by Steven Brust
“Well?” said Kragar. “Is that it?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Good and bad.”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s where I wanted, but not for another six hours. What am I supposed to do for the next six hours?”
“Yeah,” he said smirking. “You’ve already eaten.”
I suggested he perform a rather disgusting quasi-sexual act; he allowed as to how that would pass the time, at least. Deragar tried not to laugh.
Loiosh sat on my shoulder, shifting from foot to foot; he was nervous too. Kragar pulled out a set of s’yang stones. I shook my head; he shrugged and put it back.
“Well,” he said, “any pieces of it you want to talk about? Holes you want to fill in? Really stupid parts I can laugh at?”
“Loiosh is handling that,” I told him. “The laughing at me, I mean.”
“So, business as usual.”
“Pretty much.”
“What are you going to do if it doesn’t work? I mean, are you going to just die? Do you have a backup plan?”
Once more, I thought about just taking Lady Teldra and killing as many of them as I could before they got me. But … “No,” I said.
He waited.
“Kragar, what are you really asking?”
“If there’s some reason to believe I didn’t go through all this for nothing.”
He looked unusually serious.
“I can’t promise that. But you’ll know within a few hours, one way or the other.”
“Yeah, but Vlad, has it occurred to you that, if they kill you, I’m probably next?”
“Uh, no. Why do you think that? If they’ve left you alive all this time—I mean, I know Terion tried not to, but—”
“It’s not Terion, Vlad. Think about it. I was your number two. I’ve been helping you. Why am I still alive?”
“Because you’re very hard to kill.”
“They could manage.”
I bit my thumb and thought about it. “You think they’re deliberately keeping you alive because they think you’ll lead them to me?”
“That’s my guess.”
“Why are you only telling me now?”
“I hadn’t thought about it until I was lying on my back unable to move. Amazing what it does for the brain.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
His eyebrows looked a question, but I didn’t answer.
“The Demon,” I said, “agreed that it would be over if this all works out.”
“Yeah,” said Kragar. “So you said. For you. Not for me.”
I made a theologically improbable suggestion. Then I said, “I never thought about that.”
“Me neither,” he said. “Until today.”
I noticed I was biting my lower lip and stopped.
“Don’t get me wrong, Vlad. I don’t mind risking my ass for you. I’ve been doing it for almost fifteen years now. But I like to have some idea of what it’s about.”
I looked for something to say, came up empty. “Okay,” I said. “I’ve been collecting—”
“Wait a minute, Vlad.”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean you actually had to unreel the whole thing for me.”
“Oh. Well, you made a pretty good argument for it.”
“I just want to know how you’re so sure the Demon isn’t going to sell you out.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that. I mean, that’s sort of the key to the whole thing, isn’t it?”
“What I know about the Demon is that he’s going to want the process, because there’s just an absurd amount of money in it. I don’t believe he’s capable of passing that up.”
He shook his head. “I just worry that you’re too trusting.”
“That I’m—what?”
“Too trusting.”
“Kragar, who have I shown misplaced trust in as long as you’ve known me?”
“Melestav,” he said.
I winced. That one still hurt. “You know, Kragar, of all the things I’ve been accused of over the years, I never expected to hear that I was too trusting.”
“Don’t see why not,” he said. “You are. And everyone in the world can see it except you.” Deragar watched us go back and forth like someone watching kittens play—with a sort of tolerant amusement that I’d have done something about if I hadn’t been busy.
“Too trusting,” I said. “Yeah, that’s my problem.” I rolled my eyes. “I admit, I trust people to be true to their nature. So far, that’s worked out pretty well for me.”
“Okay, Vlad. Let’s look at the facts.”
“Facts? You must be really desperate if you’re resorting to facts. All right, I’m listening.”
“First of all, you trusted me.”
“It seems like—”
“You trusted me a long time before you knew me enough to.”
“What did I trust you with? I mean, early on?”
“Almost everything you were doing.”
“Such as?”
“The name of your contact with Morrolan’s security forces. That you’d killed Loraan. That you’d personally killed Laris—the Empire would have loved to hear about that. That—”
“Did you really consider telling them?”
“Of course not, Vlad. That isn’t the point. The point is, you’re too trusting.”
“I was young, then.”
“And now you’re not? You’re still under five hundred. If you weren’t human that would mean you’re young.”
“Heh,” I explained. “What else you got?”
He continued giving examples of my supposed over-trusting nature, some of which may have been valid, and I continued arguing until I finally got tired of it and said, “So, Kragar, because of this, you’re convinced the Demon—or someone else in the Organization—is going to put a shine on you as soon as this is over?”
“I didn’t say I was convinced, Vlad.”
“But you think so?”
“Most likely not.”
“Wait. You don’t think so?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been too good an earner. If I go down, everyone up the ladder from me loses.”
“Well then, why have you been—wait. You’ve just been doing all of this to take my mind off the six-hour wait, haven’t you, you asshole?”
