Taltos

I said, “What’s this?”

“Your payment. Twenty-five hundred imperials.”

When I could speak again, I said, “Oh.”

We built a fire considerably back from the river and cooked the last of the meat from the kethna. We ate it slowly, in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Loiosh sneaked out of my cloak long enough to grab a morsel and dived back in.

We rested and cleaned up after eating, then Morrolan suggested we rest some more.

“Some have said it is bad luck to sleep while in the Paths. Others have said it is impossible. Still others have said nothing on the subject.” He shrugged. “I see no reason to take chances; I should like to be as well rested as possible before we begin.”

Later I watched Morrolan as he fashioned a harness to hold the staff to his back, so he could have both hands free for climbing. I unwrapped my chain from around my left wrist and looked at it. I swung it around a few times. It was behaving just like any other chain, which was either because of where we were or because it hadn’t anything else to do. I put it away again, considered testing what Morrolan had said by attempting sorcery, changed my mind.

I caught Morrolan staring at me. He said, “Have you named it?”

“The chain? No. What’s a good name?”

“What does it do?”

“When I used it before, it worked like a shield against whatever that wizard was throwing at me. How about Spellbreaker?”

Morrolan shrugged and didn’t answer.

“I like it, boss. “

“Okay. I’ll stick with it. I have trouble being all that serious about giving a name to a piece of chain.”

Morrolan said, “Let’s be about it, then.”

I nodded, put Spellbreaker back around my wrist, and stood up. We walked back to the falls, our voices once again drowned by proximity to the falls. I noticed there was a pedestal quite close to the edge, and saw an athyra carved on it. Morrolan tied one end of his rope around this pedestal which some might think in poor taste, I don’t know.

The rope seemed thin and was very long. He threw the other end down the cliff. My mouth was dry. I said, “Is the rope going to be strong enough?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll go first,” said Morrolan.

“Yeah. You go down and hold ’em off while I set up the ballista.”

He turned his back to the falls, wrapped his hands around the rope, and began to lower himself. I had this momentary urge to cut the rope and run, but instead I gripped the rope tightly and got ready to go over. I turned and yelled down over the roar of the falls, “Any last-minute advice on this, Morrolan?”

His voice was barely audible, but I think he said, “Be careful, it’s wet here.”

I left my payment for the work in my flat and wandered toward Gruff s. On the way over, I wondered what I’d do there. My first thought had been to find him there, wait for him to leave, and kill him. In retrospect, this wouldn’t have been that bad a plan, as the sight of death tends to make witnesses confused about those who cause it. But I was worried that, as an Easterner, I was likely to stand out in the crowd, which meant he’d notice me, which I knew wasn’t good. By the time I got there, I still hadn’t figured out what to do, so I stood in the shadow of a building across the street from it, thinking.

I hadn’t come up with anything two hours or so later, when I saw him leave in the company of another Dragaeran in Jhereg colors. Just because it seemed like the thing to do, I concentrated on my link to the Imperial Orb and noted the time. I waited for them to get a block ahead of me, then set out after them. I followed them to a building which I assumed was the home of my target’s friend.

My target.

The words had peculiar echo in my head.

I shook off the thought and noted that Kynn and his friend seemed to be saying good-bye. Then the friend went upstairs, leaving Kynn alone on the street. This could be good luck for me, because now Kynn had to walk back to his own place alone, which gave me several blocks to come up behind him and kill him.

I fingered the dagger next to my rapier. Kynn seemed to waver for a moment, then he became transparent and vanished.

He teleported, of course. Now that was just plain rude.

Teleports can be traced, but I’m not a good enough sorcerer to do so. Hire someone to do it? Who? The Left Hand of the Jhereg had sorcerers good enough, but they charged high, and Kiera’s warning about them still echoed in my ears. And it would involve standing out there waiting for him on another occasion, as no sorcerer can work from a trail that cold.

I settled on cursing as the appropriate action, and did so silently for a moment. I’d wanted to get it done today, which on reflection was stupid, but I had the feeling that the money wasn’t really mine until I’d done the work, and I could use that money. I could move to a nicer flat, I could pay for fencing lessons from an Eastern master, and sorcery lessons from a Dragaeran, which never came cheap, and—

No, not now. Now I had to think about how to earn it, not how to spend it. I returned to my flat and considered the matter.

The next time I climb down from somewhere on a rope, I think I’m going to try to arrange for it to be somewhere dry. I also want to be able to see the bottom.

Come to think of it, I’d rather not do it at all.

I don’t care to guess how long the way down was. I suspect it was different for Morrolan than for me, and I don’t want to know that. I’ll admit I’m curious about what would have happened if we’d marked the rope, but we didn’t.

The climb down was no fun at all. I tended to slip on the wet rope, and I was afraid I’d land on Morrolan, sending us both crashing down. First my hands stung from gripping the thing, then they ached, then I couldn’t feel them, which scared me. Then I noticed that my arms were getting sore. We won’t even mention the bruises and contusions my legs and body were sustaining from hitting the rocks on the side. I managed not to bang my head too hard or too often, which I think was quite an accomplishment.

Crap. Let’s just say I survived.

The thing is, it was impossible to really determine where the bottom was, because not only was the first place my feet landed slippery, it seemed to be the point of a massive slab of rock tilted sideways, so I kept going.

It was a bit easier after that, though, and eventually I found myself in water, and Morrolan was next to me. The water was very cold. My teeth started chattering, and I saw that Morrolan’s were, too, but I was too cold to be pleased about it. Loiosh angrily climbed onto my shoulder. The noise was still deafening, every inch of me was soaked, and my hands hurt like blazes from gripping the rope.

I put my mouth next to Morrolan’s ear and yelled, “What now?”

He gestured a direction with his head and we struck out for it. After having developed a symbiotic relationship with that rope, it was hard to let go of it, but I did and started splashing after him. Loiosh took wing and flew just over my head. The mist kicked up by the waterfall made it impossible to see more than a couple of feet ahead of me. The current was strong, though, and tended somehow to keep Morrolan and me together, so I never lost sight of him.

I was too busy fighting the current and keeping track of Morrolan to be as scared as I ought to have been, but it wasn’t actually all that long before my feet felt the bottom of the river, and then we were crawling up onto the bank, and then we collapsed, side by side.

My left hand froze, and some part of me was aware that it hovered over the rune. My right hand continued to drift without direction; then it, too, stopped. It was directly over the vibrating knife.

Time for one deep breath, which I let out slowly.

I don’t think I’ll ever again see so many corpses in one place. I don’t especially want to, either, And they were all in different and interesting stages of decomposition. I’ll forego the details, if you don’t mind. I’d seen bodies before, and sheer number and variety makes them no more pleasant to look at.

I should mention one odd thing, though: there was no odor of decay. In fact, as I thought about it, I realized that the only smell I could detect was faint and sulfurous and seemed to come from the river, which was now fast and white-capped. The river also provided the only sounds I could hear as it sloshed its way over greyish rocks and up onto sandy banks, doing carvings in slate.

I felt Loiosh shivering inside of my cloak.

“You okay?”

“I’ll live, boss.”

I sat up and looked at Morrolan; he seemed even more exhausted than I. He was also very wet, as I was, and he was shivering as much as I, which I took a perverse pleasure in noting.

Presently he caught me looking at him. I suppose he guessed some of my thoughts, because he scowled at me. He sat up and I noticed his hands twitching as another scowl crossed his features. “Sorcery doesn’t work here,” he remarked. His voice sounded a bit odd, as if he was speaking through a very thin glass. Not really distant, yet not really close either. He said, “It would be nice to dry off.”

“Not much wind, either,” I said. “I guess we stay wet for a while.” My voice sounded the same way, which I liked even less. I still felt cold, but it was warmer here than in the river.

“Let us proceed,” said Morrolan.

“After you,” I said.

We worked our way to our respective feet and looked around. The river behind us, corpses to the sides, and mists ahead.

“This place is weird, boss.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Have you noticed that the corpses don’t stink? “

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s the soul that gives off the stink, and since these guys don’t have any soul, there isn’t any smell.”

I didn’t ask Loiosh if he was serious, because I didn’t want to know. Morrolan touched the hilt of his sword and checked to be sure the staff was still with him, reminding me of why we were here. He nodded to a direction off to his right. I girded my loins, so to speak, and we set off.

I sat in my favorite slouch-chair at home and considered how I was going to kill Kynn. What I wanted to do was just walk up and nail him, wherever he was; whoever was around. As I’ve said, this is not, in general, a bad policy. The trouble was that he knew there was a war going on, so he was being careful not to be alone.

I don’t know how I got so fixed on Gruff s as the place to nail him, and in thinking about the whole thing later I decided that had been a mistake and made sure to avoid such preconceptions. I knew I could take him in a public setting if I wanted to, because when I was a kid I’d seen someone assassinated in a public place—my father’s restaurant. That was how I first met Kiera, too, but never mind that now.

I chewed the whole thing over for a while, until Loiosh said, “Look, boss, if it’s just a distraction you want, I can help.”

I said, “Like hell you can.”

We were walking through swirling fog, which was merely annoying until I realized that there was no perceptible air movement to cause the fog to swirl. I pointed this out to Morrolan, who said, “Shut up.”

I smiled, then smiled a little more as the end of a bare tree branch smacked him in the face. He deepened his scowl and we kept walking, albeit more slowly. Fog was the only thing to look at except the ground, which was soft and sandy and looked as if it couldn’t contain growing things. As I’d reached this conclusion, a sudden shadow appeared before us which turned out to be a tree, as bare as the first.

“Boss, why are the trees bare in the summer?”

“You’re asking me? Besides, if it were summer, it wouldn’t be this chilly.”

“Right.”

More and more trees appeared as if they were sprouting in front of us, and we moved around them, keeping more or less to a single direction. Morrolan stopped shortly thereafter and studied what seemed to be a path running off diagonally to our left. His jaw worked and he said, “I don’t think so. Let’s keep going.”

We did, and I said, “How can you tell?”

“The book.”

“What book?”

“I was given a book to guide me through the Paths. Sethra helped, too.”

“Who gave you the book?”

“It’s a family inheritance.”

“I see. How accurate is it?”

“We will find out, won’t we? You may have been better off without me, for then Sethra would have been able to tell you of safer paths.”

“Why couldn’t she have told you the safer paths?”

“I am Dragaeran. I’m not allowed to know.”

“Oh. Who makes up all these rules, anyway?”

He gave me one of his looks of disdain and no other answer. We came to another path leading off at a slightly different angle.

Morrolan said, “Let’s try this one.”

I said, “You’ve memorized this book?”

He said, “Let us hope so.”

The fog was thinner now, and I asked Morrolan if that was a good sign. He shrugged.

A bit later I said, “I take it there’s a good reason for not bringing the book along.”

He said, “It’s not permitted.”

“This whole trip isn’t permitted, as I understand it.”

“So why make things worse?”

I chewed that over and said, “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen?”

“We will appear before the Lords of Judgment and ask them to restore my cousin.”

“Do we have any good reasons why they should?”

“Our nerve for asking.”

“Oh.”

Shortly thereafter we came to a flat greyish stone set into the middle of the path. It was irregularly shaped, maybe two feet wide, four feet long, and sticking up about six inches out of the ground. Morrolan stopped and studied it for a moment, chewing his lip. I gave him silence to think for a while, then said, “Want to tell me about it?”

“It indicates a choice. Depending on which way we go around it, we will be taking a different way.”

“What if we walk directly over it?”

He gave me a withering look and no other answer. Then he sighed and passed around the right side of it. I followed. The path continued among the naked trees, with no difference that I could detect.

Shortly thereafter we heard wolves howling. I looked at Morrolan. He shrugged. “I’d rather deal with an external threat than an internal one at this point.”

I decided not to ask what he meant. Loiosh shifted nervously on my shoulder. I said, “I’m getting the impression that these things have been set up deliberately, like a test or something.”

He said, “Me, too.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

More howling, and, “Loiosh, can you tell how far away that was?”

“Around here, boss? Ten feet or ten miles. Everything is weird. I’d feel better if I could smell something. This is scary.”

“Feel like flying around for a look?”

“No. I’d get lost.”

“Are vou sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I caught a flicker of movement to my right and, as the adrenaline hit me, I realized that Morrolan had his sword out and that I did, too. Then there were greyish shapes appearing out of the mist and flying through the air at us, and there was a horrible moment of desperate action and it was over. I hadn’t touched anything, and nothing had touched me.

Morrolan sighed and nodded. “They couldn’t reach us,” he said. “I’d hoped that was the case.”

I sheathed my blade and wiped the sweat from my hands. I said, “If that’s the worst we have to fear, I’ll be fine.” Loiosh came back out of my cloak.

Morrolan said, “Don’t worry, it isn’t.”

Loiosh explained to me that he was now more than a year old. I allowed as to how this was true. He went on to say that he was damn near full grown, and ought to be allowed to help. I wondered in what way he could help. He suggested one. I couldn’t think of a good counterargument, so there we were.

The next day, early, I returned to Gruff s. This time I went inside and found an empty corner. I had a mug of honey-wine and left again. When I left, Loiosh wasn’t with me.

I walked around to the back of the place and found the back door. It was locked. I played with it, then it was unlocked. I entered very carefully. It was a storeroom, filled with casks and barrels and boxes with bottles, and it could have kept me drunk for a year. Light crept past a curtain. So did I, finding myself in a room filled with glasses and plates and things one needs to wash dishes. I decided the area wasn’t arranged very efficiently. I would have put the shelves to the left of the drying racks and ... never mind.

