Orca

“Huh? Oh.”

“Right.”

“Well, now, isn’t that interesting.”

“I thought so.”

“I take it you didn’t disabuse them of the notion?”

“How could I?”

“Good point. Not that it matters; they don’t like me, anyway. What about his associates?”

“All four were extremely dead, as were three of Von-nith’s personal guards who, as they suppose, got in your way. And so was her servant.”

“Shards! All unrevivifiable?”

“Not all, but there’s another interesting point.”

“Go on.”

“Stony was unrevivifiable, and so were all three of the Orca guardsmen, but the Jhereg weren’t, and there were another three of Vonnith’s private guards who weren’t even touched.”

“Did they see what happened?”

“No. It was all inside. Some of the guards were summoned in, and then ...” I let the sentence trail off with a shrug.

“My word,” said Vlad. “What a bloodbath! Jhereg don’t kill like that, Kiera, at least not since prehistory. Only Dragons kill like that, and Dzur, I suppose.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Dragons and Dzur. And also Orca, if there’s a profit in it.”

“Good point,” he said. “Orca. Yes.”

“What are you thinking now?” I said.

“Thinking? I’m not thinking; I’m being angry. I’ll get over it.”

“Vlad—”

“I’ve been hanging around Orca quite a bit lately. Usually, when I get to know people I begin to be more sympathetic with them. You’d have thought that, now that I’ve gotten a chance to know these Orca, I’d have a little more understanding of them. But I don’t. I hate them, Kiera. I hated them when I was a kid, and I hate them now, and I think I always will hate them.”

I started to defend them, then shrugged and said, “So you don’t invite Shortisle to dinner. We still need to—what is it?”

“Shortisle to dinner,” said Vlad. “That’s what’s odd about it—to dinner.”

“Huh?”

“Those notes you stole from Fyres. Here, just a minute.”

He walked into the cottage and emerged with Buddy and the sheaf of notes I’d stolen from Fyres’s place. He looked through them for a while, then held one up triumphantly. “It says, ‘Shortisle to dinner.’”

“What’s your point?”

He waved the papers in front of my face. “My point, Kiera, is that it was included in his financial notes, not his personal notes.”

“I’m sure it was a business meeting, Vlad. What does that tell you?”

“Everything,” he said.

“Huh?”

Vlad shook his head and was quiet for several minutes, and, once more, I could almost watch him working things out. It was like seeing someone assemble a puzzle, but not being able to see the puzzle itself; it was a trifle annoying. Eventually he said, “One question.”

“Yes?”

“When Stony told you he wasn’t in debt to Fyres, did you believe him?”

“Well, at the time I did, but—”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Then he frowned, and Rocza flew out of the house, landing on his other shoulder. “I’ll see you in a bit, Kiera,” he said abruptly, and started walking away from the cottage.

“Wait a minute—”

“No time,” he said.

“What about your sword?”

“It’ll just get in the way.”

“Where are you going?”

“To town.”

“But—”

“Keep an eye on Savn,” he added over his shoulder as he headed down the road toward Northport.

I watched him go, hoping he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. I had the sudden realization that we hadn’t talked about my decision to let myself be a target in hopes of flushing out whoever was behind it—back when we’d thought there was someone behind it. This mattered because, although he would come up with some reason for justifying it, especially to himself, Vlad might well feel it necessary to go and do something equally dangerous, and if I let him get himself killed, I’d never be able to explain it to Cawti.

On the other hand, I couldn’t insult him by following him. Nothing to do but worry, I suppose. Savn was awake, and looking at me.

“Hello,” I said. “My name is Kiera.”

He looked away, then closed his eyes as if he were going back to sleep. On impulse, I stood up and said, “Come on, Savn. We’re going for a walk.”

He dutifully stood, and I led the way out the door, into air that was crisp with that indefinable smell of snow that hasn’t arrived yet, but is coming, coming; and all overlaid with the ocean, fainter than it smelled in my Adrilankha, but still there.

Buddy got up and padded along after us, a few paces behind. It was odd, not having Rocza there—I’d begun to associate her with Savn even more than with Vlad; I kept expecting to see her on Savn’s shoulder. I wondered if he had a future as a witch. Odd how the jhereg seemed to be so protective of the boy. I wondered if there was a story in it.

What now, Kiera? I’d gotten him moving; should I try to get him talking? I didn’t particularly want to talk about knives.

“The jhereg, Rocza, seems very attached to you,” I said. “She spends a lot of time watching over you. I wonder why that is?” Buddy came up beside us, then suddenly lunged ahead to chase something or other through the leafless trees. After a while he came back. He’d missed whatever it was, but didn’t seem to mind, having enjoyed the chase.

“Although I suppose it’s reasonable to wonder why anyone watches over anyone. Vlad still doesn’t know why I watch over him, you know.” Savn kept walking along, oblivious to me and everything else, but at least not tripping over tree roots. “Come to that,” I added, “I’m not altogether certain myself.” The ground dropped a bit, not like a hill, but more like a small depression, and the trees here were a little more sparse. There are many things that can cause this sort of land formation; even the ground has its story to tell. Not all stories are worth listening to, however.

“Guilt, I suppose,” I said. “At least, that’s part of it.” We rose up again and were back in a part of the forest that was thicker; we splashed through a tiny brook, perhaps four meters across and two or three centimeters deep, running back past us toward the depression. “Though I doubt that Rocza has anything to feel guilty about. And I shouldn’t still feel guilty toward Vlad. It was a long time ago, and, well, we all do what we have to.

“Vlad, too,” I added. “He’s a good person, you know. In spite of many things, including his own opinion, he’s a good person. Maybe a bit conceited, overbearing, and arrogant, but then, people without a trace of these diseases aren’t usually worth one’s time.” I heard myself chuckling. “Or maybe I’m talking about myself, there.

“It’s odd, Savn, addressing someone who doesn’t respond. It’s uncomfortable, but it also frees you up in a way: you can say things and pretend it doesn’t matter, that no one is really hearing them, but, at the same time, you’ve said them, and you don’t really know what you think until you’ve found a way to get your thoughts outside of you, in words, or some other way. And so, my friend Savn, while it may seem that I am speaking for your benefit, to help you overcome whatever it is that pulls you away from us and from the world outside of your head, in fact, I should be thanking you. And I do.

“But enough self-indulgence. We have a problem, Vlad and I, and I’m not certain what to do about it.” We had been moving in a large circle because I didn’t want to get too far away from the cottage; now I caught a glimpse of it, blue and ugly, through the trees. Savn didn’t look at it, he just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip. He was doing fine, I suppose. If there was nothing more to life than walking without tripping, I’d pronounce him cured on the spot.

I headed us away from the place, though not quite so far this time. I wondered what Vlad was doing. Buddy bounded about here and there, energetic for as old as he was. A good dog, probably a good companion for a woman like Hwdfr’ jaanci, just as Loiosh was a good companion for an assassin. Or an ex-assassin, or whatever he was now.

Game, that’s what he was. Hunted game. The target of the Organization he’d worked for and been a part of, but, in my opinion, never really belonged in. It’s not his fault, but he’s not human, and he doesn’t have whatever it is within the genes of a human being that makes a Jhereg.

But whether he had ever belonged or not, now they were hunting him, and he was off doing something improbable that might make it easier for them. What? “What do you think he’s up to, Savn? I doubt he’d go after Vonnith again, after how close it was last time. Endra? Reega? I just don’t know. And there’s nothing I can do about it, anyway, except wait and see what he comes up with. I don’t like being responsible for other people, Savn; present company ex-cepted. I don’t like having to rely on them. I think that’s the big difference between me and Vlad: he’s always liked people, and I’ve always liked being by myself. So, of course, the way things worked out, he’s the one who has to take off and spend his short lifetime away from everyone he cares about. Feh. No sense complaining about fate, though, Savn; it never listens. When there’s nothing you can do except worry, that’s a good time to worry. I don’t remember who said that. Maybe me.”

