by Steven Brust
Issola
Vlad Taltos
Book IX
Steven Brust
Books by
Steven Brust, P. J. F.
The Khaavren Romances
The Phoenix Guards
Five Hundred Years After
The Viscount of Adrilankha
Volume One: The Paths of the Dead
Volume Two: The Lord of Castle Black
Volume Three: Sethra Lavode
The Vlad Taltos Novels
Jhereg
Yendi
Teckla
Taltos
Phoenix
Athyra
Orca
Dragon
Issola
Other Novels
To Reign in Hell
Brokedown Palace
The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars
Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grille
The Gypsy (with Megan Lindholm)
Agyar
Freedom and Necessity (with Emma Bull)
This one is for Cynthia
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Dave Shore, University of Minnesota Department of Chemical Engineering; and to all past and present members of W.I.N., whose help cannot be overstated; and, always, to Adrian Morgan, who started it all.
For criticism, I am indebted to Teresa Nielsen Hayden, Pamela Dean, Will Shetterly, and Emma Bull. Special thanks on this one to John Robey. Thanks to Terry McGarry for great copyediting.
Finally thanks to Don Hill for showing how to generate a bit of additional income while waiting for the book to finish itself, and to all those schlimazels who tried to run down my aces.
CONTENT
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Prologue
I’ve heard it said that manners are more complex in primitive societies—that it is easier to give accidental offense in, for example, the Island kingdoms of Elde or Greenaere, or among the Serioli, or the Jenoine, or the various kingdoms of my own Eastern people, than among the more civilized Dragaerans.
You must allow me to observe that it is invariably Dragaerans who point this out. One can imagine finding a Dragaeran who will not insist that the Empire has achieved the highest imaginable pinnacle of civilization; but then, one can imagine the Emperor presenting one with the Imperial Treasury, too, if one’s imagination is active enough.
Yet even among the Seventeen Great Houses of the Empire, there are differences in what is considered proper behavior in various circumstances, and it is worth noting that, if you look hard enough, you will find that there are always very practical reasons for some phrase or action being considered polite or rude under certain circumstances. To pick an obvious example, among my own people, when arriving at the home of an acquaintance, one is expected to pound upon the door with one’s fist, whereas among the Dragaerans, this is considered rude. I will not insult you by explaining why, in a culture rich in sorcery and steeped in paranoia, it is a bad idea to touch the door of someone’s home. The practical has become a matter of courtesy.
In the Jhereg, the House to which I belong (and the criminal Organization for which I used to work), it is considered rude, when asking to meet with a superior or an equal, to arrive at the meeting first, whereas among the Dragons it is rude not to be first if you’ve done the inviting. The Dzur remain seated when greeting new arrivals to their tables at public or private houses; the Lyorn invariably rise. Except that the Dzur meeting the Lyorn might rise, knowing the Lyorn custom, whereas the Lyorn ... well, you get the idea.
It is all very confusing.
As an Easterner, and, in several different ways, an outcast, I have had the opportunity to observe many of these customs and considerations of proper behavior, and so, on the assumption that you might one day have the chance to visit some of these fascinating and delightful people (okay, then, these irritating and obnoxious jerks), I herewith submit a small treatise on manners in the Dragaeran Empire. I hope you find it useful. But, in case I made an error somewhere, and you inadvertently commit a minor breach of etiquette, please, don’t tell me about it; I have my own problems.
1
Adapting Behavior to Environment
Just because they really are out to get you doesn’t mean you aren’t paranoid. If they’ve been after you long enough, paranoia can become a reflex.
Interesting things, reflexes: if you pay attention to them, you’ll stand to learn some interesting things about yourself. This is one reason I avoid paying attention to my reflexes.
But sometimes I can’t help it.
Let me pick an example at random:
I awoke almost instantly from a sound sleep to active stillness, and before reaching for a weapon, or dodging from a possible attack, or even opening my eyes, I reached out, mentally, psychically, for contact with my familiar. My mind to his, I said, “What’s going on, Loiosh?” At that instant, all I knew was that something had happened to wake me up. I didn’t even remember where I was, though one patch of ground in the wilderness is much like another, and that’s where I’d been sleeping lately.
My first real clue that there might be a problem came when he didn’t make any wisecracks. Instead there was a moment of mental silence, if you’ll excuse the expression, and then Loiosh said, “We may have been hunted down, Boss.”
“Well,” I said. “That wouldn’t be good.” Pretending to be calm to my familiar helps me to actually be calm. Loiosh accepts this as part of his job, and doesn’t give me grief about it, much. In the meantime, without any conscious decision on my part, I was holding a neat, slim stiletto in my hand. Reflexes again.
I remained still, counting on Loiosh to tell me if and when I ought to move. While I waited, I contemplated my circumstances—in particular, the sharp, nasty stone that had insinuated itself onto the ground between my shoulder blades. I had a thick layer of darr skin between me and the ground, and a thin layer of chreotha fur between me and the sky.