There were no people in this room, either, but the low noise from the inn’s main room came through the brown wool curtain. I remembered that curtain from the other side. I returned to the storeroom, moved two barrels and a large box, and hid myself.

Five aching, stiff, miserable hours later, Loiosh and I decided Kynn wasn’t going to show up. If this continued, I was going to start taking a dislike to him. I massaged my legs until I could walk again, hoping no one would come through the door. Then I let myself out the back way, even managing to get the door locked behind me.

We were attacked twice more; once by something small and flying, and once by a tiassa. Neither of them could touch us, and both went away after one pass. We also came across several diverging or crossing paths, which Morrolan chose among with a confidence I hoped was justified.

We came to another grey stone, and Morrolan once more took the right-hand path, once again after some thought. I said, “Is it pretty much the way you remember it?” Morrolan didn’t answer.

Then a thick old tree covered with knots appeared just off to our right, with a branch hanging across the path, about ten feet off the ground. A large brown bird that I recognized as an athyra studied us with one eye.

“You live,” it said.

I said. “How can you tell?”

“You don’t belong here.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t known that. We must have made a wrong turn on Undauntra. We’ll just leave, then.”

“You may not leave.”

“Make up your mind. First you say—”

“Let’s go, Vlad,” said Morrolan.

I assume that he was having his own little conversation with the athyra while I was having mine, but maybe not. We ducked under the branch and continued on our way. I looked back, but tree and bird were gone.

A little later Morrolan stood before another grey stone. This time he sighed, looked at me, and led us around to the left. He said, “We are going to have to, sooner or later, or we will never arrive at our destination.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Yes.”

And, a little later, “Can you give me a hint about what to expect?”

“No.”

“Great.”

And then I was falling. I started to scream, stopped, and realized that I was still walking next to Morrolan as before. I turned to him as I stumbled a bit. He stumbled at the same moment and his face turned white. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, looked at me, and continued down the path.

I said, “Were you falling there, just for a moment?”

“Falling? No.”

“Then what happened to you?”

“Nothing I care to discuss.”

I didn’t press the issue.

A little later I took a step into quicksand. For a moment I thought it was going to be a repeat of the same kind of experience, because I was aware that, at the same time, I was still walking, but this time it didn’t let up. Morrolan faltered next to me, then said, “Keep walking.”

I did, though to one part of my mind it seemed that every step took me deeper. I also felt panic coming from Loiosh, which didn’t help matters, as I wondered what he was seeing.

It occurred to me that Loiosh could feel my fear, too, so I tried to force myself to stay calm for his sake, telling myself that the quicksand was only an illusion. It must have worked, because I felt him calm down, and that helped me, and the image let up just as it was covering my mouth.

Morrolan and I stopped for a moment then, took a couple of deep breaths, and looked at each other. He shook his head once more.

I said, “Aren’t there any clear paths to the Halls of Judgment?”

He said, “Some books have better paths than others.”

I said, “When we get back, I’ll steal one of the better ones and go into business selling copies.”

“They can’t be copied,” said Morrolan. “There are those who have tried.”

“How can that be? Words are words.”

“I don’t know. Let’s continue.”

We did, and I was quite relieved when we came to another grey stone and Morrolan took the right-hand path. This time it was a wild boar who couldn’t touch us, and later a dzur.

Morrolan chose among more paths, and we came to another stone. He looked at me and said, “Well?”

I said, “If we have to.”

He nodded and we went around it to the left.

I returned to my flat, my legs feeling better, my disposition sour. I decided I never wanted to see Gruff’s again. I was beginning to get positively irritated at Kynn, who kept refusing to let himself be set up. I poured myself a glass of brandy and relaxed in my favorite chair, trying to think.

“So much for that idea, Loiosh.”

“We could try it again tomorrow. “

“My legs won’t take it.”

“Oh. What next, then?”

“Dunno. Let me think about it.”

I paced my flat and considered options. I could purchase a sorcery spell of some sort, say, something that worked from a distance. But then someone would know I’d done it, and, furthermore, there are too many defenses against such things; I was even then wearing a ring that would block most attempts to use sorcery against me, and it had cost less than a week’s pay. Witchcraft was too chancy and haphazard.

Poison? Once again, unreliable unless you’re an expert. It was like dropping a rock on his head: It would probably work, but if it didn’t he’d be alerted and it would be that much harder to kill him.

No, I was best off with a sword thrust; I could be certain what was going on. That meant I’d have to get close up behind him, or come on him unexpectedly. I drew my dagger from my belt and studied it. It was a knife-fighter’s weapon; well made, heavy, with a reasonably good point and an edge that had been sharpened at about eight degrees. A chopping, slicing weapon that would work well against the back of a neck. My rapier was mostly point, suitable for coming up under the chin, and thus into the brain. Either would work.

I put the knife away again, squeezed my hands into fists, and paced a little more.

“Got something, boss? “

“I think so. Give me a minute to think about it.”

“Okay.”

And, a little later, “All right, Loiosh, we’re going to make this idiot-simple. Here’s what I’ll want you to do...”

There were times when we were howling maniacs, times when we were hysterical with laughter.

Keep walking.

We were dying of hunger or thirst, with food or drink just to the side, off the path.

Keep walking.

Chasms opened before us, and the monsters of our nightmares bedeviled us, our friends turned against us, our enemies laughed in our faces. I guess I shouldn’t speak for Morrolan, but the strained look of his back, the set of his jaw, and the paleness of his features spoke volumes.

Keep walking. If you stop, you’ll never get out of it. If you leave the path you’ll become lost. Walk into the wind, through the snowstorm, into the landslide. Keep walking.

Paths crisscrossing, Morrolan choosing, gritting our teeth and going on. Hours? Minutes? Years? I dunno. And this despite the fact that anytime we took a right-hand path we were safe from the purely physical attacks. Once we were attacked by a phanton sjo-bear. I have a clear memory of it taking a swipe through my head and being amazed that I didn’t feel it, but I still don’t know if that was the product of a right-hand or a left-hand choice.

Frankly, I don’t see how dead people manage it.

There came a point when we had to stop and rest and we did, taking food and drink, directly before another grey stone. I’d given up asking stupid questions. For one thing, I knew Morrolan wouldn’t answer, and for another, I had the feeling that the next time he shrugged I was going to put a knife in his back. I suppose by that time he was feeling equally fond of me.

After a rest, then, we stood up again and Morrolan chose a left-hand path. I gritted my teeth.

“You holding up all right, Loiosh?”

“Just barely, boss. You?”

“About the same. I wish I knew how long this was going to go on. Or maybe I’m glad I don’t.”

“Yeah.”

But, subjectively speaking, it wasn’t long after that when the path before us suddenly widened. Morrolan stopped, looked up at me, and a faint smile lightened his features. He strode forward with renewed energy, and soon the trees were swallowed in mist, which cleared to reveal a high stone arch with a massive dragon’s head carved into it. Our path led directly under the arch.

As we walked through it, Morrolan said, “The land of the dead.”

I said, “I thought that’s where we’ve been all along.”

“No. That was the outlying area. Now things are likely to get strange.”

I squeezed my right hand into a fist and slowly began to bring it toward my left. There was a resistance against my right hand that wasn’t physical. It was as if I knew what I had to do, and wanted to do it, yet actually making the motion required fighting an incredible lassitude. I understood it—it was the resistance of the universe to being abused in this fashion—but that was of little help. Slowly, however, there was motion. I’d bring my hands together, and then the break would come, and I’d commit everything to it.

Failure was now, in a sense, impossible. My only options were success, or else madness and death.

My right fist touched my left hand.

A Dragaeran was approaching us at a nice, leisurely pace. His colors, black and silver, spoke of the House of the Dragon. He wore some sort of monster sword over his back. While we waited for him, I looked up at the sky, wondering whether it would be the typical orange-red overcast of the Dragaeran Empire. No, there wasn’t any sky. A dull, uniform grey, with no break at all. Trying to figure out how high it was and what it was made me dizzy and queasy, so I stopped.

When the new arrival got close enough for me to see his face, his expression seemed not unpleasant. I don’t think it could actually be friendly even if he wanted—not with a forehead that flat and lips as thin as paper. He came closer and I saw that he was breathing, and I couldn’t decide whether to be surprised or not.

Then he stopped and his brow furrowed. He looked at me and said, “You’re an Easterner.” Then his gaze traveled to Morrolan and his eyes widened. “And you’re living.”

I said, “How can you tell?”

Morrolan snapped, “Shut up, Vlad.” Then he inclined his head to the Dragonlord, saying, “We’re on an errand.”

“The living do not come here.”

Morrolan said, “Zerika.”

The Dragaeran’s mouth twitched. “A Phoenix,” he said. “And a special case.”

“Nevertheless, we’re here.”

“You may have to bring your case to the Lords of Judgment.”

“That,” said Morrolan, “is what we came to do.”

“And you will be required to prove yourselves.”

“Of course,” said Morrolan.

“Say what?” said I.

He turned a sneer toward me. “You will be required to face and defeat champions of—”

“This has got to be a joke,” I said.

“Shut up, Vlad,” said Morrolan.

I shook my head. “Why? Can you give me one good reason for making us fight our way to the Lords of Judgment, just so they can destroy us for being here?”

The stranger said, “We are of the House of the Dragon. We fight because we enjoy it.” He gave me a nasty smile, turned, and walked away.

Morrolan and I looked at each other. He shrugged and I almost belted him. We looked around again, and we were surrounded by Dragonlords. I counted twelve of them. One of them took a step forward and said, “E’Baritt,” and drew her sword.

Morrolan said, “E’Drien,” and drew his. They saluted.

I backed away a step and said, “Are you sure we can touch them, and they us?”

“Yes,” said Morrolan as he faced his opponent. “It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“Oh. Of course. How silly of me.”

They came within a few steps of each other, and Morrolan’s opponent looked at the sword and licked her lips nervously.

“Don’t worry,” said Morrolan. “It does what I tell it to.”

The other nodded and took a sort of guard position, her left hand in front holding the dagger. Morrolan drew a dagger and matched her. He struck first with his sword, and she blocked it. She tried to strike with her dagger for his stomach, but he slipped around the blow and, pushing her off balance with his sword, struck her soundly in the chest with his dagger.

She bled. Morrolan stepped back and saluted.

After a moment I said to Morrolan, “Am I next, or are you doing all of them?”

One of the waiting Dragonlords said, “You’re next, whiskers,” as he stepped out, drew his sword, and faced me.

“Fine,” I said, whipped out a throwing knife from my cloak, and threw it into his throat.

“Vlad!” called Morrolan.

“I’ve covered mine,” I said, watching the guy writhe on the ground about six feet from Morrolan’s victim. There came the sound of blades being drawn. Loiosh took off toward someone as I drew my rapier. It occurred to me that I might have committed some sort of social blunder.

Morrolan cursed and I heard the sound of steel on steel. Then there were two of them right in front of me. I feinted cuts toward their eyes, flick flick, spun to get a look at what was behind me, spun back, and threw three shuriken into the nearest stomach. Another Dragonlord almost took my head off, but then I sliced up his right arm bad enough that he couldn’t hold his sword. He actually threatened me briefly with his dagger after that, which threat ended when my point took him cleanly through the chest, and that was it for the other one.

I had another throwing knife in my left hand by then, this one taken from the back of my collar. I used it to slow down the one nearest me, then charged another and veered off into a feint just outside of his sword range. His attack missed, then Loiosh flew into his face, then I cut open his chest and throat with my rapier.

I caught a glimpse of something moving, so I took a step to the side and lunged at it, then wondered if I were about to skewer Morrolan. But no, I skewered someone else instead, and was past him before he hit the ground. I got a glimpse of Morrolan fighting like a madman, then Loiosh screamed into my mind and I ducked and rolled as a sword passed over my head.

I came up, faced my enemy, feinted twice, then cut open her throat. Morrolan was dueling with a pair of them, and I thought about helping him, but then someone else was coming at me, and I don’t remember how I dispatched him but I must have because I wasn’t hurt.

I looked around for more targets but there weren’t any; just the injured dead and the dead dead, so to speak. I wondered what happened to those who died here when they were already dead, as well as those who died here when they were alive.

Morrolan was glaring at me. I ignored him. I cleaned my rapier and sheathed it, trying to recover my breath. Loiosh returned to my shoulder, and I picked up my own belligerence reflected in his mind. Morrolan started to say something and I said, “Drop dead, asshole. You may think this multiple duel business is some sort of cute game, but I don’t care to be tested. They wanted to kill me. They didn’t manage. That’s the end of it.”

His face went white and he took a step toward me. “You never learn, do you?” He raised his sword until it was pointed at me.

I held my hand out. “Killing a man who isn’t even holding a weapon? That would hardly be honorable, would it?”

He glared at me a moment longer, then spat on the ground. “Let’s go,” he said.

I left my various weapons in whatever bodies they happened to have taken up residence and followed him farther into the land of the dead.

I hoped the rest of the dead we met would be more peaceful.

There are times, I guess, when you have to trust somebody. I would have chosen Kiera, but I didn’t know where she was. So I gave Kragar some money and had him purchase, discreetly, a stiletto with a seven-inch blade. It took him an afternoon, and he didn’t ask any questions.

I tested the balance and decided I liked it. I spent an hour in my flat sharpening the point. I shouldn’t have taken an hour, but I was used to sharpening edges for vegetables or meat, not sharpening points for bodies. It’s a different skill. After sharpening it, I decided to put a coat of dull black paint on the blade and, after some thought, on the hilt, too. I left the actual edge of the blade unpainted.

