Tiassa

Chapter 1

I lie sometimes, just so you know. It goes with the job.

Most of what I make comes from running untaxed gambling games of various sorts, owning unlicensed brothels of various qualities, dealing in stolen goods of various types, and offering usurious loans of various amounts. Why, you may ask, do I not pay the taxes, license the brothels, sell legitimate goods, and offer loans at legally acceptable rates? Because of customer demand, that’s why. The Empire, which we all naturally love and revere and to which we pledge our undying loyalty, doesn’t just tax the runner of the game, but also the customers; and the ones who win prefer not to pay those taxes. The licensing of the brothels requires intrusive observation by Imperial representatives, and customers aren’t fond of that. The goods I sell are at the rates people want to pay. The loans I dispense are to those the banks laugh out of their offices.

If it weren’t for the demands of the customers, I’d be legitimate; I’d much prefer it that way.

I did say I lie sometimes, didn’t I?

Anyway, that’s where most of what I live on comes from; most of the rest comes from killing people, which I only do occasionally. And lest you think I’m a terrible person, I assure you that everyone I’ve ever killed has deserved it—at least according to whoever hired me.

And then there is the in-between stuff, which I don’t do much of anymore. I’ve heard a lot of terms for it: lepip work, enforcement, muscle, convincing—one guy I knew used to say, “I’m a musician you see. I call myself a repercussionist.” Heh. Yeah, there are all sorts of ways to not say that what you’re really doing is either hurting someone, or threatening to hurt someone, to get him to do what you want. What you want is for him to go along with agreements he made knowing what was liable to happen if he didn’t, so I don’t generally have a lot of sympathy for the individual who may become damaged in the process. And they’re always Dragaerans, whereas I’m human, so they consider themselves inherently superior to me, so I have even less sympathy than I otherwise might.

I do not consider them superior.

Bigger, stronger, they live longer, and they can do better than us at pretty much everything. I’ll concede that. I won’t concede superior.

Like I said, I don’t do lepip work much anymore, but once in a while something will come up that will make me reconsider. On this occasion, it was a fellow named Byrna, and one named Trotter, and one named Kragar; the order depends on how you look at it.

Let me start with Kragar, who is my executive assistant, or something like that. I need to find him a title. If you ask him, he’ll tell you he does all the hard work. Yeah, maybe.

On this day, when I came in to work and was having my first cup of klava (I have it in a cup because glass burns my fingers, okay?), I had a number of things I wanted to talk to him about. I’d recently been through some experiences: I’d fought a losing war against a Jhereg who was tougher than me but I ended up winning in spite of it, I’d been killed, I’d been resurrected, and I’d learned many fascinating things about the internal workings of this great Empire that we love and happily serve. So of course, I was waiting to talk to Kragar about the girl I’d met in the middle of all of it.

He never gave me the chance: he started talking before I even realized he was in the room. No, I wasn’t distracted, he just does that.

“You know a guy named Trotter?”

“Sure,” I said, pretending I hadn’t been startled to suddenly notice him in the chair in front of my desk. “Muscle. Dependable. We’ve used him a couple of times.”

“Yep.” Kragar leaned back, stretching his legs out as if he had not a care in the world, and nothing he was about to say mattered; this was a sure sign he was going to give me news that was unfortunate, upsetting, or both, so I prepared myself.

“What is it?”

“We hired him yesterday, to have a talk with The Amazing Elusive Byrna.”

Byrna was a young Jhegaala who was into me for a lot of money, and had missed several appointments to discuss his situation; I had told Kragar to find someone dependable to convince him to, if not pay his debts, at least be more reliable in meeting to talk about them. Reliability is one of the great virtues, I’ve always believed, and I like to encourage it in others when I can.

“Well, and?”

“He’s not dead,” said Kragar.

I frowned. “Trotter got out of hand? That seems—”

“I meant Trotter,” said Kragar, who I have no doubt encouraged the misinterpretation just to increase the shock value. Which worked, by the way.

I sat back. “Okay, talk.”

“I don’t know a lot. He came stumbling through the streets bleeding from four or five places and passed out from loss of blood. He’s with a physicker now.”

“How does it look?”

“He’ll probably live.”

“So we don’t know Byrna did it?”

“He was on his way there.”

“Byrna isn’t a fighter.”

“He can hire one.”

“What good would that do unless he hired him long-term?”

“Maybe he did that.”

“If he could afford to hire a fighter long-term, he could pay me, so he wouldn’t need to hire one.”

