Hawk

16

I reached for Lady Teldra, but Illitra made the smallest gesture at me, and my head lolled forward as I pretended I’d suddenly fallen asleep. All part of the plan, you see; something in the back of my mind went, “Ha! Called it!”

Not that hard; there were, after all, only four possibilities: a quick Morganti strike, for which I’d been watching; chains; paralysis; or a sleep spell. They’d gone for the sleep spell. I was fine with that.

But I guess Illitra was of the type who used both a clasp and a pin, because he wasn’t done.

I couldn’t move my arms. Or my legs. The euphonium fell to the floor with a kind of chirrupy ringing sound that, just for a crazy instant, made me wish my friend Aibynn were there to hear it. I really hoped I hadn’t put a dent in Sara’s instrument. I’d feel awful about that. But I could have been paralyzed holding it, which wouldn’t have been any fun either.

My heart could move-it was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. I remember that. Sleep, yes; the obvious spell. But a paralysis spell too-they were taking no chance. They wanted me Morganti, and if the only way to ensure that was to nail me while I was sleeping and paralyzed, well, that’s just what they’d do.

I could talk, too-I suspect deliberately. “And here I trusted you,” I said. Pretending to be asleep, at this point, didn’t gain me much. And besides, I’d been so startled by the paralysis, my eyes had opened on their own.

The Demon glanced at me, but he didn’t reply. He sat back and watched. I concluded he was probably the one who decided on both spells. He knew me too well, that one. I should really put something sharp into some vital portion of his anatomy. Assuming I had the chance.

I remained motionless, because I had no choice in the matter, and my mind raced. I know something of sorcery. I know it isn’t easy to keep someone paralyzed. It takes concentration, and you have to maintain it or the guy’ll slip out.

That’s the thing about sorcery, you see: With witchcraft, it’s all about gathering the energy to execute the spell. With sorcery, there’s all the power you could ever want for anything. The question is, how do you handle it? How do you make it work for you, doing what you want, instead of just dissipating into nothing-or, worse, blowing up in your face, maybe taking a few people you like along with your face?

The word “spell” is misleading, or at least ambiguous.

When someone speaks of a witchcraft “spell,” that’s sort of just a fast way of saying a series of actions that will permit you to gather the power you want for a particular use, and simultaneously attuning it to that use. When someone speaks of a sorcery “spell,” that means a series of actions, or words, or even drawn diagrams, that help you concentrate in the right way to produce a certain effect.

Got all that? I hope so. The lecturer will be asking questions about it tomorrow. Heh. And please don’t ask me about wizardry, because, like they say, if you ask five wizards what the word means you’ll get six answers.

Point is, I knew he was going to have to drop the spell, sooner or later. I once saw Morrolan maintain a paralysis spell for half an hour, while drinking wine and discussing the latest discoveries in natural history, but there aren’t all that many Morrolans lying around. This guy was going to have to drop the spell.

And that gave him a problem, you see.

If he dropped it, there was nothing preventing me from sticking a dagger into his eye. Admittedly, I couldn’t draw Lady Teldra, but I still had plenty of hardware. The object with something like this is to get the guy dead, not have a fight. Which meant that the paralysis spell should only have to last long enough to-

Yeah.

One of the bodyguards pulled a knife, and I knew at once that it was Morganti. I noticed, in a sort of distant way, that it was my favorite kind for shining: a long, slim stiletto. I wondered if he intended to stick it into my left eye, as a sort of ironic salute. They’d studied me well enough to know how I like to work, after all. If it had been me, that’s what I’d have done.

But no, he’d been going for the more standard approach, up under the chin. He struck.

But, you see, I had all of this psychic energy flooding my brain, and there was no point in letting it go to waste. Sometimes you get fancy, sometimes you just do the only thing you can, and if it’s a bit inelegant, well, that’s how it goes.

The blade stopped about five inches from my skin.

“Problems?” I said.

The button-man looked at Poletra, which let me know who he worked for. Not that it mattered. Poletra said to the Demon, “You were right.”

“He may have someone coming,” said the Demon.

“Block is in place,” said Farthia. “No teleports in or out.”

“Necromantic gates?” said the Demon. “He knows at least two people who can pull that off.”

“Covered,” said Radfall. “If someone starts trying to break through, I’ll let you know. It won’t be quick.”

“Goodness me,” I observed. “A lot of magic flying around. I hope no one gets hurt.”

They all ignored me. Of course, it’s what I would have done. I was the target. My job was to die. Nothing I had to say could make any difference.

Now me, I had a whole different take on matters. But even if I couldn’t participate in the discussion, I found it interesting.

