by Steven Brust
“It’s different with humans, perhaps, but . . . I should have seen it. Damn! I should have seen it. A hundred things pointed to it.”
“For the love of the Empire, Vlad! What?”
“Kragar,” I said, settling down a bit, “think for a minute. This guy isn’t just a Jhereg, he’s also got the bloodlust of a Dragon, and the heroism of a Dzur.”
“So?”
“So check your records, old friend. Remember his father? Why don’t you find out more about him? Go ahead, do the research. But I’ll tell you right now what you’re going to find.
“His father killed someone, another Jhereg, just before the Interregnum. The Jhereg he killed was protected by a Dragonlord; to be exact, by Lord Adron. Mellar’s plan wasn’t concocted to get Jhereg gold and get out alive—the whole point of it was to get himself killed. For more than three hundred years he’s been planning things so that he’d be killed, perhaps with a Morganti weapon; he didn’t care. And he’d be killed, and the information he’d planted would come out about the Dzur, and he’d wash their faces with mud. And, at the same time, the two Houses that he hates the most, the Dragons and the Jhereg, would destroy each other. The whole thing was done for revenge, Kragar—revenge for the way a cross-breed is treated and revenge for the death of his father.
“Revenge as courageous as a Dzur, as vicious as a Dragon, and as cunning as a Jhereg. That’s what this is all about, Kragar.”
Kragar looked like a chreotha who’s just found that a dragon has wandered into its net. He went through the same process I had, of every little detail falling into place, and like me, he began to shake his head in wonderment, his face a mask of stony shock. “Oh, shit, boss,” was all he said.
I nodded in agreement.
15
“Staring into the dragon’s jaw, one quickly learns wisdom.”
THE BANQUET HALL OF Castle Black appeared the same as it had the last time. A few different faces, a few of the same faces, many faceless faces. I stood in the doorway for a moment, then stepped inside. I wanted to gather my thoughts a little, and let my stomach finish its recovering act before I began any serious work.
“Can you believe, boss, that Morrolan actually likes it this way?”
“You know Dragons, Loiosh.”
Kragar had taken an hour and had verified each of my guesses as regarded Mellar’s parentage. It seemed that his father had indeed been the one whose work had set off the second Dragon-Jhereg war, which Kragar had never heard of either. The references to it among the Lyorn records had been scattered, but clear. The thing had happened, and more or less as I’d been told.
Everything fit together very nicely. And I wasn’t a bit closer to figuring out what to do about it than I’d been the day before. That was the really annoying thing. All of this information really ought to be food for something besides the satisfaction of solving a puzzle. Oh, sure, it meant that I knew now that certain things wouldn’t work, since Mellar had no intention of leaving Castle Black alive, but I hadn’t had any idea of what to do before, so that didn’t really affect anything. It occurred to me that the more I found out, the more difficult, instead of easier, the thing became. Maybe I should arrange to forget most of this.
There was, I realized then, still one more mystery to solve. It wasn’t a big one, or, I expected, a difficult one, but I was somewhat curious about why Mellar had brought bodyguards with him at all, if he didn’t intend to try to save his life. Not very important, perhaps, but by now I couldn’t afford to overlook anything. This was what had brought me back to the banquet hall: to take a look at them and see if there was anything I could learn, guess, or at least eliminate.
I wandered through the crowd, smiling, nodding, drinking. After about fifteen minutes, I spotted Mellar. I brought up the memory of the two faces that Loiosh had given me and found the two bodyguards, a few feet away.
I moved as close to them as I figured was safe and looked at them. Yes, they were both fighters. They had that way of moving, of standing, that indicated physical power. Both were large men, with big, capable hands, and they were both skilled in observing a crowd without seeming to.
Why were they doing it, though? I was convinced, by now, that they had no intention of stopping an assassin, so they must have some other purpose. A small part of me wanted to just take them both out, here and now, but I had no intention of doing so until I knew what their business was. And, of course, there was no guarantee that I’d succeed.
I was very careful to avoid having them notice my scrutiny, but you can never be sure, of course. I checked them as carefully as I could for concealed weapons, but oddly, I didn’t spot any. They both had swords, standard Dragaeran longswords, and they each had a dagger. But I couldn’t see anything concealed on any of them.
After five minutes, I turned and started to leave the banquet hall, making my way carefully through the mass of humanity. I had almost reached the door, when Loiosh interrupted my contemplation.
“Boss,” he said, “tough-guy warning, behind you.”
I turned in time to see one of them coming up to me. I waited for him. He stopped about one foot in front of me, which is what I call “intimidation range.” I wasn’t intimidated. Well, maybe just a little. He didn’t waste any time with preliminaries.
“One warning, whiskers,” he said. “Don’t try it.”
“Try what?” I asked innocently, although I felt my heart drop a few inches. I ignored the insult; the last time I’d let the term bother me, I hadn’t had any. But the implications of the statement were, let us say, not pleasing.
“Anything,” was his answer. He looked at me for a few seconds more, then he turned and walked away.