When I was done it was already evening. I went back to Gruff s and positioned Loiosh in the window of the place. I took up a position around the corner and waited.

“Well, Loiosh? Is he there?”

“Ummm ... yeah. I see him, boss.”

“Is he with his friend?”

“Yeah. And a couple of others.”

“Are you sure you’re out of sight?”

“Don’t worry about it, boss.”

“Okay. We’ll wait, then.”

I went over my plan, such as it was, a couple of times in my head, then settled back to do some serious waiting. I amused myself by thinking up fragments of bad poetry for a while, which put me in mind of an Eastern girl named Sheila whom I’d gone out with for a few months a year before. She was from South Adrilankha, where most humans live, and I guess she was attracted to me because I had money and seemed tough. I suppose I am tough, come to think of it.

Anyway, she was good for me, even though it didn’t last long. She wanted to be rich, and classy, and she was an argumentative bitch. I was working on keeping my mouth shut when Dragaeran punks insulted me, and she helped a lot because the only way to get along with her was to bite my tongue when she made her outrageous statements about Dragaerans or the Jhereg or whatever. We’d had a lot of fun for a while, but she finally caught a ship to one of the island duchies where they paid well for human singers. I missed her, but not a lot.

Thinking about her and our six-hour shopping sprees when I had money was a good way to waste time. I went through the list of names we’d called each other one afternoon when we were trying to see who could get cute enough to make the other ill. I was actually starting to get melancholy and teary-eyed when Loiosh said, “They’re leaving, boss.”

“Okay. Back here.”

He came back to my shoulder. I stuck my head around the corner. It was very dark, but in the light escaping from the inn I could see them. It certainly was my target. He was walking right toward me. As I ducked back behind the building, my heart gave one quick thud, there was a drop in my stomach, and I felt I was perspiring, just for an instant. Then I was cool and relaxed, my mind clear and sharp. I took the stiletto from its sheath at my side.

“Go, Loiosh. Be careful.”

He left my shoulder. I adjusted the weapon to an overhand grip because Dragaerans are taller than we are. Eye level for Kynn was just a bit over my head. No problem.

Then I heard, “What the—Get that thing away from me!” At the same time, there was laughter. I guess Kynn was amused by his friend’s dance with a jhereg. I stepped around the corner. I can’t tell you what Loiosh was doing to Kynn’s friend because I had eyes only for my target. His back was to me, but he turned quickly as I emerged from the alley.

His eyes were on a level with the blade, but the knife and my sleeve were dark, so his eyes locked with my own, in the tiny instant when the world froze around me and all motion slowed down. He appeared slightly startled.

It wasn’t as if I hesitated. The motion of my knife was mechanical, precise, and irresistible. He had no time to register the threat before the stiletto took him in the left eye. He gave a jerk and a gasp as I twisted the knife once to be sure. I left it in him and stepped back into the alley as I heard his body fall. I crouched between two garbage cans and waited.

Then I heard cursing from around the corner.

“I’m away, boss, and he’s found the body.”

“Okay, Loiosh. Wait.”

I saw the guy come around the corner, sword out, looking. By this time I had another knife in my hand. But I was hoping that, knowing there was an assassin around, the guy wouldn’t be interested in looking too closely for him. I was right, too. He just gave a cursory glance up the alley, then probably decided that I’d teleported away.

He took off at a run, probably to inform his boss of what had happened. As soon as Loiosh told me it was safe, I continued through the alley and, walking quickly but not running, made my way back to my flat. By the time I arrived I wasn’t trembling anymore. Loiosh joined me before I got there. I stripped off all of my clothing and checked for bloodstains. My jerkin was stained, so I burned it in the kitchen stove. Then I bathed, while thinking about how to spend my money.

Our friend from the gate—the Dragonlord with the flat forehead—joined us again. He glared at me and I sneered back. Loiosh hissed at him, which I think unnerved him just a bit. We won the exchange, though it was close. He turned to Morrolan, who actually seemed a little embarrassed.

Morrolan said, “My companion—”

“Do not speak of it,” said the other.

“Very well.”

“Follow.”

Morrolan shot me one more glare for good luck and we set off behind him. The area seemed empty of trees, rocks, or buildings. Every once in a while, off in the distance, we would see figures moving. As I continued looking, trying to avoid looking at the sky, it seemed that things were shifting a bit, as if our steps were taking us over more ground than just a footstep ought to, and the position of landmarks would change out of proportion to our rate of movement. Well, this shouldn’t surprise me. I went back to concentrating on our friend’s back.

Then someone else came toward us—a woman dressed in a robe of bright purple. Our guide stopped and spoke quietly to her, and she turned and went off again.

“Boss, did you get a look at her eyes?”

“No, I didn’t notice. What about them?”

“They were empty, boss. Nothing. Like, no brain or something. “

“Interesting.”

The landscape began changing. I can’t be precise about when or to what, because I was trying not to watch. The changes didn’t make sense with how we were moving, and I didn’t like it. It was almost like a short teleport, except I didn’t get sick or feel any of the effects. I saw a grove of pine trees and then they vanished; there was a very large boulder, big and dark grey, directly in front of us, but it was gone as we started to step around it. I’m sure there were mountains not too far away at one point, and that we were walking through a jungle at another, and next to an ocean somewhere in there. In a way, this was more disconcerting than the attacks we’d endured earlier.

It started raining just as I was getting dry again after the soaking we’d started this journey with. I hate being wet.

The rain lasted only long enough to annoy me, then we were walking among sharp, jutting rocks. Our path seemed to have been cut through the stonework, and I’d have guessed we were in a mountain.

It was then that a dragon appeared before us.

I ran into Kragar the next day. He cleared his throat and looked away in the particular way he has and said, “I heard that one of Rolaan’s enforcers went for a walk last night.”

I said, “Yeah?”

He said, “No one saw who did it, but I heard a rumor that the assassin used a jhereg to distract the guy he was with.”

I said, “Oh.”

He said, “I’d almost think of you, Vlad, except you’re so well known for having a pet jhereg that you couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to do something that obvious.”

I suddenly felt queasy. Loiosh said, “Pet?”

I said, “Shut up,” to Loiosh, and “that’s true,” to Kragar.

He nodded. “It was interesting, though.”

I said, “Yeah.”

My boss sent for me a little later. He said, “Vlad, you should leave town for a while. Probably a month. You have anywhere to go?”

I said, “No.”

He handed me another bag of gold. “Find somewhere you’ll like. It’s on me. Enjoy yourself and stay out of sight.”

I said, “Okay. Thanks.”

I got out of there and found a commercial sorcerer with no Jhereg connections to teleport me to Candletown, which is along the seacoast to the east and is known for food and entertainments. I didn’t even stop home first. It didn’t seem wise.

It is really hard to conceive of just how big a dragon is. I can tell you that it could eat me, perhaps without the need for a second bite. I can mention that it has tentaclelike things all around its head, each of which is longer than I am tall and as big around as my thigh. I could let you know that, at the shoulders, it was around eighteen feet high and much, much longer than that. But, until you’ve seen one up close, you just can’t really imagine it.

Loiosh dived under my cloak. I’d have liked to have followed. Morrolan stood stiffly at my side, waiting. His hand wasn’t resting on his sword hilt, so I kept my hands away from my rapier.

Anyway, just what good is a rapier going to do against a dragon?

“WELL MET, STRANGERS.”

What can I say? It wasn’t “loud” as a voice is loud, but, ye gods, I felt the insides of my skull pounding. Earlier, when the athyra had spoken to us, I had the impression that it was carrying on simultaneous but different conversations with Morrolan and me. This time, it seemed, we were both in on it. If I ever actually come to understand psychic communication I’ll probably go nuts.

Morrolan said, “Well met, dragon.”

One of its eyes was fixed on me, the other, I assume, on Morrolan.

It said, “YOU ARE ALIVE.”

I said, “How can you tell?”

Morrolan said, “We are on an errand.”

“FOR WHOM?”

“The lady Aliera, of the House of the Dragon.”

“OF WHAT IMPORTANCE IS THIS TO ME?”

“I don’t know. Does the House of the Dragon matter to you, Lord Dragon?”

I heard what may have been a chuckle. It said, “YES.”

Morrolan said, “Aliera e’Kieron is the Dragon heir to the throne.”

That was news to me. I stared at Morrolan while I wondered at the ramifications of this.

The dragon turned its head so both its eyes were on Morrolan. After a moment it said, “WHERE STANDS THE CYCLE?”

Morrolan said, “It is the reign of the Phoenix.”

The dragon said, “YOU MAY BOTH PASS.”

It turned around (not a minor undertaking) and walked back out of sight. I relaxed. Loiosh emerged from my cloak and took his place on my right shoulder.

Our guide continued to lead us onward, and soon we were back in a more normal (ha!) landscape. I wondered how much time had actually passed for us since we’d arrived. Our clothing had pretty much dried before the rain and we’d had a meal. Four hours? Six?

There was a building ahead of us, and there seemed to be more people around, some in the colors of the House of the Dragon, others in purple robes.

“Morrolan, do you know the significance of those dressed in purple?”

“They are the servants of the dead.”

“Oh. Bitch of a job.”

“It is what happens to those who arrive in the Paths of the Dead but don’t make it through, or who die here.”

I shuddered, thinking of the Dragonlords we’d killed. “Is it permanent?”

“I don’t think so. It may last for a few thousand years, though.”

I shuddered again. “It must get old, fast.”

“I imagine. It is also used as punishment. It is likely what will happen to us if our mission fails.”

The building was still quite some distance in front of us, but I could see that it would have compared well to the Imperial Palace. It was a simple, massive cube, all grey, with no markings or decorations I could distinguish. It was ugly.

Our guide gestured toward it and said, “The Halls of Judgment.”

I held the world in my hands. There was a moment of incredible clarity, when the horizon stopped wavering, and I was deaf to rhythms and pulses. Everything held its breath, and my thought pierced the fabric of reality. I felt Loiosh’s mind together with mine as a perfectly tuned lant, and I realized that, except for my grandfather, he was the only being in the world that I loved.

Why was I doing this?

The scent of pine needles penetrated my thoughts, and everything seemed clean and fresh. It brought tears to my eyes and power to my hands.

As we approached the building, it didn’t get any smaller. I think the area around me continued to change, but I wasn’t noticing. We came to an arch with another stylized dragon’s head, and our guide stopped there. He bowed to Morrolan, studiously ignoring me.

I said, “It’s been a pleasure. Have a wonderful time here.”

His eyes flicked over me and he said, “May you be granted a purple robe.”

“Why, thanks,” I said. “You, too.”

We passed beneath the arch. We were in a sort of courtyard in front of doors I suspect our friend the dragon could have gone through without ducking. I saw other arches leading into it, about twenty of them.

Oh. No, of course. Make that exactly seventeen of them. There were several purple robes standing around in the courtyard, one of whom was approaching us. He made no comment, only bowed to us both, turned, and led us toward the doors.

It was a long way across the courtyard. I had a chance to think about all sorts of possibilities I didn’t enjoy contemplating. When we were before the doors they slowly and majestically swung open for us, with an assumed grandeur that seemed to work on me even though I was aware of it.

“Stole one of your tricks,” I told Morrolan.

“It is effective, is it not?”

“Yeah.”

Back when the doors of Castle Black had opened, Lady Teldra had stood there to greet me. When the doors of the Halls of Judgment opened before us, there was a tall male Dragaeran in the dress of the House of the Lyorn—brown ankle-length skirt, doublet, and sandals—with a sword slung over his back.

He saw me and his eyes narrowed. Then he looked at the pair of us and they widened. “You are living men.”

I said, “How could you tell?”

“Good Lyorn,” said Morrolan, “we wish to present ourselves to the Lords of Judgment.”

He sort of smiled. “Yes, I suppose you do. Very well, follow me. I will present you at once.”

“I can hardly wait,” I muttered. No one responded.

I spent the two weeks following Kynn’s death in Candletown, discovering just how much fun you can have while you’re worried sick; or, if you wish, just how miserable you can be while you’re living it up.

Then, one day while I was sitting on the beach quietly getting drunk, a waiter came up to me and said, “Lord Mawdyear?” I nodded, as that was close enough to the name I was using. He handed me a sealed message for which I tipped him lavishly. It read “Come back,” and my boss had signed it. I spent a few minutes wondering if it was faked, until Loiosh pointed out that anyone who knew enough to fake it knew enough to send someone to kill me right there on the beach. This sent a chill through me, but it also convinced me the message was genuine.

I teleported back the next morning, and nothing was said about what I thought must have been a miserable blunder. I found out, over the course of the next few months, that it hadn’t really been that bad a mistake. It was pretty much the policy to send the assassin out of town after he shined someone, especially during a war. I also found out that going to Candletown was a cliché; it was sometimes referred to as Killertown. I never went back there.

But there was something I noticed right away, and I still don’t really understand it. My boss knew I’d killed the guy, and Kragar certainly guessed it, but I don’t think many others even suspected. Okay, then why did everyone treat me differently?

No, it wasn’t big things, but just the way people I worked with would look at me; it was like I was a different person—someone worthy of respect, someone to be careful of.

Mind you, I’m not complaining;it was a great feeling. But it puzzled me then and it still does. I can’t figure out if rumors got around, or if my behavior changed in some subtle way. Probably a little of each.

But you know what was even more strange? As I would meet other enforcers who worked for someone or other in the strange world of the Jhereg, I would, from time to time, look at one and say to myself, “That one’s done ‘work.’” I have no idea how I knew, and I guess I can’t even guarantee I was right, but I felt it. And, more often than not, the guy would look at me and give a kind of half nod as if he recognized something about me, too.

