Jhereg

She absently weighed the purse, no doubt able to tell within a few Imperials how much was in it. “It is?” she said. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll help you out anyway.” She smiled her little smile and looked at the others in the room.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Kiera, this is Aliera e’Kieron—”

“We know each other,” interrupted Aliera.

They smiled at each other, and I was surprised to note that the smiles seemed genuine. For a while I’d been afraid that Kiera had once stolen something of Aliera’s. Friendships do turn up in the oddest places.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s get down to business. I think everyone knows everyone, right?”

There was no disagreement.

“Good. Let’s get comfortable.”

Kragar had, without my mentioning it, made sure that there were six chairs in the room, and had sent out for a good wine and six glasses. These arrived, and he went around the room making sure everyone’s was full, before sitting down himself. Daymar disdained the chair, preferring to float. Loiosh assumed his position on my right shoulder.

I began to feel a little nervous about the whole thing. I had gathered in that room a master thief, a high noble of the House of the Hawk, a Dragonlord who traced her lineage back to Kieron himself, and a highly skilled assassin. And Kragar. I was just a bit troubled. Who was I to use these people as if they were common Jhereg to be hired and sent out?

I caught Aliera’s eye. She’was looking at me steadily and confidently. Cawti, also, was waiting patiently for me to describe how we were going to get out of this.

That’s who I was, of course. Cawti’s husband, Aliera’s friend, and more . . . and the one who knew, possibly, how to handle this situation.

I cleared my throat, took a sip of wine, and organized my thoughts. “My friends,” I said, “I would like to thank each of you for coming here, and agreeing to help me out on this. With some of you, it is, of course, in your own best interest, for one reason or another, that this matter be favorably settled. And to you, I would like to add that I am honored that you are trusting me to handle it. To those of you with no direct interest, I am deeply grateful that you are willing to help me at all. I give you my assurance that I won’t forget this.”

“Get to the point.”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“As to the problem, well, most of you know what it is, to one degree or another. Put simply, a high noble in the Jhereg is under the protection of Lord Morrolan, and it is necessary that he be killed, and not later than tomorrow at that, or,” I paused for another sip of wine and for effect, “or events will occur to the severe detriment of some of us.”

Aliera snorted at the understatement. Kiera chuckled.

“The important thing to remember is the time limit. For reasons that I would prefer not to go into, we have only today and tomorrow. Today would be much better, but I’m afraid that we’re going to have to take today to iron out difficulties, and to practice our parts.

“Now, it is important to some of us,” I looked quickly at Aliera, but her face betrayed no emotion, “that nothing be done which would compromise Morrolan’s reputation as a host. That is, we can’t do anything to this person, Mellar, while he is a guest at Castle Black, nor can we force him to leave by threats or by magic, such as mind-control.”

I looked around the room. I still had everyone’s attention. “I think I’ve found a method. Allow me to demonstrate what I have in mind, first, so we can get the hard part down before I go on with the rest of it. Kragar, stand up for a moment, please.”

He did so. I came around the desk and drew my rapier. His eyebrows arched, but he said nothing.

“Assume for a moment,” I said, “that you have weapons secreted about your person at every conceivable point.”

He smiled a little. Assume, hell!

“Draw your blade,” I continued, “and get into a guard position.”

He did so, standing full forward, with his blade pointed straight at my eyes, level with his own head. His blade was a lot heavier and somewhat longer than mine, and it formed a straight line from his eyes to mine. His palm was down, his elbow out. There was a certain grace apparent, although I still consider the Eastern en garde position to be more elegant.

I stood for a moment, then attacked, simulating the Dragaeran move for a straight head cut. I came at his head, just below the line of his blade, giving me a sharp angle up.

He made the obvious parry, dropping his elbow so that his sword also angled up, even more sharply than mine. Also, the strong of his blade was matched against the weak of mine. This lined him up very well for a cut down at my head; however, before he could take it, I moved in and . . .

I felt something strike my stomach, lightly. I looked down, and saw his left hand there. Had this been a real fight, there would have been a dagger clutched in that hand. Had we been alone, he would probably have used a real dagger and avoided hitting me with it, but he wasn’t keen on letting all of these people in on where he kept his extra blades. I resumed a normal position, saluted him, and sheathed my blade.

“Where,” I asked, “did you get the dagger from?”

“Left forearm sheath,” he said, with no hesitation.

“Good. Is there anywhere else you could have gotten it from that would have worked as well?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “I was assuming a spring-loaded type of forearm sheath, set for left-hand use. If he has it set for a right-hand draw, which is just as common, then I’d expect a simple waist sheath would be the one he’d go for. Either way it would be fast. I can use the fact that the whole left side of your body is undefended, and I can attack with the same motion I draw with. An upper thigh sheath would mean dropping my arm lower than I have to, there isn’t any reason to go cross-body, and anything else is worse.”

I nodded. “Okay. Cawti, anything to add, or do you agree?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, he’s right. It would be one of those two.”

“Good. Kragar, I want you to secure two Morganti daggers.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. How strong do you want them?”

“Strong enough for anyone to tell that they are Morganti, but not so strong that they are apparent when they’re sitting in their sheaths; okay?”

“Okay, I can find a couple like that. And, let me guess, you want one to be the right size for a waist sheath, and the other to be the right size for a forearm sheath.”

“You’ve got it. Let me see for a minute . . . ” I had looked very closely for the weapons Mellar was carrying, but I hadn’t been so much concerned with how big they were as where they were. I tried to remember . . . Where was that little bulge? Ah, yes. And when he had turned from talking to the Hawklord, I had seen how much hilt from the waist sheath? Right. It looked like a standard bone hilt. How long a blade would make it balance right? And how wide? I’d have to guess, but I felt I could come pretty close.

“Waist sheath,” I announced. “Overall length, approximately fourteen inches, of which half is blade. Just a fraction over an inch wide at the widest. Forearm sheath: call it nine inches overall. The blade is about five-and-a-half inches long, and about three-quarters of an inch wide near the guard.” I stopped. “Any problem?”

He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Vlad. I should be able to get them, but I can’t count on it. I’ll talk to my supplier, and see what he has, but you’re being damn precise.”

“I know. Do the best you can. Remember, they don’t have to be untraceable this time.”

“That will help.”

“Good.”

I turned to Kiera. “Now, the big question. Can you lighten Mellar of a pair of daggers without his noticing, and, more of a problem, without his bodyguard noticing? I’m referring, of course, to the waist and forearm daggers.”

She just smiled in answer.

“Okay, now; can you return them again? Can you put them back without his noticing?”

Her brows came together. “ ‘Return them?’ I don’t know . . . I think so . . . maybe. I take it you mean substituting two new ones for the ones he has, right?”

I nodded.

“And,” I added, “remember that they’re going to be Morganti daggers, so they have to stay unnoticeable during the switch.”

She brushed it off. “If I can do it at all, the fact that they’re Morganti won’t make any difference.” She took on a vacant expression for a moment, and I noticed her hand twitching, as she mentally went through the motions that would be needed. “The waist dagger,” she said finally, “can be done. About the other one . . . ” she continued to look thoughtful. “Vlad, do you know if he has a spring-loaded mechanism for the left-hand, or just a reverse right-hand draw setup?”

