by Steven Brust
“You volunteered for this. We’re doing it my way. If you don’t like it, take off. In either case, keep quiet.”
“Yes, sir,” said Napper. It didn’t occur to me until later to wonder if he was being ironic. Thinking about it, I don’t believe he was.
Yes. Battles are decided, Sethra told me, when timing and momentum and courage all come together and, at just the right moment, someone fails to make a critical mistake and doesn’t manage to miss a vital opportunity. An opportunity that, perhaps, no one quite realized was there, because it is just all too confusing to have a complete grasp of everything that is happening. I was right in the middle of it, and I still don’t know enough about who was doing what to give a complete picture. But I have my incomplete picture; I have to be satisfied with that, and you will, too.
As we approached, I reached out for Daymar, who was astonishingly easy to make contact with, and I said, “What is Ori doing?”
“Which one is Ori again?”
“That one.”
“Oh. I don’t know what he’s doing exactly. They’re still blocking me. But he’s concentrating on a spell of some kind.”
“Doing one, or preparing to do it?”
“Oh, he’s preparing to do it. He’s—what’s the word? Poised. Yes, that’s the word. He’s poised to do a spell.”
We hadn’t stopped walking forward, and by this time we were ten feet behind the sorcerers, who were just behind Fornia and his honor guard. Ori was facing away from me.
I walked up and stuck my knife squarely into his back.
He screamed, and everyone turned around and looked at me as Ori spasmed and dropped to his knees. I couldn’t see the expression on Ori’s face, but I wasn’t terribly interested in it, either. Fornia, however, stared at me wide-eyed.
“I hope,” I said, “I haven’t interfered with your plans.”
“Kill him,” said Fornia. “Kill all three of them.”
And likely they would have, too; except that, at that moment, Morrolan broke through the final line of Eastern cavalry, and, amid the cries of people and horses, they charged Fornia’s honor guard.
Fornia was thrust back toward me, which might have made it an excellent chance to kill him but I couldn’t because I had to get out of the way of the large, very plain, unadorned Morganti greatsword he was swinging at my head. I did so, falling to the ground and rolling. I continued to roll away, not knowing exactly where Fornia and the Morganti blade were, and making the calm, rational decision that I needed to get away from them both, and besides, it was all I could do in the midst of my panic.
“Boss! Boss! You can stand up now!”
It’s always embarrassing to panic in front of Loiosh. I stood up, and for just an instant, no one was around me and nothing horrible was happening in my immediate vicinity.
Then I spotted Fornia, about twenty feet away. He held both hands on the hilt of the sword, holding it at about waist height. Napper, his back to me, stood facing Fomia. Neither of them moved. It took me a second to realize that I could see a few inches of the point of the Morganti greatsword sticking out of Napper’s back.
Napper dropped his sword, which fell, point first, very slowly, then stuck in the ground and swayed back and forth, also slowly. Nothing else moved in the entire world; Fornia and Napper were like twin sculptures, and would hold that pose until the world dissolved into the dreamstuff of the Gods, as my people say it will someday. But even then, the essence of Napper would never come back, and the shadowy remembrances of him in the minds of people like me, his comrades, would be all that would ever again exist of him.
And still they both stood, mutually transfixed.
Then Fornia looked at me, Napper unceremoniously fell to the ground, and the world started up again.
My moment of panic was over, replaced by a kind of hollowness that isn’t all that bad a way to feel in such circumstances; at least it didn’t keep me from observing, anticipating, and acting. I threw a couple of knives at Fornia just to let him know to keep his distance and began working my way toward Morrolan. At this point, the light infantry finally reached us. They flowed past me—I guess they figured that, being an Easterner, I had to be one of their cavalrymen—and Fornia was momentarily lost from sight.
I tried to spot Morrolan, but, ironically, now that he was within a knife-throw I couldn’t see him. I kept looking.
Thinking back on it, this was what I had always imagined a battle to be like: constantly dodging, moving, trying to look in every direction at once, and never really sure of what I ought to be doing. The actual battles I had been in had certainly had elements of confusion, but at least I always knew what I had to do, and I could always concentrate on one direction. I guess the difference was that there were no actual lines here: Everyone was mixed up with everyone else, the entire thing being broken up into an endless, chaotic series of one-on-one or two-on-one fights. I could just imagine how often those who were actually participating had to stop and check caps or sashes to make sure they weren’t about to strike down someone on their own side. Probably a few people got hit because they took too long to be sure, and almost certainly a few people got hit because the guy in front of them didn’t take long enough.
At length I spotted Morrolan, just a glimpse of him through a temporary part in the sea of struggling humanity, and I moved toward him. If, by the way, you’re wondering what became of Daymar, I still don’t know. Maybe he was around the entire time, mixing it up with the enemy in his own way and doing what damage he could, but I suspect he took to his heels right around the time Fornia was destroying Napper. Can’t say as I blame him much.
I skipped around a few fights, shuffled, dodged, and tried to spot Morrolan again. On the way, I passed by Napper’s lifeless and souless body, and had another, very brief, moment of panic until Loiosh said, “He’s not here, Boss. Not in sight, at least.” I kept going.
