[Vlad Taltos 06] Athyra

by Steven Brust

  “Yes,” said Vlad. “Come and take it.” But his strength wasn’t the equal of his words; even as he spoke, his knees seemed to buckle and he stumbled forward. His Lordship took a step toward him and lifted his hands.

  Without thinking about it, Savn ripped the top off the lantern and splashed the burning kerosene against the wall behind him. The room became very bright for a moment, then was plunged into total darkness.

  Polyi screeched. Savn pulled her away, thinking that no matter what happened, they ought to be somewhere other than where they’d been standing when he put out the light. He took a few steps, found that he was standing in running water, and decided that was just as well with kerosene splashed everywhere. “Are you all right?” he asked in a whisper that sounded much too loud.

  “You burned me,” she whispered back.

  “Sorry.”

  Why didn’t someone make a light? Whole seconds had passed since he’d plunged the room into darkness; you’d think someone would want to see what was going on. And no one was moving, either.

  Well, that might not be true; Vlad might still be able to move silently, and the Jhereg almost certainly could. And His Lordship was a sorcerer; for all Savn knew, there was a spell that would allow him to move silently. So maybe they were all moving all over the place, with Savn and Polyi the only ones fooled.

  He thought about screaming, but was afraid it would upset his sister.

  He heard a very faint whsk whsk that had to be the sound of jhereg wings. Shortly thereafter there was a very, very bright flash, but it showed him nothing; it only hurt his eyes and left blue spots in them. Polyi clung to him tightly; she was trembling, or he was, or maybe they both were—he couldn’t tell.

  He heard the flapping again, this time closer—he flinched even though he knew what it was. There was more movement, and another flash. This one wasn’t as bright and lasted longer; he caught a quick glimpse of the Jhereg, crouched over holding the dagger out in front of him, and Vlad, on his feet once more, leaning against a wall, his sword in one hand, the gold chain swinging steadily in the other.

  The flapping came again, even closer, and it seemed the jhereg hovered for a moment next to Savn’s ear. He held his breath, half expecting what would come next, and it did—there was a touch on his shoulder, and then a gentle weight settled there. Savn, who had been standing motionless, froze—a difference hard to define but impossible to miss. Water soaked through his boots, but he was afraid to move.

  “Savn? What happened?”

  “Hush, Polyi.”

  Why had it landed on his shoulder? There must be a reason. Did it want him to do something? What? What could he do? He could panic—in fact, it was hard not to. What else could he do? He could get himself and Polyi out of there, if he had a light. Was the jhereg trying to tell him something?

  He felt its head against his neck; then suddenly it jumped down to his right hand, which still held the empty lantern. He almost dropped it, but held on, and the jhereg hopped back up to his shoulder.

  How had Vlad known to escape the searchers by entering the manor house through the cave? Was it desperation and lack of any other way, or had he, Savn, actually managed to get through to Vlad? If he had, then ...

  He tried to recapture the feeling he’d had before, of emptiness, of reaching out. He discovered that standing frozen in place with unknown but murderous actions going on all around was not conducive to the frame of mind he associated with witchcraft.

  He had just reached this conclusion when Vlad began speaking. “I have to thank you for the loan of your device, Loraan. It’s proven useful over the years. Have you missed it?”

  “Don’t speak,” said the Jhereg. “He’s trying to distract you. Ignore him.”

  “He’s right,” said Vlad. “Ignore me. But, just for something to think about, consider that your partner has a Morganti weapon, one of the few things that can destroy you, and consider that he’s an assassin, and that assassins are very uncomfortable leaving witnesses alive. Any witnesses. Think about it. How have you two been getting along, by the way? Just curious—you don’t have to answer.”

  Savn heard a chuckle from the vicinity of the Jhereg. “Give it up, Taltos. We have a deal.”

  “I’m certain he knows what a deal with you is worth.”

  “What’s your game, Taltos?”

  “Use your imagination, assassin.”

  Polyi whispered, “Savn, when he said witnesses, could that mean us?”