I thought about it. I brought up my memory of seeing him again, and the bulge that had to be that blade, but I couldn’t quite pin it down. “I don’t know. I’m sure he has something, I mean, one or the other, but I just can’t tell which one. Hmmmm, it just occurred to me, that if he has the reverse draw type, he won’t use it for what we’re talking about doing, so it really doesn’t matter. We can assume—”

“Say, Vlad,” said Kragar suddenly. “Remember that he’s been trained as a master swordsman. That means he’ll figure on fighting sword and dagger. Chances are, he’s got the spring mechanism, so he can just twist his wrist and have a blade pop into his left hand.”

I nodded.

Kiera said, “Do you have a forearm sheath, Vlad?”

It made me uncomfortable to discuss it, but I realized what she had in mind, and it was a reasonable question. I nodded.

“Spring, or right-hand draw?”

“Right-hand draw,” I said.

She stood up. “Those are easier,” she said, “but that will make up for the fact that you’ll be watching for it. Let’s see what I can do . . . ” She crossed in front of Cawti and Kragar and stood in front of my desk. She set her wineglass down a few inches from my own. I was holding it loosely, and the cuff was open a little, which should work to her advantage.

I kept my eyes on my arm and her hand where she set the glass down. So far as I could tell, her hand never came closer than three inches from mine.

She walked back to her chair and sat down again.

“How was that?” she asked.

I pulled back my sleeve, and checked the sheath. It held the same dagger it always had.

“Fine,” I said, “except for the little matter that—” I stopped. She was smiling that smile of hers that I knew so well. She reached into her cloak, pulled out a dagger, and held it up. I heard a gasp, and saw Kragar staring at it.

He gave a quick twist to his left wrist, and suddenly a knife appeared in his hand. He looked at it, and his mouth dropped open. He held it as if it were a poisonous snake. He closed his mouth again, swallowed, and handed the dagger back to Kiera. She returned Kragar’s to him.

“Misdirection,” she explained.

“I’m convinced,” said Kragar.

“Me, too,” I said.

Kiera looked pleased.

I suddenly felt a lot better. This thing might actually work.

“I saw the whole thing, boss.”

“Sure you did, Loiosh.”

“Good,” I said. “Now, Aliera, did you see that stroke I made at Kragar, with a bind following it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make the exact same attack?”

“I suspect so,” she answered drily.

“Okay. I’ll work on it with you. It’s going to have to be perfect.”

She nodded.

I turned to Cawti. “You’re going to have to do a simple takeout.”

“Any particular fashion?”

“Very quick, very quiet, and very unnoticeable. I’ll be providing a distraction, which should help somewhat, but we have to be absolutely sure that no one sees you do it, or Mellar will be alerted too soon, and the whole thing blows up.”

“Can I kill the guy?”

“No problem. Your target is an uninvited guest, so anything that happens to him is his problem.”

“That makes things easier. I don’t think I’ll have any difficulty.”

“Remember, he’s a damn good sorcerer, and you aren’t going to have much time to check him over.”

“So? I eat sorcerers for breakfast.”

“You’ll have to cook me up one, sometime.”

She smiled, slightly. “Does he have any protective spells up at the moment?”

I looked over at Aliera, who had checked the two of them out after I had left her.

“No,” she said. “They’re both good enough to get defenses up quickly if they have to, but I guess they don’t want to call attention to themselves by using spells in Castle Black unless they actually have to.”

“You keep referring to ‘they,’ ” said Kiera. “Which one am I going to be taking out?”

“That’s just the problem,” I said. “We don’t know. It will be whichever one is on Mellar’s left, and we don’t know which one that will be. Does that present a problem?”

She gave me what I call her I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile, and made a dagger appear in her right hand. She spun it in the air, caught it, and made it disappear. I held myself answered.

“Daymar,” I said, turning to him, “you’re going to have to throw an illusion at me. It’s going to have to be fast, thorough, and undetectable.”

Daymar looked suddenly doubtful. “Undetectable? Morrolan will be able to tell that I’m throwing a spell in his castle no matter how subtle I am.”

“Morrolan won’t be there, so you don’t need to worry about him. It does, however, have to be good enough so that a topnotch sorcerer, who will be there, doesn’t notice it. Of course, he’ll be rather busy at the time.”

Daymar thought for a minute. “How long does the illusion have to stay on?”

“About five seconds.”

“No problem, then.”

“Good. Then that’s everything. Now, here’s the plan . . . ”

“I like it, Vlad,” said Kragar, “up to the teleport. That leaves you in a pretty miserable position, doesn’t it? Why don’t we go back to the original plan that you worked up with Aliera at that point?”

“You aren’t thinking it through,” I told him. “We’re really pulling an elaborate hoax. It has to happen fast enough for Mellar to act while he’s disoriented and confused. In fact, we’re going to have to make him panic. Someone like Mellar isn’t going to panic easily, and it isn’t going to last very long. If we give him time to think it through, he’ll realize what happened and just teleport back. We’ll be right back where we started.”

“Do you think,” asked Kragar, “that we can get Morrolan to put up a teleport block around Castle Black so he can’t come back there? Or maybe Aliera can do it.”

“Aliera isn’t going to be in any condition to put up or keep up a teleport block, if you remember. And if Morrolan is there to do it, he’ll interfere in the earlier part of the plan, and we won’t be able to bring it off at all.”

“What about,” said Cawti, “letting Morrolan in on it from the beginning?”

Aliera answered for me. “He’d never permit me to do what I’m going to do, even if he agreed with the rest—which he wouldn’t, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Morrolan. When this is over, if it works, he’ll agree that it was a fine thing to do. But in the meantime, he’ll try to stop it if he can.”

“What do you mean,” Cawti asked, “about his not permitting you to do what you are going to do?”

“Just what I said. Even if he wasn’t involved in any other way, he’d at least try to stop that part.”

“Why? If you aren’t in any danger—”

“I never said,” replied Aliera softly, “that I wouldn’t be in any danger.”

Cawti looked at her sharply. “I don’t pretend to understand Great Weapons, but if it isn’t safe—”

“Nothing is ‘safe.’ This is a better chance than I’d get if I did something that forced Morrolan to kill me.”

Cawti looked troubled. “But Aliera, your soul—”

“So what? I think I have a good chance of surviving, and this leaves Morrolan with his honor intact, and the problem solved. The other way, Morrolan and I both end up worse off, with no chance at all for things to work out right. This is our best chance.”

Cawti still looked unhappy, but she didn’t say anything more on the subject.

Kragar said, “What about if Daymar throws a second illusion so I can get in on it?”

“No good,” I said. “Who’s going to do the teleport then? We can’t do it ourselves, remember, because that’s using magic against a guest at Castle Black. I’m convinced that it will be one of the two bodyguards who does the teleport, so they can make it untraceable at the same time.”

“Even if Mellar asks you to do it?”

I looked at Aliera, who nodded. “Even then,” she said. “He has to leave under his own power, or by the hand of one of his own people, or Morrolan will almost certainly take offense.”

