by Steven Brust
“If you’re trying to scare me,” I said, “it’s working.”
“I can do a great deal more than scare you.”
Where do they get this stuff? “Um, if I thought all you could do was scare me, you couldn’t scare me, if you see what I mean.”
“We’ll see how funny you are in a little while.”
I was mildly curious about that myself.
Then and then and now.
Then, it was all about the moment; each instant a transition from terror to its realization, almost as a relief; and then back. But each isolated, unique, individual.
Then it was sharp as a knife, clear as the sky in the East, distinct as the face of a loved one. Each event was pure and moments flowed together like a river, where no droplet has meaning save as part of those around it, and the entirety moving according to its own logic, regardless of what pieces of driftwood may be caught in a momentary eddy.
Now it is what memory has left. A single strip of cloth implies the garment from which it was torn, but yet I cannot, from a few dirty pieces, give you the cut and the fit and the blend of colors. The implication must remain implication, because memory preserves, and it protects, and in doing so picks for its own reasons, so if now I give you tattered rags, it is because they are what remain to me. You may regret this; I do not.
“Who are you working for?”
Blinding, impossible brilliance washing over me.
“What was your mission?”
High in an upper corner of the room was a spider, too small for me to see clearly, but her web grew as I watched, lines forming in patterns that reminded me of something I’d seen once, something associated with vast quantities of water. I tried to remember what it was. Spiders are by nature very patient. The flow of moments means nothing to them.
“Who do you report to?”
The room fading in and out, in and out, trying to focus on the spiderweb, annoyed that it kept vanishing into a pale haze.
“How is Rocza?”
“Snappy and bad-tempered, Boss.”
“Is that a good sign?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Are you working for the Empire?”
“No,” I said. I remember that. I said, “No.”
“Very well. I will accept that provisionally, though I don’t really believe you. But I’ll give you a chance. Who are you working for?”
“I’m not working for anyone,” I said. “I came here looking for my family.”
“No, no,” he said. “That won’t do at all.”
“Sorry,” I said; and honestly, I was.
And fractured pieces of the spiderweb fluttered about inside my head, and I know it is impossible to grind your teeth when your mouth is wide open; why is it that I remember doing so?
Islands of calm in a sea of pain, a sky of fear covering all.
I know there were times when I was myself. I don’t know who I was the rest of the time, and I’m glad of that.
“We know what you are doing here, we just aren’t certain who you’re doing it for.”
“Well, all right. I’ll be happy to say whatever you’d like, you know. If you give me a name—”
“Don’t play with us, Lord Merss, or whoever you are.”
I didn’t answer that.
“Would you like some water, Lord Merss?”
“I don’t know. Drugged, or undrugged?”
“Oh, undrugged. I wish your mental faculties to be at their sharpest.”
“Then I’d be delighted.”
He held my head carefully as I drank; his eyes were brown, and actually seemed rather friendly, even kind. Shows how reliable eyes are, I guess. He put ice on the inside of my forearms; I’m not sure what that was supposed to do. It felt nice, though.
He gave me a few minutes, I guess to think things over.
“All right,” he said. “Now, let us consider this. You are working either for the Empire, or for a private entrepreneur. In the latter case, it is a question of money. In the former, it could be loyalty. If it is money, how much pain is the money worth, not to mention being unable to spend it? In the latter, would the Empress truly wish you to endure great pain for what must be a minor project for her?”
He had a point. Well, if I said it was an individual, he’d want a name, and I didn’t have a good name to give him. “All right,” I said. “It’s the Empire.”
He smiled. “Good,” he said. “Who do you report to?”
I don’t remember what I said, then, or the next questions, but eventually he must have tripped me up, because I remember him saying, “Why would you lie about something like that? I admit it, you are puzzling me.”
“I’ll take my satisfaction in that, I guess.”
And—days? Hours? Years?
What’s time to a kethna? Sorry, private joke. In any case, call it a blank space of some duration.
I leaned against the back wall of a little room, massaging my wrists and studying the chain on my ankles, and where it was connected to the floor. It was a wooden floor; there ought to be a way to pry that connection out, if they’d leave me alone for a while. I felt weak—most likely lack of food—but I thought I could still do it.
Thinking about that, how to do it, focusing on—
The spiderweb was bigger now, more elaborate.
“Be reasonable,” he said. “It isn’t that I want to hurt you; I don’t. It’s just that there are things we need to know. You are forcing me to do things I find distasteful.”
“I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person,” I said. My voice, in my own ears, lacked the jaunty quality I’d been trying for.
My sweat stank.
“Boss?”
“How is Rocza?”
“I think she’s going to be fine.”
“Good!”
“I don’t know what to do, Boss.”
“Take care of Rocza, and stay out of sight.”
He was running a cool cloth over my forehead; I have to admit it felt good. “You’re stubborn,” he said. “That’s an impressive quality.”
“If you’re leading up to courting me,” I said, “I sort of have my eye on someone already. But thanks.”