My familiar remarked into my mind, “Be sure to explain that to him.”

I ignored him. Kragar spread his hands and said, “You know what I know.”

“Find out more,” I said.

He nodded and left without making any more wisecracks. Good. I didn’t need him to make any wisecracks. That’s why I have a familiar.

Oh, right; you haven’t actually met my familiar. Pardon my rudeness. His name is Loiosh, and he’s a jhereg. If you don’t know what a jhereg is, you’re probably better off, but I can at least explain that it is a poisonous reptile with two wings, two eyes, two legs, and one form of wit: irritating. I guess he’s a lot like me, except I don’t have wings and I’m not a reptile. Well, maybe metaphorically. At this moment, he was sitting on my right shoulder, waiting for me to say something so he could make sarcastic comments about it.

Of course, I obliged him. I said, “I can’t believe he’d hire a free sword.”

“And of course, he can’t have any friends.”

“Who are good enough to paint the wall with Trotter?”

“I love it when you start theorizing before you know anything, Boss. It fills me with admiration.”

I told him some things about him I admired, and he did that head-bobbing thing with his long, snakey neck that means he’s laughing. Usually at me.

Of course, the alternative to bantering with my familiar was sitting there and worrying, since I had no intention of charging into anything without knowing what was going on. I’d done that before and come to the conclusion that it was a bad idea.

So I sat there and waited and exchanged more comments with Loiosh; you don’t need the details. I didn’t, in fact, have to wait all that long.

I have a secretary and bodyguard named Melestav. He poked his head in about an hour after Kragar left and said, “Message for you, Boss.”

“From?”

“Don’t know. Messenger service, paper message. Showed up, handed it over, left.”

“Did you tip him?”

“Of course.”

My first thought was contact poison, but that’s just because I’m paranoid and had recently gone through an experience with someone who had caused me significant concern for my continued existence. But Melestav was holding it, and he wasn’t showing any signs of dropping dead; and contact poison, while it does exist, is rare, tricky, and undependable. Besides, no one wanted to kill me. As far as I knew.

I took the message. The seal was a half circle with a jhegaala sinister facing a flower with three petals, and it meant Byrna. It was addressed to Vladimir of Taltos, House of the Jhereg; which isn’t exactly my name, but close enough. There was a very pretty curlicue trailing off from the final symbol; it is always a pleasure to see good calligraphy. I broke the seal.

“My lord the Baronet,” it read, “I am anxious to meet with you to resolve the financial matters that lie between us. I have bespoken a private room on the main floor at the Blackdove Inn, where I can be found between noon and dusk every day. I await your convenience.

“I remain, my lord,

“Your servant

“Baron Byrna of Landrok Valley.”

Well, wasn’t that just the honey in the klava.

“Gee, Boss. You should head right over. It couldn’t possibly be, you know, a trap or anything.”

“Heh,” I said.

Melestav was still standing in my doorway, waiting to see if there was an answer. I said, “See if you can find Shoen and Sticks and have them hang around here until I need them.”

“Will do,” he said.

He left me alone. Loiosh didn’t have anything more to say, and neither did I. I took out a dagger and started flipping it. I thought about Cawti, the girl I’d just gotten engaged to, then realized that wouldn’t help the problem. Then realized that until I knew something, it wouldn’t do any harm, either, so I continued. Time passed pleasantly.

Eventually some of the more mundane aspects of my job intervened, so I spent the interim saying yes, yes, no, and get me more details until Kragar said, “I’ve found out a few things, Vlad.”

I jumped, scowled, relaxed, and said, “Let’s hear it, then.”

“He didn’t know where the guy came from, but, yeah, Byrna has a protector.”

I cursed under my breath and listened.

“Trotter found Byrna at one of his usual hangouts, went after him with a lepip, and the next thing he knew he was full of holes. He didn’t get a good description of the guy, except that he wore blue.”

I sighed. “All right.”

“I imagine,” he said, “you’ll need me to go find out things I have no way of finding out, right?”

“Naw,” I said. “I’ll just go meet the guy.”

Kragar nodded. “Smart move. I’ll send flowers.”

“Hmm?”

“I thought that was the Eastern custom.”

“Oh, right. It is. Good. I’ll be counting on it.”

“Vlad—”

“I know what I’m doing, Kragar.”

“Sure about that, Boss?”

“Shut up.”

Kragar made a grunt, indicating he believed me about as much as Loiosh did. This is a reaction I’m used to from those who know me.