Damn! So Mellar did know I was after him. But why would he want to stop me? Oh, of course, he didn’t. He was working under the assumption that I was out for him, and that I had no idea of why he was doing this. That made sense; if I had somehow given myself away, which was certainly possible, then it would be out of character for him to ignore it. He was playing the game to the hilt. (Interesting choice of words there, I noticed.)
This made me feel somewhat better, but not a whole lot. It was a Bad Thing that Mellar knew where the threat was coming from. While the bodyguards wouldn’t actually stop a direct attack on Mellar, the fact that they were aware of me seriously cut my chances of getting away with anything tricky—and whatever I came up with now, it was going to have to be something tricky. I felt the first glimmerings of the younger brother to despair stir within me as I left the hall. I forced the feeling down.
Just outside the door, I stopped and got in touch with Aliera. Who knows, I thought, maybe she and Sethra have come up with something. In any case, I felt that I ought to let them know what we’d learned.
“What is it, Vlad?”
“Mind if I come up and see you? I have some information that you probably don’t want to hear.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said. “I’ll be expecting you in my chambers.”
I walked down the hall to the stairs and met Morrolan, descending. I nodded to him and started to pass by. He motioned to me. I stopped, and he walked up the hall toward the library. I followed dutifully and sat down after he had closed the door behind me. The situation reminded me unpleasantly of a servant being called in for a dressing down for not scrubbing the chamberpots sufficiently.
“Vlad,” he said, “perhaps you would care to enlighten me on just exactly what is occurring around here?”
“Eh?”
“Something has happened somewhere that I don’t know about. I can feel it. You are preparing to move on Mellar, aren’t you?”
By Verra’s fingers! Did the whole Empire know?
He began ticking off points. “Aliera is rather upset about this whole matter and doesn’t know quite what to do. You were acting the same way, as of yesterday. Today, I am informed that you have been, if I may put it so, snooping around Mellar. I see Aliera and she is just as pleased with life as you can imagine. Then
I see you walking up the stairs, I assume to see my cousin, and you appear to know what you’re doing all of a sudden. Now, would you mind telling me exactly what it is you two are planning?”
I was silent for a while; then I said, slowly and carefully, “If I’m acting any different today than yesterday, it’s because we just solved the mystery—not the problem. I still don’t have any idea of what I’m going to do about it. I will say, however, that I have no intention of doing anything that will, in any way, compromise you, your oath, or your House. I believe I stated that yesterday, and I have no reason to change my mind. Is that sufficient?”
“Go, boss, go!”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
Morrolan stared at me, long and hard, as if he were trying to read my mind. I flatter myself, however, that even Daymar would have trouble doing that without my noticing. Morrolan, I think, also respects me too much to do so without asking first. And in any case, hawk-eyes should stay on Hawklords, where they belong.
He nodded, once. “All right, then,” he said. “We’ll say no more about the matter.”
“Frankly,” I said, “I don’t know what is on Aliera’s mind. As you guessed, I was heading up to see her when I ran into you. But I don’t have anything planned with her—yet. I hope she doesn’t have anything planned without me.”
He looked grim. “I like that rather less,” he said.
I shrugged. “As long as I’m here, tell me: have you checked over those bodyguards?”
“Yes, I took a look at them. What of it?”
“Are they sorcerers?”
He seemed to debate with himself for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yes, both of them. Quite competent, too.”
Damn. The good news just kept piling up.
“Okay, then. Is there anything else you wanted?”
“No—yes. I would appreciate it if you would keep an eye on Aliera.”
“Spy on Aliera?”
“No!” he said emphatically. “Just, if she tries to do something that she should, perhaps, not do—I think you understand—try to discuss it with her, all right?”
I nodded, as the last piece of the puzzle fell into its place. Of course! That was what Mellar was worried about! He had bodyguards so that he wouldn’t be killed by a non-Jhereg. He had, indeed, heard of Pathfinder.
The solving of this last piece of the mystery put me no closer to its solution; no surprise. I took my leave of Morrolan and headed up the stairs to Aliera’s chambers. I felt his eyes on my back the whole way.
* * *
“What kept you?” asked Aliera.
“Morrolan wanted to have a chat.”
I noted that Aliera did, indeed, seem to be in fine spirits today. Her eyes were bright green and shining. She relaxed against the back of her bed, absently stroking a cat that I’d not been introduced to. Loiosh and the cat eyed each other with abstract hunger.
“I see,” she said. “What about?”
“He seems to think that you have something in mind. For that matter, so do I. Care to tell me about it?”
She arched her eyebrows and smiled. “Maybe. You go first.”
The cat rolled over on its back, demanding that its stomach be attended to. Its long, white fur stood out a little, as it chose to deny that Loiosh existed. Aliera obliged it.
“Hey, boss.”
“Yes, Loiosh?”
“Isn’t it disgusting how some people cater to the whims of dumb animals?”
I didn’t answer.
“For starters, Aliera, the idea we had before won’t work.”
“Why not?”
It seemed that she wasn’t too worried. I was beginning to be.
“A number of reasons,” I said. “But the main thing is that Mellar has no intention of leaving here.”
I explained our deductions about Mellar’s plans and motives. Surprisingly, her first reaction was similar to mine—she shook her head in admiration. Then, slowly, her eyes turned a hard metallic gray. I shuddered.
