by Steven Brust
Savn noticed that the room was gradually emptying, and he heard several people say they were going to talk to either Speaker or Bless, neither of whom was present, and “see that something was done about this.”
He was trying to figure out what “this” was when Mae and Pae tost, coWttVed ?otyv and approached him. Mae said, “Come along, Savn, it’s time for us to be going home.”
“Is it all right if I stay here for a while? I want to keep talking to my friends.”
His parents looked at each other, and perhaps couldn’t think of how to phrase a refusal, so they grunted permission. Polyi must have received some sort of rejection from one of the boys, perhaps On, because she made no objection to being made to leave, but in fact hurried out to the wagon while Savn was still saying goodbye to his parents and being told to be certain he was home by midnight.
In less than five minutes, the room was empty except for Tern, Savn, Coral, a couple of their friends, and a few old women who practically lived at Tern’s house.
“Well,” said Coral. “Isn’t he the cheeky one?”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? The Easterner.”
“Oh. Cheeky?” said Savn.
“Did you see how he looked at us?” said Coral.
“Yeah,” said Lan, a large fellow who was soon to be officially apprenticed to Piper. “Like we were all grass and he was deciding if he ought to mow us.”
“More like we were weeds, and not worth the trouble,” said Tuk, who was Lan’s older brother and was in his tenth year as Hider’s apprentice. They were proud of the fact that both of them had “filled the bucket” and been apprenticed to trade.
“That’s what I thought,” said Coral.
“I don’t know,” said Savn. “I was just thinking, I sure wouldn’t like to walk into a place and have everybody staring at me like that. It’d scare the blood out of my skin.”
“Well, it didn’t seem to disturb him any,” said Lan.
“No,” said Savn. “It didn’t.”
Tuk said, “We shouldn’t talk about him. They say Easterners can hear anything you say about them.”
“Do you believe that?” said Savn.
“It’s what I’ve heard.”
Lan nodded. “And they can turn your food bad when they want, even after you’ve eaten it.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
“Why would he want to kill Reins?” said Coral.
“I don’t think he did,” said Savn.
“Why not?” said Tuk.
“Because he couldn’t have,” said Savn. “There weren’t any marks on him.”
“Maybe he’s a wizard,” said Lan.
“Easterners aren’t wizards.”
Coral frowned. “You can say what you want, I think he killed him.”
“But why would he?” said Savn.
“How should I—” Coral broke off, looking around the room. “What was that?’
“It was on the roof, I think. Birds, probably.”
“Yeah? Pretty big ones, then.”
As if by unspoken agreement they ran to the window. Coral got there first, stuck his head out, and jerked it back in again just as fast.
“What is it?” said the others.
“A jhereg,” said Coral, his eyes wide. “A big one.”
“What was it doing?” said Savn.
“Just standing on the edge of the roof looking down at me.”
“Huh?” said Savn. “Let me see.”
“Welcome.”
“Don’t let its tongue touch you,” said Tuk. “It’s poisonous.”
Savn looked out hesitantly, while Coral said, “Stand under it, but don’t let it lick you.”
“The gods!” said Savn, pulling his head in. “It is big. A female, I think. Who else wants to see?”
The others declined the honor, in spite of much urging by Savn and Coral, who, having already proven themselves, felt they wouldn’t have to again. “Huh-uh,” said Tuk. “They bite.”
“And they spit poison,” added Lan.
“They do not,” said Savn. “They bite, but they don’t spit, and they can’t hurt you just by licking you.” He was beginning to feel a bit proprietary toward them, having seen so many recently.
Meanwhile, Tern had noticed the disturbance. He came up behind them and said, “What’s going on over here?”
“A jhereg,” said Coral. “A big one.”
“A jhereg? Where?”
“On your roof,” said Savn.
“Right above the window,” said Coral.
Tern glanced out, then pulled his head back in slowly, filling the boys with equal measures of admiration and envy. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s a bad omen.”
“It is?” said Coral.
Tem nodded. He seemed about to speak further, but at that moment, preceded by a heavy thumping of boots, Vlad appeared once more.
“Good evening,” he said. Savn decided that what was remarkable about his voice was that it was so normal, and it ought not to be. It should be either deep and husky to match his build, or high and fluty to match his size, yet he sounded completely human.
He sat down near where Savn and his friends had been seated and said, “I’d like a glass of wine, please.”
Tem clenched his teeth like Master Wag, then said, “What sort of wine?”
“Any color, any district, any characteristics, just so long as it is wet.”
The old women, who had been studiously ignoring the antics of Savn and his friends, arose as one and, with imperious glares first at the Easterner, then at Tem, stalked out. Vlad continued, “I like it better here with fewer people. The wine, if you please?”