Kragar left, and Loiosh started in. Did I really know what I was doing? Did I care that I was walking into a trap? Did I this? Did I that? Blah blah blah.

“Melestav!”

He poked his head through the door.

“Message to Lord Baron Byrna of Landrok. Begins: I will be honored to wait upon you at the fifth hour after noon of this day. I Remain, My Lord, Sincerely and all that. Ends. Send it to him at the Blackdove Inn.”

“Will do.”

“Shoen and Sticks?”

“They’re both here.”

I nodded. I checked the time with the Imperial Orb, and I still had several hours. Good.

I got up from the desk and strapped on my rapier, increasing the number of weapons I was carrying by an insignificant percentage, then put on my cloak, increasing that number by a much larger percentage. Concealing hardware in a big, flowing cloak is pretty easy. The hard part is keeping said hardware from clanking, and arranging it so the cloak looks and feels like it’s a reasonable weight. It had taken a lot of trial and error to get there, and it still took a bit of fiddling about before it was adjusted properly on my shoulders. But eventually I got it and I walked out, telling Melestav I’d be back later.

Kragar wasn’t in the room. That I noticed. The two guys I’d brought for protection were; I nodded to them, they stood up and followed. Shoen walked like he was one mass of muscle, just waiting to explode as soon as he had a direction to explode in—and that’s pretty much what he was. Sticks was tall and lanky and he walked as if he were just out enjoying the ocean scent and wouldn’t notice a threat if it was right in front of him. He wasn’t really like that.

We went down the stairs, past the little business that gave me a nice legal cover, and out into the street. Sticks kept a couple of steps ahead of me and to the street side, Shoen a bit behind me away from the street. We didn’t talk about it, just sort of fell into it. I’d worked with them both before.

The Blackdove Inn is considerably south and just a hair east of my area, in the part of Adrilankha called Baker’s Corner for reasons I couldn’t guess at. Jhereg operations there are controlled by a fellow named Horin; protocol required me to let him know if I was doing anything major in his area and get his permission if appropriate. But as far as I knew, this would be nothing major. And besides, I didn’t like him much.

Just inside Baker’s Corner, along Six Horses Way, there’s a public house called the Basket that at times has a slab of beef turning on a spit, and periodically they douse it with a mixture of wine and salt and pepper and magobud and whiteseed. You have to get there early, because if you don’t it will be either overcooked or gone. I was there early. The host cut some for me, slapped it unceremoniously on a plate, and nodded toward the basket of rolls. I had some summer ale to go with it and sat down. I also got some for Shoen and Sticks—I figured we were safe here, because Loiosh was watching, so they could eat.

We sat and we ate and it was good.

My philosophy is that if I’m going to do something reckless, I should have a good meal first.

“So, you want to tell us what’s up?” said Sticks.

“Don’t know,” I said. “You heard about Trotter?”

“Yeah. Nasty business. It’s like the streets aren’t safe anymore.”

I nodded. “I’m going to see about it.”

“And we’re going to make sure you don’t get the same treatment while you do?”

“Something like that.”

“Any details you feel like sharing?”

“I just know I’m meeting a guy at an inn.”

“The guy who did it?”

“Probably, though that’s not what was on the invitation.”

“All right.”

Shoen kept eating. Talkative bastard, that one.

“So, how do we play it?”

I shrugged. “We go in, see what’s up, decide. You guys try to keep me alive long enough for me to make a decision.”

He ate another bite, chewed it, and swallowed. “It’s a good thing you have us to watch out for you, otherwise you’d be helpless.” He winked at Loiosh.

“He’s as funny as you, Boss.”

“Why thank you, Loiosh.”

“Point proven. You should probably send one of these guys over an hour early, just to look things over.”

“No one is trying to kill me, Loiosh.”

“Explain that to Trotter.”

We finished up the meal, and they went out the door in front of me to make sure no one was waiting outside to do me harm. No one was; those days were over, at least for a while.

We took our time getting to the Blackdove. I stopped on the way at a candlemaker’s and got a candle that stood about four feet high and was scented with lavender, along with a silver holder for it. I figured Cawti might like it. I had them send it to the office, because whatever happened later, walking around with a four-foot-tall candle was unlikely to make it go any better.

“Boss, you know you’re going to make those two wonder if you’re in control of yourself.”

“Feh. Because I bought a candle?”

“No, because you’re walking around with a stupid grin on your face.”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“I don’t need to see your face.”

