by Steven Brust
“Our friend Inchay first, because I don’t expect to get anything from him.”
“I like your expectations, Boss. Stay with that, and you won’t be dis—”
“Orbahn next, if he can be found.”
“Which you don’t expect.”
“Probably not.”
“So far, it’s perfect.”
I took a quick inventory of my body, of the effect of the Working. The blisters were gone, and the muscle aches were manageable. I got up, threw a few coins to Inchay, and said, “I’m looking for a witch.”
“There’s a shop just down the street where they get their supplies. I’m sure Yulio could direct you to someone.”
“Uh huh. Who do you know?”
He spread his hands. I didn’t believe him, but I figured I could come back to him later. “Okay,” I said. “Any idea where I can find Orbahn?”
“Haven’t seen him.”
I waited without saying anything, because that makes people uncomfortable. Eventually he added, “I imagine he’ll be in later.”
“Good work, Boss. So far, everything’s going just as you exp—”
“Shut up.”
“All right,” I said. “Where is the Guild hall?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “The Guild hall,” he repeated.
I waited.
“Turn right when you leave. On this street about two hundred feet down. Two-story building painted light green.”
I nodded a sort of thank-you and went back and sat down.
“What, not going, Boss?”
“Tomorrow. I’m still pretty exhausted, and I need to be at my best to tackle this Guild. I get the feeling they’re a bit like the Empire, and a bit like the Jhereg.”
“Feeling.”
“Yeah. When that’s all you’ve got, that’s what you go with. Besides, hitting them early in the morning seems like the right approach.”
“I have a suggestion for what to do between now and then, Boss.”
“What’s that?”
“Put as many miles between us and this smelly hole of a town as your feet can manage.”
“No” I said.
Having made my plans, I let my mind relax, and I hardly moved for the rest of the day. The place filled up again, mostly peasants, no women. Strange. I watched them, and they ignored me, and Orbahn didn’t appear.
The next part of the plan involved going to bed early, and I carried it off without a hitch. Loiosh even complimented me on its success. The little punk.
I drank coffee the next morning, and chewed on some poppy-seed rolls, still hot from the oven and with butter and honey. Good stuff. I had the room to myself while I ate, Inchay being in the back taking care of innkeeper things, and I ate slowly, planning how I was going to work things with the Guild.
I should explain: At this point, I was pretty well convinced that it was the Guild that had slaughtered the Merss family. I was ready to change my mind if I had reason to, and I hadn’t eliminated the Count or some other person or group I didn’t know about; and I wasn’t sure enough to act on it. But I was pretty sure they were either responsible, or had a hand in it.
That was going to be the hard part—keeping my temper in check while I dug out the information I needed. I could feel the desire in me to find the Guild Master and watch my stiletto go up under his chin, or into his left eye, whichever was more convenient. I wanted it so bad I almost shook.
“Boss, this has been happening too much lately. Yesterday—”
“I know, Loiosh. I’m working on it.”
I spent a little extra time calming myself down, reminding myself to treat this like a job. No, it wasn’t a job; but if I went at it like an amateur, letting my feelings dictate my methods, I’d end up where all amateurs end up. And maybe I’m going to end up there anyway, but not now; not before I’d finished this.
When I felt like I was ready, I stood up, borrowed a pitcher of water to wash the honey off my hands, took a deep breath, and went back out into the stench.
“We’re really going to the Guild, Boss?”
“We really are. I don’t know if they’re behind this, or just have a big part of it, but either way I need to know what I’m up against, and pull some information out of them.”
He sighed.
It was early morning, but the Furnace was hidden by gray clouds, making me feel more at home. I turned right out of the door. It wasn’t far; it was before the street that turned off toward the docks. The rain started as I stepped inside.
It was a big room, with about four tables, and various official-looking men—about a dozen all together—sitting behind them, doing official-looking things with papers. No women. Odd. There was a staircase in back leading up. My first reaction was that there was too much activity for a Merchants’ Guild in a town this size. But what do I know?
The guy at the table next to the door looked up; a young, serious-looking man who didn’t eat enough, and, to judge from his pinched-up face and stiff back, he probably never did anything at all he enjoyed. He probably didn’t believe in having fun. I should introduce him to this girl who roams the docks.
He wanted to know if he could be of service to me. I had the feeling it wasn’t actually all that important to him one way or the other. I thought about breaking his legs, but that was just because I was in a bad mood.
“Chayoor,” I told him. “I want to see him.”
He opened his mouth, hesitated, looked me over, closed his mouth, and hesitated again. I can’t actually read minds the way Daymar can, but sometimes, you know, you don’t need to—the poor guy was trying to decide my status so he’d know whether to address me as “my lord,” or “boy” or something in between. He was having trouble, because I looked like a commoner except for the sword at my side. I felt very bad for him.
“Sir,” he finally said, “if you will wait here, I will find out if—”
“Save it,” I told him. “My name is Merss Vladimir, and there aren’t enough of you here to keep me from seeing him. I assume he is up those stairs. Now, do you want to announce me, or shall I just head up?”
