by Steven Brust
“Ah. I see. You locate him mentally, but that doesn’t tell you where he is physically.”
Daymar nodded. “Exactly.”
“Quite vivid, Boss.”
“Hmmm?”
“The image in your mind of Daymar with his intestines spread all over the room.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you could pick up on that.”
“I usually can’t, but that one was pretty strong.”
“Yeah.”
I cleared my throat. “Daymar.”
“Hmmm?”
“Are you related to Aibynn?”
“I’m afraid I do not know him.”
I nodded. “Okay, let’s try again, and see if you can help me understand.”
“Understand what?”
I sighed. “What it means to locate someone without knowing where he is.”
“Oh.”
Daymar looked faintly befuddled. I guess that’s his other expression. After a moment he said, speaking slowly, “Well, you’re familiar with the tendency of psychic accumulation to form a spiritual gridwork, yes?”
“I assure you, in the small fishing village from which I come, it forms almost the sole topic of conversation.”
“That wasn’t funny the first time you said it, Boss.”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
“Good then,” said Daymar. “Well—”
I sat down on the bed. “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to review it for me.”
He blinked. “All right.” He folded his arms. Floating above the floor with his arms folded made him look slightly ridiculous. He said, “Each mind capable of producing a significant amount of psychic energy creates a sort of image that an adept can sense. Enough of them within the same psychic location create something not unlike a grid—”
“Hold on.”
He cocked his head. “Yes?”
“I think that term, ‘psychic location,’ is somewhere near the heart of my confusion.”
“Oh. Shall I explain?”
“No. I love being confused.”
“All right.”
I closed my eyes. “No, explain.”
“Each mind that emits energy, does so with its own characteristics.”
“Okay, I can accept that.”
“One characteristic is how strong it is. My own is, well, rather strong.”
“Uh huh.”
“Another characteristic has to do with the feel of the mind—that is how you are able to reach someone telepathically after you know him well.”
“All right.”
“Another has to do with shape, or the way your mind grasps his, which is used . . . never mind. Still another is, well, call it flavor.”
“All right, I will.”
“You can think of it as relating to not what the mind is like, but what the energy it produces is like. The energy comes in waves, and when you train yourself mentally, you are training to detect and work with those waves. You’re lost now, aren’t you?”
“Not quite. Go on.”
“Okay, when I speak of flavor, I’m talking about how much space there is between those waves. There are a large variety of possibilities for the amount of space, but it isn’t an infinite number. All right?”
“Uh . . . sort of.”
He nodded, paused, and said, “Okay, then. Imagine a building of many stories.”
“All right, I can do that.”
“Minds capable of emitting energy—that is, almost any mind—can do so on any of a number of stories. When there are enough of them on a particular story, that story can be seen by an adept.”
“All right.”
“Imagine each flavor as being its own story.”
“You’re hurting my head, Daymar.”
“Sorry.”
“Continue.”
He nodded. “A psychic location means finding the story, and where on the story a particular mind is.”
I considered. “Do you know, I think I understood some of that.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try again.”
“No, no. Go on.”
“I know, Vlad. That was a joke.”
“Oh. I didn’t think you did that.”
“I do sometimes.”
“All right. So, is there a way to go from this, uh, psychic location to a physical location?”
“Certainly.”
“How?”
He gave me a curious look. “I don’t know, Vlad. You’re the one who did it.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Not long ago. Remember, I mentally located someone? And you fixed his mental location in a crystal, so I could convert it to a physical location?”
“Oh. Right. That’s what that was?”
“I thought you knew.”
“Uh. I guess I did, in a way. But I didn’t know about the building.”
“The building?”
“With all the stories.”
“Oh.”
“All right, then. Let’s get back to this thing that happened.”
“The effort to locate Loiosh?”
“Yes. If they can’t go from, uh, the building to a physical location, then what were they doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?”
“I could take a look into Loiosh’s head.”
I nodded. “That’s sort of what I was thinking.”
“Boss . . .”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“You’ve had it done?”
“Well—”
“Okay, Boss. You owe me one.”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead, Daymar.”
Daymar frowned. “I need him to move a little away from you.”
“Boss—”
“I know. But do it anyway.”
My familiar flew over to the windowsill. Daymar nodded and glanced at him; then a look of surprise spread across his features, and he said, “That’s interesting.”
“What, you did it already? What did you find out?”
“That was it?”
“I’m not sure,” said Daymar.
“I admit that gives me a certain amount of satisfaction.”
“Hmmm?”
“Nothing. What can you tell me?”
“Someone attempted a spell I’ve never encountered before.” He sounded almost pleased.
