by Steven Brust
I got behind my desk and collapsed into the chair.
“Kragar, get your ass in here.”
“Coming, boss.”
“Temek.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Find Narvane, Glowbug, and Wyrn and Miraf’n. Get them here five minutes ago.”
“I’m gone.” He teleported out, just to be flashy.
“Varg, I want two of them as bodyguards. Which?”
“Wyrn and Miraf’n.”
“Good. Now where is—oh. Kragar, go talk to the Bitch Patrol. I want a teleport block around this whole building. A good one.”
“Both ways?”
“No. Just to keep people out.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“What the hell do you think is going on?”
“Oh. When?”
“We might have until Endweek.”
“Two days?”
“Maybe.”
“Vlad, what do you do these things for?”
“Go.”
He shuffled out.
It wasn’t long before Temek returned with Glowbug. I don’t know what Glowbug’s real name was, but he had bright, shining blue eyes and a love of the long-handled mace. He was really a pleasant, almost jovial guy, but when he started to come at a customer with that mace, his eyes would light up like some Iorich fanatic’s and the customer would decide that, yeah, he could probably find the money somewhere.
It occurs to me that I may be giving you the idea that if you borrow money from me and are thirty seconds late in making a payment, you’ll have sixty-five toughs climbing into your windows. No. If we worked like that, it would cost more in free-lance or staff muscle than we’d make, especially with all the potential customers who’d be driven away.
Let me give you an example. About a month and a half before this—eight weeks, I think it was—one of my lenders came in and explained that a guy was into him for fifty gold and wouldn’t be able to make his payment. The lender wanted to let it slide, but was that okay with me?
“What’s he paying?”
“Five and one,” he said, meaning five gold a week principal, plus one gold a week until it was paid off.
“First payment?”
“No. He’s made four full, and just the interest for three weeks.”
“What happened to him?”
“He runs a tailor shop and hab on Solom. He wanted to try a new line, and it took a quick fifty to get an exclusive. The line—”
“I know, hasn’t taken off yet. What’s his business worth?”
“Maybe three or four big.”
“Okay,” I told the guy. “Give him six weeks free. Tell him if he can’t start doing at least the interest after that, he’s got a new partner until we’re paid off.”
So you see, we aren’t all that bad. If somebody is really having trouble and trying to pay, we’ll work with him. We want his business again, and we don’t make a copper by hurting people. But there are always jokers who think it can’t happen to them, or bigmouths who want to show how tough they are, or back-alley lawsmiths who talk about going to the Empire. These people kept me in eating money—and then some—for more than three years.
Narvane, who arrived just a few minutes after Temek and Glowbug, was a specialist. He was one of very few sorcerers who worked for our end of the Jhereg, most Jhereg sorcerers being women and staying with the Left Hand. He was quiet, indrawn, and had vaguely Dragon facial features: thin face and high cheekbones, a long, straight nose and very dark eyes and hair. He was called in when a job required dismantling personal protection spells on someone, or clairvoyance, at which I’d match him up against any Dzur wizard I’d met, and even most Athyras.
Three of them leaned against the wall. Temek had his arms folded while he whistled “Hearing About You” off key and stared at the ceiling; Narvane was staring at the floor with his hands clasped in front of him; Glowbug was looking around, as if checking out how defensible the place was. Varg stood away from the wall, not moving, looking like something midway between a statue and a set bomb.
Kragar showed up as the silence was becoming uncomfortable. He said, “The first hour after noon, tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Wyrn and Miraf’n came in together. They were already a team when Welok hired them and had remained a team when they started for me. As far as I knew, neither of them had ever done “work,” but they had a very good reputation. Wyrn resembled an Athyra—he had pale blue-gray eyes and always looked like he was on something mind-altering. When he stood, he swayed a bit from side to side like an old tree, his arms hanging limp like drooping branches. His hair was light and shaggy, and he had a way of looking at you, with his head cocked to the side and a dreamy half-smile at the comers of his mouth, that would send chills up and down your spine.
Miraf’n was huge. He was more than eight feet tall, making even Morrolan look short. Unlike most Dragaerans, he had muscles one could actually see. On occasion, he would play stupid and get a big, silly grin on his face, pick up someone he wanted to intimidate, and tell Wyrn, “Betcha I can throw this one farther than I threw the last one. Wanna bet?”
And Wyrn would go, “Put him down, big fella. He was only kidding about testifying against our friend. Weren’t you?”
And the guy would agree that yes, it was only a joke, and in poor taste at that, and he was very sorry that he’d bothered the two gentlemen . . .
“Melestav! Come in here a minute, and close the door behind you.”
He did, and did. I put my feet up on the desk and scanned the bunch of them.
“Gendemen,” I said, “we’re about to get hit. If we’re lucky, we have two days to prepare. Starting right now, none of you goes out alone. You’re all targets, so get used to it. You’ll each be getting orders from me about exactly what you’ll be doing, but for now, I just want to let you know that things are starting. You know how it goes—travel in pairs, stay at home as much as you can: the whole deal. And if any of you gets any offers from the other side, I want to hear about it. That isn’t just for me, but if you turn them down, you become even more of a target, and I’ll want to take that into account. And, by the way, if you don’t turn them down, you become much, much more of a target. Remember that—you do not want to fuck with me, gentlemen; I’ll destroy you.