We made our way back to the house, Buddy preceding us through the door. Hwdf rjaanci was washing some sort of tuber that would probably feed us later. Savn sat down near the hearth, facing out, rather than looking at it. Buddy poked his nose at Hwdf rjaanci’s leg, was petted, wagged his tail, and sat down by Savn. I said to Savn, “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

I nodded, pretending that having him respond to a question was the most natural thing in the world, but I realized that my heart was pounding. There was no question, we’d made progress. On the other hand, we deserved to, because we had paid for it. Or, more precisely, others had paid for it.

Fyres was dead.

Stony was dead.

Loftis was dead.

I looked at the boy, who had closed his eyes and was resting easily. At least Vlad wasn’t dead. But there was still too much death. Death follows Vlad around like another familiar, and sometimes I wondered if he even noticed, much less cared. I knew what that felt like, and what it could do to you, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to Kiera the Thief, who had never killed anyone, and who didn’t enjoy being around when things like that were going on, and who especially hated it when she couldn’t do anything about it. But this was too big for Kiera the Thief. Much too big for Kiera. And much, much too big for Vlad.

On the other hand, it was clear he had figured something out, there at the end. What? And why hadn’t he told me? I hate it when he does that. If he managed to return in one piece, though, I’d be able to tell him that there was progress—that the boy had responded to a question that had nothing to do with knives, and that there was probably hope for him. Vlad would think it worth whatever trouble he’d been through; oddly enough, I thought so, too.

Buddy’s head came up, and he padded out the door, his tail giving a couple of perfunctory wags. I heard the sound of a familiar walk, and something in me relaxed, and I was able to look entirely normal an instant later when Vlad walked in, looking smug.

“What?” I said.

“It’s done,” he said.

“What, everything?”

He glanced quickly at Savn and said, “Almost everything. Everything we can take care of, at least.”

“I have good news on that front, too,” I said.

“Tell me,” he said, almost snapping out the words.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“I—all right.” So I told him about Savn not wanting to eat, and Vlad was every bit as pleased about it as I was. Then Hwdf rjaanci came in, and I had to tell her, too, and she grew a smile, too.

When I’d waited as long as I could, I said, “All right, Vlad. Your turn.”

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

Hwdf rjaanci sniffed, and Vlad winked at her. Then we went outside and he told me about his day.

Chapter Fifteen

I hid as best I could, which was pretty well, in a doorway across the street from City Hall—maybe the same place you hid, Kiera—and I waited for the day to fade. I didn’t feel especially safe. Loiosh wasn’t fit to fly, so Rocza was doing the watching, and I was getting the information from her through Loiosh, which is too indirect for my taste, and Rocza wasn’t trained for this kind of work. Loiosh attempted to reassure me, without much success.

Eventually Domm left the building. I gritted my teeth and watched him go by. He took a few steps away from the door and teleported. I kept waiting. Things were shutting down and people were going home from work. Had I missed her? Had she gone out a back way, or not been there at all, or teleported from inside the building? These are the questions that inevitably go through your head when you’re doing what I was doing, and you don’t have a partner. When I was with the Jhereg, I made sure people doing this sort of thing always worked in pairs, at least one of whom was a competent sorcerer. I was a competent sorcerer, but as long as I wore the gold Phoenix Stone, it didn’t help a bit, and whenever I removed it, even for an instant, I was risking rather more than my life—the Jhereg are tenacious, I know because I was one, and I was as tenacious as any of them, damn them to Verra’s coldest hell.

Timmer came out, walked a few steps down the street, paused, no doubt to teleport, then stopped as Rocza flew down, almost into her face, then away. She reached for a weapon, frowning, and looked for her; then she saw me walking toward her, hands in front of me and open.

Rocza landed on my shoulder. Timmer waited, her hand still on her blade. “Let’s talk,” I said.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, no, my lady. We have a lot to talk about. If you try to arrest me, which I know you’re thinking about, you’ll get nothing. If you don’t, you’ll find out who killed your associate, and why.”

She looked like she was starting to get angry, so I added, “I didn’t do it. I had no reason to do it. I suspect you don’t know who did. I do. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it, and what I want in return is something I don’t think you’ll-mind giving me at all.”

“Who are you this time?”

“Someone who’s all done playing games, Ensign. I’m not asking you to trust me, you know. Just to listen. Can you afford not to?”

Her face twitched, and she said, “Inside, then.”

“No, not there. Anywhere else, as long as it’s public.”

“All right. This way, then.”

We walked about a quarter of a mile, past two or three public houses, and then we entered one; she was being careful, which I approved of. The place was just starting to fill up, but we found a corner, anyway. She didn’t drink anything, or offer to buy me anything, either. She took out a dagger, set it on the table. She said, “All right, let’s have it. All of it.”

“That’s my intention,” I said.

She waited. Loiosh and Rocza sat on my shoulders like statues, drawing stares from everyone in the place except her. That was all right. I said, “I’m betting a great deal on a single glance, Ensign.”

She waited.

I said, “The Surveillance Corps and the Tasks Group. I’m betting that you’re with the latter and that Lieutenant Domm is in the former, and I’m basing this guess just on the way you looked at him that time at the Riversend. Care to tell me if I’m right?”

“You talk,” she said. “I’ll listen.”

“Okay.” I was beginning to think she didn’t like me. “My name is Vladimir Taltos. I used to work for the Jhereg, now I’m being hunted by the Jhereg.” I stopped to give her a chance to respond, if she cared to.

“Keep talking,” she said.

“There’s a boy, a Teckla boy. He has brain fever—”

“Stay on the subject.”

“If you want to know what’s happening, Ensign, don’t interrupt. He has brain fever. I’ve arranged for him to be cured. The woman who’s working on him is a victim of a very minor land swindle that you may or may not know about, but it’s what led me into this. I believe I need some wine.”

She got the attention of the host, who had a servant bring a bottle and two glasses. I poured some for myself, Timmer declined. I drank and my throat felt better. “The land swindle isn’t really important,” I said, “but it is, as I said, the piece of the whole thing that got me involved. And it isn’t even a swindle, really—I’m not certain it’s illegal. It’s just a means of putting some pressure on a few people and raising prices a little—inducing panic. In an atmosphere of general panic, where everyone is wondering how bad he’s going to be hit, everyone is susceptible to—”

“Go on, please.”

“You know how the land thing works?”

“Go on.”

“I don 7 think she likes you, boss.”

“What was your first clue, Loiosh?”

I collected my thoughts. Someday I hope to have them all. I said, “Let’s start with Fyres, then. I assume you’ve heard of him.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me, Easterner.”

Her hand was casually near her dagger. I nodded. “Lord Fyres,” I said, “duke of—of whatever it is. Sixty million imperials’ worth of fraud, left to a not-grieving widow, a son who probably doesn’t even notice, a daughter who intends to continue the tradition, and another daughter who—but we’ll get to her. Fyres was worth about sixty million, as I said, and almost none of it was real, except for a bit that he’d put into legitimate shipbuilding and shipping companies, most of whom have now gone belly-up, as the Orca say.

“Now, Ensign, allow me to do some speculating. Most of what I have is based on fact, but some of it is guesswork based on the rest. Feel free to correct me if I say something you know is wrong.”

“Go ahead.”

