The Book of Jhereg

by Steven Brust

  She was sitting up, a blue nightgown showing her pale skin in the dim light of a single set of candles. Her hair was dark brown, almost black. Her eyes were darker yet, a vibrant contrast with the shade of her skin. The nightgown was intended to be modest, but it was also intended for a Dragaeran, so it fell rather low on her. She showed no embarrassment.

  Her eyes traveled from the dagger to my face. We studied each other for a time; then I forced my hand to relax, and release its grip on the weapon.

  Dammit! I was the one who was armed, she was the one who was helpless. There was no reason for me to be afraid of her. I managed to speak.

  “Have you a name?” My voice sounded dry, almost cracked.

  “Yes,” she said, in a soft contralto.

  I waited for her to continue. When she showed no signs of doing so, I said, “Will you tell me what it is?”

  “No.”

  I nodded. The Dagger of the Jhereg wished to be called the Dagger of the Jhereg. So be it.

  “How did your partner evade Loiosh?” I asked.

  “She didn’t. I gave her some herbs so she wouldn’t be affected by the poison, and she just ignored him.”

  I waited for Loiosh to make some remark about that; when he didn’t, I said, “How much was my head worth to you?”

  “You’d be flattered.”

  She continued looking at me. The candles flickered and did things to her hair, and face, and neck, and the shadows of her breasts against the back wall. I swallowed.

  Then she said, “We’ve returned the payment.”

  I felt a sense of relief, as if the Imperial Executioner had been handed a stay just as he raised his staff. I felt it show on my face and cursed my weakness.

  Her eyes came to rest on Loiosh, then she held out her hand. He hesitated and twitched nervously on my shoulders.

  “Boss . . .”

  “Up to you, chum.”

  He flew over to her and wrapped his talons around her wrist. She scratched under his chin, going with the scales.

  “The jhereg is beautiful,” she said.

  “His name is Loiosh.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, of course. You must have found out quite a bit about me.”

  “Not enough, apparently. How did Morrolan and Aliera find out, by the way?”

  “Sorry.”

  She nodded. “You . . . have a talent for making people underestimate you.”

  “Thank you very much.” I walked into the room and let the door swing shut behind me. With a careful effort to appear casual, I sat at the edge of the bed. “So, what now?”

  She shrugged, which was worth coming in just to see. “I don’t know. Morrolan and Aliera tried to mind-probe me before. It didn’t work, so I don’t know what they’ll try next. Do you?”

  I was startled. “What were they trying to find out?”

  “Who hired us.”

  I laughed. “They could have just asked me. Don’t worry. They aren’t bad types, for Dragonlords.”

  She smiled back at me, ironically. “And you’ll protect me, right?”

  “Sure. Why not? You’ve given the money back, even though you didn’t have to, which is proof that you aren’t coming after me again. And we Easterners ought to stick together, don’t you think?”

  She caught the point of that, and dropped her eyes. “I’ve never ‘worked’ on a human before, Vlad. I almost didn’t take it, but . . .” She shrugged again. I wondered how I could make her keep doing that.

  “I’m glad Aliera is good at revivification,” I said.

  “I suppose so.”

  “For both our sakes,” I added, because I meant it. She looked at me carefully. There was a moment when time did strange things. If I had thrown my stones right, I could have kissed her then. So I did. Loiosh flew off her arm as our lips met, lightly. It was hardly an intense kiss, but I discovered that I’d closed my eyes. Odd.

  She continued looking at me, as if she could read something in my face. Then she said, very deliberately, “My name is Cawti.”

  I nodded, and our mouths met again. Her arms went around my neck. When we came up for air, I reached up and slid the nightgown over her shoulders and down to her hips. She pulled her arms free and began working at the clasp of my cloak. I decided that this was insane. She would never have a better chance of getting one of my daggers and finishing me. Verra! I thought to myself, I think I’ve lost it.

