by Steven Brust
“Who was that fellow, Vlad?”
“Hmmm?”
“That fellow who came in before and sat with us.”
“Oh. That was Mario.”
“I got his name, but who is he?”
“Mario Greymist. You never heard of him?”
He shook his head.
“He, uh . . . he’s a Jhereg.”
“I saw that. But I was polite to him. Did you notice?”
“Yes. It showed great restraint.”
Telnan smiled.
“You notice I kept my face straight, Loiosh?”
“Yeah, Boss. It showed great restraint.”
“So, why would I have heard of him?”
“The story is, he assassinated the Emperor right before the Interregnum.”
“Oh! That Mario.”He frowned. “I thought he’d been killed.”
“I guess not. Or else it didn’t take.”
He nodded.
The shamy melted on my tongue, taking with it the taste of the garlic, but not the memory.
The idea, as Vili explained it to me long ago, is to keep your mouth from lingering too long on what has just happened; to prepare your senses for what comes next.
Telnan seemed to like it. I know I did.
A good meal, you see, is all about unexpected delight: it’s one thing for food to simply “taste good,”but a real master can make it taste good in a way that surprises you. And for that to work, you have to start from a place where you can permit yourself to be surprised. And, interestingly enough, the person eating has to cooperate for that to really be successful.
I’m a decent cook. I’m an outstanding eater.
For a long time—say, three or four seconds—I forgot that I was being pursued, and just stared at Lady Teldra; even the sensations that rushed through me from having her in my hand took second place to looking at her.
A long, long time ago—about thirteen hours, more or less—I had held in my hand a long, slim Morganti knife, and with it, I had undergone, uh, certain experiences that had transformed it into what those with a flair for the over-dramatic called God-slayer and I called Lady Teldra. But it had been a long, slim Morganti dagger.
She didn’t feel any different; she still caressed my hand the way shamy caressed my tongue. But she was no longer a long knife; now she was a smaller knife, about ten inches of blade, wide, with a slight curve to her; a knife-fighter’s weapon. I’m no knife-fighter. Well, I mean, I can defend myself with one if I have to, but—
“Boss!”
Someone was standing about thirty yards in front of me. How she’d gotten there, I don’t know; there is slight shimmering in the air the instant before an individual arrives from a teleport, and a sort of aura effect for a second or two afterward. I didn’t see anything like that. Maybe I was distracted by staring at Lady Teldra. But there she was, in Jhereg gray, and she was pointing a finger at me, as if accusing me of something.
There was this knife in my hand. I couldn’t reach her from here, and if there was ever a knife that wasn’t designed to be thrown, this curving thing was it. So I spun it in my hand, which I’d learned as a trick for impressing girls back when impressing girls was the entire goal of my life. Once, twice around, much like in the old days, when I’d had a gold chain I’d called Spellbreaker, and a very familiar tingle ran up my arm, just like the old days. Two spins, then I held it out in front of me, and the sorceress crumbled and dropped to the ground.
There were wisps of smoke coming from her clothing.
My goodness.
I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but whatever it was, I felt neither the deep weariness that accompanies witchcraft, nor the momentary disorientation that often goes with casting a sorcerous spell.
“Boss, what just happened?”
“I didn’t get killed.”
“Okay, I think I understand that part.”
“Beyond that, I’m not sure. Except I’d like to get somewhere safe.”
“Good thinking, Boss. Dzur Mountain?”
“Just my thought.”
I stared at Lady Teldra, then glanced at the sheath. It had changed too; it looked just right to accommodate a curved knife with about an eleven-inch blade. I put the one into the other and resolved not to think about it just then. I removed the amulet from around my neck, put it into the box I carried at my hip, shut the box, and performed the teleport as quickly as possible without risking turning myself into little pieces of Easterner scattered all over the landscape.
It was chilly on Dzur Mountain, but once the amulet was around my neck again, I felt safe.
The door was unlocked. I let myself in and eventually made my way to the sitting room. I badly wanted something to drink, but there was no sign of Tukko. I sat down and considered what had just happened, and what I had yet to do, and all I didn’t know. In particular, all those things I didn’t know that might make the difference between living and dying.
In the midst of my pondering, Sethra came in.
I stood up. “Sorry, Sethra. I had some trouble and needed a place—”
“You know you are welcome here, Vlad.”
“Thank you. Uh . . .”
“Yes?
I cleared my throat. “Do you know how, uh, how I might be able to reach Kiera the Thief?”
She raised both eyebrows. I didn’t answer all the questions she didn’t ask.
After a moment, she gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and said, “I expect her to be by shortly.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
There was no possible way to answer that, so I didn’t. Sethra left, and I sat there being bored and restless for about half an hour. I passed the time as well as I could by recalling details of the meal at Valabar’s, at the end of which time Kiera slid into the room.