I was seventeen years old, a human in the Dragaeran Empire, and I’d taken a lot of garbage over the years. Now I was no longer an “Easterner,” nor was I Dragaeran or even a Jhereg. Now I was someone who could calmly and coldly end a life, and then go out and spend the money, and I wasn’t going to have to take any crap anymore. Which was a nice feeling while it lasted.

I wondered, walking through the Halls, if there were ever any dragons brought there for judgment. I mean, not only were the doors large enough to admit one, but the halls were, too. At any rate, the scale made me feel small and insignificant, which was probably the reason behind the whole thing.

Reason?

“Loiosh, who designed this place, anyway?”

“You’re asking me, boss? I don’t know. The gods, I suppose.”

“And if I just knew what that meant, I’d be fine.”

“Have you noticed that there isn’t any decoration? Nothing at all.”

“Hmmm. You’re right, Loiosh. But, on the other hand, what sort of mood would you pick if you were decorating this place?”

“A point.”

The place was nearly empty, save for a few purple robes coming or going, all with that same blank look. Seeing them made me queasy. I didn’t notice any side passages or doors, but I don’t think I was at my most observant. It was big and it was impressive. What can I say?

“Good day,” said someone behind us. We turned and saw a male Dragaeran in the full splendor of a Dragonlord wizard, complete with shining black and silver garb and a staff that was taller than he was. His smile was sardonic as he looked at Morrolan. I turned to see my companion’s expression. His eyes were wide. I’d now seen Morrolan wet, embarrassed, and startled. If I could just see him frightened, my life would be complete.

I said, “Are you certain it’s day?”

He turned his sardonic expression to me and sent me the most withering glare I’ve ever experienced. Several comments came to mind, but for once I couldn’t manage to get them out. This may have saved my life.

Morrolan said, “I salute you, Lord Baritt. I had thought you were yet living. I grieve to know—”

He snorted. “Time flows differently here. Doubtless when you left, I hadn’t been ....” He scowled and didn’t complete the sentence.

Morrolan indicated the surrounding wall. “You live within this building, Lord?”

“No, I merely do research here.”

“Research?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

By this time I’d recovered enough to appreciate someone being contemptuous of Morrolan. Morrolan, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate it at all. He drew himself up and said, “My lord, if I have done something to offend you—”

“I can’t say much for your choice of traveling companions.”

Before Morrolan could respond, I said, “I don’t like it either, but—”

“Don’t speak in my presence,” said Baritt.

As he said it, I found that I couldn’t; my mouth felt like it was filled with a whole pear, and I discovered that I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t thought it possible to perform sorcery here. The Lyorn who was guiding me took a step forward, but at that moment I found I could breathe again. Baritt said “Jhereg” as if it were a curse. Then he spat on the floor in front of me and stalked away.

When he was gone I took a couple of deep breaths and said, “Hey, and here I’d thought he hated me because I’m an Easterner.”

Morrolan had no witty rejoinder for that. Our guide inclined his head slightly, from which I deduced that we were to follow him. We did.

A few minutes later he had led us to a big square entrance way, which was where the hall ended. He stopped outside it and indicated that we should continue through. We bowed to him and stepped forward into another world.

After Kynn’s death, and its aftermath, I learned slowly. I trained in sorcery in hopes of being able to follow someone teleporting, but that turned out to be even harder than I’d thought.

I never again used Loiosh as a distraction, but he got better at other things, such as observing a target for me and making sure an area was free of Phoenix Guards or other annoyances.

The war between Rolaan and Welok lasted for several months, during which everyone was careful and didn’t go out alone. This was an education for me. I “worked” several more times during that period, although only once was it a direct part of the war as far as I know.

The mystery, though, is where, by all the gods, my money went. I ought to have been rich. The fee for assassination is high. I was now living in a nice comfortable flat (it was really nice—it had this great blue and white carpet and a huge kitchen with a built-in wood stove), but it didn’t cost all that much. I was eating well, and paying quite a bit for sorcery lessons, as well as paying a top fencing master, but none of these things comes close to accounting for all the income I was generating. I don’t gamble a whole lot, which is a favorite means of losing money for many Jhereg. I just can’t figure it out.

Of course, some of it I can trace. Like, I met an Eastern girl named Jeanine, and we hung out together for most of a year, and it’s amazing how much you can spend on entertainment if you really put your mind to it. And there was a period when I was paying out a lot for teleports—like two or three a day for a couple of weeks. That was when I was seeing Jeanine and Constance at the same time and I didn’t want them finding out about each other. It ended because all the teleports were making me too sick to be of much good to either of them. I guess, in retrospect, that could account for quite a bit of the money, couldn’t it? Teleports don’t come cheap.

Still, I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose.

My first reaction was that we’d stepped outside, and in a way I was right, but it was no outside I’d ever seen before. There were stars, such as my grandfather had shown me, and they were bright and hard, all over the place, and so many of them....

Presently I realized that my neck was hurting and that the air was cold. Morrolan, next to me, was still gawking at the stars. I said, “Morrolan.”

He said, “I’d forgotten what they were like.” Then he shook his head and looked around. I did the same at just about the same time, and we saw, seated on thrones, the Lords of Judgment.

Two of them were right in front of us; others were off to the sides, forming what may have been a massive circle of thrones, chairs, and like that. Some of them were grouped close together, in pairs or trios, while others seemed all alone. The creature directly before me, perhaps fifty feet away, was huge and green. Morrolan began walking toward it. As we came closer, I saw that it was covered with scalelike hide, and its eyes were huge and deep-set. I recognized this being as Barlan, and an urge to prostrate myself came over me; I still have no idea why. I resisted.

Next to him was one who looked like a Dragaeran, dressed in a gown of shifting colors, with a haughty face and hair like fine mist. I looked at her hands, and, yes, each finger had an extra joint. Here was the Demon Goddess of my ancestors, Verra. I looked to her right, half expecting to see the sisters legends claimed she had. I think I saw them, too—one was small and always in shadow, and next to her was one whose skin and hair flowed like water. I avoided looking at either of them. I controlled my shaking and forced myself to follow Morrolan.

There were others, but I hardly remember them, save one who seemed to be dressed in fire, and another who seemed always to be fading into and out of existence. How many? I can’t say. I remember the few I’ve mentioned, and I know there were others. I retain the impression that there were thousands of them, perhaps millions, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust my senses fully.

Morrolan seemed to be steering us to a point between Verra and Barlan. As we neared them, it seemed that their gigantic size was illusory. We stopped when we were perhaps fifteen feet from them, and they appeared large, but hardly inhuman. At least in size. Barlan was covered with green scales and had those frightening huge pale green eyes. And Verra’s hair still shimmered, and her clothing refused to stop changing color, form, and material. Nevertheless, they seemed more like beings I might be able to talk to than some of the others in the area.

They acknowledged us at the same moment.

Morrolan bowed, but not as low as he had to Baritt. I didn’t try to figure it out; I just bowed myself, very low indeed. Verra looked back and forth between the two of us, then over at Barlan. She seemed to be smiling. I couldn’t tell about him.

Then she looked back at us. Her voice, when she spoke, was deep and resonating, and very odd. It was as if her words would echo in my mind, only there was no gap in time between hearing them in my mind and in my ears. The result was an unnatural sort of piercing clarity to everything she said. It was such a strange phenomenon that I had to stop and remember her words, which were: “This is a surprise.”

Barlan said nothing. Verra turned to him, then back to us. “What are your names?”

Morrolan said, “I am Morrolan e’Drien, Duke of the House of the Dragon.”

I swallowed and said, “Vladimir Taltos, Baronet of the House of the Jhereg.”

“Well, well, well,” said Verra. Her smile was strange and twisted and full of irony. She said, “It would seem that you are both alive.”

I said, “How could you tell?”

Her smile grew a bit wider. She said, “When you’ve been in the business as long as I have—”

Barlan spoke, saying, “State your errand.”

“We have come to beg for a life.”

Verra’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed? For whom?”

“My cousin,” said Morrolan, indicating the staff.

Barlan held his hand out, and Morrolan stepped forward and gave him the staff. Morrolan stepped back.

“You must care for her a great deal,” said Verra, “since by coming here you have forfeited your right to return.”

I swallowed again. I think Verra noticed this, because she looked at me and said, “Your case is less clear, as Easterners do not belong here at all.”

I licked my lips and refrained from comment.

Verra turned back to Morrolan and said, “Well?”

“Yes?”

“Is she worth your life?”

Morrolan said, “It is necessary. Her name is Aliera e’Kieron, and she is the Dragon heir to the throne.”

Verra’s head snapped back, and she stared straight into Morrolan’s face. There is something terrifying about seeing a god shocked.

After a little while, Verra said, “So, she has been found.”

Morrolan nodded.

Verra gestured toward me. “Is that where the Easterner comes in?”

“He was involved in recovering her.”

“I see.”

“Now that she has been found, we ask that she be allowed to resume her life at the point where—”

“Spare me the details,” said Verra. Morrolan shut up.

Barlan said, “What you ask is impossible.”

Verra said, “Is it?”

“It is also forbidden,” said Barlan.

“Tough cookies,” said Verra.

Barlan said, “By our positions here we have certain responsibilities. One of them is to uphold—”

“Spare me the lecture,” said Verra. “You know who Aliera is.”

“If she is sufficiently important, we may ask to convene—”

“By which time the Easterner will have been here too long to return. And his little jhereg, too.” I hardly reacted to this at the time, because I was too amazed by the spectacle of the gods arguing. But I did notice it, and I noted that Verra was aware of Loiosh even though my familiar was inside my cloak.

Barlan said, “That is not our concern.”

Verra said, “A convocation will also be boring.”

“You would break our trust to avoid boredom?”

“You damn betcha, feather-breath.”

Barlan stood. Verra stood. They glared at each other for a moment, then vanished in a shower of golden sparks.

It is not only the case that Dragaerans have never learned to cook; it is also true, and far more surprising, that most of them will admit it. That is why Eastern restaurants are so popular, and the best of them is Valabar’s.

Valabar and Sons has existed for an impossibly long time. It was here in Adrilankha before the Interregnum made this city the Imperial Capital. That’s hundreds of years, run by the same family. The same family of humans. It was, according to all reports, the first actual restaurant within the Empire; the first place that existed as a business just to serve meals, rather than a tavern that had food, or a hotel that supplied board for a fee.

There must be some sort of unwritten law about the place that those in power know, something that says, “Whatever we’re going to do to Easterners, leave Valabar’s alone.” It’s that good.

It is a very simple place on the inside, with white linen tablecloths and simple furnishings, but none of the decoration that most places have. The waiters are pleasant and charming and very efficient, and almost as difficult to notice as Kragar when they are slipping up on you to refill your wine glass.

They have no menus; instead your waiter stands there and recites the list of what the chef, always called “Mr. Valabar” no matter how many Valabars are working there at the moment, is willing to prepare today.

My date for the evening, Mara, was the most gorgeous blonde I’d ever met, with a rather nasty wit that I enjoyed when it wasn’t turned on me. Kragar’s date was a Dragaeran lady whose name I can’t remember, but whose House was Jhereg. She was one of the tags in a local brothel, and she had a nice laugh.

The appetizer of the day was anise-jelled winneoceros cubes, the soup was a very spicy potato soup with Eastern red pepper, the sorbet was lemon, the paté—made of goose liver, chicken liver, kethna liver, herbs, and unsalted butter—was served on hard-crusted bread with cucumber slices that had been just barely pickled. The salad was served with an impossibly delicate vinegar dressing that was almost sweet but not quite.

Kragar had fresh scallops in lemon and garlic sauce, Kragar’s date had the biggest stuffed cabbage in the world, Mara had duck in plum brandy sauce, and I had kethna in Eastern red pepper sauce. We followed it with dessert pancakes, mine with finely ground walnuts and cream chocolate brandy sauce topped with oranges. We also had a bottle of Piarran Mist, the Fenarian dessert wine. I paid for the whole thing, because I’d just killed someone.

We were all feeling giggly as we walked the meal off; then Mara and I went up to my flat and I discovered that a meal at Valabar’s is one of the world’s great aphrodisiacs. I wondered what my grandfather would make of that information.

Mara got tired of me and dumped me a week or so later, but what the hell.

I said, “Feather-breath?”

Loiosh said, “Sheesh.”

“I think,” said Morrolan judiciously, “that we’ve managed to get someone in trouble.”

“Yeah.”

Morrolan looked around, as did I. None of the other beings present seemed to be paying us any attention. We were still standing there a few minutes later when Verra reappeared in another shower of sparks. She had a gleam in her eye. Barlan appeared then, and, as before, his expression was unreadable. I noticed then that Verra was holding the staff.

Verra said, “Come with me.”

She stepped down from her throne and led us around behind it, off into the darkness. She didn’t speak and Morrolan didn’t speak. I certainly wasn’t going to say anything. Loiosh was under my cloak again.

We came to a place where there was a very high wall. We walked along it for a moment, passing another purple robe or two, until we came to a high arch. We passed beneath it, and there were two corridors branching away.

Verra took the one to the right and we followed. In a short time, it opened to a place where a wide, shallow brick well stood, making water noises.

Verra dipped her hand into the well and took a drink; then, with no warning, she smashed the staff into the side of the well.

There was the requisite cracking sound, then I was blinded by a flash of pure white light, and I think the ground trembled. When I was able to open my eyes again, there was still some sort of visual distortion, as if the entire area we were in had been bent at some impossible angle, and only Verra could be seen clearly.