I got my features back under control, and found we still had an hour or so before the meeting, so we took our time getting there. I looked into shop windows for other stuff to get Cawti, but didn’t see anything that felt right.

And then it was time, and we covered the last half mile or so, and I walked into the inn about five minutes early. It was quiet—not the sort of place that’s busy between lunch hour and dusk. The hostess looked half asleep behind the bar, and there was one Teckla snoring loudly, his head down on the table in front of him. The other individual was a rather attractive woman who was obviously a Dzur; she wore loose-fitting black clothing and had a whole lot of steel strapped to her side. She was in the back corner, her head against the wall, apparently dozing, but probably watching us through her lashes. I caught Stick’s eye, and he caught mine; enough said.

I approached the bar and the hostess opened her eyes, looked at me, looked at me again, hesitated, then said, “My lord?”

A quick glance suggested that she was a Jhegaala, like Byrna, which might or might not be significant. I gave her my name, then his, saying I was to meet him. She nodded and pointed down a dark hallway. “First door on the right, my lord.”

I looked back at the Dzur, estimating how long it would take her to get from where she was to the door I was about to go through. The way she was keeping one foot so casually under the chair, I’d say just over three seconds.

Shoen went first, then me, then Sticks. When Shoen reached the door, he looked a question at me; I nodded, he clapped. Someone called to enter, so he did. Sticks and I waited there in the hall. It isn’t like we were alert, ready to move and go for weapons at the first sign of excitement; it’s just that, well, I guess we were.

Shoen came back out and said, “One guy, sword on the table in front of him.”

I nodded and he went back in, then me, then Sticks.

It was a small room, with two chairs and a table, and not a whole lot more space than that—the sort of room for a private card game, maybe, or a meeting of three or four Chreotha who want to pool their resources and start a laundry service. The individual seated behind the table was certainly not Byrna. He wasn’t even a Jhegaala; from both his slightly feline features and the blue and white of his clothes, I took him for a Tiassa. A bit younger than middle age—he probably hadn’t seen his thousandth year. His hair was light brown and long, his eyes were bright. He was studying me as I was studying him.

“Sit down,” he suggested. “Let’s talk.”

The naked sword lying across the table was slimmer and lighter than usual, though still heavier than mine. His hands were out of sight below the table. If he made a move for the sword while I was sitting in the chair, things were liable to get interesting. The room wasn’t big enough for much swordplay, which worked to my advantage, as I was carrying a lot of little things with points on them. I studied him a bit more. He held my eye and waited.

“Sticks. Shoen,” I said. “Wait for me. I’ll be out presently.”

They both left without a word, footsteps echoing as I continued my study. My hard stare failed to intimidate him so I sat down.

“I’m Vlad,” I said.

He nodded. “I’m the Blue Fox.”

“You aren’t really.”

“You’ve heard of me?” He seemed surprised.

“No. No, if I had heard that there was someone going around calling himself the Blue Fox, I’d remember. You don’t really, do you?”

“I tried wearing a mask for a while, but it was uncomfortable so I stopped.”

“Why?”

“You Easterners have no sense of the theatrical.”

“I’ve heard that said. In any case, I can’t think of an Easterner who has ever called himself the Blue Fox, so maybe you’re right.”

“I’ve met an Easterner who calls himself the Warlock.”

“No, everyone else calls him that.”

He shrugged. “In any case, if we’re done talking about my name, perhaps we can—”

“What do I call you? Blue? Lord Fox?”

“Blue Fox will do fine. Are you trying to make me angry because you think it will give you an advantage over me?”

“I hadn’t actually worked that out,” I said. “But probably. If you’re going to give me an opening like that—”

“Why don’t we talk first, and find out if we even have anything to quarrel about, before we start trying to get advantages over each other?”

“Oh, we have a quarrel. You sent one of my people to a physicker with a lot of holes in him. It hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d take it personally.”

“I guess I’m over-sensitive. I assume the attractive Dzurlord out there is with you?”

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

“She is. Certainly prettier than the guys I brought.”

“The tall one is kind of cute, in a boyish way.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Ready to talk business yet?”

“Are you a friend of Byrna?”

“Close enough, I guess. I’m handling the negotiations for him.”

“Negotiations,” I repeated.

“Do you have a better word?”

“Not just now. Give me some time and I’ll come up with one.”

“Take as much time as you need. But while you’re thinking, we seem to have a problem.”

“Yes. Byrna owes me money.”

The Tiassa who had introduced himself as the Blue Fox nodded. “That’s a problem. He doesn’t have it.”