“All right. Fyres was getting fatter and fatter, and more and more large banks were involved, and many of them—many of the biggest—were so heavily involved that, when he came to them and said he’d need another fifty dots—excuse me, fifty thousand imperials—or he’d go under, they had no choice but to give it to him, because if he defaulted on his loans, the banks would go under, too, or at least be pretty seriously crippled. This included the Bank of the Empire, the Orca Treasury, and the Dragon Treasury, as well as some very large banks and some extremely powerful Jhereg about whom I suspect you don’t care but you ought to.”

“Stony?”

“No, oddly enough. As far as I know, he wasn’t directly in debt to Fyres at all. But, yeah, he’s in this—mostly because he wasn’t in debt.”

“How is that?”

“Wait. I’ll get to it.”

She nodded. I tried to read her expression, to see how she was taking this, but she wasn’t giving me anything. So be it, then.

“Eventually Lord Shortisle realized what was going on. One of his accountants found out first, but agreed not to say anything about the bank he knew was in jeopardy. He did this, you understand, in fine old Orca tradition, in exchange for having his pocket lined.” I considered, then said, “Maybe several of them did this, but I only know about one. And that poor bastard had no idea what scale this was on, or he wouldn’t have tried it. For all I know, this was happening all through Shortisle’s department, but it doesn’t matter, because eventually Shortisle found out about it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, frankly. I suspect he has ways of knowing when his accountants are spending more money than they ought to; it was probably something like that.”

She shrugged. “All right. Go on, then.”

I nodded. “So Shortisle spoke to this mysterious accountant. I’m speculating now, I don’t know the accountant’s name, but I’m sure he was important in Shortisle’s organization because Vonnith always referred to him as a ‘big shot.’ At a guess, then, the conversation went something like this: Shortisle bitched him out, and informed him he was dismissed from the Ministry and was probably going to face criminal charges. The accountant said that if he was dismissed, the news would come out about why he was dismissed and the bank would fail. Shortisle asked why he should care about one bank. The accountant, who by now had at least a glimmer of what was going on, pointed out that, once that bank failed, others might, and maybe Shortisle should find how big the problem was before creating a scandal that would result in a general loss of confidence. Shortisle was forced to agree that this was a good idea.

“So our man from the Ministry of the Treasury starts looking into things, and finds Vonnith, or maybe someone like her, and discovers that every bank she owns or runs is in danger of collapse because everything she has—on paper—is tied into someone named Fyres. So he checks on Fyres to see who else is into him, and discovers that everyone and his partner is in the same position, and that it’s getting worse.” I paused. “The only reason I know about Vonnith is that she happens to own the bank that the old woman I’m trying to help saved at. There are probably scores of bankers in the same position she’s in, and she only gained importance because of me.”

“I don’t follow you,” she said.

“Never mind. You’ll see.”

“Continue, then.” Her hand was still resting near the dagger, but she seemed interested now.

I nodded and said, “So Shortisle pays Fyres a visit—”

“How much of this do you know?” she said. “Are you still speculating?”

“Yes. This is almost all speculation. But it holds up with what’s happened. Bear with me and I’ll try to draw all the connections.”

“All right. Go on, then.”

“He pays Fyres a visit to find out what can be done. Fyres is intractable. He tries to bribe Shortisle, he tries to dazzle him, he tries to sell him. He doesn’t get away with it, because, by now, Shortisle knows Fyres’s history, and he also knows, or is starting to know, how big this is. So he threatens to have Fyres brought down. Now, this is a bluff, Ensign. Shortisle can’t bring Fyres down, because it would bring down too many others and create chaos in the finances of the Empire, and it’s Shortisle’s job to prevent exactly that. What Shortisle wants is for Fyres to work with him in trying to ease out of this with as little damage as possible, and the threat is just to get Fyres’s attention so they can start negotiating. But the threat backfires—”

“Still speculation? It almost sounds as if you were listening to them.”

“Just bear with me. I may have a lot of the details wrong, but I know that Shortisle paid Fyres a visit. Chances are the conversation didn’t go like that, but the results are the same as if it had, so I’m trying to show you how it might have ended up the way it did. And, by the way, with what I know about Shortisle and Fyres, I might not be all that wrong.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

I nodded. “Fyres gets scared by the idea of losing everything, because he’s done that twice before. If he, Fyres, is going to help Shortisle, he wants guarantees that he’s going to come out of this rich and powerful. Shortisle makes a counteroffer, saying Fyres will come out of this a free man, instead of spending the rest of his life in the Imperial prisons. That’s not good enough for our man Fyres—he’s on top now, and he sees no reason why he shouldn’t stay there. So he does something stupid: he threatens Shortisle. He tells him that he has contacts in the Jhereg—which he does—and that he, Shortisle, had better leave him alone.

“But Shortisle has a friend in the Jhereg, too; a fellow named Stony. Remember him? I promised we’d come back to him. Now, our dear friend Stony is extremely powerful in the Jhereg, and, just as important, he’s not directly in debt to Fyres, and, most important of all, he’s always, always, always willing to help out the Empire, because the Jhereg can’t function without help from the Empire.”

Timmer opened her mouth then, but I said, “No. I know what I’m talking about here. When I was a Jhereg, I regularly bribed the Phoenix Guards to overlook small illegalities. Nothing big, and nothing violent, you understand, but the little stuff that keeps the Jhereg earning, and keeps the Phoenix Guards in pocket change. It didn’t occur to me that the same thing was happening on a much larger scale all the way to the top until I messed with the official Jhereg contact to the Empire and I saw the heat that came down on me for it—that’s the main reason I’m on the run right now.”

She didn’t like it, but she said, “All right. Go on, then.”

“So one week later—”

“A week? What is this, a hard date, or more guessing?”

“A hard date. One week after Shortisle and Fyres have dinner together, Fyres goes out on his private boat to have a nice, relaxing sail with some business associates—how many of those aboard the boat were Jhereg, by the way?”

“Three,” she said.

“Okay. So he goes out sailing, and, late at night, he slips on the deck and—”

“Yes. I know that part.”

“Right. Okay, so Fyres is dead. Shortisle goes into action right away. Or, in fact, he’s probably ready to go into action before it even happens. He talks to Indus, explains the problem, and says they have to minimize the damage or everything falls apart, and there’s major chaos, and, just incidentally, Shortisle loses his job, because the Empress is a reborn Phoenix and doesn’t take people’s heads for incompetence.

“So someone—probably Indus—tells Domm, who works for her, that he has to just go through the motions of investigating Fyres’s death and conclude that it was an accident. Domm comes in, and, a week later, announces that everything is fine. The Empress hears about this, and the Warlord, and probably Khaavren, and they all immediately smell something funny, because there’s no way you could conclude something like that in a week. So, what do they do when there’s something fishy from one of the special Imperial groups? They send in the Tasks Group—yours, isn’t it?” I stopped and looked at her. “That’s what I’m betting my life on, you know. And I’m betting on it based on that one look you gave Domm. I don’t think you’re from Surveillance.”

She nodded once, quickly.

“Okay,” I said. I relaxed. “Good.”

“Keep talking,” she said.

I nodded. “So Khaavren tells Loftis to get a group together and find out what’s going on. Shortisle, who always knows what’s going on with the Empire, finds out about this and, instead of panicking, does something s,mart—he tells Indus about it.”

“Do you know that? I mean, couldn’t it have been Indus who found out about it in the first place, and she told Shortisle and it went from there?”

“Actually, yes,” I said. “I was just enjoying putting the story together my way. But it could well have happened the other way, and probably did, because the Minister of the Houses bears even more than the Minister of the Treasury.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she said. “Go on with your story.”