Things settled down then, and I saw what appeared to be the body of a female Dragaeran in the black and silver of the House of the Dragon stretched out next to the well. I noticed at once that her hair was blonde—even more rare in a Dragonlord than in a human. Her brows were thin, and the slant of her closed eyes was rather attractive. I think a Dragaeran would have found her very attractive. Verra dipped her hand in again and allowed some of the water to flow into the mouth of her whom I took to be Aliera.

Then Verra smiled at us and walked away.

Aliera began to breathe.

My grandfather, in teaching me fencing, used to make me stand for minutes at a time, watching for the movement of his blade that would give me an opening. I suspect that he knew full well that he was teaching me more than fencing.

When the moment came, I was ready.

Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t focus on anything. I decided that she was better looking alive than she’d been dead. Morrolan and I stood there for a moment, then he said softly, “Aliera?”

Her eyes snapped to him. There was a pause before her face responded; when it did she seemed puzzled. She started to speak, stopped, cleared her throat, and croaked, “Who are you?”

He said, “I’m your cousin. My name is Morrolan e’Drien. I am the eldest son of your father’s youngest sister.”

“Morrolan,” she repeated. “Yes. That would be the right sort of name.” She nodded as if he’d passed a test. I took in Morrolan’s face, but he seemed to be keeping any expression off it. Aliera tried to sit up, failed, and her eyes fell on me; narrowed. She turned to Morrolan and said, “Help me.”

He helped her to sit up. She looked around. “Where am I?”

“The Halls of Judgment,” said Morrolan.

Surprise. “I’m dead?”

“Not any more.”

“But—”

“I’ll explain,” said Morrolan.

“Do so,” said Aliera.

“Those two must be related,” I told Loiosh. He sniggered.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

She shrugged, a kind of one-shoulder-and-tilt-of-the-head thing that was almost identical to Morrolan’s. “It’s hard to say.” She closed her eyes. We didn’t say anything. A moment later she said. “There was a strange whining sound, almost above my audible range. Then the floor shook, and the ceiling and walls started to buckle. And it was becoming very hot. I was going to teleport out, and I remember thinking that I couldn’t do it fast enough, and then I saw Sethra’s face.” She paused, looking at Morrolan. “Sethra Lavode. Do you know her?”

“Rather,” said Morrolan.

Aliera nodded. “I saw her face, then I was running through a tunnel—I think that was a dream. It lasted a long time, though. Eventually I stopped running and lay on what seemed to be a white tile floor, and I couldn’t move and didn’t want to. I don’t know how long I was there. Then someone shouted my name—I thought at the time it was my mother. Then I was waking up, and I heard a strange voice calling my name. I think that was you, Morrolan, because then I opened my eyes and saw you.”

Morrolan nodded. “You have been asleep—dead, actually—for, well, several hundred years.”

Aliera nodded, and I saw a tear in her eye. She said very quietly, “It is the reign of a reborn Phoenix, isn’t it?”

Morrolan nodded, seeming to understand.

“I told him it would be,” she said. “A Great Cycle—seventeen Cycles; it had to be a reborn Phoenix. He wouldn’t listen to me. He thought it was the end of the Cycle, that a new one could be formed. He—”

“He created a sea of chaos, Aliera.”

“What?”

I decided that “he” referred to Adron. I doubted that he was to be found in these regions.

“Not as big as the original, perhaps, but it is there—where Dragaera City used to be.”

“Used to be,” she echoed.

“The capital of the Empire is now Adrilankha.”

“Adrilankha. A seacoast town, right? Isn’t that where Kieron’s Tower is?”

“Kieron’s Watch. It used to be there. It fell into the sea during the Interregnum.”

“Inter—Oh. Of course. How did it end?”

“Zerika, of the House of the Phoenix, retrieved the Orb, which somehow landed here, in the Paths of the Dead. She was allowed to return with it. I helped her,” he added.

“I see,” she said. Morrolan sat down next to her. I sat down next to Morrolan. Aliera said, “I don’t know Zerika.”

“She was not yet born. She’s the only daughter of Vernoi and, um, whoever it was she married.”

“Loudin.”

“Right. They both died in the Disaster.”

She nodded, then stopped. “Wait. If they both died in the explosion, and Zerika wasn’t born when it happened, how could ...?”

Morrolan shrugged. “Sethra had something to do with it. I’ve asked her to explain it, but she just looks smug.” He blinked. “I get the impression that, whatever it was she did, she was too busy doing it to rescue you as thoroughly as she’d have liked. I guess you were the second priority after making sure there could be an Emperor. Zerika is the last Phoenix.”

“The last Phoenix? There can’t be another? Then the Cycle is broken. If not now, for the future.”

“Maybe,” said Morrolan.

“Can there be another Phoenix?”

“How should I know? We have the whole Cycle to worry about it. Ask me again in a few hundred thousand years when it starts to matter.”

I could see from Aliera’s expression that she didn’t like this answer, but she didn’t respond to it. There was a silence, then she said, “What happened to me?”

“I don’t understand entirely,” said Morrolan. “Sethra managed to preserve your soul in some form, though it became lost. Eventually—I imagine shortly after Zerika took the Orb—an Athyra wizard found you. He was studying necromancy. I don’t think he realized what he had. You were tracked down, and—”

“Who tracked me down?”

“Sethra and I,” he said, watching her face. He glanced at me quickly, then said, “And there were others who helped, some time ago.”

Aliera closed her eyes and nodded. I hate it when they talk over my head. “Did you have any trouble getting me back?”

Morrolan and I looked at each other. “None to speak of,” I said.

Aliera looked at me, then looked again, her eyes narrow. She stared hard, as if she were looking inside of me. She said, “Who are you?”

“Vladimir Taltos, Baronet, House Jhereg.”

She stared a little longer, then shook her head and looked back at Morrolan.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Never mind.” She stood up suddenly, or, rather, tried, then sat down. She scowled. “I want to get out of here.”

“I believe they will let Vlad leave. If so, he will help you.”

She looked at me, then back at Morrolan. “What’s wrong with you?”

“As a living man, I am not allowed to return from the Paths of the Dead. I shall remain here.”

Aliera stared at him. “Like hell you will. I’ll see you dead first.”

It’s hard for me to pin down the point at which I stopped considering myself to be someone’s enforcer who sometimes did “work” and started considering myself a free-lance assassin. Part of it was that I worked for several different people during a short period of time during and after the war, including Welok himself, so this made things confusing.

Certainly those around me began to think of me that way before it occurred to me, but I don’t think my own thinking changed until I had developed professional habits and a good approach to the job.

Once again, it’s unclear just when this occurred, but I was certainly functioning like a professional by the time I finished my seventh job—assassinating a little turd named Raiet.

While I was thinking over this announcement and wondering whether to laugh, I realized that Verra had left us; in other words, we had no way of knowing where to go from here.

I cleared my throat. Morrolan broke off from his staring contest with Aliera and said, “Yes, Vlad?”

“Do you know how we can find our way back to where all the gods were?”

“Hmmm. I think so.”

“Let’s do that, then.”

“Why?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I suppose not.”

As I stood, I was taken with a fleeting temptation to take a drink from the well. It’s probably fortunate that it was only fleeting. We helped Aliera to stand, and I discovered that she was quite short—hardly taller than me, as a matter of fact.

We began walking back the way we’d come, Morrolan and me each supporting one of Aliera’s arms. She looked very unhappy. Her teeth were clenched, perhaps from anger, perhaps from pain. Her eyes, which I’d first thought were green, seemed to be grey, and were set straight ahead.

We made it back to the archway and rested there for a moment.

Morrolan suggested that Aliera sit down and rest her legs. Aliera said, “Shut up.”

I saw that Morrolan’s patience was wearing thin. So was mine, for that matter. We bit our lips at the same moment, caught each other’s eyes, and smiled a little. We took her arms and started moving again, in what Morrolan thought was the right direction. We took a few tentative steps and stopped again when Aliera gasped. She said, “I can’t ...” and we let her sink to the ground.

Her breath came in gasps. She closed her eyes, her head up toward the sky; her brow was damp and her hair seemed soaked with sweat. Morrolan and I looked at each other, but no words came.

A minute or so later, as we were still standing there wondering if we would mortally insult Aliera if we offered to carry her, we saw a figure approach us out of the darkness and gradually become visible in the light of those incredible stars.

He was very tall and his shoulders were huge. There was a massive sword at his back, and his facial features were pure Dragon, as were the colors of his clothing, though their form—a peculiar formless jacket and baggy trousers tucked into darrskin boots—were rather strange. His hair was brown and curly, his eyes dark. He was—or, rather, had died at—late middle age. He had lines of thought on his forehead, lines of anger around his eyes, and the sort of jaw that made me think he kept his teeth clenched a lot.

He studied the three of us while we looked at him. I wondered what Morrolan thought of him, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the Dragonlord’s face to check Morrolan’s expression. I felt my pulse begin to race and my knees suddenly felt weak. I had to swallow several times in quick succession.

When he finally spoke, he was addressing Aliera. “I was told I’d find you here.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. She looked miserable. Morrolan, who I guess wasn’t used to being ignored, said, “I greet you, lord. I am Morrolan e’Drien.”

He turned to Morrolan and nodded. “Good day,” he said. “I am Kieron.”

Kieron.

Kieron the Conqueror.

Father of the Dragaeran Empire, elder of the proudest of lines of the House of the Dragon, hero of myth and legend, first of the great Dragaeran butchers of Easterners, and, well, I could go on, but what’s the point? Here he was.

Morrolan stared at him and slowly dropped to one knee. I didn’t know where to look.

People should know better.

I don’t know of any case of a Jhereg testifying to the Empire against the Jhereg and surviving, yet there are still fools who try. “I’m different,” they say. “I’ve got a plan. No one will be able to touch me; I’m protected.” Or maybe it isn’t even that well thought out, maybe it’s just that they’re unable to believe in their own mortality. Or else they figure that the amount of money the Empire is paying them makes it worth the risk.

But never mind, that isn’t my problem. I was hired through about four layers, I think. I met with a guy in front of a grocer, and we talked as we strolled around the block. Loiosh rode on my left shoulder. It was early morning, and the area we were in was empty. The guy was called “Feet” for some reason or other. I knew who he was, and when he proposed an assassination I knew it had to be big, because he was placed pretty high in the Organization. That meant that whoever had told him to get this done must be really important.

I told him, “I know people who do that kind of thing. Would you like to tell me about it?”

He said, “There was a problem between two friends of ours.” This meant between two Jhereg. “It got serious, and things started getting very uncomfortable all around.” This meant that one or both of these individuals was very highly placed in the Organization. “One of them was afraid he’d get hurt, and he panicked and went to the Empire for protection.”

I whistled. “Is he giving official testimony?”

“He already has to an extent, and he’s going to give more.”

“Ouch. That’s going to hurt.”

“We’re working on burying it. We may be able to. If we can’t, things will get nasty all over for a while.”

“Yeah, I imagine.”

“We need serious work done. I mean, serious work. You understand?”

I swallowed. “I think so, but you’d better state it clearly.”

“Morganti.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Your friend ever done that?”

“What’s the difference?”

“None, I suppose. Your friend will have the full backing of many people on this; all the support he needs.”

“Yeah, I’ll need some time to think about it.”

“Certainly. Take as much time as you need. The price is ten thousand imperials.”

“I see.”

“How much time do you need to think it over?”

I was silent for a few minutes as we walked. Then I said, “Tell me his name.”

“Raiet. Know him?”

“No.”

We walked for a while as I thought things over. The neighborhood did neighborhood things all around us. It was a peculiar, peaceful kind of walk. I said, “All right. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s walk over to my place. I’ll pay you and give you what information we have to start with. Let us know as you need more and we’ll do what we can.”

“Right,” I said.

I found myself taking a step backward from the father of the Dragaeran Empire, while conflicting thoughts and emotions buzzed around my brain faster than I could note them. Fear and anger fought for control of my mouth, but rationality won for a change.

We held these positions for a moment. Kieron continued to look down at Aliera. Something in how they looked at each other seemed to indicate they had met before. I don’t know how that could be, since Kieron was as old as the Empire and Aliera was less than a thousand years old, however you measured her age.

Kieron said, “Well, will you stand up?”

Her eyes flashed. She hissed, “No, I’m going to lie right here forever.” Yes, I know there are no sibilants in what she said. I don’t care; she hissed it.

Kieron chuckled. “Very well,” he said. “If you ever do decide to stand up, you may come and speak to me.” He started to turn away, stopped, looked right at me. For some reason I couldn’t meet his eyes. He said, “Have you anything to say to me?”

My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I could find no words. Kieron left.

Morrolan stood up. Aliera was quietly sobbing on the ground. Morrolan and I studied our belt buckles. Presently Aliera became silent; then she said in a small voice, “Please help me to rise.”

We did, Morrolan indicated a direction, and we set off on our slow, limping way. Loiosh was being strangely silent. I said, “Something bothering you, chum?”

“I just want to get out of here, boss.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

I said to Aliera, “You seemed to recognize him.”

She said, “So did you.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

I chewed that over for a moment, then decided not to pursue it. Presently a pair of what seemed to be monuments appeared before us. We passed between them and found ourselves back amid the thrones of the gods. We kept going without taking too close a look at the beings we’d just blithely stepped past.

A bit later Morrolan said, “Now what?”

I said, “You’re asking me? Wait a minute. I just thought of something.”

“Yes?”

I looked around and eventually spotted a purple robe passing by. I called out, “You. Come here.”

He did, quite humbly.

