by Steven Brust
“What? Where?”
“About forty yards down, north side of the street, under the awning, walking away from you. Blue vest.”
And there he was, easily recognizable even from the back. Now was a fine time for him to show up. I started to turn Marsi around. I guess I did something wrong, because she seemed confused. But then I thought about it. What was I going to do? Could I stop now and have a long conversation with him, and just ignore the invitation that was supposed to actually tell me what was going on? Make an appointment to meet him later? What if he didn’t want to talk to me?
Damn and blast.
“Loiosh, stay with him.”
“I don’t like leaving you right now, Boss.”
“I’m not crazy about it either, but I need to see the Count, and I do not want to lose that slippery bastard again. Go.”
There were mutterings into my mind, but he flew off. I got Marsi headed in the right direction and started out of town.
“Where is he going, Loiosh?”
“Looks like back to the Hat, Boss, just as carefree as you please.”
“I don’t suppose you can go in there. I want to see if he’s meeting with someone. Dammit.”
“If there’s a window open I can stick my snakey little head through it.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s the best we can do.”
I continued my leisurely pace out of town.
“Whoops, guess I was wrong, Boss. He’s not going into the inn, he’s going behind it.”
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“To the stables.”
“Good place to find a horse.”
“He’s talking to the stable-boy.”
“Can you get close enough to listen?”
“I’ll try … yes. Boss, he’s asking about you. Where you went and how long ago.”
“Is he getting answers?”
“No. Wait. Money is changing hands. Yes, he’s getting answers.”
I thought hard about turning around right then, but it seemed that as long as I was getting information, this was working and I should stay with it. And the visit to the Count was too important to throw over.
“Okay, he’s done talking to the stable-boy. He’s heading away from the inn and … he seems to be going across town.”
It was a pleasant day for a ride, I have to say. And Marsi was as delightful as ever. Rocza seemed to consider herself fully on duty; she kept looking around, and sometimes leaving my shoulder to fly in a wide circle overhead.
Then, “There’s a warehouse near the docks with an overhanging doorway. He’s in the doorway, looks like he’s waiting for someone.”
“All right.”
More countryside went by. A few birds sang, and I passed a flock of sheep grazing on a low hill with no shepherd in sight. It was calm and peaceful and pastoral and I loosened my rapier in its sheath because I don’t trust calm and peaceful and pastoral.
“Oh my, Boss! You’ll never guess who just showed up to meet him.”
“The Empress?”
“Funny.”
“Tell.”
“Remember that tag who told you about the coachman? Well, she hasn’t left town.”
Well. Well.
Now, just how was I going to fit that into my calculations?
“Well, Boss? Just how are you going to fit that into your calculations?”
“I’m just working on that, Loiosh. Can you get close enough to hear what they’re saying?”
“No way, Boss. I’m right above them, and they’re talking too low to hear.”
“Damn. Okay, can you instruct Rocza to follow one of them, while you follow the other? I really want to know where they both go.”
“And leave you unprotected?”
“I’m armed. Can she do it?”
He hesitated, and I got the feeling he didn’t want to answer. But he finally said, “If the conversation continues long enough. It’s going to take her half an hour at least to get back here.”
“Let’s try for it, Loiosh.”
“Boss….”
“Do it.”
Rocza flew from my shoulder, heading back toward town.
I almost chewed my nails. I very much wanted Rocza to get there in time. I very much wanted to know what they were talking about. Marsi picked up my nervousness and got a bit skittish, so I patted her neck and tried to calm down.
“You sure there’s no way you can hear what they’re saying?”
“Sorry, Boss. There’s just no place I can slide my snakey head without them seeing it.”
I had a suggestion about where he could slide his snakey head, but I kept it to myself.
Just about the time I was arriving at the Count’s estate, Loiosh said, “Rocza is here, Boss, and they’re still talking about whatever they’re talking about.”
“Good,” I said. “Stay with them.”
“Will do, Boss. Be careful.”
“I always am.”
As I approached the entry area, the groom seemed to recognize me, or, at any rate, Marsi. He came forward with his hand out to assist me down. I gave him a cool nod. Once I was on the ground again, he took the reins and said, “You are expected, my lord.”
I stood there, waiting until I felt like my legs would start working again, which took a couple of minutes. I spent it looking around the grounds as if I were just sort of vaguely curious.
When I could move without embarrassing myself, I climbed the low stairway up to the door. I pulled on the rope, the low gong sounded within, and presently the door swung open.
The same butler as before made the same bow as before. “Welcome, Lord Merss. His Lordship is expecting you.”
We met in the same room, and I was offered the same chair. I took a different one, partly to be contrary, and partly because I was a little jumpy. The butler pretended not to noice. The Count gave me a sort of look, but let it pass.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he said.
“On the contrary,” I told him. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Brandy? Ale? Wine?”
“Wine,” I said.