“Can you determine what it was supposed to do?”
“Well, to find Loiosh. But I don’t understand how she intended to make the transition from ment—”
“She?”
“Yes.”
“You know the caster was female?”
He blinked. “Certainly.”
“What else can you tell me about her?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Does she like trout?”
“Yes.”
“Was that another joke?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I want to know if she is in the Left Hand of the Jhereg.”
“What’s that?”
“Okay. Then can you tell me anything about her state of mind?”
“Cold rage,” said Daymar.
“Really? You can tell that?”
He nodded.
“Cold rage,” I repeated.
“Boss, that makes it sound personal.”
“Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking.”
“Who have you offended lately?”
“Daymar, I think.”
“Daymar, if she had succeeded in locating Loiosh, could she have attacked me, through him?”
He frowned. “Maybe. I suppose that is possible. I don’t know enough about the nature of your connection to Loiosh.”
I nodded. “Okay, anything else you noticed?”
“Well, I can find her again, if you wish.”
“Um, yes. But for definitions of ‘find’ that don’t include an actual location?”
“Well, yes. Unless—”
“Unles
s what?”
“Unless you can do that thing you did before.”
“What thing?”
“When you used that Eastern magic to find someone—”
“Oh, that.”
He shrugged.
“Unfortunately, that’s impossible just now.”
“Oh. All right.”
I sighed.
“Okay, Daymar. Thank you for showing up.”
“Why?”
“Uh, why? Well, it helps me to know what—”
“No, why is it impossible?”
“Oh.”
I tapped the pendant on my chest. “As long as I wear this, I cannot perform witchcraft.”
“Oh. Is that why I can’t feel your psychic presence?”
“Yep.”
“Oh. Uh, why don’t you take it off?”
“Valid question, Daymar.”
“And?” I think “and” and “yes” must be Daymar’s favorite words; he lingers over them the way I linger over Valabar’s trout.
“If I remove it, I die.”
“Oh.”
I waited patiently for the inevitable question after he’d chewed that over. I could have gone ahead and answered it before he asked, but I guess in a sick way I was enjoying myself.
“What will kill you?”
“The Jhereg is trying to find me and kill me.”
“Oh.
“Morganti.”
“Oh.”
I nodded.
“Why?” he said.
“I annoyed them.”
He nodded. “You must remind me,” he said, “not to annoy the Jhereg.”
“I’ll have Loiosh make a note. He handles things like that.”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
“I—”
“Of course,” said Daymar, “if you want to, I can shield you while you perform the spell.”
“You can?”
“Certainly.”
“You can do what this amulet does?”
“Well no, not exactly. But I can keep your location from being known.”
“I don’t understand. What, exactly, are you talking about?”
“I mean that I can keep them from finding you if you take that thing off.”
“Finding me in the, uh, building? Or in this room?”
“Both,” he said, with more confidence than I felt.
“It also blocks sorcery; can you keep them from finding me that way?”
“Oh,” said Daymar. “No, I’m afraid there my skills fail.”
I pondered. “I suppose I can separate the two parts of the amulet, and just leave—”
“Boss—”
“Hmmm?”
“This is Daymar.”
“What’s your point?”
“Boss, what is he good at?”
“What’s your point?”
“And what will happen when you take the amulet off?”
“Oh. Good thinking, chum.”
“Daymar, I have an idea.”
“Who had the idea?”
“What’s the idea, Vlad?”
“Tell me if this will work. When I remove the amulet . . .”
I explained. He blinked. I couldn’t tell if it was the “I should have thought of that” blink, or the “I’ve never met anyone so stupid” blink.
“Well?”
“I can do that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back. “Well.”
“But what about sorcery?”
“We take our chances. Make it fast.”
He nodded. “Fast it is. Would you like to do it now?”
“Give me a moment.”
He nodded.
I leaned back and considered the various ways this could go wrong. Other than the possibility of a horrible death if Daymar had overestimated his skill, I couldn’t come up with any. And I did trust Daymar; often in spite of myself, but I did trust him.
I did trust him.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this thing.”
Daymar nodded. “Take the amulet off,” he said.
8
STEAMED GOSLINGROOT
When steaming, less is more, and this applies more to goslingroot than, perhaps, to anything else. Of course, it isn’t that easy, especially because you can never find two spears that are the same thickness, not to mention length, which means that steaming them to perfection requires, in its own way, as much feel as is required of a broiler-man.
The flavor of this root is subtle by nature, and, to be frank, not all that interesting. But it’s wonderful for absorbing butter, or for taking one of those cheese sauces that are so popular in certain kinds of Eastern cuisine. But too much of anything can turn it into mush.
