The Book of Jhereg

by Steven Brust

  “I’m fine!” I lied to her psionically. “Just get that bitch and stuff her somewhere!”

  Aliera promptly vanished, leaving me all alone. Paralyzed. What the hell had I done that for? I asked myself.

  At the edge of my line of sight (the paralysis was complete enough that I couldn’t even move my eyeballs, which is remarkably frustrating) I saw one of the sorceresses pointing her finger at me. I would, I suppose, have prepared to die if I had known how.

  She didn’t get a chance to complete the spell, however.

  At that moment, a winged shape hit her face from the side, and I heard her scream and she fell out of my line of sight.

  “Loiosh, back off and get out of here!”

  “Go to Deathsgate, boss.”

  So where did he think I was going?

  The sorceress was back in my line of sight, now, and I saw a look of rage on her face. She held out her hand again, but it wasn’t pointed at me this time. She tried to follow Loiosh with her hand, but was having problems. I couldn’t see the jhereg, but I knew what he must be doing.

  I couldn’t move to activate Spellbreaker, much less do something meaningful. I could have tried to summon Kragar, but it would all be over before I could even contact him. Witchcraft also just took too damn long.

  I would have screamed if I could have. It wasn’t so much that they were going to kill me; but, lying there, utterly helpless, while Loiosh was going to be burned to a crisp, I almost exploded with frustration. My mind hammered at the invisible bonds that held me, as I recklessly drew on my link to the Orb for power, but there was not a chance that I could break the bindings. I just wasn’t a sorcerer of the same class as they were. If only Aliera were here.

  That was a laugh! They wouldn’t have been able to bind her like this. If they had the nerve to try, she’d dissolve them all in chaos. . . .

  Dissolve them in chaos.

  The phrase rang through my mind, and echoed through the warehouse of my memory. “I wonder how genetic heritage interacts with reincarnation of the soul.”

  “Oddly.”

  I was Aliera’s brother.

  The thoughts took no time whatsoever. I knew what I had to do then, although I had no idea how to do it. But at that point I didn’t care. Let the whole world blow up. Let the entire planet be dissolved in chaos. The sorceress, who was still within my range of vision, became my whole world for a moment.

  I envisioned her dissolving, dissipating, vanishing. All of the sorcerous energy I had summoned and been unable to use, I threw, then, and my rage and frustration guided it.

  I have heard, since, that those who were looking on saw a stream of something like formless, colorless fire shoot from me toward the tall sorceress with the finger pointing off into the air, who never saw it coming.

  As for me, I suddenly felt myself drained of energy, of hate, of everything. I saw her fall in upon herself and dissolve into a swirling mass of all the colors I could conceive of, and several that I couldn’t.

  Screams reached my ears. They meant nothing. I found that I could move again when my head suddenly hit the floor, and I realized that it had been up at an angle. I tried to look around, but couldn’t raise my head. I think someone yelled, “It’s spreading!” which struck me as odd.

  “Boss, get up!”

  “Wha—? Oh. Later, Loiosh.”

  “Boss, now! Hurry! It’s moving toward you!”

  “What is?”

  “Whatever it was that you threw at her. Hurry, boss! It’s almost reached you!”

  That was odd enough that I forced my head up a little bit. He was right. There seemed to be almost a pool of—something—that more or less centered where the sorceress had been standing. Now that was strange, I thought.

  Several things occurred to me at once. First, that this must be what happened when something dissolved into amorphia—it spread. Second, that I really should control it. Third, that I had no idea at all of how one went about controlling chaos—it seemed rather a contradiction in terms, if you see my point. Fourth, I became aware that the outermost tendrils were damn close to me. Finally, I realized that I just plain didn’t have the strength to move.

  And then there was another cry, from off to my side, and I became aware that someone had teleported in. That almost set me off laughing. No, no, I wanted to say. You don’t teleport in to a situation like this, you teleport out.