“Well—I suppose. But there has to be some way that we can get help to you.”

I shrugged. “Sure, it could be that they don’t get their trace-blocks up fast enough, so you could find me then. And I expect that Aliera will be able to find me with Pathfinder—after she recovers.” I carefully didn’t add “if she recovers.”

“And how long,” said Kragar, “will that take?”

“Who can say?” said Aliera. “Nothing like this has ever been done before, so far as I know.”

Cawti looked grim. “And there isn’t any way we’re going to be able to find you ourselves?”

“Well,” I said, “it would be nice if you tried. But I’m sure that some kind of block will be put up, and the guy doing it is good. Without having Pathfinder, you’ll have to spend quite a while breaking down his spell.”

Cawti looked away. “From what I hear, Vlad, you aren’t in the same class with him as a fighter.”

“I’m aware of that. But I fight Eastern-style, remember? And my intention is to take him before he even knows that I’m not who I’m supposed to be.”

“Which reminds me,” said Aliera. “If it does come down to a fight, you’re going to have to keep him busy the whole time.”

“I expect that he’ll take care of that,” I said drily. “But why?”

“Because if he realizes what has just happened—and the way you spoke of him, he will—he’ll just teleport right back to Castle Black if you give him the chance to.”

Great. “You’re right,” I admitted. “He probably will. How long will it take him, do you think?”

“To do the teleport? If I’m right in my assessment, it will take him only two or three seconds.”

“So I can’t allow him more than two seconds of breathing time during the fight.” I shrugged. “That’s all right. As I said, I don’t expect him to allow me any breathing time, if it comes down to a fight. But I’m hoping it won’t.”

“By the way,” said Kragar, “what happens if he turns to you and tells you to teleport him out?”

“I’m hoping he’ll ask the other guy—which is a fifty-fifty chance. If he does turn to me, I’ll do a dumb and stupid look and pretend that I’m in a state of shock. That should be believable.”

Daymar snapped his fingers. “The Necromancer!” he said. “She won’t have to trace the teleport; she can use her own ways of getting to you.”

“Not without psionic contact,” I said. “And chances are that whatever blocks they put up against tracing the teleport will block out general tracing spells as well—and that means that you won’t be able to contact me, and I won’t be able to contact you.”

“Oh,” said Daymar.

“Well,” I asked the room in general, “can anyone think of any alternatives? Anything I might have missed?”

There was silence.

“I didn’t think so,” I said. “All right, that’s what we’ve got. Let’s get to work.”

Kragar left to procure the daggers. The others went off to practice their parts. I went into the weapons closet and found two identical knives. They were long, thin stilettos, with seven inches of blade.

I picked one up and sharpened it carefully, spending over an hour on it. I wouldn’t have to coat this one with nonreflective black paint, I decided, since there wasn’t going to be much sneaking around involved here after I had it in my hand.

It isn’t that I’m not willing to use any weapon I can get at to finish a job; it’s just that I feel that I’m better off if I have a blade in mind from the beginning and know it exactly. That is why I picked out two identical weapons. After sharpening the one, I wouldn’t touch it again until I left for Castle Black tomorrow. That way, it would have very little, if any, association with me. Since it had so little of my “feel” about it, I could safely leave it right at the scene. This is much safer than being caught later with it on me—since there is no way to disguise the link between murder weapon and victim.

I picked up the duplicate, felt the weight and balance, and held it for a while. I took a few cuts and lunges with the thing in either hand, and then concentrated for a while on using my left hand with it.

I drew my rapier and fenced a little, practicing flipping it at a target on the wall between parry and riposte. In fact, I would never plan on throwing a knife at someone if this were a standard job, but in this case, it might be necessary.

I took out a few pieces of wood, then, and set them against the wall, and plunged the knife into them several times, alternating strokes. I used every type of attack I could think of, each several times.

I was satisfied. It was a good blade. Not very good for cutting, but it was unlikely that the death blow would be a cut. It threw well enough—although not perfectly—and it fit very well into my hand for any kind of stabbing motion that I was likely to make.

I picked out a sheath for it, and, after some thought, secured it to the outside of my left leg, just above the knee. The knife was a bit too long to be concealed effectively, but my cloak would cover it up pretty well, and it was perfectly placed for maximum speed of draw if I were fencing. Well, no; around the back of my neck would have been better for that, but then I’d have it in my hand in somewhat of an overhand position, which wouldn’t be as good as an underhanded grip for stabbing in the middle of a bind, for example.

Loiosh watched my preparations in silence for a while, then he said, “There is one problem with your plan, boss.”

“That being?”

“The ‘distraction’ part.”

“What about it?”

“If I’m busy distracting people, that means I’m not along when you take off.”

“I know.”

“Well, I don’t like it!”

“To be perfectly honest with you, old friend, neither do I.”

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previous | Table of Contents | next

Every citizen of the Dragaeran Empire has a permanent link to the Imperial Orb, which circles the head of the Empress with colors that change to reflect the sovereign’s mood at the moment.

This one link serves many functions at the same time. Perhaps the most important one, to most people, is that it allows the use of the power from the Great Sea of Chaos (as distinct from the lesser one that Adron created), which provides the energy for sorcery. To anyone skilled enough, this power can be shaped, molded, and used for just about anything—depending, of course, on the skill of the user.

One of its less important functions, to most people, is that one need only concentrate briefly in the proper way, and one knows precisely what time it is, according to the Imperial Clock.

I have, I will admit, some small skill in sorcery. I mean, I can start a fire with it, or teleport if I have to, or kill someone with it—if he isn’t very good, and I get lucky. On the other hand, I only rarely have a use for it. But the Imperial Clock has been a friend that I could count on for years.

Eight hours past noon, every other day (and today was one), Morrolan inspected his guard positions personally. He would go outside of Castle Black, and teleport from tower to tower, speaking with the guards and checking them over. There was rarely, if ever, anything to correct or to criticize, but it was very effective for troop morale. It was also one of relatively few things that Morrolan did with any regularity.

Eight hours past noon, on this day, the day after we had met in my office, Morrolan was inspecting his guard positions, and so was not in the banquet hall of Castle Black.

I was.

Daymar was there as well, standing next to me. Cawti was around somewhere, as was Kiera. Aliera was somewhere outside the hall, waiting.

I tried to be inconspicuous. I didn’t drink anything, because I didn’t want anyone to notice that my hand was trembling.

I looked around the room for a while and finally spotted Mellar. Kiera was standing about ten feet away from him, to his rear, and looking in my direction. I decided that I must, at least in part, be succeeding in being inconspicuous, since none of my acquaintances had yet seen me. Good. If we could just hold onto that kind of luck for another couple of minutes, it wouldn’t matter.

Okay. Relax, hands. Shoulder muscles, loosen up. Stomach, unknot. Neck, ease up. Knees, loose your stiffness—it’s time to go.

I nodded to Kiera. She nodded back. I was no longer nervous.

From where I stood, I had a plain view of Kiera as she walked past one of Mellar’s bodyguards, reached for a glass of wine past him, and walked away. I never saw her make the transfer. In fact, I wondered whether it had been made at ail until Kiera caught my eye and nodded. I looked at her right hand, which was at her side. She had two fingers out, the rest in a fist. Both weapons planted. Good. I let my eyes acknowledge.