“I’m not going to let him get away with this, Vlad. You know that, don’t you?”
Well, I hadn’t actually known, but I’d been afraid of something like it. “What are you going to do?” I asked softly.
She didn’t say anything, but her hand came to rest on Pathfinder’s hilt.
I kept my voice soft, even, and controlled. “If you do, you are aware that Morrolan will be forced to kill you.”
“So what?” she asked, simply.
“Why don’t we find a better way?”
“For example?”
“Dammit, I don’t know! What do you think I’ve been racking my brains about for the last few days? If we can find some way to convince him to leave, we can still follow the original idea—you trace him with Pathfinder, and then we take him wherever he ends up. If I just had more time!”
“How much time do you have?”
That was a very good question. If we were very, very lucky, the news wouldn’t get out for three more days. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t count on being lucky. And, what was worse, neither could the Demon. What would his next effort be like? I asked myself again. And how much of a chance would I have to stop it? I didn’t like the answer I got to that last question.
“Today and tomorrow,” I told her.
“And what,” she asked, “happens then?”
“Deathsgate opens up. The matter is taken out of my hands, my body turns up somewhere, and I miss out on a fine Dragon-Jhereg war. You get to see the war. Lucky you.”
She gave me a nasty grin. “I might enjoy it,” she said.
I smiled back at her. “You might at that.”
“However,” she admitted, “it wouldn’t do the House any good.”
I agreed with that, too.
“On the other hand,” she said, “if I kill him, there’s no problem. The two Houses don’t fight, and only the Dzur are hurt, and who cares about them, anyway? Well, maybe we can think of some way to intercept the information about them before it gets out.”
“They aren’t the problem,” I told her. “The problem is that you end up dead, or having to kill Morrolan. I don’t consider either possibility to be an ideal outcome.”
“I have no intention of killing my cousin,” Aliera stated.
“Great. Then you leave him alive, with his reputation dead.”
She shrugged. “I am not unconcerned about my cousin’s honor,” she informed me. “It’s just that I’m more concerned with precedence than Morrolan.”
“There’s another thing, too,” I added.
“Oh?”
“To be honest, Aliera, I’m not convinced that you can take Mellar. He’s got two experts guarding him, both of them good fighters, and both good sorcerers. I’ve already told you who trained him as a swordsman, and remember that he was good enough to fight his way into the House of the Dzur. He’s determined that only a Jhereg is going to get him, and I’m afraid he may have what it takes to back that up. I’m not at all sure that you’ll be able to kill him.”
She listened patiently to my monologue, then gave me a cynical smile. “Somehow,” she said, “I’ll manage.”
I decided to change the subject. There was only one other thing I had to try—and that was liable to get me killed. I didn’t really feel like doing it, so I asked, “Where is Sethra, by the way?”
“She’s returned to Dzur Mountain.”
“Eh? Why?”
Aliera studied the floor for a while, then turned her attention back to the cat. “She’s getting ready.”
“For . . .”
“A war,” said Aliera.
Just wonderful. “She thinks it will come to that?”
Aliera nodded. “I didn’t tell her what I plan on doing, so she’s assuming it’s going to happen.”
“And she wants to make sure that the Dragons win, eh?”
Aliera gave me a look. “It isn’t our custom,” she explained, “to fight to lose.”
I sighed. Well, now or never, I decided.
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br /> “Hey, boss, you don’t want to do that”
“You’re right. But it’s what I’m paid for. Now shut up.”
“One final thing, Aliera,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed; I guess she picked up something from the tone of my voice. “And that is . . .?”
“I still work for Morrolan. He pays me, and I therefore owe him a certain amount of loyalty. What you propose doing is in direct violation of his wishes. I won’t let you do it.”
And, just like that, even as I finished speaking, Pathfinder was in her hand, its point level with my chest. She measured me coolly with her eyes. “Do you think you can stop me, Jhereg?”
I matched her gaze. “Probably not,” I admitted. What the Hell? Looking at her, I could see that she was prepared to kill me at once. “If you do, Aliera, Loiosh will kill your cat.”
No response. Sheesh! Sometimes I think Aliera has no sense of humor at all.
I looked down the length of the blade. Two feet separated it from my chest—and my soul, which had once been her brother’s. I recalled a time, it seemed like ages now, when I had been in a similar position with Morrolan. Then, as now, my thoughts had turned to figuring out which weapon was closest. A poison dart would be a waste of time. My poison works fast, but not that fast. I’d have to hit a nerve. Fat chance. I was going to have to go for a kill—anything else wouldn’t do. My odds that time had been poor. This time they were worse. At least Morrolan didn’t have his weapon out.
I looked back to her eyes. A person’s eyes are the first things that let you know when he is about to make a move. I felt the hilt of the dagger up my right sleeve—point out. A sharp, downward motion would be required, and it would be in my hand; an upward motion after that would have it on the way to her throat. From this range, I couldn’t miss. From this range, neither could she. I’d probably be dead before she was, and they wouldn’t be able to revivify me.
“Just say the word, boss. I’ll be at her eyes before—”