“Brigands, do you think, Loiosh?”
“Brigands come in bands, Boss. Whoever this is, there’s only one of him.”
“So the Jhereg is more likely.”
“Or something else entirely.”
I heard Rocza shift, caught the faint psychic whispers of Loiosh telling her to stay still. Just to fill you in on the basics, in case we haven’t met before, Rocza is Loiosh’s mate, which I’m sure must answer every question you have.
“Coming closer, Boss.”
“Do I have a target, yet?”
“No.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“No. But I’m not worried, Boss. I’m sure you’ll come up with a plan.”
Reptiles are cold-blooded; a reptilian sense of humor will naturally display the same characteristics. This, in spite of being hunted and hounded by a massive and murderous criminal society that wants nothing less than the destruction of my soul, is probably the greatest burden I carry.
“All right,” I said, ignoring his remark. “Fly as silently as you can away from whoever it is, and circle around. As soon as you see—”
I was interrupted by the ostentatious clearing of a throat, followed by someone saying, “I beg your pardon for disturbing you at such an hour, Lord Taltos, but I’m certain you must be awake by now, and I’m afraid if I come any closer you might do something I’d regret.”
I sat up, the knife poised for throwing. “You can’t be who you sound like,” I said.
“I am, though.”
&nb
sp; “It’s not polite to lie.”
She laughed. “Nor to accuse a friend of lying.”
“You can’t be—”
“It is, Boss.”
“Well,” I said after a long moment. “I’ll be skinned for a norska.”
“Probably,” said Loiosh. “But not by her.”
I heard her come a little closer; Loiosh could now see her, but I can’t see as well at night as he can.
“Don’t feel bad, Boss. We can’t all have adequate vision.”
“At least both of my eyes face forward, scavenger.”
“Mind if I make a light?” I said.
“Please do.”
I stood up slowly, put my knife away, and found my firekit close at hand. I lit a candle and held it up and away so we would both be illuminated. There was, fortunately, little wind. I saw her standing before me, looking very beautiful and incredibly out of place. She gave me a courtesy, and I bowed in response.
“Lord Taltos,” she said.
“Lady Teldra,” I replied. “Welcome to the wilderness.”
She looked around. “Yes. Well, shall I start, or should it wait until morning?”
“If it is urgent enough to track me down in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, can it wait until morning?”
“It can, Lord Taltos. My urgency was to find you before you moved on, thus making the search more difficult. Again, I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Not to worry. Did you bring any blankets?”
“I...”
“I know how difficult this must be for you, Lady Teldra, and I can’t wait to hear about what brought it all about, but, believe me, we’ll both be better off if you let me handle things for tonight. I’d prefer it that way. Please.”
“Very well.”
“Did you bring any blankets?”
“No.”
“Is anyone following you?”
“No.”
“Are you—forgive me—are you certain?”
“Yes.”
I studied her face. Lady Teldra was worried about something. She was worried enough about something that she had allowed it to appear on her features, and something was wrong enough for her to have deliberately woken me up. This was almost more startling than her sudden appearance in the forest between Appertown and Ridge.
Startling. Yes.
When one knows an Issola, such as Lady Teldra, one gets so used to the grace, elegance, and manners of the House that one forgets its other side. The issola is a beautiful white bird. I’d seen several during my recent travels. One usually saw them standing, graceful and lovely in the early morning or late evening, in swamps or the shallow banks of rivers. They stand as if their only reason for being were to look lovely and graceful. And then the issola would be holding a fish in its beak, and you’d never see it strike. And then the fish would be gone in a single swallow, and the issola would be standing on one leg, looking lovely and graceful.
Lady Teldra looked lovely and graceful. I felt plain and clumsy. On the other hand, now that the adrenaline was no longer coursing through my system I realized that I was still pretty tired.
“Let’s sleep,” I said. “You can share my furs, as long as you don’t get forward with me.”
“My lord—”
“I’m kidding. Climb in.”
I blew out the candle. It had been a long time since I’d slept curled up with a warm body—it brought back memories that I’d been trying to suppress, and the fact that she wasn’t human did little to help me forget. There had been a time when, every night, I had gone to sleep next to a woman I loved, and, even better, woken up with her. Those days were over and beyond recall, and allowing myself to dwell on them could take from me the edge I needed to stay alert and alive.
It took a while, but eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was dawn, and she had climbed out of the furs and had a fire going.
“Have you klava?” she said, when she saw I was awake.
“Not even coffee,” I said. “But we’re within a few miles of a town.”
“Really? I’d have thought you’d stay at an inn, then.”
“Loiosh works better out here, and these days I’m thinking more about survival than comfort.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and seemed to mean it. But, of course, she was an Issola: she would always seem to mean it. In the light of dawn, I saw that she was dressed in white and green, in a gown suited less to the wilderness than to her duties at Castle Black, home of the Lord Morrolan, where she’d welcome you into his home, serve you wine, and convincingly seem delighted to see you. For almost the first time in the years that I’d known her, I wondered: Just exactly what were her duties for Morrolan? She looked an inquiry at me, then held out her hand. I nodded and Loiosh flew over to her, landing delicately. Her hand was stiff and slightly tilted, her elbow sharply bent: she knew the technique, though as far as I knew she’d never held a jhereg before. This failed to startle me.