  My cloak dropped to the floor, and she helped me take off my jerkin. I paused to remove my boots and stockings, then we fell back together, and the sensation of her small, strong body against mine, her breasts against my chest and her breathing in my ear, my hand on the small of her back, her hand behind my neck—I’d never felt anything like it before, and I wanted to just stay like that, forever, and not take it any further.

  My body, however, had its own set of rules, and let me know of them. I began stroking her lower spine. She pulled my head away and kissed me; this time we both meant business. I tasted her tongue, and that was nice too. I heard myself making small moaning sounds as my lips traveled down to her throat, then to the valley between her breasts. I kissed each one, carefully, and went back to her lips. She started fumbling for the catch to my breeches, but I interfered by finding her buttocks with my right hand and crushing her to me again.

  We drew back and looked at each other once more. Then we paused long enough to send Loiosh out of the room, because love, like murder, shouldn’t have witnesses.

  8

  “I’ll stay here and clean up the blood.”

  IT IS SAD BUT true that there are a strictly limited number of times when waking up with the thought, “Hey, I’m alive!” is really astonishing. I hadn’t quite hit the limit yet, so I had the obligatory reaction, followed by, “Dear Verra, I hurt.”

  My side, where the broadsword had taken me, felt hot and feverish, and the area around my kidney, where my lover had put her dagger into me, itched, burned, and ached. I moaned. Then I became aware of the sound of voices, outside the room and perhaps a bit down the hall.

  My arm was around Cawti’s shoulder, her head on my chest. I enjoyed the sensation, but I was curious about the voices. Moving as carefully as I could, I succeeded in not waking her up. I dressed carefully, making sure nothing clinked.

  Meanwhile, the voices had been growing gradually louder. As soon as I felt dangerous again I opened the door, and identified Aliera’s voice, although I still couldn’t distinguish the words. The dark stone walls of the hallway greeted me; the air was cold and dank, the hallway high and wide. I thought back to my first visit to Dzur Mountain and shuddered. I turned toward the voices. I identified the other voice as Morrolan’s. As I approached, he was speaking.

  “. . . you say may be true, but that hardly makes it any of our affair.”

  “Any of our affair? Whose is it then? I—there! You see? You’ve woken up one of my patients.”

  “It is just as well,” countered Morrolan, nodding to me. “You have exhausted all of my patience.”

  I was in a long room, dimly lit and filled with books. There were several chairs nearby, all done in black leather, but they were empty. Morrolan and Aliera stood facing each other. Morrolan’s arms were crossed on his chest; Aliera’s hands were on her hips. As she turned to me, I saw that her eyes, normally green, had turned blue. This is as much of a danger sign as the stiffening of a dragon’s neck tentacles. I found a chair and sat down, to ease the pain a bit. This looked like it was going to be a good one.

  Aliera snorted at his comment and turned back. “Ha! It’s your own fault if you can’t see the obvious. What’s the matter, isn’t it subtle enough for you?”

  “If there was anything to see,” he parried, “I would doubtless have seen it long before you.”

  Aliera pressed the attack. “If you had the sense of honor of a teckla, you’d see it as clearly as I do.”

  “And had you the eyesight of a teckla, you would be able to see what does and does not concern
us.”

  This forced Aliera into a parry. “How could it not concern us? A dragon is a Dragon is a Dragon. Only this one happens to be a Jhereg. I want to find out why, and so should you.”

  Morrolan gestured toward me with his head. “Have you met Vlad’s assistant, Kragar? He’s as much of a Dragon—”

  She snorted again. “That snake? He was thrown out of the House, as you well know.”

  “Perhaps so was—”

  “If so,” she stopthrust, “we’ll find out, and then why.”

  “Why don’t you simply ask her?”

  “She’d never tell me, you know that. She won’t even admit that she is a Dragon, much less—”

  Morrolan snorted and tried a fancy maneuver, saying, “You know quite well that your only interest in this is to find someone else to be heir.”

  “So what? What have my motives to do with—”

  “Aliera!” said Morrolan suddenly. “Perhaps we should ask Sethra.”

  She stopped and cocked her head to the side. “Ye-e-ess. An excellent idea. Why don’t we? Perhaps she can talk some sense into your head.”

