckled, gave me a courtesy, and kissed me warmly. She sat down at my right. Loiosh landed on her shoulder and licked her ear. Kiera scratched under his chin.
“So, what did you want to see me about?”
She reached into her cloak and removed a small pouch. She deftly opened it and gestured. I held out my hand, and a single blue-white crystal fell into it. It was perhaps a third of an inch in diameter. I turned and held it up to a lamp.
“Very nice,” I said. “Topaz?”
“Diamond,” she said.
I spun back to see if she were joking. She wasn’t. I studied it again.
“Natural?”
“Yes.”
“Including the color?”
“Yes.”
“And the size?”
“Yes.”
“Guaranteed?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” I spent another five minutes or so studying the thing. I’m not a lapidary, but I know something about gems. I could detect no flaws.
“I assume you’ve appraised her. What’s she worth?”
“Open market? Maybe thirty-five thousand if you look around for a buyer. Twenty-eight or thirty on quick sale. A cleaner would give at least fifteen—if he’d touch the deal at all.”
I nodded. “I’ll give you twenty-six.”
She shook her head. I was startled. Kiera and I never bargained. If she offered me something, I gave her the best price I could, and that was that.
But she said, “I’m not selling it. It’s yours.” Then, “Close your mouth, Vlad; you’re creating a draft.”
“Kiera, I . . .”
“You’re welcome.”
“But why?”
“What a question! I’ve just handed you a fortune, and you want to know why?”
“Yeah. Shut up, boss.” Loiosh licked her ear.
“You’re welcome, too,” she said.
It suddenly occurred to me, looking at the stone, that I’d seen either her, or her cousins, before. I looked at Kiera. “Where did you get this?” I asked.
“Why in the world would you want to know that?”
“Tell me, please.”
She shrugged. “I had occasion to visit Dzur Mountain recently.”
I sighed. That’s what I’d thought. I shook my head and held the stone out to her. “I can’t. Sethra’s a friend of mine.”
Then Kiera sighed. “Vlad, I swear by the Demon Goddess that you are harder to help than Mario is to sneak up on.” I started to speak, but she held up her hand. “Your loyalty to your friend does you credit, but give me—and her—some credit, too. She can’t help support a Jhereg war anymore than Morrolan can. That didn’t stop Morrolan, did it?”
“How did you—?”
She cut me off. “Sethra knows what became of this stone, though she’d never admit it. All right?”
I was struck speechless once more. Before I could talk, Kiera handed me the pouch. I mechanically put the stone into the pouch, the pouch into my cloak. Kiera leaned over and kissed me. “For an assassin,” she said, “you’re a real sweetheart.” Then she was gone.
* * *
Later that day, Temek reported in with a list of five establishments owned by Laris. I arranged for some wizards to appear in two of them as customers to begin infiltration.
Wizard, by the way, can mean either a particular kind of very powerful sorcerer, or, in the Jhereg, someone who does any one specific job very well. If you wonder how to tell which is meant—well, so do I.
Anyway, four of the wizards started penetrating two of Laris’s businesses, while Kragar made arrangements for the other places. We hit the first one that evening. Nine toughs, mostly from the House of the Orca and hired for two gold per, descended on the place. Laris had two enforcers there, each of whom got one of our people before he was overpowered. The invaders used knives and clubs on the customers. There were no fatalities, but no one would be wanting to visit that place for a while.
Meanwhile, I hired more of these types to protect my own businesses from similar treatment.
Two days later we hit another one, with excellent results. That evening, Temek reported that Laris had dropped out of sight and was apparently running things from some hidden location.
The next morning Narvane, following up a rumor, found Temek’s body in an alley behind the first place we’d hit. He was unrevivifiable.
* * *
Three days after that, Varg reported that he’d been approached by one of Laris’s people to cooperate in an attempt to get me. Two days later, Shoen found the individual who’d approached Varg, alone. The guy was coming back from his mistress’s flat. Shoen finalized him. A week after that, two of the wizards who were infiltrating one of Laris’s establishments were blown to pieces in the middle of dinner in a small klava hole, by a spell thrown from the next table.