“Any questions?”
There was silence for the moment; then Temek said, “What does he have?”
“That’s a good question,” I said. “Why don’t you and Narvane go find out for me?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have opened my mouth,” he said sadly.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Another thing—your salaries just doubled. But to pay you, we need to have income. And to have income, we need to keep places open. Laris might go for you, he might go for me, and he might go for my businesses. I’m betting on all three. Any other questions?”
There were none.
“Okay,” I said. “One last thing: as of this moment, I am offering five thousand gold for Laris’s head. I think you could all use that. I don’t expect it’ll be easy to collect, and I don’t want anybody doing anything stupid and getting himself killed trying for it, but if you see a chance, there’s no need to hesitate.
“Wyrn and Miraf’n, stick around the office. The rest of you, that’s all. Beat it.”
They shuffled out, leaving me alone with Kragar.
“Say, boss—”
“What is it, Kragar?”
“Does that business about doubling salaries apply—”
“No.”
He sighed. “I didn’t think so. Anyway, what’s the plan?”
“First, find four more enforcers. You have until this time tomorrow. Second, we’ll see what we learn about what kind of income Laris has and figure out how we can hurt him.”
“Okay. Can we afford the extra enforcers?”
“We can afford it—for a while. If things go on too long, we’ll have to figure out something else.”
“
Do you think he’ll give us the two days?”
“I don’t know. He might—”
Melestav was standing at the door. “I just got a report, boss. Trouble. Nielar’s place.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know exactly. I got part of a message, asking for help, and then the guy got hit.”
I stood up and headed out of the office, picking up Wyrn and Miraf’n on the way.
“Boss,” said Kragar, “are you sure you ought to go out? That sounds like a—”
“I know. Come along behind me and keep your eyes open.”
“Okay.”
“Loiosh, stay alert.”
“I’m always alert, boss.”
Chapter Four
“You expect to be unavailable?”
The city of Adrilankha lies along the southern coast of the Dragaeran Empire. It spent most of its existence as a middle-sized port city and became the Imperial capital when Dragaera City became a bubbling sea of chaos, on that day four hundred some years ago when Adron almost usurped the throne.
Adrilankha is as old as the Empire. It had its real beginnings in a spot that recently (in Dragaeran terms) became a cornerstone of the new Imperial Palace. It was there that, thousands of generations ago, Kieron the Conqueror met with the Shamans and told them that they could run wherever they wanted to, but that he and his Army of All Tribes would stand and wait for the “Eastern Devils.” From there, he walked alone down a long trail that ended in a high cliff overlooking the sea. It is said by those who make it their business to say things that he stood there, unmoving, for five days (hence the five-day Dragaeran week) awaiting the arrival of the Tribe of the Orca, who had promised reinforcements, as the Eastern army closed in.
The spot was known as “Kieron’s Watch” until the Interregnum, when the spells that had kept that part of the cliff from falling into the sea collapsed. I’ve always thought that amusing.
By the way, for those of you with an interest in history, the Orcas finally arrived, in time. They proved utterly useless as fighters on land, but Kieron won the battle anyway, thus securing the foundations of an Empire of Dragaerans.
Shame about that.
The path he walked is still known as Kieron Road
, and leads from the new Imperial Palace down through the heart of the city, past the docks, and finally peters out with no ceremony somewhere in the foothills west of town. At some unspecified point, Kieron Road
becomes Lower Kieron Road
, and passes through a few not-very-nice neighborhoods. Along one of these stretches is the restaurant my father used to own, where he’d built up the small fortune that he later squandered buying a title in the Jhereg. The result of this is that I’m a citizen of the Empire, so now I can find out what time it is.
When I reached the age of deciding to get paid for what I was doing anyway (beating up Dragaerans), my first boss, Nielar, worked out of a small store on Lower Kieron Road
. Supposedly, the store sold narcotics, hallucinogens, and other sorcery supplies. His real business was an almost continuous game of shareba, which he somehow kept forgetting to notify the Empire’s tax collectors of. Nielar taught me the system of payoffs to the Phoenix Guards (since most of them are actually Dragons, you can’t bribe one about anything important, but they like to gamble as much as anyone, and don’t like taxes any more than most), how to make arrangements with the organization, how to hide your income from the Imperial tax collectors, and a hundred other little details.
When I took this area over from Tagichatn, Nielar was suddenly working for me. He was the only one who showed up to pay me the first week I was running the area. Later, he tore out the narcotics business and expanded to running s’yang stones. Then he put in a brothel upstairs. All in all, the place was my biggest single earner. So far as I know, the idea of holding out part of my cut never even occurred to him.
* * * *
I stood next to Kragar in the burnt-out ruins of the building. Nielar’s body lay before me. The fire hadn’t killed him; his skull was caved in. Loiosh nuzzled my left ear.