What did he want me to tell him, anyway? His questions weren’t making sense. I’d even tried to explain that once or twice, but he’d just gotten this idea firmly in his head, and it wasn’t budging. That’s a problem a lot of people have, I’ve noticed: they get a notion locked in, and then refuse to examine it in the light of new evidence.
“Boss!”
“Loiosh, can’t you see I’m trying to talk to this nice man?”
“What nice man?”
“The one asking the questions.”
“You’re all alone, Boss.”
“Oh, so I am. I must have dozed off. He’s a boring fellow, really, though well-intentioned.”
“I hope that’s sarcasm.”
“I prefer to think of it as gentle irony, but close enough.”
“If a way opens up, Boss, will you be able to walk out of there?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Boss.”
“Mmmm?”
“See if you can walk.”
“All right, if it makes you happy.”
I tried to stand up.
“Okay, I guess you were right to check. I need to complain about the meals in this place; evidently I’m not getting enough of something in my diet.”
“Boss, do you know where they put your things?”
He sounded like he was fighting to stay calm. I wished I could think of a way to reassure him I was all right.
“No, ‘fraid not,” I said. “I’m not that concerned about it, frankly. Most of it is replaceable, and I don’t know how much good Spellbreaker would do under these circumstances.”
“I’m thinking of the amulet, Boss. The Jhereg can trace you.”
“Oh, the amulet I have. It’s sort of attached to me. They must have figured out that if it weren’t on me I could do sorcery
, and they’d have trouble keeping me here.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Uh, no.”
“We’ll have to come up with something, Boss. I don’t know how much longer you can survive there.”
“How long has it been?”
“You’ve been in there for a week now.”
“Oh, have I?” That seemed odd, but not terribly important. “How is Rocza?”
“Boss, she’s fine! Just…”
“What?”
“Nothing, Boss.”
“Lord Taltos,” he said slowly, “I’m having trouble understanding why you took the name Merss when you came here. Even if I were to believe your story of why you are under an assumed name, why that name? No, no. I’m sorry, that is preposterous. What I would like you to say is the truth. Yes, I am convinced the Count was wrong in his initial idea about you. But you really shouldn’t be so stubborn—I told you what I want.”
“He found out my name, Loiosh.”
“You told him, Boss.”
“I told him? Why would I do that?”
“We need to get you out of there, Boss.”
“Yeah, well, mark me down in favor. Do you even know where I am?”
“No. Do you?”
“Basement of the paper mill.”
“How long have you known that?”
“Just put it together now. I don’t know. The smell. And the sounds. Didn’t even know I was aware of the sounds. Isn’t it odd that—”
“Okay, Boss. But how do I get you out? There’s no one I can talk to.”
“It’s just funny that I knew that. It’s funny how the mind works—”
“How do I get you out, Boss?”
“Find Dahni, of course.”
“Boss?”
“Find him.”
“But how do I talk to him?”
“You won’t have to.”
“How does that work?”
“He’s smart, and he knows you. He’ll see you, ask about me, you won’t answer, he’ll figure it out. It might take him a while. I’m sorry I won’t be there to watch.”
“You think he’ll help?”
“He’ll help.”
“Why?”
“He’ll help.”
I didn’t feel like telling Loiosh how I knew; he’d raise all sorts of objections, and I couldn’t deal with those right now.
“My dear Lord Taltos, all you need to do is tell me a few, simple things, and all of this will stop: What is the name of the traitor, what does the King plan, and when will he be making his move?”
King? Now there were kings involved in this? Where was I, anyway? The East? Oh, yeah, I was. So, okay, I guess it made sense that there were kings involved. I just shook my head. There wasn’t anything I could say by this time.
“I’m afraid,” he told me, “that I’m going to have to get serious.”
“Well, all right, though I’ve been enjoying the frivolous part.”
“No doubt.”
“One thing, before you get too serious.”
“Yes?”
“Mind telling me your name, so I can remember you in my prayers?”
He just shook his head. I suddenly remembered the child’s whisper I’d heard, and it occurred to me that the child hadn’t been apologizing, she’d been expressing sympathy. I felt very pleased that I now understood that.
“Boss? We’re coming. Can you hang on just a little longer?”
“No problem, Loiosh. I’m trying to get him to tell me his name. I’ll see if I can get it out of him before you show up.”
The spiderweb was finished; that made me sad, though I imagine the spider took some satisfaction from it.
My questioner continued, and it got to be something of a running joke between us; he’d ask me questions I couldn’t answer, and I’d ask him his name.
He never did tell me, though; he continued not wanting to tell me right up to the moment when the point of a knife suddenly emerged through the front of his throat.
12
B O R A A N And, I suppose, you will want the explanation, my lord?
L E F I T T Oh, let’s skip that part.
B O R A A N My dear, you know we’d be killed.