“Hello, Vlad.”
“Kiera. I appreciate you stopping in to see me.”
“It was no trouble; I was in the neighborhood. I assume you wish something stolen?”
“Actually, no. Not this time.”
“Then what’s on your mind?”
“The Left Hand of the Jhereg.”
“Oh? You thinking of joining?”
“Not this week. But I think one of them just tried to send me to that place from which none return except for those who do.”
“Hmmm. You’ve annoyed someone.”
“I’ve annoyed just about everyone in the Jhereg. That is, our side. Would the Left Hand care?”
She frowned. “Now that, Vlad, is a splendid question.”
“Hey, thanks. Now I feel all smart.”
“I don’t know as much about the relationship between the two organizations as you might think I do.”
“You know more than I do; that’s good for a start. For example, you just spoke of two organizations; they really are entirely separate?”
She nodded.
I said, “What about the Imperial Representative?”
“Officially, he represents the House, not any organization.”
“And unofficially?”
“I’m not sure. He may represent both sides, or the Left Hand may have another representative in the Palace that I don’t know about.”
“If he represents both sides, that would explain why the Left Hand just tried to kill me. The—”
“You’re sure it was them?”
“Female, Jhereg colors, sorcerous attack.”
“That’s pretty conclusive, yes.”
“So either they want me for the same reason the Jhereg wants me, someone in the Jhereg hired them, or they already know what I’m up to, which is awfully fast work.”
“What you’re up to?”
“Uh . . . yeah. I may be bumping heads with them over South Adrilankha.”
“Ah. I see. When did this come up?”
“A few hours ago. I got a, uh, request.”
“And you’ve already been attacked? By a sorceress?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, a spell of some kind.” I shrugged. “Lady Teldra handled it.”
She frowned. “Lady Teldra? But I heard she—”
I tapped the weapon. I kept expecting Kiera to know things she couldn’t, even though she did.
She nodded. “Ah. Yes, that’s right. I heard something about that.”
“In any case, I find that I need to know more about the Left Hand than I do. One way or another, I seem to be involved with them.”
She nodded. “I wish I could tell you more.” She frowned. “Well, as you said, the attack on you may have simply been hired, by the Council. You know the Left Hand does that.”
“Yes, I know. It’s possible. Only the Council wants it Morganti.”
She shuddered. “Yes, that’s true. And, so far as I know, there’s no way to achieve that effect with sorcery.”
“I’m sure some Athyra somewhere is working on it.”
“No doubt. But in the meantime, we’ll assume it wasn’t at the order of the Council.”
I liked it that she’d said “we.” That was first hopeful thing I’d heard in some time. A lovely word, “we.”
Tukku finally showed up, and set something recently dead on a table in the corner. My familiars flew over and began eating. I hadn’t mentioned anything about them being hungry to either Sethra or Kiera, and I hadn’t seen Tukko. Sometimes I wonder about these people.
Then he asked us if we wanted anything. “No, thank you, Chaz,” said Kiera. I asked for wine. He shuffled off.
“The Left Hand,” she said softly, almost under her breath. “I’ve tried to stay away from them, you know.”
“Me, too,” I muttered.
“They began recently, as I understand it. That is, recently in terms of Imperial history. Perhaps in the Fourteenth Athyra Reign, when sorcery took such large leaps, and when the Jhereg—the Right Hand, if you would—was relatively impoverished.”
I nodded, and listened.
“Five women, sorceresses, started it. The odd thing is, they were not women associated with the Organization before, as far as I know.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes. Why women? I don’t really know. I’m inclined to think it was more than coincidence, but I’ve never heard a good explanation for what else it could be.”
Tukko showed up, set a glass of wine down next to me, and left.
“Moreover,” she continued, “they were not Jhereg. I mean, not only were they not in the Organization, they weren’t even in the House.”
“Eh?”
“I believe two were Athyra, two were Dragons, one a Dzur.”
“But—”
“All thrown out of their Houses, of course, once their activities were discovered.”
“And, what, they bought Jhereg titles?”
She nodded. “They’d been working together, studying, and so on, and their work led them into illegal areas. Pre-Empire sorcery, and a few other things the Empire isn’t fond of.”
“And they weren’t arrested?”
“They were. And tried. That’s mostly how I know about it, it was a very famous trial.”
“Well?”
She shrugged. “The Empire was unable to prove their guilt, they were unable to prove their innocence. So they were all expelled from their respective Houses, and were given various punishments from branding to flogging. Of course, without proof of guilt, they could not be put to death.”
“Right. And so, they just went back to work?”