“Okay. However it worked, Indus knows about the problem, and she knows how much trouble there will be, for her, too, now, if word gets out about what’s going on. I’m pretty sure that the Warlord or the Empress or both were involved in sending your group in, because if it was just Khaavren, Shortisle would probably have had him killed.”

Timmer looked shocked at that, and opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and nodded for me to continue.

I said, “Now, Indus, as we know, is very persuasive; she’s an Issola, after all. She finds Loftis, whom she knows somehow or other—”

“They worked together when our group was called in to find a security leak in Division Six during the Elde Island war.”

“Okay,” I said. I still wanted to wince every time someone mentioned the Elde Island war, but that wasn’t important now. “She persuades him to help behind Khaavren’s back, because they both know Khaavren wouldn’t go for anything like this, and they both know that, however much they dislike it, it’s the only way to keep the financial roof of the Empire from collapsing and to save both of their metaphorical heads.

“So you and Loftis show up in Northport, just the two of you, with three others in reserve. Is that right?”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. Loftis told me there were six of you and three in reserve, and I think he was telling me a half-truth by including Domm and his people, just to test me.”

“Yes,” she said. “It was he and I, with some others on call if we needed them.”

“Okay,” I said. “Anyway, Domm is already here with Daythiefnest and three others, and they’ve bungled things up nicely. You and Loftis know the score, and Domm knows what’s going on, but no one else does. You and Loftis have probably done a lot of things you didn’t enjoy, but this has to be one of the worst—when Loftis and I were pumping each other for information, I got that out of him and I think he meant it. Your job was to cover up a murder, and, at the same time, cover up for the fact that the guy whose job it was to do the cover-up—Domm—had bungled it horribly by being impatient. That meant tracing every little indication that people thought the investigation wasn’t real, while, at the same time, keeping up the appearances of making the investigation, and still coming up with enough to convince, among others, the Empress, the Warlord, and your own chief that, no, really, Fyres’s death was an accident. Have I got that right?”

“Go on,” she said.

I wetted my throat again. “Just about this time, Loftis learns that Fyres’s home has been burglarized and his private notes taken. I’m sure he had words about that. Why didn’t Domm take those notes in the first place? And why wasn’t the house better protected against burglary? Answer: because Domm didn’t care. Maybe—I’m speculating again—maybe it was then that Loftis realized he only had one way to go: he had to throw Domm to the dzur. That is, he was going to have to make it look like Domm was just plain incompetent—which he is—and then do the investigation himself and come up, with a greater appearance of honesty, with the same results Domm got.

“The trouble was, Domm, whatever else he is, isn’t stupid. He figured that out, too.”

Timmer’s eyes got wide.

“You mean Domm—”

“Wait for it, Ensign. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Domm.”

Her eyes narrowed then, but she said, “All right.” Then she said, “About Fyres’s death—”

“Yes?”

“How was it arranged?”

“It was a Jhereg assassination.”

“I know that. But how?”

“Huh? You should know that. Making it look like an accident—”

“No, not that. I mean, how could a Jhereg assassin get close to Fyres on his private boat, especially when he knew—when he must have known—that he was messing with dangerous matters and dangerous people?”

“Ah,” I said. “I’m glad you asked. Stony set it up, and he had Shortisle’s cooperation. Between the two of them, they were able to get inside help. Again, I’m guessing, but it does all fit.”

“Inside help?”

“Yep. Someone Fyres trusted, or, at any rate, was willing to let onto the boat, along with a friend. Who was on the boat, Ensign? That’s something you know but I don’t. I think I can guess, though.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Guess.”

“I’d say that at least one of his daughters was there, and had a date with her. In particular, I think it has to be Reega, judging by the way she reacted when I suggested to her that the investigation wasn’t entirely honest.”

I waited.

“Yes,” she said, after a moment. “Reega. We know she brought a date, and the guy she was with ... yes, he could have been a Jhereg. We can still find him—”

“Three pennies that you can’t.”

She shrugged. “All right, then: why would she go along with that?”

“Remember the land swindle I mentioned?”

“Yes.”

“That was the price. Shortisle put her in touch with Von-nith and some others, or maybe they all knew each other, anyway; they probably did. They cooked it up among themselves, with Shortisle’s help, in exchange for Papa’s life. That way, however things went, they each knew they’d still have enough wealth for what they wanted: Vonnith to keep her lovely house and Reega to be able to live alone and do nothing, which seems to be her goal. Of course, it could have been the wife, the son, or the other daughter; as far as I can tell they all had reasons.”

“Nice family.”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Go on.”

I nodded. “Then my friend and I enter the arena. First, there’s the burglary.”

“Yes. Loftis was, uh, not happy about that.”

“Right. Okay, but Loftis finds himself having to work with the Jhereg, right? So he tells Stony about it, and then my friend—”

“Who?”

I shook my head. “You don’t get that.”

She started to object, then shrugged. “All right.”

“My friend starts asking Stony questions, which information he passes on to Loftis, and then I show up, and Loftis passes that information to Stony, and then I go leading you and Domm all around the countryside, and, at about the point my feet are getting ready to fall off, we wind up at the Riversend, and Loftis gets hold of you or Domm, probably you—”

“Me.”

“With orders to question me.”

“No, with orders to bring you in.”

“But—”

“Domm wanted to question you first. I objected, but he outranked me.” Her face twitched and contorted just a bit as she said that.

“I see.” I nodded. “He was nervous about what Loftis intended, and wanted to know where I fit in, and if I could be used.”

“Yes. What was your game?”

“Trying to learn what was going on. Remember, all I really knew about was that our hostess was having problems with her land; I didn’t even know that the investigation into Fyres’s death was phony.”

“And that’s what you were trying to find out?”

“Yes. And I did, both from Domm’s reaction and from yours, although I misread a look you gave him as indicating that you didn’t know what was going on, when in fact the look was just one of contempt for him being such an idiot as to let me pump him like that. That was the last thing I got, and what made me decide to come to you now.”

She nodded. “Then what?”

“Then we come back to Reega. If it was her who set up Fyres, and, from what you say, I’m sure it was, then it fits even better. When I showed up at her door, she panicked. She thought it was all going to come out, and someone—namely Loftis—would really investigate dear Papa’s death, and she’d get caught. So she—”

“Arranged with Domm to kill Loftis,” said Timmer, very slowly and distinctly.

I nodded. “That’s how I read it.”

“So why did you kill Stony and all those others?”

I smiled. “Well, actually, I didn’t.”

She frowned.

I shook my head. “I did kill Stony, but I put no spell on him to prevent revivification. I had no reason to, and, even when I did that sort of thing, I didn’t use spells because I’m not fast enough with them. And I certainly had no time then.”

“But who—”

“Think it through,” I said. “Domm has killed Loftis. Stony and Loftis know each other, and Stony is in touch with powerful people in the Empire.”

“Does Domm know that?”

“He has to at least be pretty sure about it. So Domm uses me to set up Stony, knowing that, eventually, I’ll be sure to go blundering into Vonnith’s place, or Endra’s, or Reega’s.”

“Wait. He used you to set up Stony?”

“Yeah. That’s how I read it. He probably thought I’d be killed, too, which would have been fine, but he had some of his people there to make sure Stony didn’t get out alive in any case.”

“Did you spot them?”

“No. But I got away.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I shouldn’t have been able to escape. My familiar here”—I gestured to Loiosh—”was injured, and that slowed me down. And, for various reasons, I can’t teleport. And the Jhereg wants me bad. So how could I go tromping away from there through the woods and escape without even having to draw my blade? Answer: because Domm arranged for a teleport block around the house and grounds to seal Stony and his people in, then—”

“Did you feel a teleport block?”

