Dragon

by Steven Brust

  "Save it," she said, stepping in. "I'm not here to criticize your decorations." She paused, looked around, then said, "Although I must admit I find your home surprisingly tasteful."

  Tasteful? I have furniture that one could sit on, and floors that are clean, and walls that hold the place up. I have one shelf of knick knacks with sentimental value. Home is where I go when I sleep; the only room I've put much thought into is the kitchen. But okay. Maybe she meant she expected to find it a kethna's nest with peeling walls, bloodstains, and rusted weapons lying about, I don't know.

  But I said, "Okay, why are you here?"

  "Can't you guess?"

  "No. If it was about the trade you want to arrange with Aliera, I'd have expected you to send for me."

  "And would you have come if I had?"

  "No," I said.

  "I hadn't thought so." She unbuckled her sword belt, and I noticed its size at once. She carefully set it on a table, and then sat down. I gritted my teeth and brought out some wine. She said, "Perhaps we should send for Aliera and get this done."

  "Actually," I said, "I had plans for the evening."

  I could see her forming the words "Break them" and then changing her mind. After a moment she said, "Are they breakable?"

  "Perhaps. If you can convince me—" There was another clap at the door.

  "Loiosh?"

  "Yes."

  "My plans for the evening," I said. I went over to the door and admitted Cawti.

  She took in the scene at once; I saw her notice the sheathed sword on the table. I said, "It wasn't my plan. She wants to finish things tonight."

  "Why not?" said Cawti.

  "Why not indeed?" said Sethra the Younger.

  I could have made some answers, but I decided the question was rhetorical. "All right," I said. "Then someone should reach Aliera. Who wants to do the honors?"

  "Why don't you?" said Sethra the Younger.

  "All right," I said, and composed my mind for the contact.

  I reached Aliera more quickly than I'd have expected to. I guess I was getting to know her. I had mixed feelings about this.

  "What is it?" she said without greeting, preamble, pleasantry, or anything else I hadn't expected.

  "Sethra the Younger is here."

  "There? Where is there?"

  "My flat."

  "What does she want?"

  "To conclude the transaction."

  "I haven't agreed to the transaction yet."

  I said aloud, "She hasn't agreed to the transaction yet."

  "Then let's talk about it," said Sethra.

  "Then she suggests you talk about it."

  "I—very well. Can you give me a picture?"

  I did so to the best of my ability. It got me enough into her head that I could tell what she thought about the best of my ability.

  "Very well," she said eventually. "I'll be there directly."

  "Well?" snapped Sethra the Younger.

  "She'll be here."

  She nodded.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes; Cawti sat next to me and held my arm. Aliera clapped outside the door; I let her in.

  Sethra the Younger stood up. They gave each other slight bows over mutual glares.

  Sethra said, "You know the bargain I propose."

  Aliera said, "You should never have received the weapon in the first place."

  "Received it?" she said, and I remembered, then, that final encounter at Baritt's Tomb. It hadn't stayed with me because I hadn't known her then. She said, "I didn't receive it, Lady Aliera. I took it. I used it. I—"

  "I remember. I was there."

  "Yes, you were, weren't you?" She turned to me. "And so, I believe, were you."

  "You could say that," I told her.

  She nodded. "But, Lady Aliera, I believe the weapon should be yours. What is your opinion?"

  "My opinion is that you want the sword of Kieron the Conqueror. My opinion is also that I'm no haggler."

  "Well, then?"

  "Then if you want it, come take it."

  "I could do that," said Sethra the Younger, touching the hilt of the blade next to her.

  "Not in my house, you don't," I said, but they weren't listening to me.

  I concentrated hard and, very quickly, reached Morrolan.

  "What is it, Vlad?"

  "A favor."

  "Oh?"

  "Grab Blackwand and get your ass over here. Now."

  He didn't ask why, or what was going on, or anything else. Whatever else you say about Dragons, they understand when it is time for action.