“One of the Athyra, the leader, I believe, suggested they join House Jhereg, and tried to interest the higher-ups in the idea that there was money to be made in illegal sorcery. Those who ran the Jhereg weren’t interested, but she kept trying until she died. Then—”
“Died? How, exactly?”
“Indigestion.”
“Uh huh. Arranged by whom?”
“No one. It really was just indigestion.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. Chronic indigestion, of all the deaths there are, and no other.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. And, after she died—”
“Let me guess: The remaining four gave up on joining the Jhereg, and just set up on their own. I see.”
She nodded. “Exactly right. And they’ve been around ever since.”
“What a charming story.”
“They have their own structure, about which I know nothing. And their own enforcement arm, about which I know little. And, really, they have almost nothing in common with our side.”
“Except that they’ve taken over South Adrilankha.”
“Yes. Which makes no sense to me. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“Well, what is the gossip about it in the Jhereg? I mean, in the Right Hand.”
“No one has ever heard of anything like it. Everyone is upset, and no one is too certain what to do about it, if anything.”
I nodded. “If anything. Okay, seems like I’ve landed in the middle of something interesting, doesn’t it?”
“As usual.”
“As usual.”
“Is there talk of war?”
“War? You mean, between the Left Hand and the Right Hand? No, there’s no talk; everyone is too scared of it happening to talk about it.”
I sipped my wine. I don’t recall what it tasted like.
“So, I need to find out what they’re after in South Adrilankha. And I need to do it without any way to get inside information on them, and while both sides of the Jhereg want me dead. Is that pretty much it?”
“Sounds like it, yes.”
I drank some more wine. “No problem.”
“Would you like some help?”
“Thanks, Kiera, but this is likely to be . . . no thanks.”
She nodded. “So, what’s your plan?”
“Plan. Yes. Good idea. I should come up with a plan.”
“How about the one where you stumble around until something happens, Boss? And then you almost get killed, and have to be rescued by—”
“How about the one where you shut up and let me think.”
He could have made a number of responses to that, I suppose, but he just let it lie.
“So, Kiera, if you needed to find out what was going on in the Left Hand, how would you go about it?”
She frowned. “I have no idea.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“What are you thinking, Vlad?”
“Thinking? I’m trying to figure out what to do.”
“I’m just wondering if . . . ?”
“Yes?
“If you’re going to do something foolish.”
“Me?”
“Uh huh.”
“What I’m going to do, is try to learn something about what I’m up against. Once I know, I’ll be able to figure out if there is a sensible way to go about doing what I have to do.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“I assume the question is rhetorical.”
She sighed and stood up. I stood as well, and sketched her a sort of bow.
“Thanks for taking the time, Kiera.”
She smiled—a distinctly Kiera smile, that didn’t look like anyone else’s. “You’re most welcome, Vlad. Be careful.”
“Yes. I’ll try.”
She drifted out. I sat down and realized that I’d finished my wine. There was no sign of Tukko. I cursed.
“Yeah, Boss. It’s rough when you have a city full of sorceresses trying to kill you, and you have no idea what they want or what they can do but you have to stop it, and there’s no one around to bring you more wine.”
“Exactly.”
By the time Tukko showed up again, I hadn’t solved the other problems, but shortly thereafter I had more wine. This didn’t cheer me up as much as it might have.
Presently Sethra returned. “Did you see your friend?”
“Yes, I did.�
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“And was she helpful?”
“Somewhat.”
She nodded.
“Tell me something, Sethra. Does Iceflame ever, uh, change?”
“In what sense?”
“In any sense.”
“Certainly. My weapon—” she touched the blue hilt at her waist—“is very sensitive on certain levels, and will respond to a number of different . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I believe you lack the vocabulary.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I do.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Earlier, when I was attacked, I drew Lady Teldra, and she was different.”
Sethra frowned. “Different how?”
“Size. Shape. Weight. She was a small curved knife.”
“Now that is interesting,” said Sethra.
“I thought so, too.”
“Judging by the shape of the sheath, she isn’t anymore.”
“No, at some point she changed back. I didn’t notice either change. The sheath changed as well.”
“The sheath changed?”
“Yes, to fit the new shape of the weapon.”
“Where did you get the sheath?”
“The Jenoine gave me the knife in the sheath.”
She considered. “The most obvious explanation . . . would you mind removing your amulet for a moment?”
“Uh, sure.” I did so. “What are you doing?”
What she was doing was making small, subtle gestures in my direction. Then she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “So far as I can tell, you’ve had no illusion cast on you.”
“Well, that’s good.” I replaced the amulet.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Vlad.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing, as a piece of advice.”
“Oh?”
“Keep that amulet on.”
“Uh, I do.”
“During those few seconds you just had it off, someone attempted a sighting.”
“Oh, good. Did it succeed?”