“No, but I wouldn’t, for the same reason that I don’t teleport myself.” She looked a question at me. I said, “I, uh, I have a device that prevents anyone from finding me with sorcery, and it has the side effect of preventing me from detecting it. Loiosh here usually lets me know if there’s sorcery happening around me, but, as I said, he wasn’t in any shape to do that then.”

“Sorry about that, boss.”

“Don’t sweat it, chum.”

“When did you work all this out?”

“Just a little while ago, when my friend informed me that Stony was unrevivifiable and that there’d been a mass slaughter in the house. My first thought was that it was being done so I’d be blamed, but that didn’t make sense. The Jhereg were after me already, and they, frankly, have better resources for that sort of thing than the Empire, so what was the point? The point, of course, was Domm.”

“Yes.”

“And now, Ensign, can you figure out why it was not only Stony whose death was made permanent but also three of those Orca who are Vonnith’s private guards?”

She nodded. “Three of the four who killed Loftis.” She frowned. “What about the fourth?”

“I would imagine,” I said, “that he died of the wounds I gave him, and was given to Deathgate Falls. And, as far as I’m concerned, you now know everything.”

She nodded slowly. Then she said, “Why did you tell me all of this?”

I shrugged. “A number of reasons. For one thing, I rather liked Loftis.” She frowned, but didn’t speak. “For another, it annoys me to see these people tromping over lives like that—Loftis, Stony, all of those people whose lives have been messed up by the shipwrights closing and by the banks closing. And, for another, I want something in exchange.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I believe that, Jhereg. What do you want?”

I said, “There are no witnesses who can implicate Domm, you know.”

“Except Vonnith.”

“Yes. Except Vonnith and Reega. Will you be going after Vonnith?”

“Maybe. I don’t know if I can touch her. I’ll have to check with—” She got a look of distaste on her features. “With Shortisle and Indus.”

“Reega?”

“Not a chance. She gets away with it.”

“I thought so. Well, that’s fine. I don’t care. Everyone involved in killing Fyres deserves an Imperial Title, as far as I’m concerned. But I do care about Vonnith.”

“As I say, I don’t know if I can—”

I held up my hand. “You can put pressure on her, and a little pressure is all it should take.”

“For what?”

“To get her to cough up the deed to a small piece of property on the north side of town. A very small piece, a couple of acres, with a hideously ugly blue cottage on it. There’s an old woman living there. I can’t pronounce her name, but here it is.” I passed it to her and enjoyed watching her lips move as she tried to figure out how to say it.

Then she said, “That’s all you want?”

“What do you want, Ensign?”

She glared at me. “I want ...” She stopped glaring, but continued staring, if you know what I mean.

“What do you want?” I repeated. “What would please you right now?”

“I ...”

“Yes?” I said.

“Are you—?”

I looked away and waited.

Presently she said, “You used to be in the Jhereg?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And what, exactly, did you do?”

I turned back to her. “You know what I did.”

She nodded slowly. “The deed to the land for the old woman—that’s what you’re getting out of this?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“What about Fyres’s personal notes?”

I extracted them from inside my cloak and put them on the table. She looked at them, riffled through them, nodded, and put them in her pouch.

She said, “Are you, uh, going to be somewhere for a while?”

I remembered the area and said, “This is as good a place as any, I think.”

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is.”

She looked at me for a long time, and then she picked up her dagger and sheathed it. She reached for the wine, poured herself a glass, held it up to me, and drank. She held out her hand to Loiosh. He hesitated a moment, then hopped over to her wrist. She studied him for a moment, looking closely into his eyes and showing no sign of fear at all.

“I’ve never been this close to one of these before. It looks very intelligent.”

“More intelligent than me sometimes,” I said. “That’s just banter, Loiosh. Forget I said it.”

“No chance, boss. You’re stuck with that forever.”

She held her hand out and Loiosh hopped back over to my shoulder. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her wrist, then folded the handkerchief and put it away.

Then she looked at me and nodded.

“You got it, Easterner,” she said.

Chapter Sixteen

And then, Kiera, I waited. And, as I waited, I was just a bit nervous.

I mean, you speak Jhereg—You know what we were talking about, or, rather, not talking about; and of course I knew, but I wasn’t sure if Timmer knew. I thought she did, I hoped she did, but I didn’t know, and so I sat there and waited and was nervous, in spite of Loiosh’s comments designed to irritate me into relaxing.

No, don’t ask me to explain that.

By this time I had blended into the background of the public house, and no one was really looking at me, so at least I didn’t have that to worry about. In fact, Kiera, while I was nervous about Timmer, I wasn’t really worried about anything; it seemed that the time for worrying was well past; besides, I had plans to make, and the time to worry is when you don’t have anything else to do. I’m not sure who said that; I think it was you.

An hour later she came back and sat down. She looked at me. There was no expression on her face.

I said, “Well?”

She said, “I’ve asked the local magistrate for a seizure card. Just temporary, of course; until the investigation is over.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. Of course,” she added, “I don’t know your real name, so I had to mark it ‘name unknown,’ but I know that you have information about Fyres’s death, and that’s what we’re investigating.”

“I understand. When will it go into effect?”

“In about fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes,” I repeated. “All right.”

“Until that time,” she said carefully, “I cannot legally stop you from leaving the city, or even this public house; but I would ask, from one loyal citizen to another, that you consider your duty to the Empire and remain here, as a gesture of cooperation.”

“Here?”

“Yes. The card will be served here.”

“Will you be remaining here as well, to serve the card?”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible; I have to act on the information that you’ve given me. But, ah, someone will be by to serve it as soon as it’s ready.”

“About twenty minutes, then.”

“Or less.” She stared off at nothing. “Someone will be arriving with it, directly from the magistrate.”

“And where is the magistrate?”

“A quarter of a mile away. To the east.”

I nodded. “All right,” I said.

I started to drink some more wine, then thought better of it. Wine sometimes affects me very quickly. “I’m afraid,” I said slowly, “that I’m going to have to decline. I’ll be running from the seizure, so you will have to send someone after me to serve it.”

“I thought you might,” she said. “Unfortunately, I cannot, at this time, detain you.”

“I’m already being hunted,” I pointed out.

“Not by the Empire.”

“No,” I said. “That’s true. Not by the Empire.”

“With some crimes, the Empire looks for the fugitive harder than with other crimes. And there are even some crimes, some very serious crimes, that never get properly handled, and where descriptions are lost or mixed up.”

“I understand,” I said.

She rose to her feet. “Too bad I can’t stay to serve the card,” she said. “But duty calls.”

“In a very clear voice,” I said.

“I’ll see you again,” she said.

“Why, yes. If I’m arrested—”

“Detained.”

“Detained. Right. If I’m detained, then, no doubt, I’ll be at City Hall tomorrow, being interrogated.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Who knows?” I said. “You know, I rather like this place. It’s especially nice at this time of the evening.”

“Yes,” she said. She opened her mouth as if she had something else to say, but closed it again, leaving whatever it was unsaid. Then she stood and left without any ceremony whatsoever.

I waited a decent interval—say, about a minute—then I settled the score, got up, and went outside. It was a lovely, crisp day, with the winter not yet arrived. The street was almost empty of people. I looked around carefully, as did Loiosh, and we consulted.

There were about a hundred places to choose from in an area like this, but I settled on a doorway right next to the public house—it was deep, and quiet, and didn’t look like it got much use. I slumped against it and sent Rocza into the air.