  There was a bright green glow off to my right, and I saw Aliera, striding directly up to the edge of the formless mass that filled that part of the room. Loiosh landed next to me, and began licking my ear.

  “C’mon boss. Get up now!”

  That was out of the question, of course. Much too much work. But I did succeed in holding my head up enough to watch Aliera. That was very interesting, in a hazy, unimportant sort of way. She stopped at the edge of the formless mass and held out Pathfinder with her right hand. Her left hand was raised up, palm out, in a gesture of warding.

  And, so help me Verra, it stopped spreading! I thought I was imagining things at first, but no, it had certainly stopped spreading. Then, slowly, it assumed a single, uniform color: green. It was very interesting, watching it change. It started at the edges and then worked in until the entire mass was a sort of emerald shade.

  She began gesturing with her left hand, then, and the green mass began to shimmer, and slowly it turned blue. I thought it was very pretty. I looked closely. Was it my imagination, or did the blue mass seem a bit smaller than it had been? I looked around the edges of where it had been and confirmed it. There was nothing there, now. The wooden floor of the restaurant was gone, and it pulled back to reveal the edge of what appeared to be a pit. I looked up, and discovered that part of the ceiling was missing as well.

  Gradually, I began to see the blue mass shrinking. It took on the form, slowly, of a circle, or rather a sphere, about ten feet in diameter. Aliera was moving forward, levitating over the hole in the floor. The ten feet became five feet, then a foot, then Aliera’s body obscured it completely.

  I felt strength returning to me. Loiosh was still next to me, licking my ear. I heaved myself up to a sitting position as Aliera turned and came toward me, appearing to walk over the nothingness below her. When she reached me, she grasped my shoulder and forced me to stand up. I couldn’t read the expression on her face. She held out her hand to me when I was stable on my feet again. In her hand was a small, blue crystal. I took it, and felt a warmth from it, pulsating gently. I shuddered.

  She spoke for the first time. “A bauble for your wife,” she said. “Tell her how you got it if you wish; she’ll never believe you, anyway.”

  I looked around. The room was empty. Hardly surprising. No one with any brains feels like rubbing shoulders with an uncontrolled mass of raw amorphia.

  “How—How did you do it?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Spend fifty or a hundred years studying it,” she said. “Then walk into the Great Sea of Chaos and make friends with it—after assuring yourself that you have the e’Kieron genes. After you do all that, maybe, if you absolutely have to, you can risk doing something like what you did.”

  She stopped for a minute, and said, “That was really incredibly stupid, you know.”

  I shrugged, not feeling a whole lot like answering just then. I was, however, beginning to feel a bit more like myself. I stretched, and said, “We’d better get going, before the Imperial Guards show up.”

  Aliera shrugged, made a brushing-off motion, and started to say something when Loiosh suddenly said, “Guards, boss!” and I heard the sound of feet tromping. Right on cue.

  There were three of them, pulling their grim, official faces, and holding greatswords. Their eyes focused on me, not seeming to notice Aliera at all. I could hardly blame them, of course. They hear about a big mess in a Jhereg-owned bar, come in, and see an Easterner in the colors of House Jhereg. What are they supposed to think?

  I had three weapons pointing at me, then. I didn’t
move. Looking at them, I gave myself even odds of fighting my way out, given that Loiosh was there and these fools generally don’t know much about dealing with poison or thrown weapons of any kind. I didn’t do anything about it, of course. Even if I’d felt in top shape and there was only one of them, I wouldn’t have touched him. You do not kill Imperial Guards. Ever. You can bribe them, plead with them, reason with them; you don’t fight them. If you do, there are only two possible outcomes: either you lose, in which case you are dead; or you win, in which case you are dead.

  But this time, it turned out, I had no reason to worry. I heard Aliera’s voice, over my shoulder. “Leave us,” she said.

  The guard turned his attention to her, seemingly for the first time. He raised his eyebrows, recognizing her for a Dragonlord, and not quite knowing how to take all this. I felt tremendous amounts of sympathy for the fellow.

