by Steven Brust
Loiosh squeezed my shoulder with his talons. "Take it easy," I told him. To Paresh I said, "I want to speak with him."
"Try tomorrow."
I thought about trying to explain myself to him so he would, perhaps, answer me. But he was a Teckla. Whatever else he was, he was still a Teckla.
I stood up and let myself out and walked back to my side of town.
Chapter 3
and repair cut in rt cuff
When I arrived on familiar ground again it was early evening. I saw no reason to return to the office so I made my way toward home.
One was lounging against a wall on Garshos, near Copper Lane
. Loiosh started to warn me just about the time I noticed the guy, which was just as he noticed me. Then Loiosh said, " There's another one behind you."
I said, "Okay." I wasn't too worried, because if they'd wanted to kill me I would never have seen them. When I reached the one in front of me he was blocking my path, and I recognized him as Bajinok, which meant Herth—the guy who ran South Adrilankha. My shoulders went limp and my hands twitched. I stopped a few paces away from him. Loiosh watched the one behind me. Bajinok looked down at me and said, "I've got a message."
I nodded, guessing at what it was.
He continued, "Stay away. Keep out of it."
I nodded again.
He said, "Do you agree?"
I said, "Can't do it, I'm afraid."
His hand went to his sword hilt, just as an idle, threatening gesture. He said, "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"I could make the message more explicit," he said.
Since I didn't feel like having my leg broken just then I threw a knife at him, underhanded. This was something I'd spent a lot of time practicing, because it is so fast. I don't know of anyone who has ever been seriously injured by a knife thrown that way except by me, and even with me it takes a lot of luck. On the other hand, anyone will flinch.
While he was busy flinching, and the knife was hitting him hilt first in the stomach, Loiosh was flying into the face of the other one. I had my rapier out before Bajinok had recovered, and I used the time to step out into the street to make sure neither of them could get behind me.
Bajinok's sword was in his hand by then and he had a dagger in the other. He was just coming into a guard position when my point took him in the right leg, above the knee. He cursed and stepped back. I followed and put a cut across the left side of his face, and, with the same motion, a good, deep one on his right wrist. He took another step back and I skewered him in the left shoulder. He went over backward.
I looked at the other one, who was big and strong-looking. He showed signs of having been bit in the face by Loiosh. He was swinging his sword wildly over his head while my familiar stayed out of his reach and laughed at him. I spared a quick glance for Bajinok, then, with my left hand, found a knife, aimed, and carefully threw it into the middle of the other guy's stomach. He grunted and cried out and swung in my direction, coming close enough to my wrist to take some hair off my arm. But that was all he had in him. He dropped his sword and knelt on the street, bent over, holding his stomach.
I said, "Okay, get going." I did my best to sound as if I weren't breathing hard.
They looked at each other, then the one with my knife in his stomach teleported out. When he was completely gone, Bajinok stood up and began limping away, holding his injured shoulder. I changed my mind about going straight home. Loiosh continued watching Bajinok as I turned up the street.
"I'd just take it as a warning," said Kragar.
"I don't need you for the obvious stuff."
"I could argue that," he said. "But never mind. The Question is, how hard is he going to push it?"
"That," I said, "is the kind of stuff I need you for."
"I don't know," he said, "but I assume we're going to get ready for the worst."
I nodded.
"Hey, boss."
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to tell Cawti about this?"
"Huh? Of course I'm going to… oh. I see what you mean. When things start to get complicated, they don't go halfway, do they?"
Kragar seemed to have left the room by then, so I took out a dagger and threw it as hard as I could into the wall—the one without a target on it. The gash it left there wasn't the first, but it may have been the deepest.
When I went home a few hours later I still hadn't decided, but Cawti wasn't there. I sat down to wait for her. I was careful not to drink too much. I relaxed in my favorite chair, a big, overstuffed gray thing with a prickly surface that makes me avoid it when I'm unclothed. I spent quite a while relaxing before I began to wonder where Cawti was.