I stood there for perhaps twenty minutes. A few people walked by but none of them noticed me. One elderly Teckla walked past me to go into the building whose doorway I was occupying, but even he didn’t appear to notice me as I stepped out of his way. You taught me how to do that, Kiera; you said it’s more attitude than anything else. Maybe you’re right.

“Rocza says he’s coming, boss.”

“The right way, or the wrong way?”

“The right way. From the east.”

“Can’t ask for better than that.”

I let a dagger fall into my hand. It was one of the new ones. I wiped the hilt on my cloak, as much for luck as for any other reason, then took my position.

Domm walked right past me. There was a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand, no doubt the seizure card, naming some nameless person who happened to be me as a witness wanted for questioning in an Imperial investigation.

Pretty serious stuff.

I fell into step behind him, and I left nothing to chance, nor did I speak. Afterward, I continued past, walking easily, as if nothing had happened. I turned a corner, and then another, and Rocza informed Loiosh, who informed me, that no one was following me. Interlude

“Did it seem to bother him?”

“Killing Domm? I don’t think so. Should it have?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose I would have been happier if it had, but—”

“You’ve changed, Cawti.”

“So has he.”

“Not as much as you have.”

“From what you’ve told me, I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Come to think of it, neither am I. But ...”

“Yes?”

“There’s so much you’re leaving out. I can see the gaps in your story.”

“I told you—”

“I know, I know.”

“In any case, that was about it.”

“And there’s another gap.”

“Cawti—”

“Sorry. You mean, you just left after that?”

“Pretty much, yes. There was a bit of excitement that proved to be nothing, and we got some reassurances, and then Vlad took Savn and went away for parts unknown, and I came back home where I found your letter waiting for me.”

“Tell me about the excitement that proved to be nothing, and about the reassurances.”

“All right. What is it?”

“I don’t know, Kiera. It’s good to hear this, but it just makes me want to find out more.”

“Are you going to try to?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“All right.”

“Should we have more tea?”

“I think something stronger.”

“Good idea.”

“And then some food. I’ll buy.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“Is there a hint of irony there, Cawti?”

“No, actually, I don’t think there is.”

Chapter Seventeen

“And then I came back here,” he concluded.

“What next?”

“As I said, we arranged that I’d meet her tomorrow evening at that same place, and she’ll give me the deed to this chunk of land. And that is the story of my latest triumph.”

“Triumph,” I repeated. “Will it still be a triumph tomorrow, when you walk into that public house to find yourself arrested, if you’re lucky, or surrounded by Jhereg if you’re not?”

“She promised,” said Vlad smugly.

“And what,” I said, “makes you think you can trust her?”

“Instinct,” he said.

I bit back a nasty reply. As much as we’d both bungled these last few days, I still trusted my own instincts, so I could hardly blame him for trusting his. The thing is, I didn’t trust his.

He said, “Okay, maybe that was one more screwup. But, Kiera, it felt right. Loftis was her friend, and her superior officer, and an associate. I don’t know, maybe she hated his guts. But—”

I shook my head. “No, you’re probably right, only—” I stopped.

“What is it?” he said.

“I don’t know. A spell of some kind, centered around here.”

“Aw nuts,” said Vlad.

“Perhaps,” I said slowly, “we had best gather up Savn and Hwdf rjaanci and head into the woods while we can.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said.

“I think,” I said carefully, “that it was a location spell.”

He gave me an odd look and said, “The Jhereg?”

“Maybe.”

“Where can we go?”

I cursed softly and didn’t answer.

He said, “You take the old woman and the boy and make tracks. It’s only me they want.”

“Wrong answer, Vlad.”

“Heh.”

He walked into the house, emerging a minute later with his sword belt. He wore no cloak at all and had several knives strapped to his body. He said, “Go, Kiera.”

“Not a chance.”

He indicated the house. “What about them? Can’t you stash them someplace and then retrieve them later, if there is a later?”

Well, in point of fact, I could. Then something else happened. “Someone has just teleported into the area,” I said. “About a quarter of a mile away.”

“How many?”

“One.”

“One?”

“That’s right.”

He shook his head. “If it’s Mario, there’s no point in trying to run, and if it isn’t, well, there isn’t any other one person I’m particularly afraid of.”

I nodded. I felt the same way, except that I didn’t have his superstitious dread of Mario.

He drew his blade and waited. “May I borrow a knife?” I said.

“You don’t want to use your own?”

“I’m not armed,” I told him.

“Oh, yes. I forgot.” He handed me a weapon. I tested the feel, the balance, and the edge, and then we stood back-to-back and waited. Loiosh and Rocza sat on Vlad’s shoulders. Buddy came out of the house, sniffed curiously, then sat down next to us; it was somehow comforting that he was there, though I didn’t know if he’d be useful.

Vlad saw her first. He said, “There she is.”

I turned. She was walking through the woods toward us, a sword at her side, but her hands were empty. Buddy stood up and started growling, and a glance told me that his teeth were bared. Well, well.

The woman ignored Buddy, and ignored the fact that Vlad and I were holding weapons, but nodded hello to each of us as she stopped about five feet away and looked at the cottage.

“It a blue,” she said.

“You thought I lied?” said Vlad.

She shrugged. “It was a possibility. But you told the truth about everything else, so—”

“How did you find me?”

“In the public house,” she said. “With the help of your uh, familiar, is that the right word?”

Vlad used a word he wouldn’t have wanted Hwdf rjaanci to hear. “A bit of Loiosh’s skin on the handkerchief,” he said. “And then you went to a sorcerer with it, and located him, because you knew you couldn’t locate me.”

She nodded. “Shall we go inside?”

“Let’s settle it out here,” said Vlad.

“Settle what?” said Timmer.

“Aren’t you here to arrest me?”

“No.”

“But—”

“I wanted to meet the rest of this little troupe that’s caused so much trouble, and I thought you’d want to hear how everything came out.”

For a moment no one spoke. Then Vlad said, “Oh.”

He put his sword away, then the knife I handed him. Then he petted Buddy, who took that as a clue that everything was all right, and introduced himself to Timmer. The old woman came out as this was going on.

“Who are you?” she snapped. “And what are you doing here?”

“Ensign Timmer,” said Vlad, “this is the woman we call Mother, because her name sounds rather like a sneeze and no one but Kiera here can say it. Oh, and this is Kiera—I don’t think you two have been introduced yet. And this is Buddy, who I think is, really, the intelligent one of the bunch—at least, he’s the one who hasn’t made any mistakes yet.”

Rocza hissed. Vlad laughed and said, “One of the two, then.”

“A pleasure, my lady,” said Timmer. “I have something for you.” I heard a quick intake of breath from Vlad.

“You got it?” he said.

She smiled. “Of course. I said I would.”

“That was quick. What’s it been, three, four hours at the most?”

“Yes. Shall we go inside?”

“By all means,” said Vlad. “After you.”

We trooped into the cottage, Hwdf rjaanci leading and Buddy bringing up the rear. Once inside, Timmer looked around the place, then licked her lips, probably because biting them would have been too obvious. We introduced her to Savn, who almost, maybe, just a little bit, might have given a flicker of acknowledgment. Or maybe not.

“Brain fever, you said?” asked Timmer.

“There is no such thing as brain fever,” said Hwdf rjaanci.

Vlad shrugged. Hwdf rjaanci sat next to Savn, Vlad and I sat at the table. Timmer declined a chair, preferring to lean against the wall. Buddy curled up near Savn and Hwdf rjaanci and tried to insinuate himself between them. Savn absently stroked Buddy’s head. That was, as far as I knew, another first. I caught Vlad’s eye and saw that he had seen it, too.