  The same, of course, can be said for Aliera and Sethra the Younger. They had drawn their swords and were circling each other in the parlor.

  I hoped they wouldn't destroy too much furniture.

  14

  Scratch One Jerkin

  The instant after Daymar appeared was another moment when I felt like I was about to be snuffed out, but I wasn't. A little piece of my mind that likes to comment on what the rest of me is doing suggested that I was getting tired of almost getting cut to ribbons every few seconds, and then answered itself by pointing out that it was, at least, better than actually getting cut to ribbons.

  "You think he can do it, Loiosh?"

  "Probably. But you need to give him enough time, Boss."

  "Any idea how much time is enough?"

  "Not even a wild guess, Boss."

  To Fornia I said, "This is Daymar, my associate. And, just to be clear about things: You're right. I'm not a negotiator. On the other hand, I was not sent here to kill you, and I have no intention of trying to. I only hope you'll be as reserved with regard to me."

  He laughed a little. "Why should I be?"

  "Curiosity. To find out what I'm doing here."

  "I've never been all that curious. Any other reasons why I shouldn't do as Ori says?"

  "Because you don't kill prisoners, and I surrender."

  "Boss!"

  "Any other ideas?"

  He nodded. "That will do." He addressed his personal guard, then: "Search him carefully, and I especially want that gold chain in his hand. Bind him well and send him to the rear for quest—"

  Someone whispered in his ear. He listened carefully, then put his telescope to his eye and studied the field somewhere over my left shoulder.

  "Not quite yet," he said as three of his bodyguards moved toward me to carry out his orders, leaving me saying to myself, "Now what, smart guy?"

  I guessed, from where Fornia was looking, that the subject of the message he'd just received was Dorian's Hill, where I had recently left the rest of my company in the middle of a battle, which I was certain was no more fun than it had been yesterday, when, after an entire day of fighting, I'd gotten myself good and properly nailed.

  We had woken up yesterday morning to discover Dorian's Hill was deserted. Empty. Unoccupied. This provided the subject for that morning's breakfast conversation. There was constant chatter all around me, and I kept hearing the word "trap" find its way from the buzz and hum.

  "What do you think, Boss?"

  "The hill we spent yesterday trying to take is suddenly empty, and yet they think it might be a trap? What suspicious minds."

  "I meant, do you think you'll be ordered to occupy it anyway?"

  "Oh."

  I studied the hill in the morning light: green, harmless, a few shrubs on the top, only long grasses and a few sharp grey stones on the way up. The only sign of yesterday's action had been that the grasses were a bit tromped down. The hill was just sitting there. If it were human it would have been twiddling its thumbs, staring at the sky, and whistling. "Probably," I told Loiosh.

  At least they didn't keep us waiting. We were given breakfast, and within a few minutes after eating we were formed up, and the Captain rode out in front of us. He turned and faced the line, and said, "We will occupy the hill and immediately begin preparing to defend it. To that end, the engineers will accompany us. We can expect to be required to de
fend it at once."

  "No shit," said Napper under his breath.

  The Captain was done talking; Crown stepped out and led us up the hill. It was much easier this time. The walk wasn't even tiring.

  "It's going to be a fight once we get there."

  "I imagine so," said Napper.

  "No, I mean they'll have something special waiting. Sorcery, or some traps they put up there. Something."

  "Don't matter," said Napper. It was hard to argue with him, so we just walked for a while.

  "It's just us," said Virt as we neared the top.

  "Excuse me?"

  "We're by ourselves up here. Just the company."

  "And the engineers," said Aelburr.

  "And the engineers."

  "Oh," I said. "Not enough, huh?"

  "Not enough," said Virt."

  Aelburr said, "Trap within a trap?"

  "Maybe," said Virt. "Which makes us bait."

  "Grand," I said.

  "Don't matter," said Napper.

  In a way, it was irritating to just stroll up the hill that had caused us such agony the day before, but I didn't say anything about it because I knew what Napper would say, and if he said it again I was going to have to kill him.