  Savn swallowed. He hadn’t thought of that.

  If he had light, he’d be able to sneak out through the manor house, or maybe even the caves. Putting out the light, it seemed, hadn’t helped anyone.

  The jhereg bumped Savn’s neck with its head again, and, once more, landed on the hand that held the lantern. It stayed there for a moment, flapping its wings for balance, then returned to Savn’s shoulder.

  It was, without doubt, trying to tell him something—something about the lantern, maybe. That he should light it? If so, it was too late, the oil was gone, although perhaps that was too complex an idea for a jhereg.

  He started to say, “Are you trying to tell me something?” but stopped himself, realizing that it could be very dangerous to speak aloud. The jhereg bumped his neck again, as if in answer to his unspoken question.

  He formed the sentence, “Was that an answer?” but didn’t speak it.

  Bump. At the same time, he imagined he heard a very tiny voice, located somewhere inside the very base of his head, voicelessly saying, “Yes, idiot.”

  “Who are you?” he thought back.

  “Vlad, idiot,” it told him.

  “How can we be talking like this?”

  “I’ve removed the amulet, and that’s really what’s important right now, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry. What should I do?”

  “Take your sister and get out of here. Loiosh will guide you.”

  “Damn it!”

  “What?”

  “Loiosh says he won’t guide you. I’ll—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Vlad. I want to help you.”

  “You’ve already helped me. From here on out—” There was another bright flash of light. This time, Savn got a glimpse of His Lordship, both hands stretched out in front of him, just a few feet from the Jhereg.

  “Almost got me, that time,” said Vlad. “Look, I can’t hold them off much longer, and I’m finished anyway. Take your sister and—”

  “What’s going on?”

  “About as much sorcery as I’ve seen in one place at one time. They’ve got some sort of spell that keeps the jhereg from getting to them, and Loraan keeps shooting things at me. The assassin is trying to maneuver into a position—the idiot thinks I’m faking or he’d just move and be done with it—and Loraan’s personal cut-throat is going to be here any minute.

  B He tr re scuffling, then Vlad said, “That was

  Then he spoke aloud, “Careful, Loraan. You’re getting too near our assassin friend. He’s quick.”

  “Shut up,” growled His Lordship.

  “Oh, you’re safe until he’s gotten me, I’m sure. But you’d better think about what happens after that. Or have you? Maybe I’ve got it backwards. Maybe you’re already planning to do him. I’m sorry I won’t be around to watch it.”

  “It’s not working, Easterner,” said His Lordship. “Ishtvan, he’s getting desperate. Maybe he really is hurt. Why don’t you just finish him? I’ve got all the protections up; I don’t think he can do anything about it.”

  “Yes,” said Vlad. “Why don’t you, Ishtvan? Finish me, then he’ll finish you. Why don’t you ask him to finish me? Afraid you will lose the wages, my lord? Of course not, because you’ve already been paid, and you know very well you’re going to have to kill him any—”

  There was still another flash, and Savn saw His Lordship, hands now raised high above his head. At the same time, Vlad gasped.

  “Vlad, are you all right?”

  “Barely.”


  “Isn’t there something you can do?”

  “I don’t carry poison darts anymore, and I don’t have the strength to throw a knife. You have any ideas?”

  Another flash of light illuminated the scene. The assassin had moved around to Vlad’s right, but was still keeping his distance. Vlad had moved a foot or so to his left, and was still swinging the gold chain. Loiosh gripped Savn’s shoulder, and occasionally squeezed with his talons. Savn wished he knew what Loiosh was trying to tell him. It would almost be funny if some brilliant idea for escaping were locked up in that reptilian brain but the poor thing couldn’t communicate it. But of course that couldn’t be the case, or Loiosh would have told Vlad. Unless, perhaps, it was something Vlad wouldn’t approve of. But what wouldn’t Vlad approve of if it would get him out of this?