His mouth worked for a moment. I guess one of the worst sides of my character is how much I enjoy doing that to poor little bastards who have no defense against it.
“No,” he finally said, keeping his voice low but even. “Your name is Vladimir Taltos, and you will see the Guild Master when he is ready to see you. He has been expecting you. I will see if he is free now. Excuse me.”
6
L E F I T T: Well, that didn’t work either.
B O R A A N : It most certainly did not.
L E F I T T: SO, your next idea?
B O R A A N: A drink, of course. Maize-oishka and water. Six parts water.
L E F I T T: That seems rather weak.
B O R A A N: Well, but one hundred parts oishka, do you see?
L E F I T T: Ah. Yes, it is all clear to me now.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day Two, Act I, Scene 5
About three years later, as I was watching his back disappear up the stairs, Loiosh said, “Okay, Boss. Now what?”
Nothing builds confidence in subordinates like a quick decision in the face of unexpected circumstances.
“Um,” I told him.
That was as far as I’d gotten when the young man came back down the stairs and gestured for me go up. He sat down and returned to whatever he had been doing without giving me another word. I didn’t say anything. When you’re licked, you’re licked.
I did, however, make a point of flicking my cloak aside so I could get to my rapier in a hurry if I needed to, and checked the surprises I had left about my person to make sure they were ready and accessible.
The upper floor was all one room with a high arched ceiling and decorated, if you will, with a strange assortment of items hanging from the walls: a bunch of plants, a pair of boots, a hat, a shirt, a ladle, a hammer, a bottle of wine, and more. It took me a moment to figure out that these
represented some or all of the members of the Guild. It was quaint. Anything that stays trite long enough becomes quaint.
Chayoor was a burly, barrel-chested man with thin black curly hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and dark eyes. He rose as I approached, gave me a perfunctory bow, and seated himself while gesturing me toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. He had a desk, not a table. The benefits of power: You get your own desk. I’m not mocking it; I remember how I felt when I got my own desk.
I sat down.
“Lord Taltos,” he said. “I was informed you would be here.”
“I should prefer to be known as Merss, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well,” he said.
“Would you mind telling me who it was who informed you?”
“I’m sorry, that I cannot do.”
Okay. Well. This conversation just wasn’t going at all the way I’d planned it. The whole intimidating him thing had gotten off to a bad start.
“That’s unfortunate,” I said. “I have enemies, you know. Also friends. If I don’t know whether it was a friend or an enemy that alerted you, it puts me in an uncomfortable position.”
“It was a friend,” he said.
Right. Just so you know, I didn’t have any “friends” who knew where I was going. “And if it had been an enemy, you’d have told me?”
“I see your point,” he said. “Nevertheless—”
“Yeah. Well, if it was a friend, I assume he asked you to cooperate with me?”
He frowned. “Not as such.”
“Uh huh.”
He looked uncomfortable, which was at least a little encouraging. “What exactly do you need?”
“I came here looking for my family,” I said. “My mother’s kin.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
I need to explain that Fenarian makes a distinction between, “I apologize for an injury,” and, “I express my sympathy.” He used the latter formulation. I grunted or something.
“I’m going to find out who did it,” I said.
His eyebrow went up. “And then?”
I cocked my head at him. “Why, then I will turn the guilty party over to the duly constituted authority, of course.”
It was his turn to grunt. “In Burz,” he said, “the duly constituted authority is me.”
“Is that the law?” I asked. “Or just how it works?”
“What’s the difference?”
“You’re a blunt son-of-a-bitch, I’ll give you that.”
He laughed, throwing his head back and letting his belly shake. I hadn’t thought it was that funny.
“Yes, Lord, ah, Merss, I am a blunt son-of-a-bitch. And I’ll tell you bluntly that I like how things are here in my town, and if you do anything to interfere with it, we will no longer be friends.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guessed that part.”
“So,” he said. “Now what will you do?”
“Let me assume you had nothing against the Merss family, because if you’re responsible, you wouldn’t tell me. So, who did?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” he said.
I rubbed my chin. “You know,” I said, “if you interfere with me finding out what I want to find out, you might no longer be my friend.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it’ll sort of do for one. As a threat, how does it rate?”
“Hollow,” he said.
I fixed him with patented Jhereg stare number six, lowered my voice, and said, “Then you can safely ignore it, I guess.”
I had the satisfaction of seeing that go home; he looked uncomfortable.
I stood up abruptly, before he could announce the end of the interview. “I’d appreciate it,” I said, “if my name wouldn’t go any further.”
“It won’t,” he told me. “Only Shandy and I know it, and he won’t say anything.”
I nodded, turned, and made my way across the long, long room to the stairway, then down and out. Shandy didn’t look up as I walked past him.
It was still raining when I got outside, but not too hard. I made it back to the Hat somewhere between wet and soaked.