“All right,” said Poletra. “Let’s kill his beasts, first.”

“They’re gone,” said someone behind me. “Flew away as we were moving in.”

“I see,” said the Demon. He gave me a speculative look. I could see he had questions; he knew he wouldn’t get answers if he asked them. Then he looked at someone over my right shoulder and said, “How long is his shielding spell going to last?”

“Can’t say,” said the sorcerer called Farthia, who had apparently moved to somewhere behind me. “He’s using pure psychic energy, probably from the hawk’s egg. It’s pretty solid. Might be hours.”

“I can’t hold for hours,” said Illitra.

The Demon frowned. “Did anyone,” he said, “think to bring chains?”

“I have some rope,” said Poletra.

“No good,” said the Demon. “He’s carrying too much edged hardware. We need chains, fetters, manacles, locks.”

“I can have a set here in two minutes, if you’ll drop the teleport block.”

“No,” said the Demon.

“How far out does the block extend?”

“Not far. A couple of hundred yards,” said Farthia.

“Ten minutes then.”

“I can hold him for that long,” said Illitra.

Ten minutes. What could I do in ten minutes? Not much, in fact, what with not being able to move and all.

In the past, I’ve pulled off some capers that depended on exact timing. I was always proud of that. This time, I had been pleased that I didn’t need to know exact timing-that I had like half an hour of slack built into the schedule.

But, you see, I had just squished that egg. My head was filled with psychic energy like it had never been before. And, while I didn’t actually know how to manipulate psychic energy, I am something of an accomplished amateur witch, and psychic energy is what we use.

Which is why I was still alive-I was, quite literally, holding the knife back with my mind. Nice trick, huh? Wouldn’t be able to do it for long, but they didn’t know that. Now, if they hadn’t been so determined to make it Morganti, they could have used that same paralysis spell to stop my heart. I think I could have used that same energy to keep my heart pumping-maybe. If they’d done that and come at me with the knife at the same time, I think I would have had problems. And, certainly, if the first attack had been to kill me instead of to make me fall asleep, they’d have had me before I was aware of it.

But they wanted it Morganti, and I could keep the knife away for a while longer. I was not, in other words, quite as helpless as they thought I was.

“Don’t go thinking he’s helpless,” said the Demon. “I don’t know what he had planned, but I know he planned for this. He always does. Be careful.”

Bastard.

Meanwhile, the enforcer turned suddenly and tried to nail me with the stiletto again, but my grandfather didn’t raise idiots; I’d kept the barrier up.

I hadn’t made any progress beyond just staying alive by the time one of Poletra’s enforcers came in with chains, padlocks, and no expression on his face. So I sat there, unable to move, while they stood me up, as I couldn’t do it myself, and I was oddly pleased that when they did my back straightened; having me sitting there hunched over would have made me feel absurd.

They attached the manacles to the fetters in front of me, and several padlocks went click, click. Then the sorcerer released me, and, at the same time, passed his hands over each one of the locks; without my amulet on, I was able to detect a simple, basic enchantment-because enchanting an object to remain in a certain position is an entirely different matter from keeping a person that way. Like I said before: It’s one thing to cast a spell on an object, another matter entirely to cast it on a person. I mean, without killing him. And by the way, almost everyone I know agrees it’s bad form to kill someone by accident; and if you want to do it on purpose, there are better ways than by deliberately messing up a spell that’s intended to do something else.

“I think we should get him out of here,” said the Demon. “Whatever he had planned must have been set up for this place.”

The older guy, Diyann, who hadn’t said a word this entire time, now said, “Why?”

“I didn’t realize it, but when he set the conditions for the meet, he wanted this exact room, this exact building. I should have caught on before. He might even have done something to my head so I picked this place. If he has something set up, it’s for here. So let’s get him out.”

Look, I never claimed the Demon was an idiot.

They started dragging me toward the door, and that made it time for me to move. There was still all that power running around in my head, but I could feel it diminish. To the left, however, the guy wasn’t trying to stab me anymore. I’ve always preferred those times when no one is trying to stab me.

The two guys hauling me took their job seriously-their grip on my arms was brutal. I was going to need to get clear of them before anything else. I was considering this when Poletra suddenly said, “Wait.”

They stopped just as they were about to start dragging at me.

“Taltos,” he said. “What’s your game?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say that would be to my advantage, so I didn’t say anything. Rare for me, but it happens from time to time.

We all stood there, motionless, while he tried to see inside my skull; which was kind of funny, considering what we’d just been through. He didn’t manage, however.

“What are you playing at, Taltos?”

