The Book of Jhereg

by Steven Brust

  In any case, at the tender age of one hundred or thereabouts she came to Deathsgate Falls and passed, living, through the Paths of the Dead and so came to the Halls of Judgment. There she took the Orb from the shade of the last Emperor and returned to declare the Interregnum at an end. This was about the time my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was being born.

  That business about descending Deathsgate Falls, by the way, is quite impressive. I know, because I’ve done it myself.

  But the point is that this background gave Zerika a certain understanding of the human condition—or at least the Dragaeran condition. She was wise and she was intelligent. She knew that there was nothing to be gained by interfering in a duel between Jhereg. On the other hand, I guess what Laris and I had been doing to each other was too much to ignore.

  We woke up the morning after the meeting with Terion to find the streets patrolled by guards in Phoenix livery. Notices were posted explaining that no one was allowed in the streets after nightfall, that no groups of more than four could assemble, that all use of sorcery would be carefully observed and regulated, that all taverns and inns were shut down until further notice. There was also the unspoken statement that no illegal activity of any kind would be tolerated.

  It was enough to make me want to move to a better neighborhood.

  * * *

  “Where do we stand, Kragar?”

  “We can keep up like this—supporting everything and not earning—for about seven weeks.”

  “Do you think this will last seven weeks?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “Yeah. We can’t reduce our forces unless Laris does, and we don’t have any way of knowing if Laris will. That’s the worst part of it—this would be the perfect time to start infiltrating his organization, but we can’t because he doesn’t have anything running, either.”

  Kragar shrugged. “We’ll just have to sit tight.”

  “Hmmmm. Maybe. Tell you what: why don’t we find a few places he’s connected to that are legitimate—you know, like restaurants—and make friends with some of the management types.”

  “Make friends?”

  “Sure. Give them presents.”

  “Presents?”

  “Gold.”

  “Just give it to them?”

  “Yeah. Not ask for anything. Have people hand them money, and say it comes from me.”

  He looked more puzzled than ever. “What will that do?”

  “Well, it works with court advisors, doesn’t it? I mean, isn’t that the kind of thing the connections do? Just maintain good relationships so that if they need something, people will be well-disposed toward them? Why not try it here? It can’t do any harm.”

  “It costs.”

  “Screw that. It might work. If they like us, that makes it more likely they’ll tell us something. And maybe they can tell us something useful. If not right away, then someday.”

  “It’s worth a try,” he admitted.

  “Start out with five hundred, and spread it around a bit.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Next: we really should get some idea of when we can open something up. Do you have any guesses at all? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?”

  “At least days, maybe weeks. Remember—those guards don’t like this anymore than we do. They’ll be fighting it from their end, and all the merchants who aren’t involved are going to be fighting it from their end. Also, it goes without saying that all the organization contacts in the Palace will be working on it. I don’t think it can last more than a month.”

  “Will it stop all at once, or gradually disappear?”

  “Could be either way, Vlad.”

  “Hmmph. Well, could we open, say, one game, in a week?”

  “They might let us get away with it. But once you open up a game, what happens the first time a customer runs short of cash? We need to have someone to lend him money. And then maybe he gets behind on his payments, so he starts stealing. We need a cleaner. Or—”

  “We don’t have a cleaner in any case.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “Oh. All right. But yes, I see your point. It’s all tied in.”

  “And there’s another thing: whoever opens up is going to be pretty nervous. That means that you should really make personal visits—and that’s dangerous.”

  “Yeah.”

  “One thing we could do is find a new office. I can still smell the smoke in here.”

  “We could, but . . . do you know where Laris’s office is?”

  “I know, but he doesn’t go there anymore. We don’t know where he is.”

  “But we know where his office is. Fine. That’s where my next office will be.”

  He looked startled, then shook his head. “Nothing like confidence,” he said.

  * * *

  Narvane was in touch with me pretty constantly that week, and was slowly getting a feel for the work. After what had happened to Temek, he was being careful, but we were accumulating a list of places and a few names.

  I tried doing a small witchcraft spell on Laris, just to see if there was any point in attacking him that way, but I got nothing. That meant that he was protected against witchcraft—and indicated that he really did know me, since most Dragaerans don’t think of the art as anything to bother with.

  I had enforcers following those people we knew, trying to get their movements down so we could use this information later. We approached a couple of them with large sums, hoping to find out where Laris was hiding, but we didn’t get any takers.

  The project to make friends with Laris’s people went better, although just as slowly. We got nothing useful, but there were indications that we might in the future. I had some people speak to the Phoenix Guards. We learned from them that they weren’t happy about the duty, didn’t expect it to last long, and that they were as impatient to start earning their gambling money again as we were to start needing to pay them. I considered the matter.

  * * *

  Six days after Zerika put her foot down, I met with Kragar and Smiley Gilizar. Smiley had been protecting Nielar, and was pretty much recovered from being revivified. He got his name because he smiled almost as much as Varg—that is, not at all.