L E F I T T Of course. But it might be worth it, just for novelty.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day Two, Act VI, Scene 5
He gagged and choked and clawed the floor and took a long time dying. I watched him carefully. I’m not sure why; I didn’t feel any special malice toward him. But I just had the feeling that some-day I would want to have been watching while he died. People were talking to me as it was going on, but I ignored them; I guess it was really important to watch. I don’t know. I noted the details with a sort of professional detached interest—the terror in his eyes, the helplessness on his face. He wrapped his hands around his throat as if he could stop the bleeding, looking like he was choking himself—an effect increased by the blueish color that crept over him. I kept watching. I didn’t miss an instant.
After a while, his mouth open, his hands tried to grip the floor, wet and sticky with his blood, as was the front of his clothing. There was a lot of blood. A whole lot. His eyes took on a glassy look, open-eyed, and he became mostly still except for some twitching, jerking motions for some time.
Eventually, he stopped twitching.
“Lord Merss?”
Still watching the body, I nodded. I think I nodded; I tried to nod. Hands I didn’t know took me and unstrapped me and moved me from the table. I know I screamed then as they moved me, which is very odd, when you stop and think about it.
I saw a face I recognized. “Well, hello there, Dahni. What with one thing and another, I prefer your method of interrogation.”
His face was like iron. He seemed not to hear me, which was possible. I didn’t seem able to generate much volume. I tried again, but this time said, “Can you find my things?”
His expression became, if anything, sterner. “I”m sorry, we can’t take the time,” he said.
“Gold chain,” I said.
“What?” He leaned closer. I repeated it.
He shook his head. “No, I’m taking you out of here.”
“Bad move,” I said.
For the first time, a bit of humor returned to his expression. “This time, Lord Merss, you’re in no condition to be threatening anyone.”
“Wrong,” I said.
“Wait,” he told those carrying me; four men I didn’t recognize, but who had that same quality as people I’d known during my brief stint in the army. Odd situation, and not worth going into now. But I was convinced they were soldiers of some kind, which fit in nicely with my conclusions. Of course, the fact that Dahni had shown up at all pretty much confirmed my conclusions. Which, like so many things, was good and bad.
“Okay, let’s hear it. I’ll be curious about what you’re going to threaten me with when you’re so weak you can’t even speak above a whisp—”
Their timing was perfect. Right in the middle of his sentence, they leaped up and flew at him. He ducked. They circled his head like they’d planned it, then perched next to me and hissed at him.
He stood back up, eying them warily. In his hand was a big, curved, clunky-looking sword with a wide blade, narrowing near the hilt. He seemed hesitant to use it—with good reason.
“The venom is very fast-acting,” I said, as loudly as I could—which wasn’t very. “You’ll feel chest constrictions first, then be unable to breathe. Heart palpitations, sweat, and your body will shake as you become incontinent. The last minute or so you’ll be entirely unable to move. You’ll die by suffocation. The entire process will take about four minutes. There’s no known antidote.”
Just for the record, almost none of that was true; but few people actually know about the bites of poisonous reptiles; they know they’re poisonous and that’s enough, so you can tell them anything and have a good chance of being believed.
Dahni studied me carefully, then
glanced at the four men holding me. “Set him down,” he said. “Gently. I’ll go look for your gear.”
“Loiosh will keep you company,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You know, Boss, that was fun.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Someday, you’re going to have to explain how you knew he’d rescue you.”
“Someday,” I agreed.
“Tomorrow would be good.”
“If there is a tomorrow, I’ll consider the matter.”
After what seemed a long time, Loiosh flew back into the room, accompanied by Dahni, who was carrying a large box that had arcane writing on it that I guess described some sort of paper product. “Got it all,” he said. “Want to look it over and see if everything’s there?”
“Yes,” I said, and I think I half fainted there. I’m not sure what happened next—maybe they just stood around the place waiting for my senses to return, or maybe it was only a second or two. But Dahni held the box while I looked inside, and then moved things around so I could see everything. My purses and my money belt seemed intact, and, more important, Spellbreaker was there. I tried to reach for it and I guess I passed out again.
The next thing I remember is a breeze in my face that felt so good I didn’t even mind the stench. It was night, and the mill wasn’t working. I saw a bit of wall, some sky, and the backs of those who were carrying me; evidently they had found a blanket somewhere and were toting me on that, though I had no memory of how or when they’d worked that.
“All right, the boat’s waiting down there,” said Dahni. “After that, I know a safe place—”
“No,” I said, almost killing myself to make sure I was loud enough to be heard.
“Eh?”
“No,” I repeated. “Bring me to the manor. The Count.”
He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard me. He probably hadn’t. He leaned closer and I repeated it.
“Boss! You aren’t thinking! He’s the one who—”
“I know.”
“Think, Boss. I know you’ve—”
“Back me on this, Loiosh. Make sure he brings me to the Count. If he doesn’t, I’m dead.”
“What makes you think—”
“The same thing that made me think he’d rescue me.”
There was a pause, then, “All right, Boss.” He sounded worried. Yeah, me too.