“Where shall I begin?” said Timmer. “Does everyone know what has been going on?”

“Kiera knows everything up through our conversation today. The old woman doesn’t know much of anything about the affair,” said Vlad.

“That’s because I don’t want to,” she snapped. “And I won’t thank you for telling me.”

Timmer nodded. “All right,” she said. “Do you want us to go somewhere else, then?”

“No. Say what you want, and I’ll listen, but don’t bother explaining it.”

“Very well,” said Timmer.

She turned to us. “There isn’t all that much to tell, truly. Domm was found murdered, just a few hours ago. A dagger was driven into his head.”

“Oh?” said Vlad with that assumed casualness he does so badly. “Any idea who did it?”

“A fugitive. Someone we wanted in connection with our ongoing investigation into the death of Lord Fyres. We think he was a Chreotha,” she added.

“I see,” said Vlad. “What else is new?”

“I spoke to, uh, to certain persons in the Empire, and was told to leave well enough alone.” She looked like she’d just eaten a jimmberry thinking it was a rednut.

“So Vonnith goes free?” said Vlad.

“Free? Yes. Free and clear. And still rich. And still the owner, or manager, of three or four banks. We can’t touch her.”

“And Reega?”

“The same.” She shrugged, as if Reega didn’t much matter to her, which was probably true; Reega hadn’t been involved in Loftis’s death.

Vlad shook his head. “Not the way I’d have preferred them to end up.”

“Nor I,” said Timmer. “But then”—she spread her hands—”it isn’t my choice.”

“And?” said Vlad. “In exchange?”

She nodded. “Cooperation. They’re both going to do what they can to minimize the damage to the Empire. That, after all, is what’s important.” In her voice was a trace of the same bitterness that Vlad had described in Loftis’s voice when he spoke about having betrayed his chief.

“What else?” said Vlad.

She nodded, and, from a pouch at her side, pulled a rolled-up piece of parchment, which she handed to Hwdf rjaanci. She took it hesitantly, looked at Timmer, then at the document. Her hands trembled a bit as she undid the ribbon with which it was tied and broke the wax with which it was sealed and unrolled it. She read it slowly and carefully, her lips moving, and I saw that there was a tear in her eye.

Vlad loudly cleared his throat, stood up, and said, “Does anyone want klava?”

No one did. Vlad sat down again.

I said, “Timmer.”

“Yes?”

“Vonnith and Reega now know, or can easily learn, who it was who—”

“No,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. This old woman’s continued health is now my business.”

Hwdfr’ jaanci looked up and said, “What was that? My health?”

“Never mind,” I said.

She looked at the three of us one at a time, harrumphed softly, and went back to reading the deed to her land.

“Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

“So do I,” said Vlad. “Only ...”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor, and don’t tell anyone how you found me. I don’t think the Jhereg would figure it out on their own in a million years, but—”

“Right,” she said. “Don’t worry.” She stood up. “I think that’s it, then.”

“Yes,” said Vlad. “Good luck.”

“And to you,” she said. She looked at me and we nodded to each other, then she turned and left and it was over.

“It’s over,” said Vlad.

“Not quite,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Care to take a walk with me?”

He frowned, then he shrugged and stood up. We stepped outside. Buddy followed us, and Loiosh was on Vlad’s shoulder, but there was no one else there. We walked into the woods near the house. “What is it, Kiera?” he said.

“How long have you known?”

“Know what?”

“I’m not stupid, Vlad, and I don’t think you are, either.”

“Vlad, how long have you known?”

“I hadn’t been planning on talking about it,” he said. “What gave me away?”

“That’s my question.”

He laughed. “I suppose it is. But you go first. When did you know that I knew?”

I shrugged. “Just now, a few minutes ago. You’re sometimes very careless with your life, Vlad—especially when you’re annoyed. But you’re never careless with other people’s. Even when you were in the Jhereg—”

“Who’s life was I careless with?”

“No one’s. That’s the point.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you? Think about it.”

He did, and I could see him going back over the last hour in his mind; then he nodded. “I see.”

“Yes. You told me to get the boy and the woman somewhere safe. You asked me to, uh, stash them somewhere. Where could Kiera the Thief stash anyone that would be safe? It didn’t occur to you to ask if there was a teleport block up, you just assumed there was, because the Jhereg, or the Empire, was coming to get you, and you can’t tell if there is one or not with the Phoenix Stone you wear. So how could Kiera the Thief break through a teleport block?”

“Right,” he said. “I was scared—”

“Sure. For Savn and Hwdfrjaanci. And then there was the remark about the knife, which is what really convinced me.”

“Yeah. I was panicking, I guess.”

“I guess. So, your turn. How did you find out, when did you find out, and who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone, Kiera.”

“You may as well call me by my real name.”

“All right, Sethra. I haven’t told anyone. You should know that.”

I nodded. “Yes, I guess I know that. When did you figure it out?”

He shrugged. “I’ve known you in both guises, you know—I mean, known you well. And there can’t be many of us who have.”

“No one. Only you.”

He bowed his head as if he felt he had been honored; which he had been, of course.

“How long have you known?”

“Not long. Since yesterday. No, today, I guess. I don’t know.”

“What did I do yesterday?”

He shrugged. “It was an accumulation of little things.”

“What? I’m curious. You know, I never cheat. I mean, when I’m Kiera, I only do Kiera things—”

“You almost cheated tonight.”

“Oh, you noticed that?”

“I sort of guessed, at any rate—just before we realized there was only one person coming, I was expecting to see Iceflame in your hand.”

I nodded. “And you almost did, especially since I knew that you knew. Which brings us back to the question: how did you know? What were these little things that accumulated?”

He spread his hands. “I’m not sure if I can even identify them all, Kie—Sethra.”

“No, call me Kiera. It’ll make it easier.”

“Are you trying to confuse me? Don’t answer that. Kiera. Yes. As I say, it was a lot of little things. This is the first time we’ve worked this closely together, but we’ve known each other for a long time, and I’ve always wondered why you gave a damn for a little Easterner kid. Now I know, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And I’m still grateful. Only ...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking of things, like the way you recruited me to find Aliera.”

“There was no other way, Vlad.”

“I understand that, but still. And what was that whole business with the blood of the goddess? Not that I haven’t figured out who the goddess is.”

“I can’t tell you that, Vlad. She said it was important for you to have that vial, and that she, herself, didn’t know why.”

“The ways of the gods are mysterious.”

“Don’t be sarcastic.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I want to know what gave me away, Vlad.”

“It was simple, really. You see, I’ve known you and Sethra for a long time, but I’ve never seen you at the same time or in the same—”

“Cut it out. I’m serious. This matters to me. I want to know.”

He nodded. “All right.” He got his considering look on his face and said, “Well, for one thing, you got upset once, when you were talking about how we’d been fooled, and your speech patterns changed. Come to think of it, that happened more than once. I remember when I first told you things that implied that the Empire was involved, you, uh, you talked different.”

“My speech patterns slipped,” I said, shaking my head.

He nodded. “Not very often, or for very long, but it was one of the things that got me thinking.”

“I suppose it would be. Damn. After two thousand years, you’d think ... never mind. What else?”

“What else? Oh, how little you ate was probably part of it, though by itself it didn’t mean anything. But I know that Sethra is undead, and lives on, well, on other things, so she doesn’t eat much. And, by the same token, there was the way the dog reacted to you, and—how did you fool Loiosh, by the way? He can usually tell the undead with one sniff.”