  Well, Vlad apparently wouldn’t approve of Savn doing anything risky, whereas Loiosh probably wouldn’t care. But what could he, Savn, do, anyway? He could hardly attack an assassin, barehanded, in the dark. And to do anything to His Lordship was both impossible and unthinkable.

  You’re so convinced that your Baron Smallcliff is invincible and perfect that you'd stand there and let him kill you rather than raising a finger to defend yourself.

  Vlad had been right about that, just as he’d been right about the assassin, and the Morganti weapon, and even about His Lordship being ...

  He could imagine the jhereg saying, “You’ve finally figured it out, fool.” Because he had figured it out, only now he didn’t know if he had the courage to do anything about it.

  You’re so convinced that your Baron Smallcliff is invincible and perfect that you’d stand there and let him kill you rather than raising a finger to defend yourself.

  It had rankled because it was true, and now, when he thought he knew what he could do about it, it rankled even more.

  “Savn, don’t,” said Vlad. “Just get out of here.” Savn ignored him. He knelt down into the slowly flowing water and filled up the lamp. “Savn!”

  His sister whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “Wait,” he whispered back. “Don’t move.” He stood up, and as best he could, walked quickly and firmly toward where he had last seen His Lordship, holding before him the lamp filled with Dark Water, stagnant and contained. When stagnant and contained, it can be used to weaken and repel the undead....

  His Lordship’s voice came from directly in front of him. “What are—Ishtvan! Kill this Teckla brat for me.” Savn felt his hand shaking, but he continued walking forward.

  The Jhereg answered, “I can’t see anymore.”

  “Then make a light. Hurry! I can’t do anything while—”

  “The Easterner—”

  His Lordship made an obscene suggestion concerning the Easterner, which Savn noticed indifferently as he continued to walk forward. He hardly blinked when a soft light filled the room, and, oddly enough, it hardly mattered that he could now see His Lordship, about five feet away, walking slowly backward, and glaring.

  Savn wondered, in a familiar, detached way, how he could survive an attack by a Jhereg assassin. But the attack didn’t come, because at that instant, Loiosh left Savn’s shoulder.

  Savn couldn’t help it—he turned and watched as Loiosh and his mate simultaneously attacked. Evidently, His Lordship’s spells that had kept them away were now gone. Ishtvan snarled and cut at the jhereg with the Morganti dagger. He turned, and apparently realized, at the same time as Savn did, that he was offering his back to Vlad, and that he was within range of the Easterner’s sword.

  He tried to spin back, but it was already too late. It made Savn wince to see Vlad, in his condition, execute a maneuver so demanding, but the Easterner managed it—the point of his sword penetrated deeply into the assassin’s back right over his heart. At the same time, Polyi was shrieking—“Savn!” and Vlad continued forward, falling limply onto his face as the assassin screamed and the Morganti dagger went flying into the air—

  —and the lamp was struck from Savn’s hand to land and shatter on the floor. He turned in time to see His Lordship recovering from delivering a kick that must have been very difficult for him, judging by the look of concentration and effort on his face, and Savn felt an impossible combination of pride and shame in having caused His Lordship such distress. He wondered what His Lordship would do now, but—

  —he didn’t know, because the assassin’s light-spell faded, and the room was suddenly pitched into darkness. It seemed that proximity to the Dark Water had taken His Lordship’s magical powers, but hadn’t actually hurt him—he could still kick. Which meant he might also be able to simply grab Savn and throttle him. Savn started to back away, but he was struck a blow that knocked him onto his back and caused him to crack his head sharply on the floor.

  He decided he was glad he hadn’t hit his head harder, when he realized that he had hit his head harder, that he was sick and dizzy and was almost certainly about to die, and, worst of all, he wasn’t certain that he didn’t deserve to.

  It came to him that he had once again achieved the state of witchcraft, this time by the accident of bumping his head. He didn’t have anything to do, but it was much more pleasant here, flying over walls, and cavorting in the air like a disembodied jhereg. There were terrible things happening to his body, and he had done terrible things himself, but they didn’t matter anymore. He could—

  There, before him, was His Lordship, grinning a terrible grin, his hand looming large, ready to smash him down as Savn would swat an insect.