  He sidestepped that. “Let’s go see her, then.” He turned to me. “We’ll be back shortly.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay here and clean up the blood.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  They vanished. I stood up painfully and made my way back to the Dag—to Cawti’s room. Cawti. I let the name roll around in my head. CAW-ti. Cawwww-tiii. Cawti. A good, Eastern name. I started to open the door, stopped, and clapped softly.

  “Who is it?” came from inside.

  “Your victim,” I said.

  “Which one?”

  “Funny, funny.”

  “Come in,” she said. “At your own risk.”

  I slipped inside. “Good morning.”

  “Mmmmmm.”

  “It occurs to me that you didn’t kill me last night.”

  “Oh, but I did,” she said. “Six times. But I lost count and revivified you seven times.”

  I sat down on the bed next to her. She still hadn’t dressed. I ignored the dryness in my mouth. “Oh. I must have forgotten.”

  “You could have killed me, too, you know.” Her voice was suddenly serious.

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “But you knew I wouldn’t. I had no such knowledge of you.”

  “I’ll take your word for that.” She laughed lightly. I put her laugh, with her shrug, on the list of things I wanted to make her do more often. The candle sputtered, so I rummaged around until I found a few more, and lit them all with the remaining stub. I returned to the bed and tapped her side lightly. She moved closer to the wall and I lay down. She rested her head on my arm.

  There were a few pleasant minutes of silence, then I said, “I overheard an interesting conversation just now.”

  “Oh?”

  “Concerning your partner.”

  She tensed. “What about her?”

  I described the conversation. She pulled away from me, leaning on her arm to watch me as I spoke. Her brows were drawn together as she listened. She looked very beautiful that way, too.

  I finished the tale, and said, “Is she a Dragonlord?”

  Cawti shook her head. “That isn’t my secret to tell.”

  “Okay. You look worried.”

  She smiled a little and put her head back on my chest. “For an assassin, you’re quite sensitive, Lord Taltos.”

  “In the first place, I’m not an assassin—you’ve been listening to too many rumors about me. In the second, the same goes for you, doubled. And in the third, isn’t ‘Lord Taltos’ a bit out of place, all things considered?”

  She chuckled. “As you wish, Vlad. Vladimir.” She repeated it, slowly. “Vladimir. VLA-di-meer. Vlaaaadimeer. Vladimir. I like it. A good Eastern name.”

  “Shit,” I said. “Help me off with this damned jerkin, will you? And careful not to stab yourself. . . .”

  * * *

  Some time later, while engaged in serious snuggling, I said, “Morrolan and Aliera are liable to check up on your partner, you know.”

  “Mmmmm. They won’t find anything.”

  “Don’t be too sure, Cawti. They’ve surprised me before.”

  She tsked. “Shouldn’t let yourself be surprised, Vladimir.”

  I snorted, and withheld a few remarks. “I’m serious. They’re bound to find out something. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but you ought to think about it. Have you been in touch with her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then warn her—”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Huh? I don’t know. Jhereg are Jhereg, I guess. You aren’t a threat to me anymore, and I don’t see why they should be meddling. Or Aliera, rather. Morrolan doesn’t see why, either.”

  “Mmmmmm.”

  I shrugged, causing her head to bounce on my chest. She giggled, which amazed and delighted me no end. Have you ever met an assassin who giggled? The absurdity of the whole situation was—

  I decided that I had to get out of there. I sat up, dislodging her. “I’m going to check on our hosts and see what they’re doing now.”

  “Like hell you are, my love. What’s really bothering you?”

  “What did you call me?”

  She sat up too, the bedclothes falling to her waist. She glared. “Don’t start getting mushy with me, you murdering Easterner.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “A murdering Easterner.”

  “Yes, dear, and so are you. I meant before that.”

  “Vladimir . . .”