I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment.
"Yes?"
"Hi. Where are you?"
She paused, and I was suddenly alert. "Why?" she said finally.
"Why? Because I want to know. What do you mean, why?"
"I'm in South Adrilankha."
"Are you in any danger?"
"No more than an Easterner is always in danger living in this society."
I bit back a response of spare me and said, "All right. When will you be home?"
"Why?" she asked and all sorts of prickly things started buzzing around inside of me. I almost said, "I was almost killed today," but it would have been neither true nor fair. So I said "Never mind" and severed the link.
I stood up and went into the kitchen, I drew a pot of water and set it on the stove, threw a couple of logs into the stove itself. I stacked up the dishes, which Loiosh and Rocza had already licked clean, and wiped off the table, throwing the crumbs into the stove. I got the broom out and swept the kitchen, threw the refuse from the floor after the crumbs from the table. Then I took the water off the stove and washed the dishes. I used sorcery to dry them because I've always hated drying. When I opened the cupboard to put them away I noticed that it was getting a bit dusty so I took everything out and went over all the shelves with a cloth. I felt the faint stirrings of psionic contact then, but it wasn't Cawti so I ignored it and presently it went away.
I cleaned up the floor below the sink, then mopped the whole floor. I went into the living room, decided I didn't feel like dusting and sat down on the couch. After a couple of minutes I got up, found the brush, and dusted off the shelves next to the door, under the polished wooden dog and the stand with the miniature portrait of Cawti on it, and the carved lyorn that looked like jade but wasn't, and the slightly larger stand with the portrait of my grandfather. I didn't stop and talk to Cawti's portrait.
Then I got a rag from the kitchen and wiped down the tea table that she'd given me last year. I sat down on the couch again.
I noticed that the lyorn's horn was pointing toward Cawti. When she's upset, she can pick the strangest things to think are deliberate, so I got up and turned it, then sat down again. Then I got up and dusted off the lant I'd given her last year that she hadn't even tuned in twelve weeks. I walked over to the bookshelf and picked out a book of poems by Wint. I looked at it for a while, then put it back because I didn't feel like fighting with obscurity. I picked up one of Bingia, then decided that she was too depressing. I didn't bother with Torturi or Lartol. I can be shallow and clever on my own; I don't need them for it. I consulted the Orb, then my internal clock, and both told me that I wouldn't be able to sleep yet.
"Hey, Loiosh."
"Yeah, boss?"
"Want to see a show?"
"What kind?"
"I don't care."
"Sure."
I walked over to Kieron Circle
instead of teleporting because I didn't care to arrive with my stomach upset. It was a bit of a hike, but walking felt good. I picked a theater without looking at the title, as soon as I found a show that was starting right away. I think it was an historical, taking place during the reign of a decadent Phoenix so they could use all the costumes they had lying around from the last fifty years of productions. After about fifteen minutes
I started hoping someone would try to cut my purse. I took a quick glance behind me, and saw an elderly Teckla couple, probably blowing a year's savings. I gave up on that idea.
I left at the end of the first act. Loiosh didn't mind. He didn't think the actor playing the Warlord should have been allowed out of North Hill. He's a real snob when it comes to theater. He said, "The Warlord is supposed to be a Dragon, boss. Dragons stomp, they don't skulk. And he almost tripped over his sword three times. And when he was supposed to be demanding that more troops be conscripted, it sounded as if he was asking for—"
"Which one was the Warlord?"
He said, "Oh. Never mind."
I walked home slowly, hoping someone would do something to me so I could do something back, but all was quiet in Adrilankha. At one point someone approached me as if he were going to pull on my cloak and I started to get ready for action, but he turned out to be an old, old man, probably an Orca, who was under the influence of something. Before he could open his mouth I asked him if he had any spare copper. He looked confused so I patted his shoulder and walked on.