“Boss, not to put too fine a point on it, but we need to get out of this place. Now. I mean, without stopping. Pick a direction and start walking.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Boss, they know who you are.”
“I know.”
“That bastard could get rich just by dropping your name in the right ear.”
“I know. But, Loiosh, why hasn’t he done so already? Why am I still breathing?”
“Boss, can we please talk about this after we’re out of town? I’m too old to learn to hunt for myself.”
“You don’t hunt, you scavenge.”
“Boss—”
“Loiosh, have you ever known me to walk into something this strange and just walk away from it without finding out what’s going on?”
“This would be a really, really good time to start.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
I got inarticulate thoughts that were probably the jhereg equivalent of cursing.
I stamped some of the rain off my clothes and shook my head like a dog.
“Thanks for the shower, Boss.”
“Like you were dry before?”
I found a drink and a chair and sat down.
“Loiosh, how in blazes did they learn my name?”
“Huh? You don’t know?”
“You do?”
“Of course!”
“All right, how?”
“When you took the amulet off and did the spell, Boss. Remember, I felt something?”
This time it was my turn to curse. “They got it right out of my head.”
“There’s still the question of who did it.”
“Who could it be? It wasn’t the Jhereg. If they knew I was here, they’d send someone in to kill me. End of discussion.”
“Uh, okay.”
“There’s Chayoor himself.”
“Boss, he didn’t tell himself who you are, someone has to have told him.”
“Sorry, chum. I’m not just going over who might have told Chayoor, I’m trying to work out all the players in this mess.”
“Heh. Good luck with that.”
“There’s Orbahn, who’s either too helpful, or not helpful enough.”
“Right.”
“There are these witches. There’s most likely a Coven. They could have acted on their own behalf, as the Coven. Even if not, one of their members must have done the Working, so either way they could know.
“Then there’s the coachman, who’s the only guy I’ve found who has been really helpful, which makes me suspicious.”
“Uh … all right.”
“And then there’s Count Saekeresh, however he fits in. Have I left anyone out?”
“Sure. Everyone else in town, and everyone everyone knows.”
“I take your point, Loiosh. But let’s keep it within reason.”
“We’re way beyond that, Boss.”
“Loiosh.”
“All right. The host?”
“Right. The host. Good position to hear things, and knows I’ve been asking questions.”
“Boss, can’t we please leave?”
“No.”
I accepted the psychic form of a resigned sigh and continued my ruminations.
“What are you thinking about, Boss? You know and I know you’re going to march up to the Count and try to intimidate him. Probably work as well as—”
“Shut up.”
I hate it when he’s right.
Well, if I was going to do it, may as well do it properly. I went over to Inchay. “Can you find someone to run a message to Count Saekeresh for me?”
He looked at me sharply, decided that was a mistake, and washed a cup that didn’t need washing while he thought it over. At last he said, “Very well. What is the message?”
“If you have
paper and ink.”
He nodded, dried his hands, and vanished into a small room behind the bar, then emerged with the necessary equipment. I wrote and handed it to him, unsealed.
“How urgent is it?”
“Today would be good.”
“I’ll see that it gets there today.”
I gave him more of that jingly stuff that keeps tradesmen wanting to be helpful, then settled back to see if Orbahn would show up, and if Loiosh would calm down.
No, and no.
Later I had more lamb stew. Sometimes I get into ruts where I’ll eat the same thing for days. I used to do that, long ago, I guess in part out of laziness. Cawti had largely broken me of the habit just because I liked trying new ideas out on her, but now I was falling back into the pattern. But I guess part of it was that the lamb stew was good. I liked the bread, too; having the right kind of bread to mop up stew is its own art.
No, and no.
The place started to fill up, and I moved to a back table. I was getting more covert looks than I had before; I wasn’t sure exactly what sort of word was spreading about me, but something was. I reflected that that was part of the problem—I didn’t know. I’d gotten spoiled, I suppose, by having Kragar near at hand, and access to Morrolan’s spy network (he never used that term, I think he found it distasteful, but that’s what it was), and Kiera and her nearly endless knowledge of the arcana of the Underworld. If I wanted to know what was going on, all I had to do was decide who to ask first; eventually I’d find out. Here, I was in the dark, and I didn’t care for it. Cawti would have told me to figure out exactly what I wanted to accomplish, and then helped me break it down into steps, and—
I found myself wanting a very strong drink and didn’t take it because getting drunk right then would have been a stupid idea, and because I hate being trite. It can lead to being quaint. Instead, I made circles on the table with my finger in the moisture from my glass. I found I’d been doing that a lot lately, and wondered about it. But not very much.
Some hours later, one of the barmaids tapped my shoulder and indicated the host, who was trying to get my attention. I made my way over to him, and he handed me a note. I nodded and returned to my table to read it. I had to shift my chair to a place where my shadow wasn’t blocking the light from the nearest lamp; then I broke the seal and unfolded the thick parchment. Good paper, I noticed; they probably made it locally.