  “Who are you?” he asked, approaching her, but keeping his blade politely out of line.

  Aliera flung back her cloak, and placed her hand on the hilt of Pathfinder. They must have sensed what it was immediately, for I saw them all recoil somewhat. And they knew, as I knew, that there was all the difference in the world between an Imperial Guard killed by a Jhereg and a fight between Dragons.

  “I,” she announced, “am Aliera e’Kieron. This Jhereg is mine. You may go.”

  He looked nervous for a moment, licked his lips, and turned back to the others. As far as I could tell, they didn’t express an opinion one way or the other. He turned back to Aliera and looked at her for a moment. Then he bowed and, without a word, turned and left, his fellows falling in behind. I would be very interested in hearing what they put in their reports, I decided.

  Aliera turned back to me. “What hit you?” she asked.

  “A complete external binding, as far as I can tell. They didn’t get my ears, or for that matter, my heart or lungs, but they got just about everything else.”

  She nodded. I suddenly remembered what we’d been doing there.

  “The sorceress! Did you get her?”

  She smiled, nodded, and patted the hilt of Pathfinder.

  I shuddered again. “You had to destroy her?”

  She shook her head. “You forget, Vlad—this is a Great Weapon. Her body is back in Castle Black, and her soul is here, where we can get at it whenever we want it.” She chuckled.

  I shuddered still another time. I’m sorry, but some things bother me. “And Morrolan’s body?”

  “He’s at Castle Black, too. The Necromancer is looking after him, seeing if she can find a way to break the spell. It doesn’t look hopeful unless we can convince our friend to help.”

  I nodded. “Okay, then let’s get going.”

  At this point I suddenly remembered that, when those Imperial Guards were here, I’d been carrying a high potency Morganti weapon on my person. If I’d remembered that at the time, I don’t know what I would have done, but I’d have been a lot more worried. This was the first time I’d come close to actually getting caught with one, and I was suddenly very happy that Aliera was along.

  * * *

  By the time we returned to Castle Black, my stomach was more than just a little irritated with me. If I’d eaten recently, I would probably have lost the meal. I resolved to be extra kind to my innards the rest of the day.

  Morrolan has a tower, high up in his castle. It is the center of much of his power, I’m told. Besides himself, very few people are allowed up there. I’m one, Aliera is another. Still another is the Necromancer. The tower is the center of Morrolan’s worship of Verra, the Demon Goddess he serves. And I do mean “serves.” He has been known to sacrifice entire villages to her.

  The tower is always dark, lit only by a few black candles. There is a single window in it, which does not look down on the courtyard below. If you’re lucky, it doesn’t look upon anything at all. If you aren’t, it will look upon things which may destroy your sanity.

  We laid Morrolan’s body on the floor beneath the window. On the altar in the center of the room was the sorceress. Her head was propped up, so that she could see the window. This was at my suggestion. I had no intention of actually using the window for anything, but having her see it would help with what we were trying to do.

  The Necromancer aided Aliera, who revivified the sorceress. It could, conceivably, have been the other way around, too. There are few who know more about the transfer of souls, and the mysteries of death, than the Necromancer. But it was Aliera’s Great Weapon, so she did the necessary spells.

  The sorceress’s eyes fluttered open, and her face went through the same patterns that Fentor’s had, earlier, except that it ended with fear.

  This part was my job. I had no desire to give her time to take in her surroundings more than casually, or to orient herself. The fact that she had been picked by whoever had killed Morrolan guaranteed that she was good, which guaranteed that she was tough. I didn’t figure to have an easy time of this, by any means.

  And so the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the window. It was politely empty at the moment, but nonetheless effective. And before she had time to adjust to that, she saw my face. I was standing over her and doing my best to look unfriendly.

  “Well,” I said, “did you enjoy the experience?”

  She didn’t answer. I wondered what it was like, having your soul eaten, so I asked her. She still didn’t answer.

  By this time, she would be cognizant of several things—including the chains that held her tied to the altar and the spells in the room which kept her from using sorcery.