When we got back, I hung up my cloak, took off my boots and checked the bedroom. Cawti was home and asleep. Rocza was resting in her alcove.
I stood over Cawti, hoping she'd wake up and see me looking at her and ask what was wrong so I could storm at her and she'd apologize and everything would be fine. I stood there for what must have been ten minutes. I might still be standing there, but Loiosh was around. He wasn't saying anything, but he makes me self-conscious about wallowing in self-pity for more than ten minutes at a time, so I undressed and crawled into bed next to Cawti. She didn't wake up. A long, long time later I fell asleep.
I wake up slowly.
Oh, not always. I remember a couple of times when I've woken to Loiosh screaming in my mind and found myself in the middle of a fight. Once or twice I was woken up badly and unfortunate things almost happened, but those are rare. Usually there is a time between awake and asleep that, in retrospect, feels like it lasts for hours. That's when I clutch at my pillow and wonder if I really feel like getting up. Then I roll over, look at the ceiling and the thoughts of what I'm going to do that day trickle into my head. That's what really wakes me up. I've tried to organize my life so that there is something to get up for on any given day. Today we're going to the Eastern section for the spice markets. Today I'm going to close that deal on a new brothel. Today I'm going to visit Castle Black and check on Morrolan's security setup and chat with Aliera. Today I'm going to follow this guy and confirm that he does visit his mistress every other day. That kind of thing.
When I woke up the next morning, I learned that I was made of better stuff than I had thought, because I got out of bed without having a single reason to. Not one damned reason. Cawti was up, but I didn't know if she was home or not; neither thought gave me any impulse to see the world outside of my room. My business was running itself; I had no obligations to fulfill. The only thing interesting in my life was finding out the story behind who had killed the Easterner, and that was for Cawti, who seemed not to care.
But I made it into the kitchen to start heating water. Cawti was in the living room reading a tabloid. I felt a tightening in my throat. I started the water, then went into the bathroom. I used the chamber pot and cleaned it with sorcery. Neat. Efficient. Just like a Dragaeran. I shaved in cold water. My grandfather shaved in cold water (before he grew his beard) because he says it makes you better able to stand the winters. That sounds like nonsense to me, but I do it out of respect for him. I chewed on a tooth stick, rubbed down my gums, and rinsed my mouth out. By then the water was hot enough for my bath. I took it, dried myself, cleaned up the bathroom, dressed, and dumped the water out the back. Splash, i stood and watched the puddles and rivers it made running down the alley. I've often wondered why no one claims to read the future in dumped bath water. I looked to the left and saw the ground was dry beneath my neighbor's back porch. Ha! I was up earlier than she again. So there, world.
One small victory
I walked into the living room and sat down in my chair, facing the couch. I caught a glimpse of a headline on Cawti's tabloid that read, "Call for the investigation—" on about four lines of big black print, and that wasn't the whole thing. She put the thing down and looked at me.
I said, "I'm mad at you."
She said, "I know. Should we go out and eat?"
I nodded. For some reason, we can't seem to discuss things at home. We went to our favorite klava hole with Loiosh and Rocza on my shoulders and I ignored the tension and twisting in my stomach long enough to order a few eggs and drink some klava with very little honey. Cawti ordered tea.
She said, "Okay. Why are you mad?" which is like getting in the first cut to put the other guy on the defensive.
So I said, "Why didn't you tell me where you were?"
She said, "Why did you want to know?" with a bit of a smile as we realized what we were doing.
I said, "Why shouldn't I?" and we both grinned, and I felt just a little better for just a little while.
Then she shook her head and said, "When you asked where I was and when I'd be back, it sounded as if you wanted to approve or disapprove of it."
I felt my head snap back. "That's absurd," I said. "I just wanted to know where you were."
She glared at me. "All right, so I'm absurd. That still doesn't give you the right—"
"Dammit, I didn't say you were absurd and you know it. You're accusing me—"
"I didn't accuse you of anything. I said how I felt."