Valabar’s didn’t put a cheese sauce on it;just lemon-butter and salt. And it goes without saying that they didn’t over-steam it. And its very simplicity made it a perfect accompaniment for the fish.
The whole business of finding the right vegetable, or side dish, to accompany each of the major elements of the meal is its own art, and deserves more discussion than I’m competent to give it; that is still another area where my abilities as an eater outshine my abilities as a cook.
Telnan took pleasure in this perfect contrast without being aware of it, which gave me the chance to feel superior to him. One must never pass up the opportunity to feel superior to a Dzur.
We didn’t speak for a while as, each in our own way, we relished the skills of Valabar and Sons.
I took the amulet off, and slipped it into its box. As I closed the box, I kept watching Daymar’s face, looking for—well, I’m not sure what I was looking for. What I saw was a slight furrow to his brow, and then he closed his eyes—not tightly, but the way you close your eyes when you don’t want to be distracted by what’s in front of you. It helped to be touching Lady Teldra’s hilt, though I don’t remember deciding to do so.
Daymar settled to the floor.
I was trying to decide if that should worry me, when I noticed perspiration on his forehead. Yes, I decided, this should probably worry me.
I heard his voice in my head saying, “Put it back on.”
I opened the box, removed the amulet, and slipped it over my head.
Daymar opened his eyes and exhaled long and slow.
“My,” he said.
“Not as easy as you’d thought it would be?”
“It took some effort.” He frowned. “I have a headache.”
“You have the right to one. There’s a bed here; perhaps you’d like to lie down for a while.”
“I don’t believe I can move,” he said, and lay back onto the floor.
I sat on the bed, staring at the prostrate Hawklord and trying to think of what to say. He solved the problem by saying, “Her name is Crithnak.”
“You got the mind-probe off?”
“Barely.”
“Crithnak,” I repeated. “Yes.”
“She must be very strong.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes, opened them, and sat up, moaning. “And she really hates you.”
“It is personal.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Hmmm. Any idea why?”
He nodded. “You destroyed her sister’s soul.”
“I what?”
“You killed her sister. Morganti.”
I stared at him. “Loiosh, have I been sleepwalking?”
“Nope.”
“How about sleepkilling?”
“Not so far as I know.”
“Uh, Daymar, did you get any details on that?”
“She doesn’t know how it happened.”
“But she thinks I did it?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, her sister was going after you right before she died.”
I tried to organize all the questions in my head, but there were too many. For no special reason, I started with, “Why was her sister going after me?”
&nbs
p; He frowned. “I’m not sure. It seemed to be impersonal—”
“Business?”
“I suppose. But I didn’t pick up any details.”
“Were you able to tell if she was trying to kill me?”
“Who?”
I stared at him.
“I mean,” he said. “Do you mean Crithnak, or her sister?”
“Her sister.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t able to tell. It wasn’t going through her mind that way. I can only pick up what she’s—”
“All right. I wonder—”
“Hmmm?”
“Well, yesterday, someone came after me. Appeared out of nowhere. I killed her, but it wasn’t Morganti.”
He tilted his head at me. “I don’t suppose you can make a mistake about something like that?”
“You mean, make a mistake about it being Morganti?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, not likely.”
He glanced at the hilt of Lady Teldra protruding from my belt. “You didn’t use, uh, that, then?”
“Actually, I did. But she—that is, the weapon—never came within fifty feet of the sorceress who attacked me.”
“So?”
There was a wealth of information contained in that “So?” and most of it consisted of things I didn’t want to know. “You mean, Lady Teldra could have destroyed her soul from a distance?”
“Certainly, if the right combination of circumstances existed.”
“Even if I didn’t tell her to?”
“Did you tell her not to?”
I glared at him. “Okay, what constitutes the right combination of circumstances?”
“Hmmm. Good question.”
“Thanks. I was proud of it.”
He frowned at me. “Vlad, are you angry?”
“No, I’m overwhelmed with joy and love for all humanity, but I’m working very hard to conceal it.”
“That was sarcasm, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Are you angry with me?”
I sighed. “Yes, but I shouldn’t be. I should be just angry in general. I’ll work on that. In the meantime—”
He nodded. “To answer your question as best I can, it has to do with the exact nature of the weapon, and with, well . . . I presume this sorceress cast a spell at you?”
I tasted my own fear again as I remembered standing in that alley, holding Lady Teldra and staring at the sorceress as she—
“Yes,” I said.
“Then it has to do with the nature of the spell. If it was one that opened a channel through the etherium, and there was nothing preventing reverse influx, then it would be possib—”
“You understand, Daymar, that I have no idea what you just said?”