  Varg, however, rarely had any expression. Smiley had a permanent sneer. When he looked like he wanted to bite you in the leg, he was happy. When he got angry, his face became contorted. He had picked up an Eastern weapon called a lepip, which was a heavy metal bar with leather wrapped around it to prevent cuts. When he wasn’t doing protection, he did muscle work. He’d started on the docks, collecting for a short-tempered lender called Cerill. When Cerill was fed up with being reasonable, he’d send Smiley, and then send someone else the next day to reason with whatever was left.

  So Smiley sat there, scowling at Kragar and me, and I said, “Smiley, our friend H’noc is going to open up his brothel tomorrow evening. He’s being protected by Abror and Nephital. I want you to go over to help them out.”

  He sneered even more, as if it were beneath him.

  I knew him well enough to ignore this, however. I continued: “Stay out of the way of our customers, so you don’t scare them. And if the guards try to shut the place down, just let them. Can you handle that?”

  He snorted, which I took for a yes.

  “Okay, be there at the eighth hour. That’s all.”

  He left without a word. Kragar shook his head. “I’m amazed that you can get rid of him that easy, Vlad. You’d think you’d have to do a demon banishment or something.”

  I shrugged. “He’s never ‘worked,’ as far as I know.”

  Kragar grunted. “Anyway, we ought to know something by tomorrow. Any word from Narvane?”

  “Not much. He’s been going slow.”

  “I suppose. But he should at least be checking to see if Laris is opening something.”

  I agreed. I got hold of Narvane and gave the necessary orders. Then I sighed. “I hate
being in the dark like this. We have a good groundwork for the future, but we still know hardly anything about him.”

  Kragar nodded, then brightened. “Vlad!”

  “Yes?”

  “Morrolan!”

  “Huh?”

  “Aren’t you his security consultant? Doesn’t he have a spy network?”

  “Sure, Kragar. And if you want to find out how many sorcerers Lord Whointheheck of the House of the Dragon has, I could tell you in three minutes, along with their specialities, ages, and tastes in wine. But that doesn’t help us.”

  He got a vacant look, and said, “There ought to be a way to use that . . .”

  “If you think of one, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  H’noc reached me late in the evening of the next day.

  “Yes?”

  “Just wanted to tell you that we haven’t been bothered by any guards yet.”

  “Good. Customers?”

  “Maybe two.”

  “Okay. It’s a start. Have you seen anyone who looks like he might be working for Laris?”

  “How would I know?”

  “All right. Stay in touch.”

  I looked up at Kragar, who was spending more time in my office than in his own these days. “I just talked to H’noc. No problems; no customers.”

  He nodded. “If we make it through the night, maybe we should open up a cleaner tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Who?”

  “I know a few thieves who’ve been talking about getting into that end.”

  “In the middle of a war?”

  “Maybe.”

  “All right. Check into it.”

  “Will do.”

  Kragar found a cleaner, and we opened up a couple of nights later. At the same time, Narvane found out that Laris wasn’t doing much of anything. We began to breathe easier. Soon, we decided, the Phoenix Guards would just disappear, and things would be back to normal.

  Normal? Exactly what was “normal” at this point?

  “Kragar, what happens when the Phoenix Guards disappear?”

  “Things go back to . . . oh. I see what you mean. Well, in the first place, we’re back on the defensive. He starts moving in on us, we start trying to find out all we can about him—and by the way, we should have more than just Narvane working on that.”

  “I know. We will, but—it seems to me that this is our big chance to get ahead.”

  “Uh . . . what is?”

  “This. Now. When neither of us can attack the other, but we can get our businesses going again. We should push it as far as we can. Get as much going as possible, to build up some cash, and make as many friends among Laris’s people as we can, get Narvane and whoever else we can digging into him—the whole bit.”

  Kragar thought that over, then nodded. “You’re right. We’ve got the cleaner working, that means we can open up a lender. Three days? Two?”

  “Two. We’re going to be paying extra bribes, but that shouldn’t go on too long.”

  “Right. And once that’s going, we could start one of the small shareba clubs. A week from today, say? If everything goes well?”

  “That sounds right.”

  “Good. And we won’t need too much protection at first. Let’s put Wyrn and Miraf’n helping Narvane. And maybe Chimov and Glowbug, too. But keep them all on the rotation for bodyguards.”

  “Not Chimov. I don’t want any free-lancer knowing too much about what I know. Make it N’aal. He isn’t good at it, but he can learn.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to them, and let Narvane in on it.”

  “Good. Are we leaving anything out?”

  “Probably, but nothing I can think of.”

  “Then let’s get at it.”

  “It’s going to be nice seeing you do some work again, boss.”

  “Shut up, Loiosh.”

  * * *

  It took Narvane only a couple of days to work the extra help into his organization. The day the lender started, I began to get reports from them, and was impressed. While they still didn’t know many of his people—and those they did were right at the bottom—they found out seven establishments that Laris was running. To our surprise, none of them had reopened. Laris was lying low. I didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or nervous. But there were still Phoenix Guards all over the place, so we felt safe.