I wrapped Spellbreaker around my left wrist again and grabbed Napper’s sword from where it stuck out of the ground, even though it was too heavy for me, and moved toward where I’d seen Morrolan, hoping that I could trust Loiosh’s perceptions and that Fornia wasn’t about to appear swinging at the back of my head.
But no, Fornia wasn’t coming after me just now, he was coming after Morrolan. And Morrolan seemed pretty pleased about it. They faced each other in a spot that sensible people had stayed away from, circling each other, and both apparently delighted by the encounter. Just beyond Morrolan I saw Aliera and a couple of other officers I didn’t recognize, and they also seemed quite happy with this state of affairs.
In fact, everyone was happy about it except me, and I wouldn’t have minded either except that I knew what Fornia was up to. The fact that I’d killed Ori had certainly messed with part of his plan, but he was going merrily on with the rest of it, I suppose trusting himself to find a way out when it was over. Or maybe not caring if he found a way out; he was, after all, a Dragon.
“No way around it, Loiosh.”
“Boss—”
“I know. But I hate letting people get away with things. It offends me when they think they’ve put one over on me. It’s a pride thing.”
“You’ve been hanging around Dragons too long.”
“Lieutenant Loiosh—First Jhereg Assassins—Charge.”
“Whatever.”
It was less of a charge than a stroll, but I carried it out, hardly planned and barely thought about, as neatly as any assassination I’d ever done, and under the circumstances that is no small thing. I did my calculations during the half dozen paces that separated us: I still didn’t want to kill him, and didn’t want to get close enough to that weapon to be so much as scratched by bad luck should he spasm; but I couldn’t let him fight Morrolan with that weapon. I held Napper’s big, heavy sword with both hands and toyed with it a bit. I wished I’d had more time to get a feel for the thing.
I came up directly behind Fornia. Morrolan spotted me, although I was awfully close before he did; he probably
doesn’t know how I did that, or maybe he just thinks he was concentrating too hard on Fornia. But the look on Morrolan’s face warned Fornia, who took a step backward and started to turn, and when he was part of the way around I stepped in and swung Napper’s sword down in a long overhead arc such as no Eastern fencer would ever execute and I put everything I had into it, knowing that if I missed I was dead and worse, but that it would likely take all my strength.
I struck him just above the wrists, and his scream was instantaneous and a joy to my ears. The force of the blow left my own weapon embedded in the ground, but I was done with it anyway. Before I could think about what I was doing—because, I assure you, thinking would have done me no good at all—I picked up the Morganti greatsword by the pommel, and ignoring the hands still wrapped tightly around it, I tossed it in Morrolan’s general direction, being careful not to throw it actually at him, because I knew he might take that wrong.
Fornia sobbed.
His honor guard closed on me, and I did something I had been wanting to do for several weeks: I turned and ran.
My plan at that point was to run as fast as I could and as far as I could and not stop until I reached Adrilankha, and if I happened to be going in the wrong direction, well, okay, so maybe I’d make a bit of a detour; they say the world is round, after all.
As I dashed by, I saw someone stoop to pick up the Morganti sword that Fornia had recently held—I didn’t even notice at the time which side had recovered the thing—and that gave me even more reason to run. Adrilankha, here I come.
I didn’t actually make it that far—it was more like fifty feet before I was stopped. The command, “Hold it!” was so sharp and so, well, commanding, that I found I had obeyed before I actually thought about it. I turned around and found I was looking up at Sethra Lavode, atop a horse that, with my equine expertise, I can assure you was dark colored and very big. It looked at Loiosh and tossed its head, snorting like Morrolan had on one or two occasions. Loiosh didn’t dignify it with an answer.
Sethra said, “Where are you going, soldier?”
“Uh … I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said.
“I doubt it,” said Sethra. “In any case, there’s no reason to run now; the battle is nearly over.”
I looked at where I’d just come from, turned back to Sethra, and said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not kidding. Your unit routed the enemy from Dorian’s Hill and drove them almost right up to the Wall. That would have been Fornia’s moment to bring up his reserves, except that he was busy just then and didn’t get around to it. Besides, Morrolan informs me that Fornia is dead now, anyway, and we have the weapon that caused all the trouble, so there isn’t all that much to fight about. I expect a general surrender within the next few minutes, as soon as they can find someone with sufficient authority to surrender to us.”
I looked again. “If you say so,” I said.
Sethra seemed amused. “It’s over, Vlad. Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before. You should have run earlier, when it would have done some good.”
“I know, I know.”
“Now you might as well wait here, with me.”
“You’re not going to send me back into battle as punishment for desertion?”
“The punishment for desertion is beheading. Being sent into battle is a reward.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
She looked serious for a moment, and said, “Yes.”
She was right, though. I don’t mean about being sent into battle, I mean about the whole thing being pretty much over. Within half an hour the fighting had stopped, there were banners piled up all over the field, and Sethra, Aliera, and Morrolan were all involved in negotiations with their previous enemies. The war was over. If I chose to, I could convince myself that I had had a major part in winning it. I would have preferred to forget the whole thing, but that was harder.