Here we go, I said to myself.

I glanced around the room then. This was the one part that I didn’t have planned out—because I couldn’t know who would be here from one day to the next—or one moment to the next.

Over near a table, about twenty feet away from me, I spotted the Hawklord who had been speaking to Mellar the other day. Perfect! I owed him one. I moved over toward him, planning my part. I observed the contents of the table and fitted it in. I took enough time getting there to give Loiosh bis instructions in detail.

“Know your part, Loiosh?”

“Worry about your own lines, boss. I’m just doing what comes naturally.”

I leaned on the table, briefly raised my nobility a couple of notches, and said, “I say, hand me a glass of that Kiereth, four thirty-seven, will you?”

For a minute, I was afraid I’d overdone it when he actually started reaching for it, but then he caught himself, and turned to face me fully, his voice and eyes cold.

“I don’t fetch for Jhereg,” he announced. “Or Easterners.”

Good. He was mine, now.

I pretended amusement. “Oh, indeed?” I responded, turning on my best sardonic smile. “Nervous about serving your betters, eh? Well, that’s quite all right.”

He glared, then, and his hand went to his sword hilt. Then, remembering where he was, I suppose, he let go of it.

“I must ask Morrolan,” he said, “why he allows inferiors to share his accommodations.”

It occurred to me that I should encourage him to do so, just to see how long he lasted—but I had a part to play. “Do that,” I said. “I must admit to being curious as well. Let me know how it is that he justifies your presence here, among gentlefolk.”

There were a few people watching us now, wondering whether the Hawk would challenge me, or simply attack. I didn’t really care, as it happened.

He felt the crowd watching too. “Do you think,” he said, “to claim equality with Dragaerans?”

“At least,” I replied, smiling.

He smiled back, having mastered his temper. “What a quaint notion. A Dragaeran would not think to speak to anyone that way unless he was ready to back it up with steel.”

I laughed aloud. “Oh, always, anytime,” I said.

“Very well. My seconds will call upon you in the morning.”

I pretended surprise.

“They will?” I said. “My seconds will call upon you in the alley.”

I turned my back on him and walked away.

“What?” came the enraged cry behind me. I had taken three steps when I heard the sound of steel being drawn. I continued walking briskly.

“Now, Loiosh!”

“On my way, boss.”

I felt the jhereg leave my shoulder, as I continued walking smoothly and evenly away from the Hawklord. Now, at this point, was when I was going to need all of the skills Kiera had taught me years before.

I heard a cry behind me, and the shouts of “It bit me!” and “Help!” and “Get a healer!” and “Where’s the damn Jhereg?” and “Look, he’s dying!”

There would be no eyes on me, I knew, as I walked toward Mellar. His bodyguards, I noted, didn’t seem especially alert, although they, of all the crowd, must have recognized the distraction for what it was.

Mellar’s face was calm. I was taken with sudden admiration for him. This was what he’d been expecting. He figured to die here and now and was ready for it. His bodyguards knew, and weren’t making any effort to stop it. Could I have stood there like that, waiting for, perhaps, a Morganti dagger in my back? Not a chance.

I smiled to myself. He was about to get a surprise, however. I continued toward him, coming around the back. I was aware of the crowd around me as I blended in with it, but no one was aware of me. I had, to all intents and purposes, vanished. The art of the assassin. It would take an exceptional skill to spot me at this point—a skill that was beyond even the two bodyguards, I was sure.

Mellar stood, unmoving, awaiting the touch of a blade. He’d been flirting with a young female Tsalmoth who was playing dumb Teckla maiden, while Mellar pretended he believed it. She was looking at him curiously now, because he’d stopped speaking.

And, amazingly, he actually began to smile. His lips curled up into the barest, thinnest smile.

“Now, Aliera!”

“Here I come!”

May Verra protect thy soul, lady who was my sister . . .

The smile faded from Mellar’s face as a shrill, drunken voice rang out through the room.

“Where is he?” cried Aliera. “Show me the teckla who would dishonor my cousin’s name!”

A path cleared in front of Aliera. I got a glimpse of the Necromancer, a shocked look on her face. It is rare to see her shocked. She would probably have done something, but she was just too far away.

Speaking of too far away . . .

“Loiosh?”

“I’m busy, dammit! They won’t let me go! I’m trying to get over there, but—”

“Forget it. Like we discussed. We just can’t risk it. Stay where you are.”

“But—”

“No.”

I moved in as Aliera did—she from the front, and I from the back. Of course.

“Good luck, boss.”

I moved into position and noticed a sudden tension in Mellar’s back. He must have recognized the naked blade in Aliera’s hand as Morganti. I’m sure the whole room was aware of it.

I was in position, so I could hear everything he said. I heard him curse under his breath. “Not her, dammit!” he hissed to his bodyguards. “Stop her.”

The two of them moved forward to bar Aliera’s path, but she was the quickest. From her upraised left hand, a green scintillating light flashed out. Then I saw something that I’d heard about, but had never actually seen before. The energy she sent at them split; forked into two bolts, which caught the two bodyguards full in the chest. They were flung backwards and fell heavily. If we’d given them time to think, they would certainly have realized that Aliera couldn’t be very drunk to throw a spell like that. They were both good enough to block part of the effects and they began to pick themselves up.

And, at that moment, Cawti, my wife, who had once been called “The Dagger of the Jhereg,” struck. Silently, swiftly, and with perfect accuracy.

I don’t think anyone else in the room would have seen it even if they hadn’t all been busy staring at Aliera, who was waving Pathfinder around drunkenly over her head. But one of the two fallen bodyguards, as he tried to pick himself up, tried to cry out, found that he no longer had a larynx to do it with, and fell back.

And then I felt a tingling sensation as Daymar’s spell took effect. Daymar threw his second spell just as quickly, and the dead bodyguard became invisible.

I stood up in his place. I matched paces with my “partner,” but we saw we couldn’t get there in time. I strongly suspect that the other fellow was a great deal more disturbed by this than I was.

Mellar also realized that we would be too late to save him. He now had two choices: he could allow Aliera to kill him, thus dying amid the ruins of three hundred or more years of planning, or he could fight Aliera.

His sword was out in a flash, and he took his guard position as Aliera swayed toward him. He certainly knew by now that he was going to have to kill her, if he could. His mind, I knew, would be working hard now; planning his blow, estimating her timing, and realizing gratefully that he could kill her without making it permanent if he was careful. He had to make sure that she died, but he must avoid any blow to the head.

He fell back a step. “My lady, you’re drunk—” he began, but Aliera struck before he could finish. Pathfinder swung in a tight arc, straight for the right side of his head. If he’d been any slower, or the attack had been any more difficult to parry, it would have all been over for Mellar right there. But he made the obvious parry, and Aliera stepped in to bind.

He was too good a swordsman to miss the obvious opening, and he didn’t. The back of my mind noted that he did, indeed, have a spring mechanism for his left sleeve dagger.

There was a flash of motion by his left hand, and his dagger caught her in the abdomen.