  A few days later, I opened up a small shareba game, and the next day a game of s’yang stones and a game of three-copper mud. Our list on Laris grew, but he still wasn’t doing anything. I wondered what it meant.

  “Hey, Kragar.”

  “Yeah?”

  “How many Dzur does it take to sharpen a sword?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Four. One to sharpen it, three to put up enough of a fight to make it worthwhile.”

  “Oh. Is there some point to that?”

  “I think so. I think it has something to do with needing to have opposition in order to act.”

  “Hmmmm. Is this leading somewhere, or are you just being obscure?”

  “I’m going to take a walk. Who’s protecting me today?”

  “A walk? Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Of course not. Who’s on duty?”

  “Wym, Miraf’n, Varg, and Glowbug. What do you mean, a walk?”

  “I’m going to visit my businesses. Word will get around that I did so, and that I’m not worried about either Laris or the Empire, customers will relax, and business will pick up. True or not true?”

  “You’re going to show that you aren’t worried by walking around with four bodyguards?”

  “True or not true?”

  He sighed. “True, I guess.”

  “Call them in.”

  He did so.

  “Stay here,” I told him, “and keep things running.”

  We walked out of the office, past the ruins of the front of the shop (I didn’t dare let anyone close enough to me to let them do repairs), and into the street. There were a pair of Phoenix Guards at the northwest corner of Garshos and Copper Lane. We went that way, Loiosh flying ahead, and I could feel their eyes on me. We went east on Garshos to Dayland, and I was surprised that I didn’t see any others. We went to the cleaner’s, which was set up in the basement of an inn called The Six Chreotha, which looked like it had been slowly falling to ruin for a few thousand years.

  I went in to see the cleaner. He was a cheery-looking guy named Renorr: short, dark, with the curly brown hair and flat features that claimed he had Jhegaala somewhere in his background. His eyes were clear, which proved that he hadn’t been in the business long. Cleaning stolen goods is not something one can bribe Imperial guards about, so one must be careful not to let them find out one is doing it. Fences always end up with shifty, frightened eyes.

  Renorr bowed and said, “I’m honored to meet you at last, lord.”

  I nodded.

  He gestured outside. “They seem to have left.”

  “Who? The guards?”

  “Yes. There were several near here this morning.”

  “Hmmm. Well, that’s all to the good, then. Maybe they’re reducing their forces.”

  “Yes.”

  “How’s business?”

  “Slow, lord. But picking up a bit. I’m just getting started.”

  “Okay.” I smiled at him. “Keep it going.”

  “Yes, lord.”

  We walked back out, continued to Glendon, followed it to Copper Lane, and headed back north. As we walked past the Blue Flame I stopped.

  “What is it, boss?”

  “Those guards, Loiosh. There were two of them on that corner fifteen minutes ago; now they’re gone.”

  “I don’t like this. . . .”

  Glowbug said, “Notice the guards are missing, boss? That’s a demon of a coincidence. I don’t like it.”

  “Bide,” I told him.

  “I think we should get back to the office, boss.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Remember w
hat you said about my ‘feelings’? Well, this one is strong. I think we should get back right away.”

  “Okay, you’ve talked me into it.”

  “Back to the office,” I told Glowbug. He seemed relieved. Varg made no response whatsoever. Wyrn nodded, his eyes dreamy, and his half-smile didn’t change. Miraf’n nodded his great, shaggy head.

  We went past the Blue Flame and I started to relax. We reached the corner of Garshos and Copper, and Wyrn and Miraf’n looked down both ways carefully, then nodded. We went past the corner and came into sight of my office. I heard a strange, shuffling sound behind me, a false step, and spun in time to see Varg falling to his knees, a look of shock on his face. With the corner of my eye I saw Glowbug falling.

  “Look out, boss!”

  For the briefest instant, I couldn’t believe it was really happening. I had known all along that my life was in danger, but I hadn’t really believed that I, Vlad Taltos, assassin, could be taken out as easily as any Teckla on the street. But Glowbug was down, and I saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from Varg’s back. He was still conscious, trying to crawl toward me, his mouth working silently.

  Then my reflexes took over, as I realized that I was still alive, and that Wyrn and Miraf’n would be covering me from behind. I reached for my rapier as I tried to spot the knife-thrower, and—

  “Behind you, boss!”

  I spun, and got a glimpse of Wyrn and Miraf’n backing away as a tall Dragaeran with—wait a minute. Backing away? They were. They were watching me closely as they carefully stepped backward, away from the scene. Meanwhile, a tall Dragaeran was coming at me, slowly and steadily, with a greatsword in her hands.

  I changed my mind about the rapier and drew a throwing knife with each hand. I wanted to get at least those two bastards who had sold me out. Loiosh left my shoulder, flying into the face of the assassin before me. That gave me the time I needed to take aim and—