I remained mute.

“Your little friends haven’t done anything. Why? You always…” His voice trailed off as he stared at me. “The Demon is right. You have something planned.”

I said, “You can just let me go. We’ll say this never happened.”

“Do you even have any idea why we’re doing this, you fucking Easterner bug?”

Well, yeah I do. I even expected it.

“Feel free to tell me,” I said.

“You know what you did. Everyone knows what you did. And you never learned your place, Easterner. And I hate the hair on your face, and the smirk on your lips. And some of the people you stepped on on the way up were friends of mine. Money? You think money will make up for everything you’ve done? Do you?”

“Uh, sorry. Did you ask me something? I drifted off there for a bit.”

The Demon shrugged. “He’s speaking for himself. Me, I’ve always liked you, Taltos. But business is business.”

Yes, it is. To a Jhereg or an Orca. They were thinking like Orca, which happens a lot. If this worked, it meant they were also seeing things like a Hawk.

Because that’s the thing about Hawks. They can spot a norska from miles away, but the guy holding the snare never enters into their calculation. With a Hawk, it’s never about what they see, it’s about what they don’t see.

Meanwhile, I think if Poletra had clenched his jaw any harder, it would have broken. “We can find out what you’re planning. We can hurt you. We can hurt you in ways you haven’t had nightmares about.”

“I don’t know. I have some awfully vivid nightmares. When we’re done, I’ll tell you how you did.”

“Bring him,” he said.

I’d like to tell you that it was cold calculation to get him to do what I needed him to do, but that’d be crap. I didn’t need him to do anything. If he’d walked away, I’d have been fine with that, and Loiosh and I would have had many delightful conversations about whether it was all the preparation that produced the result of not needing it, or it was all a big waste. No, I’d just been needling him because he’d pissed me off.

But he’d have done it anyway. So, as old Napper used to say, don’t matter.

Yeah, old Napper. A good guy. Until they stuck a Morganti blade into him.

Verra.

No more time for doubt, no more room for screw-ups, no more attention for self-pity. And I know that somewhere, deep down, I was loving this. Loving it, and hating it, and, above all, doing it. As they tightened their grip on me, I relaxed my legs, so they were carrying all my weight. I couldn’t reach Lady Teldra, and I couldn’t drive my elbows into into their guts.

But I didn’t have to.

They had me gripped so I couldn’t get away, their thumbs carefully placed on the back of my arms, fingers in the direction they didn’t want me to go. I straightened my legs and drove toward them, pushing against their thumbs with my arms, and for just a second I was free of them.

I threw myself between them and into the window behind me.

It came loose like it wasn’t even attached-which it wasn’t-and I went through it. I landed on my right shoulder, which I didn’t like, and I had the wind knocked out of me. My momentum from the jump carried me over the cliff.

It was a long way down. I felt like I had a lot of time. I’m sure I didn’t, really, but it seemed like I did. As I went down I was turning head over heels, but I can’t tell you anything about what I saw. All I recall are flashes of color-gray for the rocks, green for the water, orange-red for the sky. Or maybe my imagination is filling in for what my memory won’t tell me. I don’t know. I fell. I do remember thinking that if I hadn’t had the chains on, I would have been able to use the cleverly designed cloak to slow myself down and, with luck, made sure I landed in a good position.

“Boss?”

“So far, so good.”

Then I hit.

Water is much harder than you think it ought to be. I mean, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as landing on solid rock, but I’ve landed on solid rock after a long fall, and I sure couldn’t feel any difference. I didn’t lose consciousness; but I wasn’t quite all there as I submerged, either. And, what with the chains and all the other hardware I was carrying, I went down fast.

Breathing was an issue. I didn’t have the amulet on, and spells for breathing underwater are pretty easy. The trouble is, using sorcery then and there felt like calling more attention to myself than I wanted to. It was going to take them a little while to find me, and I needed all of that time. But, in my befuddled state, what is more significant is that it was impossible to get my mind clear and focused enough for sorcery. To blow myself up right then trying to do a water-breathing spell would have made me feel ridiculous.

Besides, that isn’t what I’d planned for, and now was very much not the time to start second-guessing myself. I went ahead with the plan.

I’d like to tell you that it took me five seconds to get out of the chains, but I’m just not that good. Even with Kiera’s lockpick, which I’d been carrying under my collar, it took me the better part of a minute. I had to hunch over to reach them.