He must have realized, even before it struck her, that something was wrong. As it hit, I could feel within my mind the sentience that identifies a Morganti weapon.

Aliera screamed. It may or may not have been genuine, but it was one of the most horrendous screams I have ever heard. I shuddered to hear it, and to see the look on her face as the soul-eating blade entered her body. Mellar moved forward and tried vainly to draw it out, but its own power held it in as Aliera slumped to the floor, her screams dying away. The blade came free in Mellar’s hand.

There was a moment of silence, and lack of motion. Mellar stared down at the knife. The other bodyguard and I stood next to him, frozen, as everyone else. Realization grew in Mellar that he had just thrown away any claim to protection he could have had from Morrolan. Anyone could kill him now, with no recriminations. He would be feeling his whole plan falling into pieces, and, no doubt, could only think of one thing: escape. Try to get out of this mess and come up with something else.

And, in this moment of weakness, of near panic, the final stroke came, administered by Daymar, to complete his feeling of disorientation and push him over the edge.

Mellar felt the mind-probe hit and cried out. I didn’t know at that time whether he was sufficiently disoriented that his mental defenses were down. The mind-probe might have worked, or might have failed, but it worked as far as I was concerned: Mellar turned to me. “Get us out of here!” he yelled. It was unfortunate that he chose to look at me instead of the other bodyguard, but I had known that it could happen.

I didn’t look back at him; just stared straight ahead. He saw, no doubt, the stunned and stupefied expression I was wearing. I heard the unmistakable note of panic in his voice, now, as he turned to the other bodyguard. The crowd was beginning to react, and I sincerely hoped that Sethra the Younger or the Necromancer didn’t get to him before we were able to get out of here.

“Move!” he said to the other bodyguard. “Get us out!”

At that moment, I think, something must have clicked in him, and he turned back to me, his eyes growing wider still. Either Daymar’s spell was fading so I no longer looked like the bodyguard I was imitating, or he noticed a mannerism that I didn’t perform right. He was backing away from me as the walls vanished around us.

As best I could, I ignored the nausea that accompanied the teleport and made a fast decision.

If he hadn’t realized that something was wrong, if he had happened to turn to the other one first, there would have been no problem. I would have simply killed him and finished off the bodyguard as best I could. Now, however, it was different.

I had time to take out either Mellar, or the other bodyguard, but I couldn’t get both before they got in a cut or two at me. Which one should I go for?

The bodyguard would be setting up a teleport block and a spell to prevent tracing, while Mellar had already drawn his blade. Also, Mellar was closer.

However, I had to make sure that Mellar was killed permanently. As I’ve said, it is no easy thing to kill someone in such a way that he can’t be revivified. With him ready and facing me, it wouldn’t be as easy as it would have been if I’d had a free shot at the back of his head. What if I took him out, but wasn’t able to make it permanent? And then the bodyguard were to nail me? The latter would just teleport again with Mellar’s body, and get him brought back at his leisure. If I went for the guard, I could take the time and do a thorough job on Mellar, and not have to worry about Mellar skipping off on me.

What decided me, however, was the fact that the bodyguard was a sorcerer. That gave him a bigger advantage over me in this situation than I liked.

I didn’t stop to think about any of this; it just flashed through my mind as I moved.

I threw myself backward, and, as my right hand went for my blade, my left hand found three poison darts. I flipped them toward the bodyguard and mentally recited a short prayer to Verra.

Mellar’s first swing, which occurred just about then, missed; I had managed to get just out of range. Gods! He was strong! I was on the ground by then, but I had my rapier out. I rolled to my left and came up . . .

. . . in time to parry, just barely, a cut that would have split my skull open. My arm rang from the blow of his heavier sword, and I heard the welcome sound of a body falling off to my left. The bodyguard was out of it, at least. Thank you, Verra.

At that point I first became aware of my surroundings. We were outside, in a jungle area. That would put us somewhere to the west of Adrilankha, which meant at least three hundred miles from Castle Black. They weren’t going to be able to trace the teleport in time to help me, then; not if the sorcerer/bodyguard had been able to get his spell off. I would have to assume that I was on my own.

Mellar struck again. I fell back as fast as I could, hoping like Hell that there was no obstruction behind me. At the best of times, I was nowhere near as good a fighter as Mellar, and at this moment my stomach was churning and it was taking a great deal of effort just to keep my eyes focused on him. On the other hand, an inferior swordsman can hold off a superior swordsman for quite a while, as long as he can keep retreating. I could only hope that he would let up enough to give me a chance to throw my dagger at him, and that I was able to hit him with it—without being nailed at the same time. At that moment, I would have let him get through to me if I could have been sure of doing a complete job on him in exchange. I looked for the chance, in fact.

He, however, had no intention of giving me any such opportunity. Whether he guessed my intentions or not I don’t know, but he didn’t let up for an instant. He kept hacking at my head and advancing. His left hand found a knife.

I felt a cold shiver run up my spine as I realized that he was now holding the Morganti blade that I had set him up with, one of the two we gave him, to make sure that he used one on Aliera. He noticed it, then, and his eyes widened. For the first time, he smiled. It was a very unpleasant smile to be on the wrong end of. The same could be said for the dagger. Somehow, at that moment, the irony of the whole thing was lost on me.

I kept falling back. The only thing that had kept me alive so far, I knew, was the fact that he wasn’t used to a fencer who presented only the side of his body, rather than the full forward of the sword-and-dagger Dragaeran style. He, of course, was fighting full forward, with a dagger up in a position to strike, or parry, or cast spells with.

He wasn’t about to cast spells with it, and he didn’t need to parry because I hadn’t had a chance to attack yet. Not even a simple riposte—and now he had two blades to my one. Also, he was a good enough swordsman that it wouldn’t take him long to learn how to deal with my kind of swordplay.

He was quite content, meanwhile, to keep me busy until I ran up against a tree or tripped on a log, as I inevitably would in this jungle. Then it would be all over—he’d come in with the dagger, and my soul would go to feed a sentience in nine inches of cold steel.

He spoke for the first time. “It was all a trick from the beginning, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer, not having the breath.

“I can see it now,” he continued. “It might have worked, too, if you were a better swordsman, or if you had nailed me when you had the chance, instead of going for my friend back there.”

That’s right, you bastard, I thought. Rub it in.

“But as it is,” he continued, “they should know the truth by now at Castle Black. If I can figure it out from here, they can certainly figure it out from there, where they have the body and the blade to look at. What’s to stop me from just going back there?”

I stopped and tried to bind him, parrying strongly. He took a cut at me with the dagger, however, and I had to jump back. I’d had no chance for an attack.

“It is unfortunate,” he went on, “that I can teleport, or it might have worked anyway.”

It takes you two or three seconds to teleport, my friend, and I don’t intend to give you two or three seconds. Sorry, but I don’t psych.

He must have realized that, too, because he stopped talking. I managed to put my left hand on the stiletto I’d selected to destroy him with, and I pulled it out. I cradled it in my hand like a jhereg holds her egg. I thought, very briefly, about trying to flip it at him, but to do that I’d have to turn full forward. If I did that, he’d have me before I could even loose it and my head would be rolling on the ground.