“A pleasure to see you,” she told my familiar. He gracefully lowered his head until it was below the level of her hand, then raised it again.
“I believe,” said Lady Teldra in an amused tone, “that I am being mocked.” I heard Loiosh giggle inside my head. He turned around on her hand, launched himself, and returned to my right shoulder. Rocza, by now on my left shoulder, shifted and wriggled, which she often did in the morning. It probably meant something. There are many interesting facets to the character of the wild jhereg—poisonous reptilian scavengers of the jungle—but for some reason I got stubborn and decided not to learn about them. I imagine Teldra knew a lot about the wild issola.
“I’ll bet you know a lot about the wild issola,” I said.
“I know a bit about them,” she said. “But, your pardon Lord Taltos, I should imagine that isn’t the question foremost on your mind.”
“No, foremost on my mind is breakfast. There’s bread, cheese, and the remains of a dried and salted wild boar in my pack, as well some dried gammon and jerky in my pouch. Help yourself while I vanish for a moment and get myself a little cleaned up. There’s a stream about a hundred feet this way, just over that rise.”
“Thank you, my lord. I found it earlier.”
I went off and did what was necessary and filled my water flask. When I returned Teldra had broken off several chunks of bread and, while they toasted on the rocks next to the fire, she was cutting up strips of cheese to lay across them.
“No questions before you eat?” she said.
“Exactly.”
“I can respect that.”
The bread started smelling good. When she put the cheese over it, and the boar, my mouth started watering. The cheese was a smokey honin; I usually prefer something sharper, but it went well with boar. We ate, and I passed the water flask over. I almost apologized for the lack of wine, but Teldra would have been mortified to hear me apologize, so I didn’t. The food was good. As I ate, I fed bits to Loiosh, some of which he passed on to Rocza.
When I was done eating, I wrapped my furs and few possessions in their leather cords so I could leave in a hurry if I had to. As I did so, I said, “Let’s have it, then.”
“Where should I start, Lord Ta—”
“Vlad,” I said. “I’m sorry, Teldra, but titles just don’t work with the surroundings.”
“Very well, Vlad. What would you like to know first? How I found you, or why I wanted to?”
“Start with how you found me; it might be more urgent. If you can find me, perhaps the Jhereg can find me.”
“Not the way I did.”
“Oh?”
She said, “Do you remember Morrolan’s private tower, and the windows in it?”
I stared at her for some few moments, then said, “Oh. No, I don’t suppose the Jhereg is very likely to find me that way. I don’t think. Although the Left Hand—”
“Oh, that isn’t the whole of it. By themselves, the windows could bring me here, but couldn’t find you. I—”
“—had help.”
“Of?”
“Well, Kiera the Thief, for one.”
“Kiera. Yes.” I did not believe Kiera would betray me, or do anything she knew would put me in danger without a very good reason.
“She knew more or less where you’d be—what part of the Empire, that is. She said you’d been nursing a sick boy back to health, and that he lived in this district, and that she expected you to be escorting him to his home by now.”
“True enough.”
“And then, once I knew the general area, I got more help. Sethra Lavode.”
“Oh, her,” I said. The most powerful sorceress and wizard in the world, yeah, well, I wasn’t surprised she could find me. Especially because a year or so ago, when we had run into each other near Northport, she had said something about –
“Loiosh?”
“Yes. She gave me a means of tracing him.”
“Well, is my face red.”
“Shut up.”
“So,” I said. “You had help from both Kiera and Sethra.”
“Yes.”
I watched her face, but if she knew anything, she betrayed nothing. Well, neither would I.
She said, “What happened to your hand?”
I looked at my maimed left hand, turned it over, and shrugged. “A sorcerer tried to eviscerate me from across a room, and either his aim was off, or I was too fast with Spellbreaker. Or not fast enough, depending on how you want to look at it.”
“How did this come about, Vlad?”
I shook my head. “Later, Teldra. We’re still hearing your story. For myself, I wouldn’t care, but you know how curious Loiosh gets.”
She flicked me her smile again; my familiar did not deign to make a rejoinder. Rocza, at that moment, flew off into the trees, probably thinking the breakfast scraps inadequate. Of the three of us, she seemed most happy to have spent the last few years away from cities.
“Shall I start now, or ought we to find Klava first?”
I’m not an Issola, but I can sometimes take a hint. “Sure,” I said, standing up. “This way.”
We hiked in silence at first; Teldra picking her way carefully, me just walking. I had, over the last few years, become something of a woodsman, albeit unwillingly. It seems that Teldra never had, and I allowed myself to enjoy a certain feeling of superiority.