“That’s another problem,” I said.

“He came to me—or, to be precise, his wife came to Ibronka, and—”

“Ibronka? The Dzur?”

He nodded.

“That’s an Eastern name,” I said.

“And a very pretty one. His wife came to Ibronka, you don’t need to know how, and said that you were going to hurt him if he didn’t give you money. Seemed like I should step in.”

“Did his wife go to her when he needed to borrow the money?”

“No, she should have though. We’d have found it.”

“If you find it now, and give it to me, that’ll solve the problem.”

“Over time, the amount has become rather large.”

“Yes, that does happen.”

“Hence, I thought I’d negotiate.”

“You see, Lord Blue, I’m generally willing to negotiate.”

“Generally?”

“Generally. But there’s the matter of the holes you put in one of my people. I don’t care for that. And then there’s the fact that instead of coming to me like a gentleman and explaining that he was having problems, in which case I’d have been willing to work something out with him, he avoided me for several weeks, and then you show up. To be blunt, Lord Blue, I’m just not feeling inclined to negotiate much of anything. So, now what?”

He glanced at the sword on the table. I carefully placed my hands on the table, smiled at him, and waited.

“You’re very good,” he said at last.

“At what?”

“Fighting. I can tell. You think you can take me. I think I can take you.”

I smiled and waited, my hands on the table. The weight of the dagger in my left sleeve was reassuring.

He glanced at Loiosh and said, “You think your friend there will give you an edge.”

“Possibly,” I told him.

“I don’t think it will be enough.”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his. I was pretty sure I could take him even without Loiosh’s help. But you never know until you’re there.

“But,” he said, still maintaining eye contact, “as I told you, I would prefer to negotiate.”

“I’m not inclined to negotiate.”

“Do you really want to push this?”

“I’m in a bad mood. I told you why.”

“You shouldn’t lend money at ruinous interest rates, then threaten violence when people can’t pay, and then act surprised when they go to extraordinary lengths to protect themselves.”

“Have I been acting surprised?”

“Good point.”

“I have more good points. Like, he knew the rates when he took the loan. And he would have had no reason to fear violence even when he got behind if he’d come to me and explained his problem. I’m always willing to work with someone, up until the time they bring in a hired sword to mess up my people.”

“He didn’t handle this very well.”

“No.”

“He could have gone to the Empire, instead of to me.” I didn’t say anything to that. After a while he said, “Yes, well, we both know that would have been a mistake.”

“Yes,” I said.

“So, what do we do now?”

“You’re talking, I’m listening.”

“What if we give you double the initial amount of the loan and call it even.”

“If I didn’t have a guy being patched together by a physicker, I’d probably go for that.”

“And I pay for the physicker.”

I mulled it over. Evidently, he was serious about wanting to avoid violence. Well, the fact is, I’d like to avoid violence as well. I’m here to make money, not mayhem. But it annoyed me to have a punk like Byrna pull something like this. It annoyed me a lot.

“Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s business.”

“Yeah.”

I said, “All right, I accept the deal. But the money comes through you. I don’t want to see Byrna. I don’t trust myself.”

He nodded. “I’ll have the money sent to you. And if you give me the name of the physicker, I’ll take care of that, too.”

I felt obscurely disappointed, but agreed.

“Good then,” he said. “One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You hungry?”

Interesting indeed. What might this be about? Probably nothing it would be smart to get involved in. “Just ate,” I told him.

“All right.”

But then, we Easterners are curious beasts. “I could stand a drink, though.”

“On me.”

I stood up and preceded him out the door. He wasn’t a Jhereg, so he might not have appreciated the courtesy.

“Boss? What’s this about?”

“No idea. Maybe he wants to show how friendly he can be to Easterners.”

“You think?”

“Probably not. But I suspect if we take him up on the drink we’ll find out.”

We went back into the room, and I could feel the Dzurlord, Ibronka, looking us over carefully. Then she stood up and walked toward Lord Fox. Sticks, who’d been leaning against the bar, walked over to greet me, just coincidentally putting himself between me and Ibronka.

Foxy said, “Lord Taltos, this is Ibronka. Ibronka, Lord Taltos.”

I bowed without undue exaggeration and said, “This is Stadol, and this is Shoen. Let’s find a table.”

We did, except for Shoen and Sticks, who each took a table flanking ours. The guy with the funny name ordered us two bottles of Khaav’n; apparently he was settling in for a while. His hand was under the table; so was Ibronka’s. If we were going to be romantic, I wanted Cawti there. If we were going to be violent, I wanted Cawti there for that. I should have thought to invite her, dammit.