For a moment, then, I considered that. If I fell to his sword, the dagger couldn’t hurt me. It requires a living soul to feed such a blade. My soul would be safe, and, just maybe, I could take him with me.

I threw away the idea and stepped back again. No, he was going to have to do it all himself—that much I’d take from him. I was not about to let him cut me down and leave me here, for the wild jhereg to feed on my corpse, to complete the irony of the situation.

. . . Jhereg? Wild jhereg? I felt a sudden breeze, cool against the back of my neck, reminiscent of the feel of a knife’s edge, and of other things.

A memory came back to haunt me, from years ago. This same jungle it was . . . Could I . . . ?

I was just distracted enough by the thought that I almost missed a parry. I jumped backward, and his deflected sword ripped into my side. I felt the blood start to flow, and it began to hurt. Verra be thanked, my stomach was settling down.

Witchcraft is similar to sorcery in many ways, but uses one’s own psionic powers rather than an external energy source. The rituals and incantations were used to force the mind down the right path, and to direct the power. How much were they really necessary?

My mind reached back . . . back . . . back to the time I had summoned the jhereg who was Loiosh’s mother from these very jungles. His mother was, quite likely, long dead, but I didn’t need her. Could I do it again?

Probably not.

“Come to me, blood of my House. Join me, hunt with me, find me.”

I almost stumbled, and was almost killed, but didn’t, and was not. What the Hell was it? Come on, brain, think!

As my grandfather had taught me long ago, I let my arm, and my wrist, and even my fingers do all the work of keeping me alive. My mind had other things to do, the sword-arm would just have to take care of itself.

Something . . . something about . . . wings? No, winds, that was it, winds . . .

“Let the winds of Jungle’s night . . . ”

Something, perhaps the look on Mellar’s face, warned me of the tree behind me. Somehow I stepped around it without being spitted.

“Stay the hunter in her flight.”

I felt myself weakening. Blood loss, of course. I didn’t have time for that.

“Evening’s breath to witch’s mind . . . ”

I wondered whether Loiosh would ever speak to me again. I wondered whether anyone would be able to speak to me again.

“Let our fates be intertwined.”

Mellar changed tactics, suddenly, and his sword thrust at my chest, instead of chopping at my head. I was forced into a clumsy parry, and he caught me with the tip. Was that a rib cracking, or just a good imitation? I brought up my blade before the dagger could sweep down, and made a leap backward. He followed immediately.

“Jhereg! Do not pass me by!”

As he closed, perhaps just a touch too cockily, I tried a full-extension stop-thrust—Dragaeran swordplay has nothing like it—dropping to one knee and cutting up under his sword-arm. He was as surprised as I that my first offensive move got through, and it gave me time to get back before he countered. He bled a little from high on his right side. It was too much to hope for that this would affect his sword-arm, but it gave me more time.

“Show me where they soul doth lie!”

My side screamed with pain as I stepped back still further. Each parry caused red flashes before my eyes, and I felt that I was near to blacking out. I felt drained, too. I mean, drained. I don’t think I had ever put that much into a spell.

I moved back out of the way of another blow that almost slit open my belly. He followed with a cut with the dagger that was almost faster than I could see, but I was moving back, so it missed. I stepped back again, before he could set himself . . .

What? Was there . . . ? Come on, brain! Mind, relax . . . be receptive . . . listen . . .

“Who?” came the thought to my forebrain.

“One who needs you,” I managed, as I almost stumbled. I hung on to my consciousness with everything I had.

“What have you to offer?”

Oh, Demon Goddess! I don’t have time for this! I wanted to start crying, to tell them all to just go away.

He caught my blade with the dagger, and the sword swept down; I squirmed to the side, made it.

“Long life, O Jhereg. And fresh, red meat, with no struggle or search. And, sometimes, the chance to kill Dragaerans.”

All in all, one hell of a time to be bargaining.

Mellar did a fillip with his wrist that should have been impossible with that heavy a sword. He connected lightly with the side of my head—as heavily as he could, given what he was doing, and as lightly as it was possible for him to, considering the size of the weapon he had.

But I still didn’t black out. I took a chance, then, because I had to, and lunged, cutting down at his forehead. He stepped back and parried with his dagger. I backed up another step before the sword came sweeping down at me again. It occurred to me that, even if the jhereg should choose to respond, it might be too far away to do me any good.

“And what do you ask?”

Mellar was smiling again. He could see that I was going, and all he had to do was wait. He continued pressing the attack.

“For the future, aid in my endeavors, and your friendship, and your wisdom. For the present, save my life!”

Once again, Mellar struck at the side of my head and got through. There was a ringing in my ears, and I felt myself start to fall. I saw him move in, raising the dagger and grinning broadly . . .

. . . and then he was turning, startled, as a winged shape struck at his face. He moved back and took a swipe with his sword; missed.

I dropped my sword and caught myself with my right hand. I heaved myself up from there until I was standing; barely. Mellar took another swing at the jhereg. I transferred the dagger to my right hand, and fell forward, walking being somewhat beyond my powers at that point. My left hand grasped his left arm, his dagger-arm, and swung him around.

He turned, and I saw panic in his eyes, and his dagger began to arc toward my neck. I tried to hold back his right arm, which was swinging forward with the sword, but it slipped from my grasp.

I thrust straight in, then, with everything that was left in me.

The stiletto took him in the left eye, burying itself to the hilt in his brain. He screamed then—a long wail of despair, and he lost interest in removing my head. I saw the light of life go out in his right eye, and I might even have rejoiced if I’d been capable of it.

I was screaming then, as well, as we twisted, toppled, fell. We landed on each other, with me face up, and the only thing still in the air was his lifeless arm, holding a living dagger in a fist that wouldn’t let go. I watched it, unable to do anything, as it fell . . . fell . . . fell . . . and hit the ground next to my left ear.

I could feel its frustration, and had a crazy moment of sympathy for any hunter that loses its prey by such a small margin.

A thought, then, came into my mind and set up housekeeping. “I accept,” it said.

Just what I need, I remember thinking, another wiseass jhereg.

I didn’t quite lose consciousness, although I don’t think I was completely conscious, either. I remember lying there, feeling damned helpless, and watching the jhereg take bits out of Mellar’s corpse. At some time in there, various animals came up and sniffed me. I think one of them was an athyra; I’m not sure about the others. Each time, the jhereg looked up from its meal and hissed a warning. They backed off.

Eventually, perhaps half an hour later, I heard a sudden disturbance. The jhereg looked over, hissed, and I looked too. Aliera was there, holding Pathfinder. With her were Cawti and Kragar and Loiosh.

The other jhereg was female. She hissed at Loiosh. With the jhereg, the female is dominant. (With the Jhereg, the matter is still up in the air.)

Cawti rushed up to me with a cry and sat down. She carefully placed my head on her lap and began stroking my forehead. Aliera began inspecting and treating my various wounds. I’d be hard pressed to say which helped more, but it was nice getting all the attention.

Kragar assisted Aliera, after verifying that the two corpses were, indeed, corpses.

Loiosh had found the other jhereg. They were looking at each other.