After a long time, I said, “Arrange for ten thousand gold for his widow.”
“Should I send someone over to tell her?” Kragar asked.
“No,” I sighed, “I’ll do it myself.”
* * * *
Some time later, at my office, Kragar said, “Both of his enforcers were in there, too. One may be revivifiable.”
“Do it,” I said. “And find the other one’s family. See that they’re well paid.”
“Okay. What now?”
“Shit. What now? That cash just about exhausted me. My biggest source of income is gone. If someone delivered Laris’s head to me right now, I couldn’t pay him. If the revivification fails, and we have to pay that guy’s family, that’ll do it.”
“We’ll have more in a couple of days.”
“Great. How long will that last?”
He shrugged. I spun my chair and threw a dagger into the target on the wall. “Laris is too Verra-be-damned good, Kragar. He took one shot, before I could move, and crippled me with it. And you know how he could do it? I’ll bet he knows every copper I make, where I make it, and how I spend it. I’ll bet he has a list of everyone who works for me, strengths and weaknesses. If we get out of this thing, I’m going to build me the best spy network this organization has ever seen. I don’t care if I have to keep myself a Verra-be-damned pauper to do it.”
Kragar shrugged. “That’s if we get out of this.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you could get to him yourself, boss?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Given time. For that, though, I’d have to wait until some of the reports came back. And it’d take me at least a week, more like three, to set it up.”
Kragar nodded. “We need to be earning in the meantime.”
I thought over a few things. “Well, okay. There’s one thing that might work to get some cash. I wanted to hold it in reserve, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to.”
“What is it, boss?”
I shook my head. “Take charge here. If there’s any emergency, get hold of me.”
“Okay.”
I opened my bottom-left desk drawer and rummaged around until I found a fairly serviceable enchanted dagger. I scratched a rough circle on the floor and made a few marks in it. Then I stepped into the middle.
“Why do you do all that drawing, boss? You don’t need to—”
“It helps, Kragar. See you later.”
I drew on my link to the Orb and was in the courtyard of Morrolan’s Castle, feeling sick. I avoided looking down because the sight of the ground, a mile below, would not have helped at all. I stared straight at the great double doors, some forty yards in front of me, until I no longer felt like throwing up.
I walked up to them. Walking in Morrolan’s courtyard feels exactly like walking on flagstone, except your boots don’t make any noise, which is disconcerting until you get used to it. The doors swung open when I was about five paces away, and Lady Teldra stood facing me, a warm smile on her face.
“Lord Taltos,” she said, “we’re delighted to see you, as always. I hope you’ll be able to stay with us for at least a few days this time. We see you so seldom.”
I bowed to her. “Thank you, Lady. A short mission only, I’m afraid. Where can I find Morrolan?”
“The Lord Morrolan is in his library, my lord. I’m certain he’d be as delighted to see you as the rest of us.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I can find my own way.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
It was always like that, with her. And she made you believe all that stuff, too.
As she’d said, I found Morrolan in the library. When I walked in, he was sitting with a book open on the table before him, holding a small glass tube suspended by a piece of thread over a black candle. He looked up as I came in, and set the tube aside.
“That’s witchcraft,�
�� I told him. “Cut it out. Easterners do witchcraft; Dragaerans do sorcery.” I sniffed the air. “Besides, you’re using basil. You should be using rosemary.”
“I was an accomplished witch three hundred years before you were born, Vlad.”
I snorted. “You still should be using rosemary.”
“The text failed to specify,” he said. “It’s been rather badly burned.”
I nodded. “Where were you trying to see?”
“Around the corner,” he said. “It was merely an experiment. But please, sit down. What may I help you with?”
I sat in a large, overstuffed chair done in black leather. I found a piece of paper on a table next to it, and a pen. I picked these up and began writing. As I did so, Loiosh flew over to Morrolan’s shoulder. Morrolan dutifully scratched his head. Loiosh accepted graciously, and flew back. I handed Morrolan the paper, and he looked at it.
“Three names,” he said. “I fail to recognize any of them.”
“They’re all Jhereg,” I said. “Kragar should be able to put you in touch with any of them.”
“Why?”
“They’re all good at security.”
“You wish me to hire an assistant for you?”
“Not exactly. You may want to consider one of these after I’m unavailable.”
“You expect to be unavailable?”
“In a manner of speaking. I expect to be dead.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I don’t know of any other way to put it. I expect that I’ll be dead soon.”
“Why?”
“I’m overmatched. Someone’s after my territory and I don’t intend to let him have it. I think he’ll be able to take me, and that means I’ll be dead.”
Morrolan studied me. “Why will he be able to ‘take’ you?”
“He has more resources than I do.”
“ ‘Resources’?”
“Money.”
“Oh. Please enlighten me, Vlad. How much money does something like this take?”
“Eh? Hmmm. I’d say about five thousand gold . . . every week for as long as it lasts.”
“I see. And how long is it liable to last?”
“Oh, three or four months is usual. Sometimes six. Nine is a long time, a year is a very long time.”