  We reached the top, and before we had even caught our breath Crown called out, "Form a perimeter, begin constructing earthworks. Engineers to the fore."

  They passed out shovels and instructions, and we dug ditches and piled dirt for about half an hour, during which time javelins were distributed. We stopped working when the fog rolled in. Thick fog, blanketing the entire hill; it came up with only seconds of warning.

  "I wonder if it's magical," said Virt as we scrambled for our weapons. That was irony, by the way.

  Crown's voice cut through everything: "It's safe to breathe," he said, scaring me all over again, because it hadn't occurred to me it might not be.

  "Form your line and stand ready!"

  A whole lot of swords were drawn from a whole lot of scabbards.

  "Where's our line?" I said.

  "Right here, I suppose," said Virt.

  I recognized a voice that cursed from my left. "What is it, Napper?"

  "Tripped in the bloody ditch."

  "Hurt?"

  "No."

  "Can't bring up a wind," said someone. "They've got it blocked."

  I let Spellbreaker fall into my hand and searched for something to use it on, failed to find anything, and wrapped it around my wrist again.

  That was the moment when I realized that I was surrounded by an elite corps and was grateful for it. They had to have been as terrified as I was; a single, isolated company, having walked into what we all knew was a trap, and now we were blind; yet there was no sign of fear from anyone around me. They just waited, coolly, swords in hand.

  Well, I certainly wasn't going to be the first to panic.

  The silence itself was terrifying, until I realized that, without anyone's having said a word, everyone was listening intently. An obvious thing to do, which I would have thought of myself if I hadn't been scared half out of my wits. I mentally cursed. Being frightened wasn't new to me, but letting it interfere with my efficiency was new, and very bad. What would Loiosh say?

  Loiosh …

  "Loiosh, can you—"

  "On my way, Boss."

  He left my shoulder soundlessly. I can usually hear the flap of his wings, but he is capable of flying silently when he needs to. I'm like that, too, now that I think of it. The air was still and there was no sound but that of a few random birds squawking overhead; why is it mountain birds always have horrid voices? Presently Loiosh reported. I said, "Corporal!"

  "Quiet," said someone.

  "Bug off," I suggested. "Corporal!"

  "What is it?" she whispered in my ear.

  "Relax," I said in a normal voice. "They aren't within earshot on this side."

  "How—?"

  "There are about fifty of them on the west side of the hill, coming up quietly. Right now they're between sixty and seventy yards below the ditch. More of them are at the bottom of the hill on the southeast side, waiting."

  "How—?"

  "Loiosh," I said.

  "I see."

  She clapped me on the back and moved off. If Loiosh had been popular before, I reflected, now he'd be a hero. And impossible to live with.

  Presently the hero returned to my shoulder.

  "Good work," I told him.

  "Thanks, Boss. Just proves you don't need opposable thumbs to be a hero."

  I had nothing to add to this observation, so I added my voice to the silence, wondering if Rascha was going to make any use of the information. I'd about decided she wasn't when I heard the command, "Loose javelins!" from somewhere behind me.

  The javelins flew without noise. It was eerie. Then, very faintly, we heard a brief scream from far away, quickly cut off; at least one of the javelins had struck home.

  "Loose javelins!" came again. This time I recognized Crown's voice.

  Someone else screamed—maybe there were two. It was strange and terrible, unable to see five feet in front of me, Virt and Aelburr indistinct shapes at my side, trying to guess what was happening from the sounds.

  I never did find out exactly, but you can probably guess as well as I can. Nothing more happened for about ten very, very long minutes, where most of my activity involved reminding myself not to grip my sword so tightly my hand cramped. For excitement, I'd switch the sword to my left hand, wipe my right hand on my jerkin, and switch it back.