Aliera said something then, I think it was about Daymar’s mind-probe having worked, but I wasn’t really listening, so I’m not sure.

Loiosh spread his wings and hissed. The female spread her wings further and hissed louder. They were silent for a while, then exchanged hisses again.

I tried to communicate with Loiosh, but found nothing. At first I thought that it was because my mind was still too exhausted from the spell I’d done, but then I realized that it was because Loiosh was blocking me out. He’d never done that before. I got a sinking feeling.

Suddenly, the two of them rose into the air. I lacked the strength to look up and follow their flight, but I knew what must be happening. Tears blinded me, and desperation gave me a small loan against my future energy holdings. I tried to force my way into his mind, and I sent out my desperate call, trying to pierce the barriers he had erected against me.

“No! Come back!” I think I called.

Cawti’s face above me began to waver, as my body and mind gave up their fight at last, admitted defeat, and the darkness that had been hovering over and around me finally found entry.

Nevertheless, the contact was as sharp and distinct as it had ever been, sneaking under the gate even as it closed.

“Look, boss. I’ve worked for you nonstop for more than five years now. You’d think I could have a few days off for my honeymoon!”

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On my terms, this time.

The Blue Flame was quiet at this hour, with three waiters, a busboy, a dishwasher, and three customers.

All of them were enforcers who worked for me. All of them, at one time or another, had done ‘work.’

This time I faced the door, and my back was against the wall. I had a dagger out, lying openly on the table next to my right hand.

I wished Loiosh was back, but he wasn’t necessary this time. I was making the rules, and we were playing with my stones. Somewhere, Cawti and Kragar were watching.

Let him try . . . anything. Anything at all. Sorcery? Ha! No spell would go in this place that didn’t have Aliera’s approval. Try to bring in an assassin? Maybe, if he wanted to pay for Mario, he could come up with something I’d worry about. Other than that, however, I wasn’t about to get upset.

A face appeared in the doorway, followed by another.

The Demon had brought two bodyguards with him. They stopped in the doorway and looked around. Being competent, they saw how things were and spoke to the Demon quietly for a while. I saw him shake his head. Good. He was smart, and he was gutsy. He was going to do it my way because he knew, at this point, that it was the only way it would get done—he was too good a businessman not to realize that it had to get done.

I saw him signal his men to wait by the door, and he came forward alone.

I rose as he reached me, and we sat down at the same moment.

“Lord Taltos,” he said.

“Demon,” I said.

He looked at the dagger, seemed about to speak, and changed his mind. At this point, he could hardly blame me, after all.

Since I had requested the meeting, I ordered the wine. I chose a rare dessert wine, made by the Serioli. He spoke first while we waited for the wine to arrive.

“I note that your familiar is missing,” he said. “I hope he isn’t ill.”

“He isn’t ill,” I said. “But thank you for asking.”

The wine came. I allowed the Demon to approve it. It’s the little touches that make the fine host. I sipped mine and let it flow down my throat. Cool, and sweet, but neither icy nor cloying. That was why I’d chosen it. It had seemed appropriate.

“I was afraid,” the Demon continued, “that he’d eaten something that had disagreed with him.”

I chuckled. I decided that I’d come to like this guy, if we didn’t kill each other first.

“I take it the body has been found,” I said.

He nodded. “It’s been found. A bit jhereg-eaten, but there isn’t any harm in that, certainly.”

I agreed with his sentiments.

“And,” he went on, “I received your message.”

I nodded. “So I see. I have what I claimed to.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

He waited for me to go on. I was enjoying it enough so that I didn’t even mind the pain I felt from the events of the day before. One reason that I’d arranged to have the place full of my people was that I didn’t want it to get out how much trouble I had walking in. Standing for the Demon had cost me; hiding that fact had cost me even more. Aliera is good, but it still takes time.

“How did you get it?” he asked.

“From his mind.”

The Demon arched his eyebrows. “I’m rather surprised,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have expected him to be subject to mind-probes.”

“I have some good people working for me,” I told him. “And, of course, we caught him at a good time.”

He nodded and sipped his wine. “I should tell you,” he said, “that, as far as I’m concerned, it’s all over.”

I waited for him to continue. This was what I’d arranged the meeting for, after all.

He took another sip of his wine. “To the best of my knowledge and belief,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “no one in the organization has anything against you, means you any ill will, or will profit from any harm that comes to you.”

That last wasn’t true in a literal sense, but we both knew what he meant—and he had his reputation to hold on to. I didn’t think he would lie to me about it. I was satisfied.

“Good,” I said. “And allow me to say I hold no ill will over anything that happened—or almost happened—before. I believe that I understand what was going on, and there is no cause there for complaint on my part.”

He nodded.

“As for the other,” I went on, “if you send an escort over to my office, say at the fourth hour past noon, I’ll be able to supply them with your goods to return to you.”

He nodded his satisfaction at the arrangements. “There are a few other things,” he said.

“Such as . . . ?”

He stared off into space for a moment, then turned back to me. “Certain of my friends are exceptionally pleased with the work you did yesterday.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He smiled. “I mean, the work your ‘friend’ did yesterday.”

“Yes. Go on.”

He shrugged. “Certain of them felt that perhaps a bonus is in order.”

“I see. Well, that I’ll gladly accept, on my friend’s behalf, of course. But, before we go into that, perhaps you will allow me to buy you dinner?”

He smiled. “Why yes, that would be very kind of you.”

I called a waiter over. He was, actually, a lousy waiter, but that was all right; I think the Demon understood.

More than our apartment, more than my office, the library at Castle Black has seemed like home base to me.

How many times in the past had Morrolan and I, or Morrolan, myself, and Aliera, or a host of others, sat in this room and said some form of “Thank Verra, it’s over”?

“Thank Verra, it’s over,” said Aliera.

I lay on my back on the lounge chair. As I said, Aliera was good, but it takes time to heal completely. My sides still ached, and my head gave me no end of trouble. Still, in the three days since Mellar had passed from among the living, and the two days since I’d met with the Demon to arrange for nine million gold to be returned (and to insure that no more attempts were going to be made on my life), I had pretty well made the transition back to humanity.

Cawti sat next to me, gently brushing my forehead from time to time. Loiosh had returned and sat perched on my chest, as near to the shoulder as my position allowed. His mate took the other side. I felt quite contented with life, all in all.

Morrolan sat opposite me, staring into his wineglass. His long legs were stretched out in front of him. He looked up. “What are you calling her?” he asked.

“Her name is Rocza,” I said. On hearing her name, she leaned down and licked my ear. Cawti scratched her head. Loiosh hissed a jealous warning, whereupon Rocza looked up, hissed back, licked Loiosh under his snakelike chin. He sat back, mollified.

“My, aren’t we domestic?” said Morrolan.

I shrugged.

He continued to look at the female jhereg curiously. “Vlad, I know as much about witchcraft as any Easterner, you must admit—”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“—and I don’t see how you can have a second familiar. I had always understood that the relationship between witch and familiar is such that it is impossible for it to occur with more than one animal.

“For that matter,” he continued, “I’ve never heard of making a familiar from any adult animal. Don’t you have to acquire the thing as an egg, in order to achieve the proper link?”