A week later we pulled another raid on one of Laris’s places. This time we hired twenty-five toughs to help us. Laris had built up his defenses, so six of my people took the trip, but they did the job.
Sometime in there, Laris must have lost his temper. He had to have paid through the nose, but he found a sorcerer who could break through my sorcery protection spells. A week after my raid, my cleaner’s shop went up in flames, along with the cleaner and most of his merchandise. I doubled the protection everywhere else. Two days later, Narvane and Chimov were caught on their way to escort H’noc in to me with his payment. Chimov was quick and lucky, so he was revivifiable; Narvane was not so quick but much luckier, and managed to teleport to a healer. The assassins escaped.
Eight days later, two things happened on the same evening, at nearly the same moment.
First, a wizard sneaked into a building housing a brothel run by Laris, carefully spread more than forty gallons of kerosene, and lit it. The place burned to the ground. The fires were set in front on the second story and in back on the first; no one was even scorched.
Second, Varg came to see me about something important. Melestav informed me; I told him to send Varg in. As Varg opened the door, Melestav noticed something—he still doesn’t know what—and yelled for him to stop. He didn’t, so Melestav put a dagger into his back and Varg fell at my feet. We checked, and found that it wasn’t Varg at all. I gave Melestav a bonus, then went into my office, shut the door, and shook.
Two days later, Laris’s people staged a full-scale raid on my office, complete with burning out the shop. We held them off without losing anyone permanently, but the cost was heavy.
Narvane, who’d taken over from Temek, found one more source of Laris’s income. Four days after the raid on me, we hit it—beat up some customers, hurt some of his protection people, and set fire to the place.
By which time certain parties had had enough of the whole thing.
* * *
That day, I was standing in the rubble in front of my office, trying to decide if I needed a new place. Wyrn, Miraf’n, Glowbug, and Chimov surrounded me. Kragar and Melestav were there, too. Glowbug said, “Trouble, boss.”
Miraf’n immediately stepped in front of me, but I had time to catch sight of four Jhereg walking toward the ruined building. It appeared that there was someone in the middle, but I couldn’t be sure.
They reached the place and the four of them stood facing my bodyguards. Then a voice I recognized called out from among them, “Taltos!”
I swallowed, and stepped forward. I bowed. “Greetings, Lord Toronnan.”
“They stay. You come.”
“Come, Lord Toronnan? Where—”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, my lord.” One of these days, bastard, I’m going to do you.
He turned and I began following. He looked back and said, “No. That thing stays, too.” It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying, then: “Get ready, Kragar.”
“Ready, boss.”
Out loud, I said, “No. The jhereg stays with me.”
His eyes narrowed and we matched stares. Then he said, “All right.”
I relaxed. We went north to Malak Circle, then headed east on Pier Street. Eventually we came to what had once been an inn, but was now empty, and went inside. Two of his people stopped by the door. Another was waiting inside. He carried a sorcery staff. We stood before him, and Toronnan said, “Do it.”
There was a twisting in my bowels, and I found myself with Toronnan and two of his bodyguards in an area I recognized as Northwest Adrilankha. We were in the hills, where the houses were damn near castles. About twenty yards in front of us was the entrance to a pure white one, the great double doors inlaid with gold. A real pretty place.
“Inside,” said Toronnan.
We walked up the steps. A manservant opened the door. Two Jhereg were just inside, their gray cloaks looking new and well cut. One of them nodded at Toronnan’s enforcers and said, “They can wait here.”
My boss nodded. We proceeded inward. The hall was bigger than the apartment I’d lived in after selling the restaurant. The room it emptied into, like a sewer into a cesspool, was bigger than the apartment I was living in. I saw more gold invested in knickknacks around the place than I’d earned in the last year. None of this went very far to improve my mood. In fact, by the time we were ushered into a small sitting room, I was beginning to feel more belligerent than frightened. Sitting there with Toronnan for more than ten minutes, waiting, didn’t help either.
