The Book of Jhereg

by Steven Brust

  I said, “I can’t, Cawti. Don’t you see that? I just can’t. You don’t have the right to throw your life away. No one does.”

  “Are you sure I’m throwing my life away?”

  I closed my eyes, and felt the start of tears that I hadn’t been able to shed the night before. I stopped them. I said, “Let me think about it, all right?”

  “All right.”

  “Are you coming back home?”

  “Let’s wait until this is over, then we’ll see where we are.”

  “Over? When will it be over?”

  “When the Empress withdraws her troops.”

  “Oh.”

  Loiosh came back in and landed on my shoulder. I said, “Everything settled, chum?”

  “Pretty much, boss. I’m not going to be flying too well for a few days. She got in a good one on my right wing.”

  “I see.”

  “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Yeah.”

  I stood up and walked past Cawti without touching her. Kelly was in the other room, deep in conversation with Gregory and a few others. None of them looked up as I left. I stepped outside, carefully, but saw no one suspicious. I teleported back home, deciding that Kragar could handle things at the office better than I could right now.

  The stairs up to my flat seemed long and steep, and my legs felt leaden. Once inside, I collapsed on the couch again and stared off into space for a while. I thought about cleaning the place up, but it didn’t really need it and I didn’t have the energy.

  Loiosh asked if I’d like to see a show and I didn’t.

  I spent a couple of hours sharpening my rapier because it seemed likely I’d be needing it soon. Then I stared off into space for a while, but no ideas fell from the sky and landed on me.

  After a while I got up and selected a book of poems by Wint. I opened the book at random, and was at a poem called “Smothered.”

  “. . . Was it for naught I bled for thee,

  Defying omnipotent powers?

  The blood was mine; the battle, thine,

  To smother in bright-blooming flowers. . . .”

  I read it to the end, and wondered. Maybe I was wrong. It didn’t seem obscure at all, just then.

  16

  . . . & repair cut in lft side.

  I WOKE UP IN the chair, the book on my lap. I felt stiff and uncomfortable, which is natural after sleeping in a chair. I stretched out to loosen my muscles, then bathed. It was pretty early. I put some wood in the stove and kicked it up with sorcery, then cooked a few eggs and warmed up some herb bread that Cawti had made before she left. It was especially good with garlic butter. The klava helped, and it helped to do the dishes and clean up the place. By the time that was done I felt almost ready for the day.

  I wrote a few letters of instruction to various people, in case of my demise. I kept them terse. I sat down and thought for a while. I hate, I mean hate, changing a plan at the last minute, but there was no way around it. Cawti wasn’t going to be safe. Furthermore, there was the chance that Kelly was right. No, there just wasn’t any way to arrange for all of my enemies to neatly destroy each other; I had to do something else. I ran down the events of the past few days and my options for dealing with the situation I had created, and eventually hit on the idea of bringing my grandfather into things.

  Yeah, that might work, as long as he didn’t show up while there was still fighting going on. I put what passed for the finishing touches on the idea.

  I concentrated on Kragar, and soon he said, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  “What is it?”

  “Can you reach Ishtvan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give him Kelly’s new address in South Adrilankha, and have him wait there, out of sight, this afternoon.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” I gave him the rest of his instructions.

  “Do you really think he’ll go for it, Vlad?”

  “I don’t know. Right now it’s our best shot, though.”

  “Okay.”

  Then I drew my rapier and made a few passes in the air, loosening up my wrist. Supple but firm, my grandfather always said.

  I checked all of my weapons as carefully as I ever have, then I organized my thoughts and teleported. Unless I was very much mistaken, today would be it.

  * * *

  There was a nasty wind whipping through the streets of South Adrilankha. It wasn’t terribly chilly, but it had something of a sting from the dust it kicked up. It played havoc with my cloak as I leaned against a wall near Kelly’s headquarters. I moved to a place out of the wind that also provided better concealment, although not quite as good a view. I watched the Phoenix Guards march by in neat groups of four. They were trying to maintain order where there was no disorder, and some of them, mostly the Dragons, were either bored or grumbling. The Teckla seemed to be enjoying it; they could strut around the street and be important. They were the ones who were constantly gripping the hilts of their weapons.