He nodded at the butler, who went off to fetch the necessities.
“So then,” said the Count, sitting back a little and folding his hands over his belly. “We have something in common.”
“An enemy, it would seem.”
He nodded, and the butler gave me my wine, and gave the Count a glass of the same amber liquid he’d had before. He lifted his, I did the same, we sipped. It was slightly sweeter than the last one had been, and agreeably spicy.
“Okay, Boss. They’ve split up. I’m staying with him.”
“All right.”
“What I propose,” said the Count, “is simply this: that we share information. I suspect you know things that will help me track down who is behind the murders, and I am certain that I could give you information that would be of use to you.”
I nodded. “That makes sense, and I’m inclined to agree.”
“Inclined?”
“There some things I’d like to understand first, my lord, before I make any agreements.”
“Such as?”
I had some more wine and tried to figure out how to approach it. This was the tricky part.
“Just what sort of information do you imagine I have, my lord?”
“Eh? Well, it’s obvious you’ve been investigating on your own. Haven’t you found out anything?”
“As to that,” I said. “Maybe. But, you know, I have no special skills in that field; I’ve simply been asking questions as anyone might.”
“Indeed?” he said. From the expression in his voice, I couldn’t tell if he was just skeptical, or knew I was lying, and that is exactly what I needed to know.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what puzzles me about this. To be blunt: What help could I possibly give you?”
“Well,” he said, and had another sip. He licked his lips. “That is a difficult question to answer.”
I
nodded and gave him some time, sipping wine and putting on my innocent inquiring look.
“I guess,” he said, “that will require some background explanation.”
“All right,” I said. “I’m listening.”
“The mill was first founded by my grandfather, some eighty-three years ago.” He went on from there, but I wasn’t really paying attention.
“Boss?”
I wanted more wine because my mouth was dry, but the glass wasn’t in my hand, which was odd.
“Boss?”
And I couldn’t move my arm, either, and the Count’s voice was a buzzing in my ears, and the floor was very hard against my cheek.
Part Four
NOTONIDE
While there remains some question because of its short duration, most natural philosophers now agree that the notonide should be considered an actual stage; yet it is a stage of constant transformation. It is here, accompanied by a ninety percent loss in mass, that the wings are formed, the venom glands develop, and the eggs are fertilized. This all happens in an astonishingly brief time: a few days at the most. Needless to say, during this entire stage the jhegaala is exceptionally vulnerable….
Two interesting and contradictory phenomena occur during this stage: To the right, the intense pressure of the constant transformation overwhelms the individual characteristics of the notonide, each reacting for the most part identically. And yet, as is the case with all organisms, it is never so much itself as when under intense pressure. Thus the future nature of this particular levidopt becomes apparent from the present notonide if one knows what to look for….
—Oscaani: Fauna of the Middle South: A Brief Survey,
Volume 6, Chapter 18
11
B O R A A N My dear, have you ever wondered why it seems to go on so terribly long?
L E F I T T It would, hardly be punishment if it were short.
B O R A A N (glances at audience): Quite so.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day Two, Act III, Scene 4
Movement is meaningless without time. Movement, as an Athyra once explained to me, means that you’re either in two places at once, or to put it another way, at a certain instant, you both are and are not in one place. In that sense, I wasn’t moving, because there was no time, and I wasn’t anywhere at all. The odd part is that there was the sensation of movement; a rattling, jolting, rocking thing. But sometimes we cannot trust our perceptions.
There was a damnable itch in the middle of my back, and a droning in my ears that wouldn’t go away. I wanted to scratch my back, but I couldn’t reach it.
My hips and my back hurt.
Horse, I thought. Been riding a damned horse. No wonder I hurt. I opened my eyes, but the droning kept going in my ears. I couldn’t figure out why the droning didn’t stop when I opened my eyes. After what seemed the longest time, I realized it was because my eyes weren’t really open. That made sense. I tried to work out if I were feeling sick to my stomach, but it required too much concentration and didn’t seem important anyway.
The humming got louder, and someone was calling my name, and the humming got softer, and several someones were calling my name, in different tones, in different ways, and I felt not the least urge to answer any of them; all I wanted to do was open my eyes, because I knew that would make the humming stop. It isn’t that the humming was painful, it just wouldn’t stop, and I was getting annoyed.
Then someone in a soft, almost melodious voice I didn’t recognize was asking me questions, and whoever it was seemed very friendly, and I’d have answered if the questions had made any sense. Then there was silence again except for the humming in my ears, and then more nonsense questions. It was only later—hours or days—that I was able to remember the questions and make some sort of sense out of them. “Who are you working for?” was the most frequent. And then there were lists of names that sounded like Fenarian noblemen, but I didn’t recognize any of them. And once he asked, “How had you planned to open the vault?,” which was enough for me to figure it out, later, when I could figure.