We eventually formed a camp on the hill where we’d lately fought with Fornia, his sorcerers, and his honor guard. Most of the honor guard had fallen to Blackwand and to Kieron’s greatsword (Aliera’s actions in the battle were much discussed, although I hadn’t actually seen much of her). I sat far away from the action, but eventually Virt found me. She had a brand-new scar on her face and a noticeable limp.
“Hey there,” she said. “So you bugged out, huh?” She sounded more bantering than hostile.
“Yeah,” I said. “I bugged out.”
“I’ve heard about it. Probably not accurately, but I’ve heard. Good show.”
“Thanks.”
“And I’ve heard about Napper. We’re going to have services for him this evening. Aelburr and I would like you to help us anoint him.”
“What’s the point? There’s nothing left for Deathgate.”
“I think you know what the point is.”
I took a deep breath, then I nodded. “All right. I’ll be there.”
She moved on. A little later, Rascha came by. She said, “Good work, soldier.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I also convey congratulations from Crown, and from the Captain.”
“Thank them for me.”
She started to say more, then snapped a salute and walked off. A little later Sethra walked by again. She said, “You should know that Cropper has recommended you for a Dragonshead Medal. I declined on your behalf, with thanks, but I thought you should know.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And thanks.”
How did she know me so well? I suppose that’s part of being a general, or maybe part of being Sethra Lavode. I knew that in a few days or weeks the idea of being recommended for a medal by a Dragon warrior would be pretty funny, but right now a ceremony would be nothing more than an irritation. They’d be giving out a lot of medals this evening, and I didn’t have much interest in hanging around to watch, much less participating. I just wanted to go home.
I said, “Will Napper receive one?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She wandered away, and a little later Aliera came up and stood over me. I looked up at her, and then away. When she didn’t speak, and the silence was becoming uncomfortable, I said, “I understand you did a lot of killing today. Congratulations. Did Morrolan get the weapon?”
“No.”
I looked up. “No? What happened to it?”
“It was picked up by the officer at whose feet it landed when you threw it. She claimed it as battlefield spoil. Hard to argue with.”
“Oh.”
“Morrolan was wondering why you jumped in when you did.”
“Fomia had a plan; I wished to stop it. Besides, I told him I’d get the damned thing.”
“Wasn’t Morrolan well on his way to stopping Fornia’s plan anyway?”
“No, he was well on his way to helping Fornia carry it out.”
“I don’t understand.”
“As Napper used to say, it don’t matter.”
“No? Well, maybe not. But tell me: Do you understand us a little better now than you did when you signed up?”
“No.”
“I think you do,” she said.
I didn’t answer, and presently she walked away. At least she didn’t salute.
Later that night I met up with Cropper Company and helped anoint the bodies for Deathgate. There were thirty-four dead, and many more in various stages of recovery. Dunn was among the dead, having fallen carrying the unit colors, just as he wanted. I had the awful feeling that some of the company were jealous of him. No one, of course, was jealous of Napper. And, pointlessly, Virt and Aelburr and I rubbed the oil onto him so his body would remain whole until he went over the Falls, where his body would eventually rot anyway. Then came the ceremonies for the dead, and the awarding of decorations, and then we were done, and back to our tents.
Virt and Aelburr and I sat around and watched the fire burn down. I said to Virt, “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she
said. “And so did you.”
“Yes,” I said. “I did.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yes. Just barely, but yes.”
“That’s how I feel.”
“Sometimes winning is painful, but it’s always better than losing.”
“Hear, hear,” said Aelburr.
The teleport blocks were down, and I could have returned to Adrilankha that night, but I told myself that I was in no mood to have my insides scrambled, so I spent one more night in the tent, and it was only the next morning, when confronted with salted kethna, bad coffee, and biscuits that I said good-bye to Virt and Aelburr, suggested they come visit me sometime, and teleported back to my own street, where I found a place that served decent food and I ordered klava, hot muffins, boiled goose eggs, and a thick slab of bacon, with onions.
I lingered over breakfast, then headed back home for a nap. I figured I’d earned a day off. Tomorrow I’d go back to making crime; it was so much kinder than war.
When all is in harmony the army can withstand natural attacks and those that appear to be supernatural.
SUN Tzu, The Art of War
BOOKS BY STEVEN BRUST, P. J. F.
THE KHAAVREN ROMANCES
The Phoenix Guards
Five Hundred Years After
The Viscount of Adrilankha
Volume One: The Paths of the Dead
Volume Two: The Lord of Castle Black
Volume Three: Sethra Lavode (forthcoming)
OTHER NOVELS
To Reign in Hell
Brokedown Palace
The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars
Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grille
The Gypsy (with Megan Lindholm)
Agyar
Freedom and Necessity (with Emma Bull)
THE VLAD TALTOS NOVELS
Jhereg
Yendi
Teckla
Taltos
Phoenix
Athyra
Orca
Dragon
Issola
A Boy and His Jhereg