  The interesting thing was how easy it was to tell the political affiliations of the passersby. There were no headbands, but they weren’t necessary. Some people would walk the streets furtively, or go quickly to their destinations as if they were afraid of being out on the streets. Others seemed to savor the tension in the air; they would walk with their heads up, glancing about themselves as if something might happen at any moment, and they didn’t want to miss it.

  By early afternoon Ishtvan was probably around somewhere, though I didn’t see him. Quaysh was, too, I assumed. Quaysh knew that I knew he was there, but I felt hopeful that Quaysh didn’t know Ishtvan was there.

  I reached Kragar again. “Anything exciting happen?”

  “No. Ishtvan is there.”

  “Good. So am I. All right, send the message.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Now or never. I won’t have the nerve again.”

  “Okay. And the sorceress?”

  “Yes. Send her to the apothecary across from Kelly’s. And have her wait. Does she know me by sight?”

  “I doubt it. But you’re pretty easy to describe. I’ll make sure she recognizes you.”

  “Okay. Have at it.”

  “Right, Vlad.”

  And we were committed.

  * * *

  The note that Herth would be receiving was quite simple. It said: “I’m prepared to compromise, if you’ll arrange for the removal of the Phoenix Guards. Because of the Guards, I can’t leave my flat. You may arrive at your convenience.—Kelly.”

  Its strength was its weakness: It was too obvious to be the fake that it was. But Kelly and Herth couldn’t know each other well enough to communicate psionically, so messages were required. Herth was bound to have a very low opinion of Kelly, which was also important. In order for this to work, Herth had to believe that Kelly was scared of the Phoenix Guards, and Herth had to think that Kelly was ignorant of how much of a threat these guards were to a Jhereg. I knew that Kelly was really aware of all that, but presumably Herth didn’t.

  So, the questions were: Would Herth show up in person? How many bodyguards would he bring? And, what other precautions would he take?

  The sorceress arrived before anything else happened. I didn’t recognize her. She was a tall Jhereg with black hair in tight curls. Her mouth was harsh and she showed some signs of Athyra in her ancestry. She wore the Jhereg grey. She entered the shop. I followed carefully. She saw me as I entered and said, “Lord Taltos?” I nodded. She gestured at Kelly’s building. “You want a block to prevent anyone from teleporting out. Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  I pulled out a coin, studied it with eye and fingers for a moment, and handed it to her. “When this heats up.”

  “All right,” she said.

  I left the shop, still being very careful. I didn’t want to be attacked just yet. I resumed my old position and waited. A few minutes later a Dragaeran in t
he colors of House Jhereg showed up.

  I said, “All right, Loiosh. Take off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, boss. Good luck.”

  He flew away. That put a time limit on things. The bloody part of the day had to be over within, I guessed, about thirty minutes. I drew a dagger and held it low, and pushed myself deeper into the shadows cast by the tall old house I was standing against. Then I put the dagger away and fingered my rapier, but didn’t draw it. I touched Spellbreaker, but left it wrapped around my wrist. I squeezed my hands into and out of fists.

  What was going on inside Kelly’s flat, I could only guess at. But I had no doubt that the Jhereg had been a messenger from Herth. He would have walked in and said, “Herth is on his way.” Neither Kelly nor the messenger would know why, so—

  Natalia and Paresh left the building, walking in opposite directions.

  —Kelly would send for help. From whom? From the “people,” of course. My earlier plan had required this, and I could have then informed the Phoenix Guards of it and incited mutual destruction. I wasn’t going to do that now, however, because Cawti was still part of it.

  Four Jhereg showed up. Enforcers, hired muscle, leg-men. Two of them went inside to check the place over, while the others studied the area, looking for people like me. I stayed hidden. If Ishtvan was there, he did too. Likewise Quaysh. I was getting a lesson in how easy it is to hide on a city street, and how hard it is to find someone who is hiding.