Loiosh hissed at Morrolan, who smiled a little and cocked his head.

“I’m calling you a ‘thing,’ that’s who,” Morrolan said.

Loiosh hissed again and went back to licking Rocza’s chin.

“Well, Morrolan,” I said, “why don’t you find out for yourself? You’re a witch, why don’t you get a familiar?”

“I already have one,” he answered, dryly. He gently stroked the hilt of Blackwand, and I shuddered involuntarily.

“Rocza isn’t really my familiar, in any case,” I explained. “She’s Loiosh’s mate.”

“But still, she came to you . . . ”

“I called for help and she heard. We were able to strike a bargain similar to the one a witch makes with the mother of his familiar for the egg, but it wasn’t exactly the same. I did use the same spell, or a close variant, to achieve initial contact,” I admitted. “But that’s where the similarity ends. After I got contact, we more or less just spoke. I guess she liked me.”

Rocza looked up at me and hissed. I got the feeling that it was intended to be laughter, but I’m not sure. Loiosh broke in at that point. “Look, boss, no one likes to be spoken of as if he isn’t there, okay?”

“Sorry, chum.”

I stretched myself out, enjoying the feeling that there was blood circulating, and all those other good things.

“I can’t tell you how happy I was when those two let me know that they weren’t going to kill each other, though,” I summed up.

“Hmmmmph!” said Aliera. “You sure couldn’t tell us then. You were too busy going down for the third time.”

“Was it that close?” I asked.

“It was that close.”

I shuddered. Cawti stroked my forehead, gently.

“It works both ways, I guess. I was also mightily pleased to see that you made it after all. I didn’t tell you before, but I was plenty worried about that whole business,” I said.

“You were worried!” said Aliera.

“I still don’t understand that, Aliera,” said Kragar, who, I discovered, had been sitting next to her the entire time. “How is it that you survived the Morganti dagger?”

“Just barely,” said Aliera.

He shook his head. “When you first went over it, you said it would work out, but you never said how.”

“Why? Do you want to try it? I don’t really recommend having your soul eaten as a form of entertainment.”

“Just curious . . . ”

“Well, basically, it has to do with the nature of Great Weapons. Pathfinder is linked to me, which really means it’s linked to my soul. When the dagger threatened to destroy me, Pathfinder acted to preserve me by drawing my soul into itself. When the threat was gone, I was able to return to my body. And, of course, we had the Necromancer standing by, just in case there were problems.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is an interesting perspective from in there,” she remarked.

“It is a rather frightening one from out here,” put in Morrolan. “I thought we’d lost you.”

Aliera smiled at him. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, cousin.”

“In any case,” I said. “It all worked out.”

“Yes,” said Morrolan. “I would imagine that you did rather well for yourself out of the affair.”

“In more ways than one,” I said.

“I suppose,” said Morrolan.

I shook my head. “It isn’t just the obvious. It seems that certain parties were quite pleased with the return of the gold, in addition to everything else. I’ve been given responsibility for a somewhat larger area.”

“Yeah,” said Kragar, “and you didn’t even have to ask your friend to kill anyone for it.”

I let that pass.

“I should point out, though,” said Kragar, “that, in actual fact, you don’t have any more responsibility than you did before.”

“I don’t?”

“Nope. You just make more money. I’m the one with more responsibility. Who do you think does all the work, anyway?”

“Loiosh,” I answered.

Kragar snorted. Loiosh hissed a laugh.

“You are hereby forgiven, boss.”

“Lucky me.”

Morrolan was looking puzzled. “Speaking of the gold reminds me of something. How did you discover where it was?”

“Daymar took care of it,” I told him. “Just before Mellar teleported me out, Daymar did a mind-probe on him. It was the only time he could have had a chance of succeeding, with Mellar completely disoriented. He caught him with his psychic pants down, you might say. Daymar found out where he had hidden the gold and found out about the arrangements he’d made for the information about the Dzur to get out. And, of course, it was the mind-probe itself that finally broke down Mellar and sent him into a panic.”

“Oh,” said Morrolan, “so you did find out about the information he had on the Dzur.”

“Yep,” I said. “And we suppressed it.”

“How did you do that?” asked Morrolan.

I looked over at Kragar, who had actually handled the matter. He smiled a little.

“It wasn’t difficult,” he said. “Mellar had given it to a friend of his in a sealed envelope. We picked up this friend, brought him to the dock where we’d dumped Mellar’s body, and pointed out to him that there was no reason for him to keep the thing anymore. We talked a little, and he ended up agreeing.”

Best not to know any more, I decided.

“What I don’t understand,” Kragar continued, “is why you didn’t want the information to come out, Vlad. What difference does it make to us?”

“There were a couple of reasons for it,” I told him. “For one thing, I made it clear to a few Dzurlords I know that I was doing it. It never hurts to have Dzur heroes owe you favors. And the other reason was that Aliera would have killed me if I hadn’t.”

Aliera smiled a little, but didn’t deny it.

“So, Vlad,” said Morrolan, “are you going to retire, now that you are wealthy? You could certainly buy a castle out of town and turn properly decadent if you chose to. I’d be curious. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing a decadent Easterner.”

I shrugged. “I may buy a castle somewhere, since Cawti’s been wanting one, and now we can afford a few luxuries like a higher title in the Jhereg, but I doubt I’ll retire.”

“Why not?”

“You’re rich. Are you retiring?” I asked him.

He snorted. “From what should I retire? I’ve been professionally decadent for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, there is that . . . Say!”

“Yes?”

“How about if we both retire! What do you think about selling Castle Black? I can give you a good price on it.”

“Depend on it,” he said.

“Oh, well. Just asking.”

“Seriously, though, Vlad; have you ever thought about quitting the Jhereg? I mean, you don’t really need them anymore, do you?”

“Ha! I’ve thought about quitting the Jhereg a great deal, but so far I’ve always managed to be just a little bit quicker than whoever wanted me out.”

“Or luckier,” said Kragar.

I shrugged. “As for leaving voluntarily, I don’t know.”

Morrolan looked at me carefully. “You don’t actually enjoy what you do, do you?”

I didn’t answer, not really knowing at the time. I mean, did I? Especially now, when my biggest reason, my hatred for all things Dragaeran, turned out not to have the cause I had thought it did. Or did it?

“You know, Aliera,” I said, “I’m still not really sure about this genetic inheritance through the soul. I mean, sure, I felt something for it, but I also lived through what I lived through, and I guess that shaped me more than you’d think. I am what I am, in addition to what I was. Do you understand what I mean?”

Aliera didn’t answer; she just looked at me, her face unreadable. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, as we all sat there with our thoughts. Kragar studied the floor, Cawti caressed my forehead, Morrolan seemed to be looking around for another subject.

He found one, finally, and broke the silence by saying, “There is still a thing that I fail to understand, concerning you and Rocza.”

“What is that?” I asked, as relieved as everyone else.

He studied the floor in front of the couch. “Exactly how do you plan on housebreaking her?”

I felt myself going red as the odor reached my nose, and Morrolan wryly called for his servants.

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