“It’s not six hours anymore.” He smirked.
“C’mon, Boss. It was well played. Admit it.”
“You knew what he was doing the whole time, didn’t you?”
“Nothing good can come out of me answering that question, Boss.”
“Suddenly,” I said, “I feel like killing someone.”
“You’ll probably have the chance,” said Kragar.
“Probably.”
“Hungry again?”
“No. How much time did you manage to kill?”
“A couple of hours.”
“It’ll take me an hour to get there.”
“Going to arrive early?”
I shook my head. “Just exactly when I’m expected.”
“How trusting of you.”
“Kragar, you weren’t serious, were you? I mean about—quit laughing. Jerk.”
Still smirking, he made a gesture to Deragar with his eyebrows, and the latter went out, then returned with a bottle of Piarran Mist.
“What?” I said. “Some sort of last-drink ritual, so if I die, I’ll have had the good stuff? Seriously, Kragar?”
“Shut up and drink it, Vlad.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” I told him.
We drank, and didn’t talk about old times, or new times, or anything at all. However much I may laugh at stupid rituals like that, it was very, very good; it went over my tongue like clear water, but left a whole symphony of flavors and hints of aroma that gave me something to think about instead of whether I was about to die, and, more important, how much I hated waiting.
; Kragar seemed to appreciate it as much as I did; Deragar might have, too, but if so he hid it well.
I stopped after two cups, because having my mind foggy wouldn’t be a good idea. Then I stood up. “Okay,” I said. “I’m heading out.”
“It’s still pretty early,” he said. “I mean, if you really are planning to get there exactly on time.”
“I have a stop to make on the way.”
“All right,” said Kragar. “Good luck.”
I took most of the coin I had left and set it aside with a note telling Deragar it was his. It was a lot, but he’d earned it. And soon, I’d be able to get at my own bank account. Or not.
I slung the euphonium case over my shoulder.
I made sure the lockpick was where it should be, and that I had the flask, the orange, the ring, the hollow knife, the glass ball, the wand, and the egg. I was wearing the cloak. I went through every weapon I was carrying, again, one at a time, to see they were accessible and that I remembered where they were.
I took the secret passage for what would almost certainly be the last time, and I didn’t let myself think a good-bye to my old lab as I passed it by.
If I lived through this, I decided, first order of business was going to be some new clothes—something that fit better, and looked better. Yeah, that’s what I’d do.
No, a good meal first. Maybe Valabar’s. Certainly Valabar’s.
Focus, Vlad. Task at hand and all that. Worry about later, later.
It was afternoon, just making its way toward evening, but the light was still good. There were lots of Teckla in the market, wearing bright blue, and yellow, and red, and sometimes disregarding their House colors entirely. I wondered why it was only the Teckla who felt so free to ignore their House colors, and why I’d never noticed before. Do most Dragaerans wear their House colors because of tradition? A social obligation? Just feels right? I don’t know; I always wore the gray and black because everyone else in the Organization did; I’d never questioned it. If I’d thought of it, I’d have asked Kragar—it was just the sort of thing he and I could talk about for hours over wine and biscuits. Well, too late now.
Stop it, Vlad.
Vlad. I was Fenarian, but had been given a name—Vladimir—imported from a neighboring kingdom. Cawti had always called me Vladimir. There was something caressing about the way she’d said it.
Cawti.
Sara.
I let out a breath between clenched teeth and continued. As I passed a market, I thought I saw Devera, Aliera’s daughter, looking at me. I almost stopped, but when I looked again she was gone, so I decided I was either imagining it, or she didn’t want to talk to me. She is a very unusual child, but I guess now isn’t the best time for that conversation. I put it out of my head and kept walking until I reached the Imperial Palace.
I’d allowed a lot of slack time in my schedule, but if no one on the list of people I could call on was here, I might be in trouble. It would not do to be late to my own meeting.
There were a pair of guards blocking my way into the Dragon Wing. The expressions on their faces were not encouraging.
I showed them my signet ring, and they weren’t entirely sure how to handle it. While they were deciding, I said, “Count Szurke requesting an audience of Lord Khaavren. If he isn’t available,” I added, “any of his subordinates will do.”
They let me pass.
The Dragon Wing of the Imperial Palace is nearly as confusing as Dzur Mountain, but there are more people to ask questions of, and some of them are willing to answer. I made it to the captain’s office, and was informed that Khaavren would be willing to see me at once, no doubt on account of me holding an Imperial title and all. It was good for that. Also good for having the Empress send someone looking for me when I was almost dead, and saving Orca kids from arrest. I wondered how far I could stretch it.
There’s a lot I could tell you about Lord Khaavren, called Papa Cat behind his back, as I happened to know. But most of it is beside the point. What matters for now is that he wears at least two different cloaks within the Imperial Hierarchy, and both of them involve giving orders to people who have the right to perform violence with Imperial sanction. The office I found him in had to do with his role as Captain of the Imperial Guard, as opposed to the much more interesting one.