"Well, by saying that you felt that way, you were implying that—"
"This is ridiculous."
Which was the perfect chance to say, "All right, so I'm ridiculous," but I know better. Instead, I said, "Look, I was not then trying, nor have I ever tried, to dictate your actions. I came home, you weren't there—"
"Oh, and this is the first time that's happened?"
"Yes," I said, which we both knew wasn't true, but the word came out before I could stop it. The corner of her mouth twitched up and the eyebrow lowered, which is one of my favorite things that she does. "All right," I said. "But I was worried about you."
"About me?" she said. "Or afraid that I was involved in something you don't approve of?"
"I already know you're involved in something I don't approve of."
"Why don't you approve of it?"
I said, "Because it's stupid, first of all. How are five Easterners and a Teckla going to 'destroy the despotism' of an Empire? And—"
"There are more. That's only the tip of the iceberg."
I stopped. "What's an iceberg?"
"Ummm… I don't know. You know what I mean."
"Yeah. The thing is, it's not even nearing a Teckla reign. I could see something like this if the Teckla were near the top of the Cycle, but they're not. It's the Phoenix, and then the Dragons if we're still alive when the Cycle changes; the Teckla aren't even in the running."
"And in the second place, what's wrong with what we have now? Of course it isn't perfect, but we live well enough and we got it on our own. You're talking about giving up our careers, our lifestyle, and everything else. And for what? So a bunch of nobodies can pretend they're important—"
"Careful," she said.
I stopped in mid-diatribe. "All right," I said. "Sorry. But have I answered your question?"
She was quiet for a long time, then. Our food showed up and we ate it without saying anything at all. When we'd turned the scraps over to Loiosh and Rocza, Cawti said, "Vladimir, we've always agreed never to hit each other's weak spots, right?"
I felt a sinking sensation when she said that, but I nodded.
She continued, "All right, this is going to sound like that's what I'm doing, but I don't mean it that way, okay?"
"Go on," I said.
She shook her head. "Is it okay? I want to say it, because I think it's important, but I don't want you to just shut me out, the way you do whenever I try to ge
t you to look at yourself. So will you listen?"
I drained my klava, signaled the waiter for more and doctored it appropriately when it came. "All right," I said.
"Until just recently," she began, "you thought that you had found your line of work because you hated Dragaerans. Killing them was your way of getting back at them for what they'd put you through while you were growing up. Right?"
I nodded.
"Okay," she continued. "A few weeks ago, you had a talk with Aliera."
I winced. "Yeah," I said.
"She told you about a previous life in which—"
"Yeah, I know. I was a Dragaeran."
"And you said you felt as if your whole life had been a lie."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Hm?"
"Why did it shake you so much?"
"I don't—"
"Could it be because you've felt all along as if you had to justify yourself? Could it be that somewhere, deep down, you think it is evil to kill people for money?"
"Not people," I said by reflex. "Dragaerans."
"People," she said. "And I think you've just proved my point. You were forced into this line of work, just the way I was. You had to justify it to yourself. You've justified it so thoroughly that you kept on doing 'work' even after you no longer had to, when you were making enough money from running your area that the 'work' was pointless. And then your justification fell apart. So now you don't know where you stand, and you have to wonder whether you are, really, deep down, a bad person."
"I don't—"
"Let me finish. What I'm getting at is this: No, you aren't a bad person. You have done what you had to do to live and to help provide us both with a home and a comfortable life. But tell me this, now that you can't hide behind hating Dragaerans any more: What kind of Empire do we have that forces someone like you to do what you do, just to live, and to be able to walk down the streets without flinching? What kind of Empire not only produces the Jhereg, but allows it to thrive? Can you justify that!"
I let her comments percolate through me for a while. I got more klava. Then I said, "That's the way things are. Even if these people you're running around with aren't just nut cases, nothing they do is going to change that. Put in a different Emperor and things will just go back to being the way they are in a few years. Sooner than that, if it's an Easterner."