  About seven minutes later Herth showed up, along with Bajinok and another three bodyguards. They entered the flat. I concentrated for a moment and performed a very simple spell. A coin heated up. A teleport block occurred around Kelly’s flat.

  Just about that time, Easterners and an occasional Teckla began to congregate on the street. One of the legmen outside went in, presumably to report on this development. He came out again. Then Phoenix Guards began to collect on the opposite side of the street. In a surprisingly short time—like five minutes, maybe—there was a repeat of the scene before: about two hundred armed Easterners on one side, eighty or so Phoenix Guards on the other. That to you, Kelly. Instant confrontation, courtesy of Baronet Taltos.

  Trouble was, I no longer wanted a confrontation. That plan had involved having Cawti out of the way, so I could kill Herth while Ishtvan killed Quaysh and the Guards killed Kelly and his band. But I hadn’t sent the messages informing the Phoenix Guards of this occurrence; they had found out on their own. Damn them anyway.

  Well, there was no way of pulling out at this stage. By now Herth would be inside, he would have realized that the message didn’t come from Kelly, and he would have realized that there was a teleport block around the building. He would deduce that I was out here somewhere, waiting to kill him. What would he do? Well, he might just try to come out, hoping that I wouldn’t try anything with the Phoenix Guards all around. Or he might call for more bodyguards, surround himself completely and walk out of the place; far enough away to be able to teleport. He was probably pretty unhappy now.

  The lieutenant who’d been there last time was not in sight. Instead, the commander of the Phoenix Guard was an old Dragaeran who wore the blue and white of the House of the Tiassa beneath the gold cloak of the Phoenix. He had that peculiar, stiff-yet-relaxed pose of the longtime soldier. Had he been an Easterner, he would have had a long mustache to pull. As it was, he scratched the side of his nose from time to time. Other than that, he hardly moved. I noticed that his blade was very long but lightweight, and I decided that I didn’t want to fight him. Then it occurred to me that this was an old Tiassa in command of Phoenix Guards, and I realized that it was probably the Lord Khaavren himself, the Brigadier of the Guards. I was impressed.

  Easterners and Guards continued to gather, and now Kelly stepped outside and looked around, along with Natalia and a couple of others. Soon they went back in. I was able to tell nothing from watching Kelly. A bit later Gregory and Paresh went out and began speaking to the Easterners, quietly. I assumed they were telling them to remain calm.

  I flexed my fingers. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the building across the street. I remembered the hallway. I saw the broken porcelain below next to my right foot, but ignored it; it could have been cleaned up. I called up a picture of the reddish stain that was probably liquor on the floor and against the wall. Then I remembered the stairs in the middle of the hall, probably leading down to a cellar, with a curtain at the top. The ceiling above it was pitted with broken paint and chipped woodwork. A frayed rope dangled from it. The rope had probably once held a candelabrum. I remembered the thickness of the rope and the way the frayed end had hung and the shape of the frays. I recalled the layer of dust just inside the curtain. And the curtain itself, woven in zigzags of dark brown and an ugly, dirty blue, both against a background that might once have been green. The smell of the hallway, compressed, dust-choked and stuffy, so thick I could almost taste it; I could taste the dust in my mouth.

  I decided I had it. I held it there, fixed, and called upon my link to the Orb, and the power rushed through me to the forms I created and shaped and spun, until they matched, in a deep yet inexplicable way, the picture and scent and taste I held in my mind.

  I drew them in, my eyes tightly closed, and I knew I had caught somewhere, because the sickening movement began in my bowels. I gave the last twist and opened my eyes, and, yes, I was there. It didn’t look or smell quite the way I remembered it, but close enough. In any case, it hid me quite effectively.