They brought the wine, already opened, and Blue poured it for us. We drank some. It was pretty decent, though I’d have served it slightly chilled.

I sat back and studied him some more, and waited. Loiosh shifted a little on my shoulder; he was waiting, too.

“So,” said the Blue Fox. “I’m glad we were able to settle things peacefully.”

“Uh huh.”

He hesitated, then said, “There’s a reason, of course.”

“I’m sure there is. Want to tell me about it?”

He nodded, hesitated, then said, “I could use your help.”

“I wondered about that,” I said. “The trouble is, you aren’t Sethra Lavode.”

Chapter 2

“No,” he said. “In fact I’m not. Um, would you mind explaining that remark?”

“She got away with that once—messing up one of my people as a means of hiring me. I don’t think—”

“Oh,” he said. “No, that isn’t what happened. I agreed to help Byrna, like I said, then I learned something about you, and it occurred to me that if we didn’t slaughter one another, we might be able to work together to our mutual advantage.”

“Do you believe him, Loiosh?”

“I think so. Maybe.”

I drank some wine to give myself time to think, and swallowed wrong and coughed noisily, which gave me lots of time to think but no ability to do so. Embarrassing, too. They pretended not to notice.

When I was recovered, I wiped my eyes and summoned what dignity I could and indicated that I was listening.

“You don’t know a lot about me,” he said.

No, but more than you think I do, I thought. And I’ll be learning more quickly. But I only nodded.

“I’ve been doing what I do for, well, since the end of the Interregnum.”

I nodded, waiting; I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. But then he waited, and then he raised an eyebrow, so I sighed inwardly and said, “All right. What is it you do?”

“I rob people.”

“You rob people.”

“Yes. I hold my sword at their throats, and require them to give me their money. They oblige, and I send them on their way.”

“Is that honest?”

“No one’s ever asked me before. I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“Thanks. So, how can an honest businessman like me be of service to a dangerous highwayman like yourself?”

“I was told you think you’re funny. That’s all right, I think I’m funny, too.”

“What else were you told?”

“That you have ways of learning things no one can understand, that you practice the Eastern sorcery—”

“Witchcraft.”

“Hmm?”

“We call it witchcraft.”

“Right. And you also dabble in the more traditional sorcery. And that you’ve gotten lucky often enough that it probably isn’t luck.”

I tried to think of who he might have spoken with who would have given him that sort of report, but it was a pointless exercise so I stopped. “All right,” I said. “What can someone with my skills do for someone in your profession?”

“You also have influence, and you know a lot of people.”

I didn’t say yes, or no, or nod, or shake my head. In fact, I had no idea what he was talking about, but if he was operating under some sort of illusion about me, it might work to my advantage.

He glanced at Ibronka, who was leaning back and studying me while, I’m sure, holding his hand under the table; they were probably also talking psychically. He said, “Things have been getting more difficult over the years.”

“In what way?” That seemed neutral enough.

“More and more use of sorcery to maintain the safety of the roads, and to learn the identity of those of us who violate it. People with large sums or valuable jewels teleport instead of traveling by road, or if they have to travel, they teleport most of the money, so all we can take is what they have to travel with.”

“Sorcery,” I said. “Bad stuff.” About which I knew fairly little. He was right earlier when he said I dabbled.

“Inconvenient, in any case. And it’s getting worse. Now it’s becoming difficult to find clients safely.”

I laughed. “Clients,” I said. “I like that. I like that a lot.”

He permitted himself a smirk. “Yeah, me, too.”

“I’m missing the part where I can be helpful.”

“I usually operate in an area to the east of here.”

“Ah. I start to see.”

“No, no. Not that far east.”

“Oh, all right.” My anger receded quickly, because it hadn’t had time to work itself up, but I still missed half of his next statement. “Sorry, say that again?”

“I said they’re starting to tag the money.”

“Tag?”

“That’s what they call it. Sorcerously mark it.”

“So it can be identified as stolen?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s how I feel about it.”

“How are they—”

“They’ve set up places where you can have your money tagged, so if it’s stolen, a sorcerer can identify it. I was lucky enough to learn about it before servicing a client who’d done that. Now that we know what to look for, we can tell, but it’s getting common enough that we’ve had to let some prime targets go.”

“You have my sympathy,” I said. “What happens when the proper owner tries to spend it?”

“The tagging is tied to him, so he just rubs it off.”