“He’s not as good at it as Buddy, apparently,” Loiosh hissed and I heard myself chuckle and I suspected that Vlad was never going to let Loiosh forget that. “But,” I continued, “there are ways to conceal the fact that one is undead. It’s difficult, but—”

“But you’re Sethra Lavode. Right. I keep forgetting that.”

“How else did I give myself away?”

“I heard you muttering something about battle shock when you first saw Savn, and I thought it was odd that Kiera would recognize battle shock.”

“Cracks and shards. I’m an idiot.”

“No, I just know you well.”

“Okay, keep going.”

“Well, you knew stuff that I couldn’t see how Kiera knew.”

“Like what?”

“Like what ‘he didn’t break the stick’ meant, and, more than that, what it feels like to have a spell-stick discharge in your hand. And you knew more about Imperial Signets and secret Imperial organizations than seemed reasonable for your basic thief. Or even your extraordinary thief.”

“Oh.” I shook my head. “It’s starting to sound like a miracle that no one else has figured it out. That must have been what you meant when you said you got more than you wanted.”

“Did I say that?” He shrugged. “But remember: no one else knows both of you. And you are a very effective Jhereg—I’ve known you since I was a child, and I never suspected that you were anything but what you seemed to be. But then, as I said, we’ve never worked together before. You, Kiera, have never worked closely with anyone, have you? And that’s the reason, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Continue, then.”

“Okay.” He was getting warmed up now. “When you first met with Loftis, there was something odd in the way you reported the encounter.”

“Odd? How?”

“Like you left something out—like you didn’t tell me everything that happened.”

“What didn’t I tell you?”

“The part where you were first bluffing him, you talked about mentioning a few details about some activities the Tasks Group had done, but you wouldn’t tell me what the activities were. Later, when I was putting things together, it occurred to me that maybe that was because they were things that would make you seem knowledgeable to him, but would connect Kiera with someone else for me—like something Kiera couldn’t know about, but Sethra could. Am I right? Or maybe just things Kiera couldn’t know about. I don’t know. I think it was one of the things that first made me think there was something funny going on, although I didn’t really pay too much attention at the time. But it was a hole in your report and it only made sense later.”

The Jenoine at Dzur Mountain. I nodded, while trying not to think too much about the experience itself; it was one I hadn’t enjoyed, and I’d been damn glad to have the help of the Tasks Group at the time. And, of course, I’d had to leave out all the other incidents that Sethra knew about from having been Warlord, but Kiera couldn’t. Damn.

“All right,” he continued. “What else gave you away? It’s hard to think back on it this way, because I wasn’t really trying to put it together; it just happened. Oh, well, I remember one thing. You—that is, Sethra—once told me that you were originally from the Northwest.”

“So what’s your point?”

“How easy you found it to say the old woman’s name.”

“Hwdf rjaanci? That’s a Kanefthali name. There are lots of people who can pronounce Kanefthali names.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But there are even more who can’t; you’ll notice that Timmer didn’t try.” I started to speak, but he held up his hand. “Okay, maybe it didn’t mean anything by itself, but it was another piece, all right?”

I scowled at him.

“And you were too sensitive to magic—you kept reminding me of Aliera, the way you’d pick up on spells. In fact, I wasn’t really convinced until you detected that teleport just now, and knew right away how many there were.”

“That was stupid, too,” I said, or, I suppose, growled.

He said, “Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Why, Kiera? Or, rather: Sethra, why Kiera?”

“You mean why the name? In the old form of the language there are female endings of—”

“No, not the name. Although, now that I think of it, that should have tipped me off, too—a very, very old feminine version of ‘Kieron.’ But, no. I mean, why does she exist at all?”

“Oh, why did I invent her?” I shrugged. “At first, to keep in touch with the Underworld—it was part of the job of the Lavodes to keep track of what the Jhereg and various others were up to. After that, well, I got to like it. It was different, it was a challenge, it was scary at a time when it was hard for anything to frighten me—”

“Yes,” said Vlad, his face twisting into part of a smile. “You’d hate never being frightened, wouldn’t you?”

I smiled back. “As I say, I never cheated when I was being Kiera. I never used, well, anything that Kiera didn’t come by herself, or any skill that wasn’t Kiera’s own. I’ve gotten to like her.”

“And no one knows?”

“Only you.”

He licked his lips. “Uh, Sethra—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

I smiled. “I still like you, you know.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Kiera has never killed anyone, and I decided long ago that keeping that secret wasn’t worth a life.”

He shook his head. “Sethra doesn’t value life as much as Kiera does, I think.”

“I don’t think you know Sethra as well as you know Kiera,” I said.

“Maybe not, maybe not.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. Trying to keep my voice casual, I asked, “What now?”

He pointed to his upper lip.

I said, “Right. In addition to growing your facial hair back.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’m going to bring Savn back home.”

“Teleport?”

He shook his head. “It’ll take a long time to get back there, and, with any luck, by the time we make it he’ll be better. Some better, anyway. Better enough that he can see his family again.”

“How will they react to you?”

He smiled. “I don’t think I’ll want to settle down there. Although, come to think of it, there is an Issola minstrel in the area I could stand to see again.”

I shook my head. “I wish ...”

“Yeah. Me, too. Wait here,” he said. He went back into the cottage and returned a few minutes later with his backpack, Savn trailing along behind.

“That was a short goodbye,” I said.

“I don’t think the old woman likes me,” he said. “But don’t tell her I know. I think it would hurt her feelings.”

“Vlad—”

“And, look, give my regards to, uh, to people, all right? And look in on Noish-pa when you can.”

“I will,” I said.

“Then that’s all,” he said.

“I doubt it very much,” I told him.

He smiled, nodded, and began walking down the road, Savn keeping pace. Buddy and I watched them. I petted Buddy, who didn’t seem to mind.

Being Vlad, and thus needing to get in the last word, he turned around just before reaching the road, and called back, “We all need work on our disguises, don’t we?”

They were gone before I could think up a good answer. Epilogue

My Dear Cawti:

It was delightful, as always, seeing you, although perhaps you don’t feel the same way. If not, I can certainly understand. Maybe you were upset by what I didn’t tell you, yet you know there are things that I had to leave out, both on Vlad’s behalf and on my own. I had hoped I told you enough for your peace of mind. On the other hand, perhaps it bothers you not to tell Vlad those things you have chosen to keep from him, and perhaps it should bother you; I am hardly one to judge what another person’s secrets ought to be.

You seemed concerned about the boy. I know no more than I told you, but do not be discouraged. You cannot expect such a complex ailment to be cured at once in its entirety. There has been clear progress, and I feel confident that, in time, his cure will be effected. As for what will become of Vlad—that is a more difficult matter to judge.

And yet, as I said yesterday, he is well, and in this matter he emerged unscathed. You cannot reach him, and I cannot reach him, and we accept this because we also know that the Jhereg cannot reach him. Of course, he always takes chances, yet he is being very careful and that is a consolation to us; and Loiosh is watching over him, and that is another consolation to us; and now I believe there may be another, of whom I cannot speak, who has found a way to watch over him. No, you must not ask what I mean, Cawti, you must simply trust me. That is what trust is, you know: if we never had secrets from our friends and loved ones, there would never be any need for them to trust us.

There is little more I can say, my dear, except that I’m sorry to have caused you any distress, and I hope you can understand that I have done my best in a very difficult situation.

Let us give it some time, and then we’ll meet again, and if you have any more questions you may ask them, and if you feel the need to berate me, well, I will listen and take it like a trooper. In the meantime, you know that you can always call on me if you are in trouble, and I will repeat that it was a joy to me to see you and Vlad Norathar, who seems to already have the good looks of his father and the iron will of his mother.

Faithfully, Kiera