  “Oh, Deathsgate. I’m getting out of here.” I dressed quickly and stepped into the hall, using all of my willpower to avoid looking back at her. I returned to my room, favoring my injured side, and collapsed on the bed. Loiosh gave me a good chewing out (literally) for deserting him, after which I got in touch with Kragar.

  “What’s new?” I asked him.

  “I have some information about the Phoenix Guards—they weren’t just withdrawn in the area around where the job was done, they were taken out of the whole area. They’re gone.”

  “Great. Well, I’m pleased they aren’t around, but I wonder what it means. Any ideas?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I want you to try to find out something for me.”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Everything you can on the Sword of Jhereg.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Do you think it’s likely to be?”

  “Fine. I’ll get back to you in a hundred years or so. Vlad, how am I—”

  “She was once a Dragonlord; that should help. She was probably expelled.”

  “Wonderful. Should I try to bribe a Lyorn or a Dragon?”

  “The Lyorn would be safer, but the Dragon is more likely to help.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I know. I wasn’t.”

  He sighed telepathically. “I’ll see what I can do. Would you mind telling me what we’re doing this for?”

  That was a tricky one. I didn’t feel like telling him that his boss had become infatuated with his own executioner.

  “Oh,” I told him. “I’m sure you can figure it out if you really work at it.”

  Silence, then: “You want to find out if there was anything shady in her expulsion, so you can clear her and have her owe you a favor, and then turn her back on Laris. Right? Not bad.”

  Hmmmm. Not bad at all. “Clever,” I told him. It was clever. I’d have to give him a bonus, if it worked out. “Now, get on it.” I broke the contact. I stretched out on the bed. After all of this, I really did need to sleep. I also needed to get my emotions under control.

  * * *

  The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my side and back didn’t hurt so much. Also, I actually felt refreshed. I lay there for a few minutes, just breathing and enjoying it, then forced myself to get up. In addition to feeling refreshed, I also felt filthy
from sleeping in my clothes. I stripped and found a tub of water in the corner, did a quick spell to heat it, and washed. As I did this, I managed to put Cawti out of my mind, at least for a little while, and concentrate on my real problem—Laris.

  The idea Kragar had had wasn’t bad at all, but it depended on too many things that were outside of my control. Still, it was worth checking into. Also worth checking into was the question of why the Phoenix Guards had chosen that moment to leave. How could he have arranged that? Where had the orders come from?

  I snapped my fingers, getting soapy water in my eye. That question, at least, I could get answered. I concentrated on a certain Tsalmoth, who worked for Morrolan and reported directly to me. . . .

  “Who is it?” said Fentor.

  “Vlad.”

  “Oh! Yes, milord?”

  “We need some information. . . .” I explained what I was after, and he agreed to check into it. I broke the contact and chatted with Loiosh while I finished up my bath. I looked disgustedly at my filthy clothes, shrugged, and started to put them on again.

  “Check the dressing table, boss.”

  “Eh?”

  But I did, then smiled. Aliera had been thorough. I donned the change of clothes happily, then stepped out into the hall with Loiosh riding on my right shoulder. It seemed as if I were beginning to get things done. Good. I wandered down to the library, found it empty, and took the stairs up to where the dining room and various sitting rooms were.

  The next thing, I decided, was to see if I could get more information from whoever it was that had tipped Kragar off about the assassination. The fact that we’d actually learned something from him was a very good sign. My biggest problem was still lack of information, and this could mean we were starting to solve it. I thought about getting in touch with Kragar again to ask him to work on that more, but decided against it. As they say: if you have someone stand for you, don’t jog his sword-arm while he does.

  I found Morrolan and Aliera in the first sitting room I came to, along with Sethra. Sethra Lavode: tall, pale, undead, and faintly vampiric. I’d heard her age placed at anything from ten to twenty thousand years, which is a significant portion of the age of the Empire itself. She dressed in and surrounded herself with black, the color of sorcery. She lived in Dzur Mountain; maybe she was Dzur Mountain, for there are no records of a time when she, or someone of her family, didn’t live there. Dzur Mountain was its own mystery, and not subject to being understood by one such as me. The same may be said of Sethra.