  I waited for a moment, to make sure it all sank in properly. “You know,” I said conversationally, “Aliera enjoyed killing you that way. She wanted to do it again.”

  Fear. Controlled.

  “I wouldn’t let her,” I said. “I wanted to do it.”

  No reaction.

  “You okay, boss?”

  “Damn! Is it showing that much?”

  “Only to me.”

  “Good. No, I’m not okay, but there isn’t anything I can do about it, either.”

  “Perhaps,” I went on to her, “it is a flaw in my character, but I truly enjoy using Morganti weapons on you bitches.”

  Still nothing.

  “That’s why we brought you back, you know.” As I said it, I drew the dagger Kragar had supplied me with and held it before her eyes. They widened with recognition. She shook her head in denial.

  I’d never had to do anything like this before, and I wasn’t liking it now. It wasn’t as if she’d done something wrong—she’d just accepted a standard contract, much as I would have done. Unfortunately, she’d gotten involved with the wrong people. And, unfortunately, we needed her cooperation because she’d done a good job. I couldn’t stop myself from identifying closely with her.

  I touched her throat with the back of the blade, above the edge. I felt it fighting me—trying to turn around, to get at the skin, to cut, to drink.

  She felt it too.

  I held on to control. “However, being an honorable sort, I have to inform you that if you cooperate with us, I won’t be allowed to use this on you. A pity, if that were to happen.”

  Her face showed the gleam of hope she felt, and she hated herself for it. Well, after all, I didn’t feel real good about myself just then either, but that’s the game.

  I grabbed her hair, and lifted her head a bit more. Her eyes landed on Morrolan’s figure, lying directly under the window, which still showed only black. “You know what we want,” I said. “I, personally, don’t give a teckla’s squawk if you do it or not. But some others here do. We arrived at a compromise. I have to ask you, just once, to remove the spell you put on. If you don’t agree, I can have you. If you do, Morrolan gets to decide what to do with you.”

  She was openly trembling, now.

  To a Jhereg professional, a contract is an almost sacred bond. Most of us would rather lose our souls than break a contract—in the abstract. However, when it com
es right down to the moment, well . . . we’d soon see. I’d never been in the kind of situation she was in, and I prayed to Verra that I never would be, feeling very much the hypocrite. I think I would have broken about there, myself. Well, maybe not. It’s so hard to say.

  “Well, what is it?” I asked, harshly. I saw her face torn with indecision. Sometimes I truly loathe the things I do. Maybe I should have been a thief after all.

  I grabbed hold of her dress and raised it up, exposing her legs. I pulled at one knee. Loiosh hissed, right on cue, and I said, aloud, “No! Not until I’m done with her!”

  I licked the forefinger of my left hand and wetted down a spot on the inside of her thigh. She was close to tears, now, which meant she was also close to breaking. Well, now or never.

  “Too late,” I said with relish, and lowered the Morganti blade, slowly and deliberately, toward her thigh. The point touched.

  “No! My god, stop! I’ll do it!”

  I dropped the knife onto the floor and grabbed her head again and supported her shoulders. She was facing Morrolan’s body; her own was shaking with sobs. I nodded to Aliera, who dropped the protection spell which had cut off her sorcery. If she’d been faking, she was now in a position to put up a fight. But she knew damn well that she wouldn’t be able to win against both Aliera and me, not to mention the Necromancer.

  “Then do it now!” I snapped. “Before I change my mind.”

  She nodded, weakly, still sobbing quietly. I saw her concentrate for a moment.

  The Necromancer spoke for the first time. “It is done,” she said.

  I let the sorceress fall back. I felt sick again.

  The Necromancer stepped up to Morrolan’s body and began working on it. I didn’t watch. The only sounds were the sobbing of the sorceress and, very faintly, our breathing.

  After a few minutes, the Necromancer stood up. Her dull, undead eyes looked almost happy for a moment. I looked over at Morrolan, who was breathing now, evenly and deeply. His eyes opened.