  And then, finally, a breeze came up, and, in an instant, the fog blew away like so much smoke and it was daylight again, and there was no enemy in sight closer than the foot of the hill, and I felt like a fool for having been so frightened. I imagine they called off the attack when our javelins fell into them, assuming our sorcerers had penetrated the fog. But whatever, Rascha came by and ordered us back to digging ditches and piling dirt, which work lasted maybe two minutes before the enemy began moving up the hill in force.

  "Here we go," said Virt needlessly.

  Aelburr began whistling, then broke off abruptly. The look on Napper's face was familiar by now.

  For the record, I didn't have any sympathetic thoughts about an enemy's going through what we'd gone through the day before; I was just pleased to be on the other end. We released javelins five times as they made their way up, and I could see we did some damage. By the time they reached us, I think they were having doubts about the whole idea, so when Sethra sent a company that, I learned later, was called Tuvin's Volunteers up the hill to attack them from behind, they broke before they even got there. I never bloodied my sword during that battle; the whole affair was slick, sweet, and easy, and it would have been perfect if it had decided anything, but the enemy broke back down the hill, skirted around Tuvin's people, and made it back to their own lines, where we watched another company come up to reinforce them.

  Tuvin's company was pulled back to threaten the same maneuver rather than joining us to reinforce our position, so we watched and waited. Those who had been injured by our javelins crawled off the field as best they could or were captured by Tuvin's company. A few of them, of course, wouldn't be moving again ever, and they remained where they were.

  They gave us about twenty minutes before they began moving up the hill again, a whole lot of them even with the units they dispatched to hold off Tuvin.

  We threw more javelins, and they came, and we held them off. This time my sword got bloody, but I had learned: A few of my surprises got bloody, too, and when it was over, and they went scampering down the hill, we were still intact, breathing hard, but with the feeling that it could have been worse. Nap-per suggested it would be next time, and Virt didn't disagree, only it wasn't, as far as I was concerned, because the third attack that day came from the southeast, and I was facing the southwest, so all I did was stand there, listening to the yelling, the screaming, and the crashing sounds from seventy yards to my left, and waited
to be sent in if needed, but presently it was over. We took a few casualties, but they took more, and then we got a breather.

  The top of the hill had plenty of room to set up camp, which we did, while keeping an eye on the enemy below. When it was done I took a stroll around the hill. I looked to the north, where I could see the camp of our reserves, stretching all the way from the stream to the Wall. Between us and the Wall, to the northeast, was a smaller hill—"Beggar's Hill," I learned—which was occupied by two companies whose names I never learned. We held the north, and from there we were brought barrels of water and biscuits and salted kethna, and more javelins. The best part of receiving the supplies was that it drove home the fact that we weren't cut off, and where supplies could come, troops could, too, if they were needed. Where it was easy to feel isolated, this was no small reassurance. Good for morale, as Virt would put it.

  To the west was the stream, a little spinoff from the Eastern River. It ran straight south until it emptied into Khaavren's Sea, some three hundred miles away. To the southwest were a couple of smaller hills, occupied by the enemy, and from there they were mustering to attack us again.

  Earlier there had been fighting to the west, all over the fields between our hill and the ones they occupied, but now everything was quiet. Three hundred miles is too far away to smell the sea, so I'm certain the very faint tang was more in my mind than in my nose, but the wind was coming from the south. I don't know.

  "Watching them muster?" said Virt.

  "Yes. More of them, this time."

  "We getting reinforced?"

  "Don't know."

  We watched some more.

  "A lot more of them this time," I remarked.

  "Well," she said, "if I were the enemy commander, and our assault had failed three times, and I wanted to make a fourth, I don't think I'd attack with fewer men. But that's just me."

  "Shut up, Loiosh."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Never mind. Private joke."

  Aelburr came up next to us. "Our side again," he said. "Napper felt left out last time."

  "Wouldn't want that," said Virt.

  The enemy began moving up. The juice-drum explained that it would be best if we formed a defensive line. I chose not to argue with the juice-drum.