I spoke to him for a moment, and he nodded back at me without speaking, his eyes lifeless. He began leading us, adjusting himself to our pace. It was a long walk and we had to stop once or twice on the way while Aliera rested.

At last we came to a throne where was seated a female figure the color of marble, with eyes like diamonds. She held a spear. The purple robe bowed to us and turned away.

The goddess said, “The living are not allowed here.”

Her voice was like the ringing of chimes. It brought tears to my eyes just to hear it. It took me a moment to recover enough to say anything, in part because I’d expected Morrolan to jump in. But I said, “I am Vladimir Taltos. These are Morrolan and Aliera. You are Kelchor?”

“I am.”

Morrolan handed her the disk he’d been given by the cat-centaurs. She studied it for a moment, then said, “I see. Very well, then, what do you wish?”

“For one thing, to leave,” said Morrolan.

“Only the dead leave,” said Kelchor. “And that, rarely.”

“There is Zerika,” said Morrolan.

Kelchor shook her head. “I told them it was a dangerous precedent. In any case, that has nothing to do with you.”

Morrolan said, “Can you provide us with food and a place to rest while Aliera recovers her strength?”

“I can provide you with food and a place to rest,” she said. “But this is the land of the dead. She will not recover her strength here.”

“Even sleep would help,” said Aliera.

“Those who sleep here,” said Kelchor, “do not wake again as living beings. Even Easterners,” she added, giving me a look I couldn’t interpret.

I said, “Oh, fine,” and suddenly felt very tired.

Morrolan said, “Is there any way in which you can help us?” He sounded almost like he was begging, which in other circumstances I would have enjoyed.

Kelchor addressed Aliera, saying, “Touch this.” She held out her spear, just as Mist had done for me. Aliera touched it without hesitation.

I felt the pressure of holding her up ease. Kelchor raised the spear again, and Aliera said, “I thank you.”

Kelchor said, “Go now.”

I said, “Where?”

Kelchor opened her mouth to speak, but Aliera said, “To find Kieron.”

I wanted to say that he was the last thing I wanted to see just then, but the look on Aliera’s face stopped me. She let go of our support and, though she seemed a bit shaky, walked away on her own. Morrolan and I bowed low to Kelchor, who seemed amused, then we followed Aliera.

Aliera found a purple robe and said in a loud, clear voice, “Take us to Kieron.”

I hoped he’d be unable to, but he just bowed to her and began leading us off.

When I felt it, it was almost as if I heard Noish-pa ‘s voice saying, “Now, Vladimir.”

“Now, Vladimir.”

It is much too long a phrase for that instant of time in which I knew to act, but that is what I recall, and that is what I responded to. It burst.

There was no holding back, there were no regrets; doubts became abstract and distant. Everything had concentrated on building to this place in time, and I was alive as I am never alive except at such moments. The exhilaration, the release, the plunge into the unknown, it was all there. And, best of all, there was no longer any point in doubting. If I was to be destroyed, it was now too late to do anything about it. Everything I ‘d been saving and holding back rushed forth. I felt my energy flow away as if someone had pulled the plug. It spilled forth, and, for the moment, I was far too confused to know or, for that matter, to wonder if my timing had been right. Death and madness, or success. Here it was.

My eyes snapped open and I looked upon bedlam.

Even if my life depended on it, I couldn’t tell you how we ended up there, but the purple robe somehow led us back to the white hallway through which we’d approached the gods. There was a side passage in it, though I’d noticed none before, and we took it, following its curves and twists until we came to a room that was white and empty save for many candles and Kieron the Conqueror.

He stood with his back to the door and his head bowed, doing I don’t know what before one of the candles. He turned as we entered and locked gazes with Aliera.

“You are standing on your own, I see.”

“Yes,” she said. “And now that I do so, I can explain how proud I am to be descended from one who mocks the injured.”

“I am glad you’re proud, Aliera e’Kieron.”

She drew herself up as best she could. “Don’t—”

“Do not think to instruct me,” he said. “You haven’t earned it.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “I know you, Kieron. And if you don’t know me, it’s only because you’re as blind as you always were.”

He stared at her but allowed no muscle in his face to change. Then he looked right at me and I felt my spine turn to water. I kept it off my face. He said, “Very well, then, Aliera; what about him?”

“He isn’t your concern,” said Aliera.

I leaned over to Morrolan and said, “I love being spoken of as if—”

“Shut up, Vlad.”

“Polite bastards, all of them.”

“I know, boss.”

Kieron said to Aliera, “Are you quite certain he isn’t my concern?”

“Yes,” said Aliera. I wished I knew what this was about.

Kieron said, “Well, then, perhaps not. Would you care to sit?”

“No,” she said.

“Then what would you like?”

Her legs were still a bit unsteady as she approached him. She stopped about six inches away from him and said, “You may escort us out of the Paths, to make up for your lack of courtesy.”

He started to smile, stopped. He said, “I do not choose to leave again. I have done—”

“Nothing for two hundred thousand years. Isn’t that long enough?”

“It is not .your place to judge—”

“Keep still. If you’re determined to continue to allow history to pass you by, give me your sword. I’ll fight my own way out, and put it to the use for which it was intended. You may be finished with it, but I don’t think it has finished its task.”

Kieron’s teeth were clenched and the fires of Verra’s hell burned in his gaze.

He said, “Very well, Aliera e’Kieron. If you think you can wield it, you can take it.”

Now, if some of this conversation doesn’t make sense to you, I can only say that it doesn’t make sense to me, either. For that matter, judging from the occasional glances I took at Morrolan’s face, he wasn’t doing much better at understanding it than I. But I’m telling you as best I can remember it, and you’ll just have to be as satisfied with it as I am.

Aliera said, “I can wield it.”

“Then I charge you to use it well, and to return to this place rather than give it to another or let it be taken from you.”

“And if I don’t?” she said, I think just to be contrary.

“Then I’ll come and take it.”

“Perhaps,” said Aliera, “that’s what I want.”

They matched stares for a little longer, then Kieron unstrapped swordbelt and sword and scabbard and passed the whole thing over to Aliera. It was quite a bit taller than she was; I wondered how she’d even be able to carry it.

She took it into her hand without appearing to have difficulty, though. When she had it she didn’t even bow to Kieron, she merely turned on her heel and walked out the door, a bit shakily, but without faltering. We followed her.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re going home. All of us. Let him stop us who can.”

It didn’t sound practical, but it was still the best idea I’d heard that day.

The information Feet had “to start with” consisted of fourteen pages of parchment, all tightly written by, apparently, a professional scribe, though that seemed unlikely. It consisted of a list of Raiet’s friends and how often he visited them, his favorite places to eat out and what he liked to order at each, his history in the Organization (which made this an amazingly incriminating document itself), and more like that. There was much detail about his mistress and where she lived (there’s no custom against nailing someone at his mistress’s place, unlike his own home). I’d never had any interest in knowing so much about someone. Toward the end were several notes such as, “Not a sorcerer. Good in a knife fight; very quick. Hardly a swordsman.” This stuff ought not to matter but was good to know.

On the other hand, this made me wonder if, perhaps, this wasn’t the sort of thing I should be trying to find out about all of my targets. I mean, sure, killing someone with a Morganti weapon is as serious as it gets, but any assassination is, well, a matter of life and death.

In addition to the parchment, Feet gave me a large purse containing more money than I’d ever seen in my life, most of it in fifty-imperial coins.

And he gave me a box. As soon as I touched it, I felt for the first time, albeit distantly, that peculiar hollow humming echo within the mind. I shuddered and realized just what I’d gotten myself into.

It was, of course, far too late to back out.

Tromp tromp tromp. Hear us march, ever onward, onward, doom uncertain, toward the unknown terrors of death, heads high, weapons ready ...

What a load of crap.

We made our way through the corridors of the Halls of Judgment as well as we could, which wasn’t very. What had been a single straight, wide corridor had somehow turned into a twisty maze of little passages, all the same. We must have wandered those halls for two or three hours, getting more and more lost, with none of us willing to admit it. We tried marking the walls with the points of our swords, keeping to the left-hand paths, but nothing worked. And the really odd thing was that none of the passages led anywhere except to other passages. That is, there were no rooms, stairways, doors, or anything else.

The purple robes we asked to lead us out just looked at us blankly. Aliera had buckled Kieron’s greatsword onto her back and was grimly not feeling the weight. Morrolan was equally grim about not feeling anything. Neither Loiosh nor I felt like talking. No one else had any good suggestions, either. I was getting tired.

We stopped and rested, leaning against a wall. Aliera tried to sit down on the floor and discovered that the greatsword on her back made this impossible. She looked disgusted. I think she was close to tears. So was I for that matter.

We talked quietly for a while, mostly complaining. Then Morrolan said, “All right. This isn’t working. We are going to have to find the gods and convince them to let us go.”

“No,” said Aliera. “The gods will prevent you from leaving.”

“The gods do not have to prevent me from leaving; these halls are doing a quite sufficient job of that.”

Aliera didn’t answer.

Morrolan said, “I suspect we could wander these halls forever without finding a way out. We need to ask someone, and I, for one, can think of no better expert than Verra.”

“No,” said Aliera.

“Are you lost, then?” came a new voice. We turned, and there was Baritt once again. He seemed pleased. I scowled but kept my mouth shut.

“Who are you?” asked Aliera.

Morrolan said, “This is Baritt.”

Baritt said, “And you?”

“I am Aliera.”

His eyes widened. “Indeed? Well, this is, indeed, droll. And you are trying to return to living lands, are you not? Well then, I crave a favor. If you succeed, and I am still alive, don’t visit me. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Aliera said, “My Lord, we are—”

“Yes, I know. I cannot help you. There is no way out except the one you know. Any purple robe can guide you back there. I am sorry.”

And he did actually seem to be sorry, too, but he was looking at Aliera as he said it.

Aliera scowled and her nostrils flared. She said, “Very well, then,” and we left Baritt standing there.

Finding a purple robe in that place was about as difficult as finding a Teckla in the market. And, yes, the purple robe was willing to escort us back to see the gods. She seemed to have no trouble finding the large passage. The thought crossed my mind that we could just turn around and take this passage out the way we’d come. I didn’t suggest it because I had the feeling it wouldn’t work.

We passed through the gate once more, the purple robe leaving us there, and we came once more before the throne of Verra, the Demon Goddess. She was smiling.

The bitch.

I could have done most of my planning without ever leaving my flat, and I almost decided to. But I was getting more and more nervous about this whole Morganti business, so I decided to take the precaution of verifying some of the information on the fact sheets.

I’ll make a long, dull story short and say it all checked out, but I was happier seeing it myself. His imperially assigned protection consisted of three Dragonlords who were always with him, all of whom were very good. None of them spotted me while I was following them around, but they made me nervous. I eventually sent Loiosh to trail him while I studied the information, looking for a weakness.

The problem was the fact that the bodyguards were of the House of Dragon. Otherwise, I could probably bribe them to step out of the way at the crucial time. I wondered if the Dragons might have other weaknesses.

Well, for the moment, assume they did. Was there a good, obvious place to take him? Sure. There was a lady he liked to visit in the west of Adrilankha, past the river.

If there is a better time and place to nail someone than his mistress’s, I don’t know what it is. Loiosh checked the area out for me and it was perfect—rarely traveled in the early morning hours when he left her place, yet with a fair share of structures to hide near. All right, if I were going to take him there, what would I do? Replace the cabman who picked him up? That would involve bribing the cabman, who’d then know about the assassination, or else killing or disabling him, which I didn’t like.

No, there had to be a better way.

And there was, and I found it.

She said, “I greet you again, mortals. And you, Aliera, I give you welcome. You may leave this place, and the Easterner may accompany you, on the condition that he never return. The Lord Morrolan will remain.”

“No,” said Aliera. “He returns with us.”

The goddess continued to smile.

“All right,” said Aliera. “Explain to me why he has to stay here.”

“It is the nature of this place. The living are simply unable to return. Perhaps he can become undead, and leave that way. There are those who have managed this. I believe you know Sethra Lavode, for instance.”

“That is not acceptable,” said Aliera.

Verra smiled, saying nothing.

Morrolan said, “Let it lie, Aliera.”

Aliera’s face was hard and grim. “That’s nonsense. What about Vlad, then? If it was the nature of the place, he couldn’t leave either. And don’t tell me it’s because he’s an Easterner—you know and I know there’s no difference between the soul of an Easterner and the soul of a Dragaeran.”

Indeed? Then why weren’t Easterners allowed into the Paths of the Dead, assuming we’d want to be? But this wasn’t the time to ask.

Aliera continued, “I couldn’t leave either, for that matter. And didn’t the Empress Zerika manage? And for that matter, what about you? I know what being a Lord of Judgment means, and there’s nothing that makes you so special that you should be immune to these effects. You’re lying.”

Verra’s face lost its smile, and her multijointed hands twitched—an odd, inhuman gesture that scared me more than her presence. I expected Aliera to be destroyed on the spot, but Verra only said, “I owe you no explanation, little Dragon.”

Aliera said, “Yes, you do,” and Verra flushed. I wondered what it was that had passed between them.

Then Verra smiled, just a little, and said, “Yes, perhaps I do owe you an explanation. First of all, you are simply wrong. You don’t know as much about being a god as you think you do. Easterners hold gods in awe, denying us any humanity. Dragaerans have the attitude that godhood is a skill, like sorcery, and there’s nothing more to it than that. Neither is correct. It is a combination of many skills, and many natural forces, and involves changes in every aspect of the personality. I was never human, but if I had been, I wouldn’t be now. I am a god. My blood is the blood of a god. It is for this reason that the Halls of Judgment cannot hold me.