Then this guy walked in, dressed in the usual black and gray, with bits of gold lacing around the edges. His hair was graying. He looked old, maybe two thousand, but hale. He wasn’t fat—Dragaerans don’t get fat—but he seemed well-fed. His nose was small and flat; his eyes, deep and pale blue. He addressed Toronnan in a low, full, harsh voice: “Is this him?”
Who did he think I was? Mario Greymist? Toronnan only nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Get out.”
Toronnan did so. The big shot stood there staring at me. I was supposed to get nervous, I guess. After a while I yawned. He glared.
“You bored?” he asked.
I shrugged. This guy, whoever he was, could snap his fingers and have me killed. But I wasn’t about to kiss his ass; my life isn’t worth that much.
He pulled a chair out with a foot, sat in it. “So you’re a hardcase,” he said. “I’m convinced. You’ve impressed me. Now, you wanna live, or not?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I admitted.
“Good. I’m Terion.”
I stood and bowed, then sat. I’d heard of him. He was one of the big, big bosses, one of the five who ran the organization in the city of Adrilankha (and Adrilankha had about ninety percent of the business). So I was impressed.
“How may I serve you, lord?”
“Aw, c’mon, boss. Tell him to jump in chaos, stick out your tongue, and spit in his soup. Go ahead.”
“You can lay off your attempts to burn down Adrilankha.”
“Lord?”
“Can’t you hear?”
“I assure you, lord, I have no desire to burn down Adrilankha. Just a small part of it.”
He smiled and nodded. Then, with no warning, the smile vanished and his eyes narrowed to slits. He leaned toward me and I felt my blood turn to ice water.
“Don’t play around with me, Easterner. If you’re going to fight it out with this other teckla—Laris—do it i
n a way that doesn’t bring the whole Empire down on us. I’ve told him, now I’m telling you. If you don’t, I’ll settle it myself. Got that?”
I nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Now get the fuck outta here.”
“Yes, lord.”
He got up, turned his back on me, and left. I swallowed a couple of times, stood, and walked out of the room. Toronnan was gone, with all of his people. Terion’s servant showed me the door. I did my own teleport back to my office. I told Kragar that we were going to have to change our methods.
We didn’t have time to do so, however. Terion had been right, but he had acted too late. The Empress had already had enough.
6
“I’m going to take a walk.”
WHEN I SAY “EMPRESS” you probably get an image of this old, stern-looking matron, with iron-gray hair, dressed in gold robes, with the Orb circling her head as she issues edicts and orders affecting the lives of millions of subjects with a casual wave of the sceptre.
Well, the Orb did circle her head; that part is right. She wore gold, too—but nothing as simple as robes. She would often wear . . . but, never mind.
Zerika was a young three or four hundred, which is like mid-twenties to a human. Her hair was golden—and if I’d meant “blond” I would have said “blond.” Her eyes were the same color, rather like a lyorn’s, and deeply set. Her forehead was high, her brows light and almost invisible against very pale skin. (Notwithstanding the rumors, however, she was not undead.)
The House of the Phoenix is always the smallest, because they won’t consider you a Phoenix unless an actual phoenix is seen to pass overhead at the time of your birth. The Interregnum had eliminated every Phoenix except Zerika’s mother—who died in childbirth.
Zerika was born during the Interregnum. The last Emperor had been a decadent Phoenix, and since this was the seventeenth Cycle, the next Emperor had to be a Phoenix too, since a reborn Phoenix is supposed to follow a decadent Phoenix every seventeen Cycles. So far as I can tell, by the way, a reborn Phoenix is an Emperor of the House of the Phoenix who doesn’t become decadent by the end of his reign. Anyway, since Zerika was the only Phoenix living at the time, this meant it had to be Zerika. (All of this business about “what makes a Phoenix” is very strange when combined with aspects of the relationships among Houses—such as genetics. I mean, it seems absurd to have the opinion that most Dragaerans seem to have about cross-breeds, when there is, at the moment, no other way to produce a Phoenix heir except through cross-breeding. I may go into this at some point.)