You can learn a lot from the questions someone asks; it seems like I had made that observation not long before. In this case, it was easy to put together, once my mind was clear. Not that it helped, especially. At the time, I only realized that I couldn’t answer them because they made no sense and that I should try to explain that. I wanted to explain it. It was terribly frustrating that I couldn’t seem to find the right words.
I know I threw up sometime in there, and I remember being pleased that my stomach felt better, although something about it seemed odd. And that damned humming in my ears wouldn’t go away, which was the worst of it. I mean, it wasn’t, but it was.
Something grabbed my head, not especially gently, and there was water poured into my mouth. I drank it, and noticed I was shivering. I wasn’t sick, I was just cold. Well, no problem. I’d cover myself up just as soon as I could find a blanket. Cawti’d probably stolen the damned blanket again. Well, no, because then she’d be warming me up, and if she were warming me up, the humming in my ears would stop, wouldn’t it? So where was she, anyway? Why wasn’t she here? She should be here to warm me up and stop the buzzing in my ears. I’d stop the buzzing in her ears if she needed me to.
A child’s voice whispered, “I’m sorry,” and I have no idea what makes me think it was a child’s voice—how can you tell from a whisper? But I thought so at the time, and I wondered what she’d done. But the voice seemed to warm me, somehow, and I stopped shivering.
“Boss?”
“What the—”
“Boss, don’t let them know you’re yourself!”
“;et—”
“Play dead!”
Loiosh doesn’t sound peremptory very often, so when he does, I listen, and right then, when I was just becoming aware that I was just becoming aware, and had no idea how or what or where or like that, it seemed a good idea to listen to him, so I remained still.
“What-?”
“Boss, Rocza is hurt.”
“How bad?”
“I don’t know. She won’t tell me. She’s afraid if I think she’s hurt bad I’ll find a new mate.”
“Is that what jhereg do?”
“In the wild.”
“Did you explain that you’re civilized?”
“She doesn’t believe me.”
“She doesn’t know you very well, does she?”
“It’s sort of instinct.”
“All right. Do what you can for her. Any idea what happened?”
“That woman. She used a dart of some kind. Orbahn tried to get me, but I was expecting it.”
“Expecting it.”
“When they grabbed you, Boss. As soon as they grabbed you—”
“Who grabbed me?”
Fortunately, I had some time right then. Loiosh explained as best he could what had been going on, and gradually my memory kicked in, bringing me up to the point I’ve already brought you. After that, I hope you’re confused about what happened, because if not I haven’t explained it well.
By that time, I knew that I was naked, on my back, blindfolded, and couldn’t move my arms or my legs. It seemed very likely that, whoever had me, they were planning to do unpleasant things to me. That had happened once before, and I hadn’t done well with it, during or after. It was something, even now, my memory shied away from. Had I learned anything last time that might be useful this time? Not really, no. I knew that the anticipation was part of it—they wanted me to be afraid, to work on myself; and my memory of what had happened before was making it easier on them. I knew that.
It was astonishing how little it helped that I knew that.
Loiosh and I continued talking; he filled me in on the details of the attack, and said hopefully that he thought Rocza wasn’t hurt too badly, and we talked about how thoroughly we had been set up, and I made some amusing—in intent, anyway—remarks about how they could have done it better. In short, he kept me occupied whi
le I waited for something to happen.
Loiosh, still being hopeful, suggested that, if they hadn’t done anything terrible to me by now, maybe they weren’t going to.
By now?
“Loiosh, how long has it been?”
“Three days, Boss.”
“Three—Loiosh, what have I been doing for three days?”
“I don’t know, Boss! I couldn’t tell!” If he were human, it would have sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
“All right, chum. Take it easy. We’ll get out of this. The drugs have worn off. I can think now.” Loiosh kept whatever wisecrack that might have generated to himself.
I was beginning to be able to see, and more important, my mind was clear enough to realize that I’d been drugged. My inquisitor wore a gray hood over his face; I couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to conceal his features or if he was just doing it for effect. Other than that, I had the impression that the room I was in was something like a larder, or small storage room of some kind. In any case it was small, not too much bigger than it had to be to hold the table I was strapped to. I was strapped in pretty well, by the way, and the table was solid.
The man peered out at me from under his hood and said, “As you no doubt are aware by now, your familiars are no more.”
“Hear that, Loiosh? You are no more.”
“True, Boss. I’m no less, either.”
“Funny guy.”
“I have been asked to get information from you. You will tell me what I want to know. How much screaming you do before you give the information is up to you.”
I cleared my throat, wondering if I could talk. “You could just ask. I’ve been known to be cooperative.”
“Oh, I’ll try that first. But if I don’t like the answers I get, I will hurt you. I will cause you pain. If that doesn’t work, then let me remind you that you have ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, two ears, and various other bits and pieces that can be treated individually. Also remember that I don’t much care what condition you’re in when I’m done.”