“In the case of Zerika, she was able to leave because the Imperial Orb has power even here. Still, we could have stopped her, and we nearly did. It is no small thing to allow the living the leave this place, even those few who are capable.

“Your Easterner friend could never have come here without a living body to carry him. No, the soul doesn’t matter, but it’s more complicated than that. It is the blood. As a living man he could bring himself here, and as a living man he can leave.” She suddenly looked at me. “Once. Don’t come back, Fenarian.” I tried not to look as if I were shaking.

Verra went on, “And as for you, Aliera ...” Her voice trailed off and she smiled.

Aliera flushed and looked down. “I see.”

“Yes. In your case, as perhaps your friends told you, I had some difficulty in persuading certain parties to allow you to leave. If you weren’t the heir to the throne, we would have required you to stay, and your companion with you. Are you answered?”

Aliera nodded without looking up.

“What about me, boss?”

Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. I screwed up my courage and said, “Goddess, I need to know—”

“Your familiar shares your fate, of course.”

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

“Thanks, boss. I feel better.”

“You do?”

Verra said, “Are you ready to leave, then? You should depart soon, because if you sleep, none of you will live again, and there are imperial rules against the undead holding official imperial positions.”

Aliera said, “I will not leave without my cousin.”

“So be it,” snapped Verra. “Then you will stay. Should you change your mind, however, the path out of here is through the arch your friends know, and to the left, past the Cycle, and onward. You may take it if you can. The Lord Morrolan will find his life seeping away from him as he walks, but he can try. Perhaps you will succeed in bringing a corpse out of this land, and denying him the repose of the Paths as well as the life which is already forfeit. Now leave me.”

We looked at each other. I was feeling very tired indeed.

For lack of anywhere else to go, we went past the throne until we found the archway beneath which we’d first met Kieron the Conqueror. To the right was the path to the well, which was still tempting, but I still knew better. To the left was the way out, for Aliera and me.

I discovered, to my disgust, that I really didn’t want to leave Morrolan there. If it had been Aliera who had to stay, I might have felt differently, but that wasn’t one of my options. We stood beneath the arch, no one moving.

I opened the box. The sensation I’d felt upon touching it became stronger. It contained a sheathed dagger. Touching the sheath was very difficult for me. Touching the hilt was even more difficult.

“I don’t like this thing, boss.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do you have to draw it before—”

“Yes. I need to know I can use it. Now shut up, Loiosh. You aren’t making this any easier.”

I drew the dagger and it assaulted my mind. I found my hand was trembling, and forced my grip to relax. I tried to study the thing as if it were just any weapon. The blade was thirteen inches, sharp on one side. It had enough of a point to be useful, but the edge was better. It had a good handguard and it balanced well. The hilt was nonreflective black, and—

Morganti.

I held it until I stopped shaking. I had never touched one of these before. I almost made a vow never to touch one again, but careless vows are stupid, so I didn’t.

But it was a horrible thing to hold, and I never did get used to it. I knew there were those who regularly carried them, and I wondered if they were sick, or merely made of better stuff than I.

I forced myself to take a few cuts and thrusts with it. I set up a pine board so I could practice thrusting it into something. I held it the whole time, using my left hand to put the board against a wall on top of a dresser. I held my right hand, with the knife, rigidly out to the side away from my left hand. I must have looked absurd, but Loiosh didn’t laugh. I could tell he was exercising great courage in not flying from the room.

Well, so was I, for that matter.

I thrust it into the board about two dozen times, forcing myself to keep striking until I relaxed a bit, until I could treat it as just a weapon. I never fully succeeded, but I got closer. When I finally resheathed the thing, I was drenched with sweat and my arm was stiff and sore.

I put it back in its box.

“Thanks, boss. I feel better.”

“Me, too. Okay. Everything is set for tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.”

As we stood, I said to Aliera, “So tell me, what’s so special about you that you can leave here and Morrolan can’t?”

“It’s in the blood,” she said.

“Do you mean that, or is it a figure of speech?”

She looked at me scornfully. “Take it however you will.”

“Ummm, would you like to be more specific?”

“No,” said Aliera.

I shrugged. At least she hadn’t told me she owed me no explanation. I was getting tired of that particular phrase. Before us was a wall, and paths stretched out to the right and to the left. I looked to the right.

I said, “Morrolan, do you know anything about that water Verra drank and fed to Aliera?”

“Very little,” he said.

“Do you think it might allow us to—”

“No,” said Aliera and Morrolan in one voice. I guess they knew more about it than I did, which wasn’t difficult. They didn’t offer any explanations and I didn’t press the issue. We just stood for a long moment, then Morrolan said, “I think there is no choice. You must go. Leave me here.”

“No,” said Aliera.

I chewed on my lower lip. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then Morrolan said, “Come. Whatever we decide, I wish to look upon the Cycle.”

Aliera nodded. I had no objection.

We took the path to the left.

The horizon jumped and misted, the candle exploded, the knife vibrated apart, and the humming became, in an instant, a roar that deafened me.

On the ground before me, the rune glowed like to blind me, and I realized that I was feeling very sleepy. I knew what that meant, too. I had no energy left to even keep me awake. I was going to lose consciousness, and I might or might not ever regain it, and I might or not be mad if I did.

My vision wavered, and the roar in my ears became a single monotone that was, strangely, the same as silence. In the last blur before I slipped away, I saw on the ground, in the center of the rune, the object of my desire—that which I’d done all of this to summon—sitting placidly, as if it had been there all along.

I wondered, for an instant, why I was taking no joy in my success; then I decided that it probably had something to do with not knowing if I’d live to use it. But there was still somewhere the sense of triumph for having done something no witch had ever done before, and a certain serene pleasure in having succeeded. I decided I’d feel pretty good if it didn’t kill me.

Dying, I’ve found, always puts a crimp in my enjoyment of an event.

I’d love to see a map of the Paths of the Dead.

Ha.

We followed the wall to the left, and it kept circling around until we ought to have been near the thrones, but we were still in a hallway with no ceiling. The stars vanished sometime in thee, leaving a grey overcast, yet there was no lessening in the amount of light I thought had been provided by the stars. I dunno.

The wall ended and we seemed to be on a cliff overlooking a sea. There was no sea closer than a thousand miles to Deathgate Falls, but I suppose I ought to have stopped expecting geographical consistency some time before.

We stared out at the dark, gloomy sea for a while and listened to its roar. It stretched out forever, in distance and in time. I can’t look at a sea, even the one at home, without wondering about who lives beyond it. What sorts of lives do they have? Better than ours? Worse? So similar I couldn’t tell the difference? So different I couldn’t survive there? What would it be like? How did they live? What sorts of beds did they have? Were they soft and warm, like mine, safe and—

“Vlad!”

“Uh, what?”

“We want to get moving,” said Morrolan.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m getting tired.”

“I know.”

“Okay, let’s—Wait a minute.”

I reached around and opened my pack, dug around amid the useless witchcraft supplies I’d carried all this way, and found some kelsch leaves. I passed them around. “Chew on these,” I said.

We all did so, and, while nothing remarkable or exciting happened, I realized that I was more awake. Morrolan smiled. “Thanks, Vlad.”

“I should have thought of it sooner.”

“I should have thought of it, boss. That’s my job. Sorry.”

“You’re tired, too. Want a leaf? I’ve got another.”

“No, thanks. I’ll get by.”

We looked around, and far off to our right was what seemed to be a large rectangle. We headed toward it. As we got closer, it resolved itself into a single wall about forty feet high and sixty feet across. As we came still closer, we could see there was a large circular object mounted on its face. My pulse quickened.

Moments later the three of us stood contemplating the Cycle of the Dragaeran Empire.

Raiet picked up a carriage at the Imperial Palace the next day and went straight to the home of his mistress. A Dragon-lord rode with him, another rode next to the driver, and a third, on horseback, rode next to the carriage, or in front of it, or behind it. Loiosh flew above it, but that wasn’t part of their arrangements.

Watching them through my familiar’s eyes, I had to admire their precision, futile though it was. The one on top of the coach got down first, checked out the area, and went straight into the building and up to the flat, which was on the second floor of the three-story brick building.

If you’d been there watching, you would have seen the rider dismount smartly as the driver got down and held the door for the two inside while looking up and down the street, and up at the rooftops as well. Raiet and the two Dragons walked into the building together. The first one was already inside the flat and had checked it over. Raiet’s mistress, who name was Treffa, nodded to the Dragon and continued setting out chilled wine. She seemed a bit nervous as she went about this, but she’d been growing more and more nervous as this testimony business continued.

As he finished checking the apartment, the other two Dragons delivered Raiet. Treffa smiled briefly and brought the wine into the bedchamber. He turned to one of the Dragons and shook his head. “I think she’s getting tired of this.”

The Dragon probably shrugged; he’d been assigned to protect a Jhereg, but he didn’t have to like it, or him, and I assume he didn’t. Raiet walked into the bedchamber and closed the door. Treffa walked over to the door and did something to it.

“What’s that, babe?”

“A soundproofing spell. I just bought it.”

He chuckled. “They making you nervous?”

She nodded.

“I suppose it’s starting to wear on you.”

She nodded again and poured them each a glass of wine.

When he hadn’t appeared after his usual few hours, the Dragons knocked on the door. When no one answered, they broke the door down. They found his lifeless and soulless body on the bed, a Morganti knife buried in his chest. They wondered why they hadn’t heard him scream, or the window opening. Treffa lay next to him, drugged and unconscious. They couldn’t figure out how the drugs had gotten into the wine, and Treffa was no help with any of it.

They were suspicious of her, naturally, but were never able to prove that Treffa had actually taken money to set him up. She disappeared a few months later and is doing quite well to this day, and Treffa isn’t her name anymore, and I won’t tell you where she’s living.

It is commonly believed that if anyone had the strength to take hold of the great wheel that is the Cycle and physically move it, the time of the current House would pass, and the next would arrive. It is also commonly held that it would require enough strength to overcome all the weight contained by the forces of history, tradition, and will that keep the Cycle turning as it does. This being the case, it seems a moot point, especially when, as I stared at it, it was hard to imagine anyone with the strength to just move the bloody great wheel.

That’s all it was, too. A big wheel stuck onto a wall in the middle of nowhere. On the wheel were engraved symbolic represenations of all seventeen Houses. The Phoenix was at the top, the Dragon next in line, the Athyra having just passed. What a thrill it must be to be here when it actually changed, signaling the passing of another phase of Dragaeran history. At that point, either the Empress would step down, or she would have recently done so, or would soon do so, or perhaps she would refuse and blood would run in the Empire until the political and the mystical were once more in agreement. When would it happen? Tomorrow? In a thousand years?

Everyone I’ve asked insists that this thing is the Cycle in every meaningful way, not merely its physical manifestation. I can’t make sense of that, but if you can, more power to you, so to speak.

I glanced at Morrolan and Aliera, who also stared at the Cycle, awe on their faces.

“Boss, the kelsch won’t last forever.”

“Right, Loiosh. Thanks.”

I said, “All right, folks. Whatever we’re going to do, we’d best be about it.”

They looked at me, at each other, at the ground, then back at the Cycle. None of us knew what to do. I turned my back on them and walked back to look out over the sea again.

I won’t say that I’m haunted by the look in Raiet’s eyes in that last moment—when the Morganti dagger struck him—or his scream as his soul was destroyed. He deserved what happened to him, and that’s that.

But I never got used to touching that weapon. It’s the ultimate predator, hating everything, and it would have been as happy to destroy me as Raiet. Morganti weapons scare me right down to my toes, and I’m never going to be happy dealing with them. But I guess it’s all part of the job.

The whole thing gave me a couple of days of uneasy conscience in any case, though. Not, as I say, for Raiet; but somehow this brought home to me a thought that I’d been ignoring for over a year: I was being paid money to kill people.

No, I was being paid money to kill Dragaerans; Dragaerans who had made my life miserable for more than seventeen years. Why shouldn’t I let them make my life pleasant instead? Loiosh, I have to say, was no help at all in this. He had the instincts of an eater of carrion and sometime hunter.

I really didn’t know if I was creating justifications that would eventually break down or not. But a couple of days of wondering was all I could take. I managed to put it out of my mind, and, to be frank, it hasn’t bothered me since.

I don’t know, maybe someday it will, and if so I’ll deal with it then.

I don’t know how long I stood there, perhaps an hour, before Morrolan and Aliera came up behind me. Then the three of us watched the waves break for a few minutes. Behind us, the way we’d come, were the Paths of the Dead and the Halls of Judgment. To our right, beyond the Cycle, was a dark forest, through which lay the way out, for some of us.

After a time Aliera said, “I won’t leave without Morrolan.”

Morrolan said, “You are a fool.”

“And you’re another for coming here when you knew you couldn’t get out alive.”

“I can think of another fool, Loiosh.”

“Another two, boss.”

“That’s as may be,” said Morrolan. “But there is no need to make the venture useless.”

“Yes there is. I choose to do so.”

“It is absurd to kill yourself merely because—”

“It is what I will do. No one, no one will sacrifice his life for me. I won’t have it. We both leave, or we both remain.”

There was a cool breeze on the right side of my face. That way was home. I shook my head. Morrolan should have known better than to expect rationality from a Dragaeran, much less a Dragonlord. But then, he was one himself.

Aliera said, “Go back, Vlad. I thank you for your help, but your task is finished.”

Yes, Morrolan was a Dragonlord and a Dragaeran. He was also pompous and abrasive as hell. So why did I feel such a resistance to just leaving him? But what else could I do? There was no way to leave with him, and I, at least, saw no value in pointless gestures.