He was seated behind a desk, just like I used to be. He stood up and gave me an exactly correct bow. “Count Szurke,” he said.
“My lord Captain,” I said.
“May I offer you something?”
“Please. Hot water, a fine-mesh strainer if you have one, and two glasses.”
An eyebrow went up. “Will I enjoy whatever it is you’re about to share?”
“Sorry. No. It tastes like—it doesn’t taste good at all, but I wasn’t offering to share it.”
“All right,” he said, obviously intrigued.
He gave the orders, and the two glasses appeared. I dumped the ground koelsch leaves into one, poured hot water over it, then strained it into the other and drank it. I guess it didn’t taste all that bad; it was a bit like if it stopped trying so hard to be a bitter tea, it’d be a fairly effective bitter tea, if that makes sense.
“I assume,” he said, “that the beverage isn’t why you’re here.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Sorry.” This may be the first time in my life I’ve apologized to a Dragaeran twice in a single conversation.
“So, how may I be of service?” he asked.
“That must have been painful to say.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“I’d like something from you.”
He shifted in his chair and studied me through narrowed eyes. “It seems to me, Lord Tal—that is, Count Szurke—that I have paid that debt.”
“No argument.”
“Then give me another reason to help you.”
“Political infighting.”
“Go on.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t figured out how to put this so I could get what I wanted without pissing him off; and I should have. I spoke carefully. “If there were some department, say a law enforcement unit within the Empire, that wanted to get an edge over a rival department within the Empire, it would seem worth a little effort on the part of the captain, wouldn’t it?”
He didn’t speak, or even move, for what seemed like a long time. Then he said, “What sort of edge, what sort of effort?”
I stood up, took the platinum ring out of my pouch, and set it on his desk. He picked it up and looked at it, then at me. “How did you get this?”
“I didn’t kill anyone for it,” I said, answering the question he hadn’t asked.
“But you know who did?”
“No, just where it ended up. I got it back.”
“All right,” he said. “You have my attention.”
“I want to report a crime,” I told him.
Part Three
TALONS AND BEAK
15
MAKING BARGAINS OR MAKING TESTS
We saluted each other, and I headed out of the Palace, which took quite a while. From the Street of the Dragon, I cut across on Twohills so I could pick up Kieron Road near the edge of the city. Where they joined was a good place for an ambush, so I took my time and was careful. Loiosh let me know it was safe.
I continued the journey. As close to the Orb as I’d been in the Imperial Palace, I knew what time it was, and I was doing all right. I checked my weapons again, focused only on the destination, on getting there safely. One step at a time, that’s how you do these things. Make sure you’re putting all your effort into whatever the current task is, because if that fails, you’ll never get to the next one. And, just now, the next step involved many steps. Walk, walk, walk. While hoping not to be spotted. Being killed now, right before—no, I’d hate that.
Adrilankha proper had vanished behind me, and I was still alive. So far, so good, as the guy who’d fallen off the cliff said halfway down.
“Okay, Loiosh. Up now, and kee
p a good eye.” I turned off Kieron and climbed an empty, rocky hill to my right.
“Boss?”
“Too many Jhereg know where I’m going. I’m going cross-country from here.”
“Good thinking. But won’t we get lost?”
“Probably. But I’ve allowed time for that, too.”
“Have it all figured, do you, Boss?”
“I hope so,” I told him.
I got to the top of the hill and started across rocky hills and through occasional sparse woods. Fortunately, in all of my wandering, I’d become an expert in this and it no longer bothered me and that was two lies in one statement.
For a wonder, I didn’t actually get lost. I ended up on a low hill, crouched among rocks, and staring down at the building where, in a short time, we would be settling some important issues. Important to me, at least.
I opened the pouch and took out the small, clear bulb. I set it on the ground next to me.
“Loiosh?”
“Got it, Boss. You’re going to tell me when—”
“Yeah.”
I waited for a while—a long while, thinking about nothing in particular. I took the opportunity to relieve myself; not that I especially needed to, but I had learned early on that having a full bladder when everything in the world is happening at once was just an annoyance I could do without.
Time passed. I stood up to pace, changed my mind, sat down again. Several times. You take your excitement where you can get it.
Below, four men in Jhereg colors appeared in front of the door. I recognized one as the Demon. I also wondered who knew this place well enough to teleport to it, and if that would be a problem. I still don’t know, and no it wasn’t, so never mind.
I stood up, brushed myself off, and walked down to meet him.
Of course, one of the Demon’s people spotted me and said something I was too far away to hear. The Demon stopped, looked around, saw me, and waited.
“Good precaution,” were his first words after I was in earshot.
“It disturbs me how well you know me.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been trying to kill you for several years, you know.”
I nodded. “True enough. And you, m’lord, are punctual as always.”
“Shall we?” he said, then politely went in first, and even more politely had his bodyguards go in front of me, thus sparing me a lot of itching between the shoulder blades. It didn’t actually prove anything, but, like I said, it was polite.