Tem fetched him a cup of wine, which Vlad paid for. He drank some, then set the mug down and stared at it, turning it in a slow circle on the table. He appeared oblivious to the fact that Savn and his friends were staring at him. After a short time, Coral, followed by the others, made his way back to the table. It seemed to Savn that Coral was walking gingerly, as if afraid to disturb the Easterner. When they were all seated, Vlad looked at them with an expression that was a mockery of innocence. He said, “So tell me, gentlemen, of this land. What is it like?”
The four boys looked at each other. How could one answer such a question?
Vlad said, “I mean, do bodies always show up out of nowhere, or is this a special occasion?”
Coral twitched as if stung; Savn almost smiled but caught himself in time. Tuk and Lan muttered something inaudible; then, with a look at Coral and Savn, they got up and left. Coral hesitated, stood up, looked at Savn, started to say something, then followed his friends out the door.
Vlad shook his head. “I seem to be driving away business today. I really don’t mean to. I hope Goodman Tem isn’t unhappy with me.”
“Are you a wizard?” said Savn.
Vlad laughed. “What do you know about wizards?”
“Well, they live forever, and you can’t hurt them because they keep their souls in magic boxes without any way inside, and they can make you do things you don’t want to do, and—”
Vlad laughed again. “Well, then I’m certainly not a wizard.”
Savn started to ask what was funny; then he caught sight of Vlad’s maimed hand, and it occurred to him that a wizard wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.
After an uncomfortable silence, Savn said, “Why did you say that?”
“Say what?”
“About ... bodies.”
“Oh. I wanted to know.”
“It was cruel.”
“Was it? In fact, I meant the question. It surprises me to walk into a place like this and find that a body has followed me in. It makes me uncomfortable. It makes me curious.”
“There have been others who noticed it, too.”
“I’m not surprised. And whispers about me, no doubt.”
“Well, yes.”
“What exactly killed him?”
“No one knows.”
&n
bsp; “Oh?”
“There was no mark on him, at any rate, and my friends told me that Master Wag was puzzled.”
“Is Master Wag good at this sort of thing?”
“Oh, yes. He could tell if he died from disease, or if someone beat him, or if someone cast a spell on him, or anything. And he just doesn’t know yet.”
“Hmmm. It’s a shame.”
Savn nodded. “Poor Reins. He was a nice man.”
“Reins?”
“That was his name.”
“An odd name.”
“It wasn’t his birth name; he was just called that because he drove.”
“Drove? A coach?”
“No, no; he made deliveries and such.”
“Really. That starts to bring something back.”
“Bring something back?”
“As I said, I think I recognize him. I wonder if I could be near ... who is lord of these lands?”
“His Lordship, the Baron.”
“Has he a name?”
“Baron Smallcliff.”
“And you don’t know his given name?”
“I’ve heard it, but I can’t think of it at the moment.”
“How about his father’s name? Or rather, the name of whoever the old Baron was?”
Savn shook his head.
Vlad said, “Does the name ‘Loraan’ sound familiar?”
“That’s it!”
Vlad chuckled softly. “That is almost amusing.”
“What is?”
“Nothing, nothing. And was Reins the man who used to make deliveries to Loraan?”
“Well, Reins drove everywhere. He made deliveries for, well, for just about everyone.”
“But did his duties take him to the Baron’s keep?”
“Well, I guess they must have.”
Vlad nodded. “I thought so.”
“Hmmm?”
“I used to know him. Only very briefly I’m afraid, but still—”
Savn shook his head. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“It wasn’t quite around here; it was at Loraan’s keep rather than his manor house. The keep, if I recall the land—
scape correctly, must be on the other side of the Brownclay.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And I didn’t spend much time there, either.” Vlad smiled as he said this, as if enjoying a private joke. Then he said, “Who is Baron now?”
“Who? Why, the Baron is the Baron, same as always.”
“But after the old Baron died, did his son inherit?”
“Oh. I guess so. That was before I was born.”
The Easterner’s eyes widened, which seemed to mean the same thing in an Easterner that it did in a human. “Didn’t the old Baron die just a few years ago?”
“Oh, no. He’s been there for years and years.”
“You mean Loraan is the Baron now?”
“Of course. Who else? I thought that’s what you meant.”
“My, my, my.” Vlad tapped the edge of his wine cup against the table. After a moment he said, “If he died, are you certain you’d know?”
“Huh? Of course I’d know. I mean, people see him, don’t they? Even if he doesn’t appear around here often, there’s still deliveries, and messengers, and—”
“I see. Well, this is all very interesting.”
“What is?”
“I had thought him dead some years ago.”
“He isn’t dead at all,” said Savn. “In fact, he just came to stay at his manor house, a league or so from town, near the place I first saw you.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes.”
“And that isn’t his son?”
“He isn’t married,” said Savn.
“How unfortunate for him,” said Vlad. “Have you ever actually seen him?”
“Certainly. Twice, in fact. He came through here with his retainers, in a big coach, with silver everywhere, and six horses, and a big Athyra embossed in—”
“Were either of these times recent?”
Savn started to speak, stopped, and considered. “What do you mean ‘recent’?”