“What if he forgets?”

“A merchant gets in trouble, I suppose.”

“And it’s cheap to put on?”

“Very. They do it by volume, so with gold it costs next to nothing.”

“Sounds unfortunate.”

“Right. So … why am I coming to you?”

“I was just getting to that question.”

“I’m wondering if maybe there’s a way for me to get the money to you, and for you to return me money that hasn’t been tampered with. For a fee, of course.”

I shook my head. “Can’t do it. Not my kind of thing. But I could make a suggestion.”

“If your suggestion is the Left Hand, I tried that.”

“Oh. You’re well informed. Sorry it didn’t work. What happened?”

“They were willing to do it. For thirteen orbs for each imperial.”

“That’s what they wanted?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. “It’s like highway robbery.”

“That’s very funny, Lord Taltos.”

“Why thank you, Lord Blue.”

Ibronka glared at me a little, then looked away as if I wasn’t worth her time.

“I liked it, Boss.”

“Thanks, Loiosh.”

He said, “So the Left Hand is out of the question. If you don’t want to get involved in this, do you have any suggestions for who might?”

“Let me think about that.”

“I’d be willing to pay for any idea that—”

“Let’s not worry too much about the paying part. Let me just try to think of something. Hey.”

“What?”

“Why am I doing the thinking? You’re the Tiassa.”

He rolled his eyes; I considered myself answered.

Did I know anyone who’d be interested in a deal like that? No one I’d want to give it to, at any rate. But it was an interesting exercise, trying to figure a way around it.

“Boss? Do you care?”

“Let’s say I’m intrigued.”

“If you say so.”

“Any idea who came up with this?”

“Some Imperial sorcerer. There were complaints about the safety of the roads, you know.”

“See how it is?” I said. “As soon as you get good at something, they move to cut you off. It’s as if they fear anyone being successful. I sympathize.”

“Uh huh.”

“The Tiassa isn’t doing his job, Loiosh. So if anyone’s going to come up with a brilliant idea, I guess it’ll have to be you.”

“I’ll get right on that, Boss.”

“How does it work, exactly?”

“It’s pretty straightforward. It takes a few seconds to do a bagful of coins, and an hour with each one to undo it.”

“Sort of cuts into your profits.”

“Exactly.”

“What if you spend it a long way from where you got it? Every merchant in the Empire isn’t checking.”

“I’ve been doing a bit of that. But more of them are starting to. The Empire is offering tax reductions to any merchant willing to check coins. They supply—”

“Oh.”

“Hmmm?”

“I heard something about that. Some device, and they’d give me a reduction on my taxes if I—”

“You’re a merchant?”

I looked innocent. “I am part owner of a perfectly respectable psychedelic herb shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I thought it was some sort of listening device they were trying to install.”

“It might be that, too,” he said.

“You don’t trust the Empire much, do you?”

“As much as you do. Less, because I probably know it better.”

“All right. So it won’t work much longer to just use the coins elsewhere. What do they do if you spend it somewhere that doesn’t have the means of detecting it?”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“What if you went to, say, my shop and bought an ounce of dreamgrass. I wouldn’t know the coin was tagged. So then I’d spend the coin somewhere, and—”

“Oh, I see. They treat it just like they do a coiner: ask you where you’d gotten the coin, and try to work back from there.”

“I was approached by the Empire about six weeks ago. How long has this been going on?”

“About that long, more or less.”

I nodded. “A new program. They’re always thinking, those Imperial law enforcement types. They never let up. It’s an honor to run rings around them.”

“That’s been my feeling, yes.”

“So it sounds like the only choice is to reduce the cost of removing the—what were they called?”

“Tags.”

“Right. Reduce the cost of removing the tags.”

“That’s better than my idea?”

“What was your idea?”

“I was going to write the Empire a letter saying please stop.”

“Heh,” I said. Then, “Woah. You are a Tiassa.”

“Meaning?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Somehow, I doubt they’d be impressed by the letter.”

“I don’t think a letter is the best way, but the idea is sound.”

“What idea?”

“Convincing the Empire to stop tagging the coins.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

From the look on his face, he thought I was jesting; from the look on mine, I think, he eventually decided I wasn’t. His eyes narrowed and he looked even more cat-like, but I declined to scratch him behind the ears. He said, “How would you do that?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Oh. Thought you might have something.”

“I think I might.”

“What?”

“The idea you just gave me. Convince the Empire to stop tagging the coins.”