  I am not an insect, cried Savn in a voice no one could hear as, in helpless rage, he flew right into His Lordship’s face, defying him, and waiting for his consciousness to end, for the sleep from which there is no waking.

  He felt something break, but it didn’t seem to matter, even though it was himself. He hoped somehow Vlad would survive, but he didn’t see—

  —he didn’t see anything, because the room was dark, and his thoughts, all that remained, were becoming scattered, misty, and going away.

  What he asked was impossible.

  Not physically impossible; the evil thing spun and twirled right in front of her, and plucking it out of the air would be no problem at all, even in the total darkness. She could feel exactly where it was all along its path through the air. But it was still impossible. To touch such a thing was—

  But her mate was insistent. Her lover was saying that if she didn’t, the Provider would die. She didn’t understand how this could be, or why it would be too late if she didn’t do it now, as the evil thing reached the top of its arc and began to fall to the ground.

  She didn’t understand what it was, but she hated the idea of coming near it more than she had ever hated anything in her life. Did he understand that—

  And her mate told her that there was no more time, she must get it now, because the undead soft one was going to kill the Provider, and, even if he didn’t, couldn’t she hear the footsteps of more of the soft ones coming? She should trust him, he said—these were not friends.

  And what was she supposed to do when she had it? she wondered, but she nevertheless did as she was asked—she took it from the air, wrapping her feet around the bone part, trying to keep as far from the metal part as she could and—

  Is that what she was supposed to do? How?

  The other soft one, the one the Provider had been spending so much time with, the one who had saved him, was somewhere near here, but she couldn’t see him.

  Her mate could feel him? Well enough to know where his hand was? To direct her to ... Oh, very well, then.

  And so he guided her, and she went where he said, and, at the right time, she let the evil thing fall into the hand of the soft one who had saved the Provider—although it seemed odd to her that someone who would do that would have a use for such a thing. What would he do with it?

  Although she couldn’t see, she was able to tell what use he had for it—he plunged it into the side of the other soft one, the undead, who was on top o
f him, strangling the life out of him.

  The odd thing was that both of them screamed—first the one who had been stabbed, then the one who did the stabbing, and they both screamed where she could hear it more within her mind than in the room, and both screams went on for a long time.

  In fact, the one who was still alive didn’t stop screaming with his mind at all, even after he had stopped screaming with his voice. He kept screaming and screaming, even after the Provider managed to make a small amount of light appear, and to gather them all together, and to take them all far, far away from the place where the evil thing lay with the two bodies in the dark cavern.

  Epilogue

  The minstrel sent the Easterner a look containing equal portions of disgust and contempt. It didn’t seem to bother him; he was used to such things. But he avoided looking at the girl who sat by the fire, holding her brother’s hand. The two jhereg sat complacently on the Easterner’s shoulders, not terribly bothered by anything now that—in their reptilian opinions—the crisis was past. They finished up the scraps of the roasted athyra.

  “Well?” said Sara.

  “I’m glad you made it here.”

  “Your jhereg are good guides,” said Sara. “I had a pretty good idea what they wanted.”

  “I thought you might. Thanks for coming.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. And repeated, “Well?”

  “Well what? If you’re asking after my health, breathing doesn’t hurt as much as it did a couple of days ago.”

  “I’m not asking after your health, I’m asking after his.”

  Vlad apparently didn’t need to follow her glance to know of whom she was speaking—Savn sat staring into the fire, oblivious of the conversation, and of everything else going on around him.

  “His health is fine. But, as you can see—”

  “Yes. As I can see.”

  “I suppose I’m being hunted as a kidnapper.”

  “Among other things, yes. The village Speaker has appealed to the Empire, and he’s been ranting about gathering the entire region to hunt for you tree by tree and stone by stone. And their parents are in agony, wondering where they are, imagining you’ve killed them or used them for some Eastern ritual or something. I don’t know why I don’t summon—”