Vlad laughed. “Well taken. Within, say, the last five years?”
“Oh. No.”
The Easterner took another sip of his wine, set the cup down, closed his eyes, and, after a long moment, said, “There is a high cliff over the Lower Brownclay. In fact, there is a valley that was probably cut by the river.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Are there caves, Savn?”
He blinked. “Many, all along the walls of the cliff. How did you know?”
“I knew about the valley because I saw it, earlier today, and the river. As for the caves, I didn’t know; I guessed. But now that I do know, I would venture a further guess that there is water to be found in those caves.”
“There’s water in at least one of them; I’ve heard it trickling.”
Vlad nodded. “It makes sense.”
“What makes sense, Vlad?”
“Loraan was—excuse me—is a wizard, and one who has studied necromancy. It would make sense that he lived near a place where Dark Water flows.”
“Dark Water? What is that?”
“Water that has never seen the light of day.”
“Oh. But what does that have to do with—what was his name?”
“Loraan. Baron Smallcliff. Such water is useful in the practice of necromancy. When stagnant and contained, it can be used to weaken and repel the undead, but when flowing free they can use it to prolong their life. It’s a bittersweet tapestry of life itself,” he added, in what Savn thought was an ironic tone of voice.
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind. Would it matter to you if you were to discover that your lord is undead?”
“What?”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Good. That may matter, later.”
“Vlad, I don’t understand—”
“Don’t worry about it; that isn’t the important thing.”
“You seem to be talking in riddles.”
“No, just thinking aloud. The important thing isn’t how he survived; the important thing is what he knows. Aye, what he knows, and what he’s doing about it.”
Savn struggled to make sense of this, and at last said, “What he knows about what?”
Vlad shook his head. “There are such things as coincidence, but I don’t believe one can go that far.” Savn started to say something, but Vlad raised his hand. “Think of it this way, my friend: many years ago, a man helped me to pull a nasty joke on your Baron. Now, on the very day I come walking through his fief, the man who helped me turns up mysteriously dead right in front of me. And the victim of this little prank moves to his manor house, which happens to be just outside the village I’m passing through. Would you believe that this could happen by accident?”
The implications of everything Vlad was saying were too many and far-reaching, but Savn was able to understand enough to say, “No.”
“I wouldn’t, either. And I don’t.”
“But what does it mean?”
“I’m not certain,” Vlad said. “Perhaps it was foolish of me to come this way, but I didn’t realize exactly where I was, and, in any case, I thought Loraan was ... I thought it would be safe. Speaking of safe, I guess what it means is that I’m not, very.”
Savn said, “You’re leaving, then?” He was surprised to discover how disappointed he was at the thought.
“Leaving? No. It’s probably too late for that. And besides, this fellow, Reins, helped me, and if that had anything to do with his death, that means I have matters to attend to.”
Savn struggled with this, and at last said, “What matters?”
But Vlad had fallen silent again; he stared off into space, as if taken by a sudden thought. He sat that way for nearly a minute, and from time to time his lips seemed to move. At last he grunted and nodded faintly.
Savn repeated his question. “What matters will y
ou have to attend to?”
“Eh?” said Vlad. “Oh. Nothing important.”
Savn waited. Vlad leaned back in his chair, his eyes open but focused on the ceiling. Twice the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were smiling; once he shuddered as if something frightened him. Savn wondered what he was thinking about. He was about to ask, when Vlad’s head suddenly snapped down and he was looking directly at Savn.
“The other day, you started to ask me about witchcraft.”
“Well, yes,” said Savn. “Why—”
“How would you like to learn?”
“Learn? You mean, how to, uh-—”
“We call it casting spells, just like sorcerers do. Are you interested?”
“I’d never thought about it before.”
“Well, think about it.”
“Why would you want to teach me?”
“There are reasons.”
“I don’t know.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised at your hesitation. It would be useful to me if someone knew certain spells. It doesn’t have to be you; I just thought you’d want to. I could find someone else. Perhaps one of those young men—”
“All right.”
Vlad didn’t smile; he just nodded slightly and said, “Good.”
“When should we begin?”
“Now would be fine,” said the Easterner, and rose to his feet. “Come with me.”
She flew above and ahead of her mate, in long, wide, overlapping circles just below the overcast. He was content to follow, because her eyesight was keener.
In fact, she knew exactly what she was looking for, and could have gone directly there, but it was a fine, warm day for this late in the year, and she was in no hurry to carry out the Provider’s wishes. There was time for that; there had been no sense of urgency in the dim echo she had picked up, so why not enjoy the day?
Above her, a lazy falcon broke through the overcast, saw her, and haughtily ignored her. She didn’t mind; they had nothing to argue about until the falcon made a strike; then they could play the old game of You’re-quicker-going-down-but-I’m-faster-going-up. She’d played that game several times, and usually won. She had lost once to a cagey old goshawk, and she still carried the scar above her right wing, but it no longer bothered her.