Morrolan and Aliera were looking at me. I looked away.

“Leave, Vlad,” said Morrolan. I didn’t move.

“You heard him, boss. Let’s get out of here.”

I stood there yet another minute. I wanted to be home, but the notion of just saying good-bye to Morrolan and walking away, well, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.

I’ve spent many fruitless minutes since then wondering what would have happened if the breeze hadn’t shifted just then, bringing with it the tang of salt and the smell of seaweed.

Dead bodies and seaweed. I chuckled. Yeah, this was a place where that phrase was appropriate. Where had I first heard it? Oh, yeah, the bar. Ferenk’s. Drinking with Kiera.

Kiera. Right. That. It just might do it. If there was only a way ...

Witchcraft?

I looked at Morrolan and Aliera.

“It’s crazy, boss.”

“I know. But still—”

“We don’t even know if we’re on the same world as—”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“What if it does?”

“Boss, do you have any idea how much that will take out of you?”

“They’ll have to carry me back.”

“If it doesn’t work, they won’t be able to.”

“I know.”

Loiosh shut up, as he realized I wasn’t really listening to him. I dug in my pack and found my last kelsch leaf.

Aliera said, “What is it, Vlad?”

“An idea for getting Morrolan out of here. Will you two be willing to carry me if I can’t walk on my own?”

Morrolan said, “What is it?”

“Witchcraft,” I said.

“How—”

“I’m going to have to invent a spell. I’m not certain it can be done.”

“I am a witch. Can I help?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I have one more kelsch leaf left. I’m going to chew on it myself in order to get the energy to do the spell. If you help, who will carry us both out?”

“Oh. What is the spell intended to do?”

I licked my lips, realizing that I didn’t want to tell him.

“Why not, boss?”

“He’ll just say it can’t be done.”

“Well, can it?”

“We’ll find out.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to test myself as a witch. Here’s my big chance.”

“Boss, I’m serious. If you put that much into it and it doesn’t work it will—”

“Kill me. I know. Shut up.”

“And with the amount of energy you’ll have to pour into it you won’t be able to stay awake. And—”

“Drop it, Loiosh.”

To Morrolan I said, “Never mind. Wait here. I’m going to find a place to set this up. I’ll probably be near the Cycle, so stay away from there; I don’t want anyone around to distract me. When I’m done, if it works, I’ll find you.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you’ll find me.”

Bribing Treffa had cost quite a bit, as had the soundproofing spells and the escape, since I dealt directly with a sorceress who worked for the Left Hand, rather than going through Feet. Why? I don’t know. I mean, after hiring me, he wouldn’t turn around and shine me after I did the job. If word of that got around, no one would work for him again. But on the other hand, this killing was Morganti. If he had the chance to cleanly dispose of me by having a teleport go wrong, he probably wouldn’t take it, but why tempt him?

In any case, by the time all was said and done, I’d spent a great deal, but I still had a great deal left. I decided not to live it up this time, because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I didn’t want to leave town for the same reason. This killing made quite a splash, and that made me nervous, but I got over it.

So far as I know, no one ever found out I’d done it. But once again, there were those who seemed to know. One of them was Welok the Blade, who was about as nasty as they come. I started working directly for him a few weeks later, doing collecting and trouble-shooting and keeping an eye on his people. I carefully set aside the money I’d earned, determined to invest it in something that would keep earning for me. Maybe even something legitimate.

About a month after I started working for Welok, I was visiting my grandfather in South Adrilankha, and I met a human girl named Ibronka, who had the longest, straightest, blackest hair I’d ever seen, and eyes you could get lost in. I still hadn’t made my investment.

Oh, well.

After going this far, I couldn’t back out. The three of us were going to leave together or not at all, and now there was a chance of success. If I’d wanted to pray just then, I would have prayed to my grandfather, not to Verra, because his guidance would have been more useful.

I didn’t think he’d ever tried inventing a spell, though. Dammit, if sorcery worked around here, Morrolan could have simply caused the thing to appear from my flat. But then, if sorcery worked we could have just teleported out of here. No point in thinking about that.

I selected a spot facing the Cycle. Why? I’m not sure. It seemed appropriate, and the apropos is a vital thing to a practicing witch.

I started chewing on the leaf while I meditated, relaxing, preparing myself. When it had done as much for me as it was capable of, I spit it out.

I took my pack off and opened it, then sat down. I wondered if the gods would stop me, then decided that if they were looking at me, they would have done something as soon as I began laying out the implements of the spell. It was amusing to be out of their sight, yet right in their backyard, so to speak.

I studied the Cycle and tried to collect my courage.

Waiting would just make things more difficult.

I took a deep breath and began the spell.

I have a vague memory of a little girl shaking my shoulder, saying, “Don’t fall asleep. You’ll die if you fall asleep. Stay awake.”

When I opened my eyes there was no one there, so it may have been a dream. On the other hand, to dream one must be sleeping, and if I was sleeping ...

I don’t know.

Flap flap, peck peck.

I knew what that was. My eyes opened. I spoke aloud. “It’s all right. I’m back.”

I don’t think I’ve ever had to work so hard to stand up. When I’d finally managed, I felt the way Aliera must have, and I really wished I had more kelsch leaves to chew on. The world spun around and around. Don’t you just hate it when it does that?

I started walking, then heard something, very distant. It gradually got more urgent in tone, so I stopped and listened. It was Loiosh, saying, “Boss! Boss! They’re back the other way.”

I got myself turned around, which wasn’t as easy as you might think, and stumbled off in the direction Loibsh told me was the right one. After what seemed like hours I found them, sitting where I’d left them. Morrolan noticed me first, and I saw him moving toward me. All of his actions seemed slowed down, as did Aliera’s as she rose and came toward me. I started to fall, which also seemed to happen slowly, and then the two of them were supporting me.

“Vlad, are you all right?”

I mumbled something and held on to them.

“Vlad? Did it work?”

Work? Did what work? Oh, yes. I had more to do. Wait, the vial ... no, I had it in my hand. Good move, Vlad. I held it up. A dark, dark liquid in a clear vial with a rubber stopper.

“What is it?” asked Aliera.

Formulating an answer seemed much too difficult. I gathered my strength, looked at Morrolan, and said, “Bare your arm.”

“Which one?” he asked.

I shook my head, so he shrugged and bared his left arm.

“Knife,” I said.

Morrolan and Aliera exchanged looks and shrugs, and then Morrolan put a knife into my left hand. I gestured for him to come closer and, with some hesitation, he did.

I forced my hand to remain steady as I cut his biceps. I handed the vial to Aliera and said, “Open.” I couldn’t bring myself to watch her, though I did curse myself for not having had her open it before I cut Morrolan.

I have no idea how she managed it without letting me fall, but she did, and after a while she said, “It’s done.”

I grabbed Morrolan’s arm and held the vial against the cut. I told him, “You’re a witch. Make the liquid go into your arm.”

He looked at me, puzzled, then licked his lips. I suddenly realized that he was deciding whether he trusted me. If I’d had the strength, I’d have laughed. Him wondering if he should trust me! But I guess he decided to, and he also chose to assume I knew what I was doing. More fool he on that point, I thought to myself. My eyes closed. Aliera shook me and I opened them. When I looked up, the vial was empty and Morrolan was holding it in his hand, staring at it with a mildly inquiring expression. I hoped Kiera hadn’t needed it for anything important.

“Let’s go home,” I said.

“Vlad,” asked Morrolan, “just what was that?”

“Home,” I managed.

There was a pause, during which they might have been looking at each other. Then, each with an arm around me, we set off for the woods.

I can’t recall making a decision to set up on my own. I was in a certain situation, and I got out of it the best way I could.

The situation?

Well, when the war between Welok and Rolaan finally ended, there were a number of shakedowns. Nielar, my first boss, got rid of most of what he owned because he would have had to fight to keep it and didn’t think he could manage. I respect that. Courage is all well and good, but you can’t earn when you’re dead, and it takes a certain kind of intelligence to know when to back off.

I had many different employers in the months after Nielar, but when everything settled down I was working for a guy named Tagichatn, or Takishat, or something like that; I’ve never been able to get his name exactly right.

In any case, I never liked him and he never liked me. Most of my earnings were straight commissions for collections and such, and those came pretty rarely around then. I did a few assassinations for people to whom my reputation had spread, which kept me living comfortably, but assassinations also pull in a lot of pressure; I like to have income that comes from things that aren’t quite so risky.

I could have left and found employment with someone else, but I’d only been around for a few years by then and I didn’t know that many people. So the best way out of the situation turned out to be killing Tagijatin.

Keep walking. Stay awake.

A dim glow seemed to come from the ground, or perhaps from the air around us, I don’t know. It was almost enough light to see by. How long were we walking through that forest? Who can say? My time sense was completely screwed up by then.

Stay awake. Keep walking.

From time to time we’d stop, and Aliera and Morrolan would have a hushed conversation about which way to go. I think they were afraid we were walking in circles. When this happened Loiosh would say, “Tell them that way, boss,” and I’d gesture in the indicated direction. I guess by this time they were trusting me. The gods alone know why.

At one point Morrolan said, “I feel odd.”

Aliera said, “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Something strange.”

“Vlad, what did you give him?”

I shook my head. Talking was just too much work. Besides, what had I given him? Oh, right. The blood of a goddess, according to Kiera. Why had I done it? Because the only other choice was letting Morrolan die.

Well, so what? What had he ever done for me? He’d saved my life, but that was because I was working for him. Friend? Nonsense. Not a Dragaeran. Not a Dragonlord, in any case.

Then why? It didn’t matter; it was over. And I was too tired to think about it, anyway.

Keep walking. Stay awake.

Later, Aliera said, “I’m beginning to feel it, too. Want to rest?”

Morrolan said, “If we stop, Vlad will fall asleep, and we’ll lose him.”

That seemed like sufficient answer for Aliera, which surprised me. But then, why were they working so hard to save me? And why had I been so certain they would? They were Dragonlords and I was a Jhereg; they were Dragaerans and I was human. I couldn’t make it make sense.

Aliera said, “How are you feeling?”

I couldn’t answer, but it turned out she was speaking to Morrolan. He said, “I’m not certain how to describe it. It’s as if I am lighter and heavier at the same time, and the air tastes different. I wonder what he gave me?”

“If we get out of this,” said Aliera, “we can ask him later.”

Stay awake. Keep walking.

The woods went on and on and on.

Killing Tadishat may have been one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. For someone who accumulated enemies as quickly as he did, you’d think he’d have taken some sort of precaution. But he was new at running an area, and I guess he was one of those people who think, “It can’t happen to me.”

I got news for you, sucker: It can.

He always worked late, doing his own bookkeeping so he could be sure no one was cheating him out of a copper, and I just walked in one day while he was poring over the books and crept up on him with a stiletto in my hand. He didn’t notice me until I was right in front of him, by which time it was much too late. No problem.

By the time his body was found, I’d already moved into his office. Why? I don’t know. I guess I just decided I’d rather work for me than for anyone else I could think of.

I can’t recall when we left the woods, but I do remember being carried through a cave. Morrolan tells me I pointed the way to it, so I don’t know. The next clear memory I have is lying on my back staring up at the orange-red Dragaeran sky and hearing Morrolan say, “Okay, I know where we are.”

A teleport must have followed that, but I have no memory of it, which is just as well.

Kragar joined me right away when I took over from Tagi-chatin and, to my surprise and pleasure, Nielar showed more loyalty to me than I would have expected from a former boss. Of course, I had some problems getting started, as there were several people in my organization who had trouble taking an Easterner seriously as a boss.

I changed their minds without killing any of them, which I think was quite an accomplishment. In fact, I didn’t have any major problems running my area—until a certain button-man named Quion had to ruin it all.

Sethra Lavode, the Enchantress, the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain, studied me from beneath her lashes. I wondered why she hadn’t asked what I’d given Morrolan, and decided that she either guessed what it was or knew I wouldn’t answer. I was feeling belligerent, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it had something to do with having been assisted out of the Paths of the Dead by Morrolan and Aliera, I don’t know.

These two worthies were watching Sethra’s face as they concluded the tale. We were sitting, quite comfortably, in the library at Dzur Mountain. Chaz served wine and blinked a lot and loudly sucked his lips.

“I am pleased,” said Sethra at last. “Aliera, your presence is required by the Empire.”

“So I’m given to understand,” said Aliera.

“What are the rest of us, roast kethna?”

“Shut up, Loiosh,” I said, though I tended to share his sentiments.

“And, Vlad,” continued Sethra, “I am in your debt. And I don’t say that lightly. If you think this can’t help you, you are a fool.”

Morrolan said, “She speaks for me, also.”

I said, “That I’m a fool?”

He didn’t answer. Aliera said, “I owe you something, too. Perhaps someday I’ll pay you.”

I licked my lips. Was there a threat in there? If so, why? They were all looking at me, except for Chaz, who seemed to be looking for insects in a corner. I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “Fine. Can I go home now?”

I recovered most of the money Quion had taken, so I guess that worked out all right. I don’t think it’s hurt my reputation any. I’ve seen Morrolan a couple of times since then, and he’s okay for a Dragaeran. He suggested getting together with Sethra and Aliera a few times, but I think I’ll pass for the moment.

I told Kiera I’d lost the bottle, but, oddly enough, she didn’t seem disturbed. I never have told Morrolan what was in it. Whenever he asks, I just smile and look smug. I don’t know, maybe I’ll tell him one of these days. Then again, maybe not.