  I was assuming that there were bodyguards in the hallway, so I tried to keep silent. Have you ever felt you were about to throw up, and yet had to keep silent? But let’s not dwell on that; I managed. After a while I risked a look past the curtain. I saw a bodyguard standing in the hall. He was about as alert as it is possible to be when nothing is immediately happening, which isn’t all that alert. I ducked my head back without being seen. I looked the other way, toward the back door, but didn’t see anyone. There may have been one or two outside the back door, or just inside the back entrance to the flat itself, but I could ignore them for now either way.

  I listened closely and I could make out Herth’s voice, speaking peremptorily. So he was inside. He was well-protected, of course. My options seemed rather limited. I could try to pick off his protection one by one. That is, find a way to quiet these two without alerting those inside, remove the bodies and wait until someone investigated, repeated as needed. It was attractive in a way, but I had real doubts about my ability to handle that many without a noise; and, in any case, Herth might duck out at any moment if he decided that was his best chance.

  On the other hand, there was only one other option, and that was stupid. I mean, really stupid. The only time for doing something that stupid is when you’re so mad you can’t think clearly, you expect to die anyway, you have weeks of frustration built up to the point where you want to explode and you figure maybe you can take a few of them with you, and, generally, you just don’t care anymore.

  I decided this was the perfect time.

  I checked all my weapons, then drew two thin and extremely sharp throwing knives. I kept my arms at my sides so the knives, if not hidden, at least wouldn’t be obvious. I stepped out into the hall.

  He saw me at once, and stared. I was walking toward him, and I seem to recall that I had a smile on my lips. Yes, in fact I’m sure of it. Maybe that’s what stopped him, but he just stared at me. My pulse was racing by then. I kept walking, waiting until either I was close enough or he moved. My guess, looking back on those ten steps down the hall, was that I would have been cut down at once if I’d tried to rush him, but by walking toward him, smiling, I threw him out of his reckoning. He stared at me as if hypnotized, making no motion until I was right up to him.

  Then I nailed him, one knife in his stomach, which is one of the most disabling of non-fatal wounds. He crumbled to the floor right at my feet.

  I took a knife from my boot; o
ne I could throw as well as cut or stab with. I entered the room.

  Two bodyguards were just looking up toward the doorway and tentatively reaching for weapons. The messenger was sitting on a couch with his eyes closed, looking bored. Bajinok stood next to Herth, who was talking to Kelly. I could see Kelly’s face, but not Herth’s. Kelly wasn’t pleased. Cawti stood next to Kelly and she spotted me at once. Paresh and Gregory were in the room, along with three Easterners and a Teckla who I didn’t recognize.

  Also next to Herth was a bodyguard who was staring right at me. Whose eyes were widening. Who had a knife in his hand. Who was ready to throw it at me. Who fell with my knife high on the right side of his chest.

  As he fell, he managed to release his weapon, but I slipped to the side and it only grazed my waist. As I avoided it, I turned to kill Herth, but Bajinok had stepped in front of him. I cursed to myself and moved farther into the room, looking for my next set of enemies.

  The other two bodyguards drew weapons, but I was faster than I thought I’d be. I sent each of them a small dart coated with a poison that would make their muscles constrict, and I put a couple of other things into their bodies as well. They went down, got up, and went down again.

  Meanwhile, my rapier was out and I had a dagger in my left hand. Bajinok pulled a lepip from somewhere, which was nasty because it could break my blade if it hit. Herth was staring at me over Bajinok’s shoulder; he hadn’t yet drawn a weapon. I don’t know, maybe he didn’t have one. I avoided a strike from Bajinok and riposted—taking him cleanly through the chest. He gave one spasm and fell. I looked over at the guy who’d acted as a messenger. He had a dagger in his hand and was half standing up. He dropped the dagger and sat down again, his hands well clear of his body.

  It had been less than ten seconds since I’d stepped into the room. Now three bodyguards were down in various stages of discomfort and uselessness (not to mention two more in the hall), Bajinok was probably dying, and the remaining Jhereg on Herth’s side had declared himself out of the action.

  I couldn’t believe it had worked.