And that water was cold, by the way. Very cold. I know that just a little east of that spot is a place where Easterners like to swim on hot days. All I can say is, they’re made of sterner stuff than I am. In any case, the chains were gone, my lungs were bursting, and something in me said, “Wasn’t I just in this position?” But this time, at least, I didn’t have to cut my own throat. I pulled off my rapier sheath, removed the rapier, stuck one of the sheath ends in my mouth, and blew into it as I raised the other end over the surface. I just happened to know how deep the water was in this spot, having recently questioned a kid who had gotten an anchor for me.

You should know that that first good lungful of air is just as good when you haven’t just cut your throat. I mean, in case you’re ever in that position.

Problem solved.

Well, that problem solved. There was still the matter of being a few feet underwater with some killers after me.

“Boss?”

“How are things up there?”

“Warm and dry, Boss. There?”

I should have expected that. “Loiosh, what’s the sit-”

“They’re standing looking over the cliff talking about what sort of locate spell to do.”

“All right. Taking their time, are they?”

“They’ve put a teleport block around the area.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, a new one. Tighter.”

“All right. You stay out of the way. They have something planned for killing you and Rocza, and that’s a worry I don’t need right now.”

“Got it, Boss. Is it time?”

“Almost.”

“All right. I’m ready.”

I replaced the lockpick under my collar, letting the torsion wrench fall because who cares.

I was at the bottom of the ocean-sea, breathing through a specially designed sword sheath. I’d been carrying it around for years, wondering if it would ever be useful, and here it was. So I was under water, knowing they’d find me soon, with a teleport block in place, and no way to effectively avoid a locating spell.

No problem.

I still had that psychic force buzzing around my skull-diminishing, but not gone. And I had at least a little time before they fished me out of the water, so I might as well do something useful. I couldn’t break the spell on the cord holding Lady Teldra to her sheath, and I couldn’t untie the knot (ever tried untying a wet knot under very cold water?). But I could manage to send my thoughts through the knot, tracing each turn; and once I’d done that, it was a simple matter to loosen it, loosen it more, and then let it fall off.

She came into my hand and I stood up and stepped toward shore, water dripping from my hair.

“Okay, Loiosh. Now.”

“On it, Boss.”

I tossed the rapier sheath aside and climbed out of the water. Lady Teldra was in the form I’d first seen her-an exceptionally long knife, narrow, straight blade, and only the smallest crossguard. And, of course, the tiny gold links that made up her hilt. I re-sheathed her for the moment. I took off my cloak and tossed it aside, because it was wet and very heavy. The harness around my shoulders was now revealed, with various pieces of cutlery hanging from it. Under the circumstances, that was all to the good.

How to get up the cliff? Well, as it happened, there was, just thirty or thirty-five feet away, a set of steps just recently hammered into the stone of the cliff. By recently, I mean yesterday. Steps and handholds, like a ladder built into the rock. Isn’t that a lucky break?

It took me maybe a minute to climb it.

Why, you ask, didn’t they see me?

Well, it’s the oddest thing: just as I got out of the water, there came a thick, heavy fog-a fog that a simple breeze didn’t seem to dissipate. Sure got lucky there, didn’t I?

I could feel the counterspells working on the fog, and I figured I didn’t have long before they managed to get rid of it. Well, fine, then. I opened the little box, withdrew the amulet, and slipped it around my neck. I could no longer sense the magic. Right around then, the fog dissipated, and there were the Jhereg. Three bosses, three sorcerers, and ten hired thugs.

And there was me, more or less in the middle of them, holding Lady Teldra, who had changed shape, and now resembled a rapier, light and useful in my hand. I felt bad for the hired thugs. I used to be one myself.

Loiosh and Rocza came and landed on my shoulders, looking at those surrounding me, and hissing. In direct violation of my orders. Shows you how useful orders are, doesn’t it?

But, all right.

Now, I just needed to survive.

I made tiny circles with Lady Teldra, while I also turned, so everyone knew exactly what he was facing.

“Well,” I said. “All right, then. Who wants to start the party?”

“You aren’t getting out of here alive,” said Poletra.

“No? Well, who wants to go first, then?”

“Nicely done,” said the Demon. “But even if you escape us now, this only puts you back where you were.”

“Are you making me another offer, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said. “Let us end this. We won’t use the Morganti blade. We’ll-”

“No!” said Poletra. “I want to see this-”

“It’s business, not personal,” said the Demon, with something of snap in his voice.

I said, “Hey, if the two of you want to have this out, I can come back later. Should I make an app-”

Then came a new voice into the mix. “Count Szurke?” and my knees almost turned to water; not from fear, from relief. It came over me in waves and torrents and it took more than just a little effort to keep my voice even when I replied.

“Yes,” I managed. “That’s me.”