“Which you have no idea how to do, and, therefore, no reason to believe it can be done.”

“You’ve stated our position exactly,” I said. “I’m proud of you.”

Ibronka stirred and said to Bluey, “Mind if I eviscerate him?”

“Just one?” he said. “And an Easterner?”

“I’m not thinking of a fight, more of pest control.”

“I’d rather you didn’t just yet, love.”

“All right.” She turned back and smiled sweetly at me.

I decided I liked her. “It must be hard on you,” I told her. “Most of the time when dealing with clients, you have the advantage. Has to be hard for a Dzur to take.”

She pretended I hadn’t spoken.

I spent a few minutes thinking over the problem, and when Loiosh asked again why I was bothering, I pretended he hadn’t spoken. I can do that stuff, too.

It wasn’t at all the sort of thing I could do, but I had friends—or acquaintances at least—who could do a lot of things I couldn’t. Sethra Lavode, Morrolan, Aliera, Kiera—

Kiera.

Kiera had told me once, about … how did that work? I remained silent as the idea built a nest and laid some eggs.

Blue-guy might have a stupid name, but he wasn’t stupid. He said, “What is it you know that you aren’t telling me?”

“Lots of things,” I said. “And the reverse is true as well, I’ve no doubt. Do you want this done, or don’t you?”

“Now it sounds like you’re in.”

“What’s the offer?”

“To solve the problem completely? I don’t know. That’s worth a lot.”

“Double what you’ve already agreed to pay me.”

“It’s worth more than that.”

“You’re honest. I’m touched. I know. Is it a deal?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m in.” I turned to Shoen and Sticks and said, “Thanks. You’re off.”

“You sure?” said Sticks. “These characters look all dangerous and stuff. I wouldn’t want to see you unprotected.” He was giving Ibronka an amused smirk, I think just to annoy her. She gave no indication of noticing, which meant that her dislike of me was more because I was a Jhereg than because I was an Easterner. Good. Bigotry is such an ugly thing, don’t you think?

“I’m sure,” I told Sticks. I had turned my head to speak to him, so neither of our new acquaintances could see my face; I silently mouthed, “Follow them.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, and headed out. Shoen, I should add, was already gone.

I turned back to Foxy. “I need to get my hands on some of those coins.”

“You have a plan,” he said.

“I always have a plan. Ask anyone. ‘That Vlad,’ they’ll say. ‘He sure does always have a plan. He—’”

“Why do you work so hard to make yourself disliked?” asked Ibronka. “I should think you’d find it happens enough on its own without putting yourself to any extra trouble.”

I drank some wine and said, “Yes, I have a plan.”

“Tell me about it,” said Blue.

“Not just yet.”

His face twitched, but I couldn’t tell what it meant. “All right,” he said. Ibronka looked at him, then shrugged almost imperceptibly; I imagine they’d be talking about that later.

“You need a bag of gold,” he said.

“Tagged gold, yes. Or silver. Coins that have been treated so they’ll be detectable, and have been stolen. Which reminds me—can they be traced?”

He frowned. “Probably. Never known it to be done—they just like to wait until the coins show up in circulation. Paying for a trace is going to cost a big chunk of the total value. But it could happen. Is that a problem?”

“It could be. Can you get the coins?”

“Give me a week. How do I get in touch with you?”

I told him where the office was, and told him to ask the clerk for something Eastern that would last until morning.

He looked amused, which irritated me, but I guess fair is fair. “A week then?”

“Or sooner if you get it sooner.”

I stood, bowed, and showed him my back on the way out the door.

“Well, Boss? Do I get to know what’s going to happen?”

“Sure. We’re going back to the office and find out some stuff, then do some work. Then we wait until he shows up with the coins.”

“Which will give you a week to figure out what to do with them. I still don’t know why—”

“I know what I’m going to do with them, Loiosh.”

“Oh? What are you going to do with them?”

“Get arrested,” I said, which shut him up. It was also sort of true, but that was of secondary importance.

First importance (after shutting up Loiosh) was to find out what was going on. If I came up with a clever plan that didn’t solve the problem, I’d feel silly. I sort of thought I should figure out what the problem was.

I returned to the office and found Kragar, who wanted to know what was going on. In answer, I said, “I need to know everything you can find out about someone calling himself the Blue Fox.”

“Calling himself the what?”

“You heard me.”

“A Jhereg?”

“Tiassa.”

“How am I supposed to find that?”

“Use your imagination.”

“You mean, make stuff up?”

“He’s supposed to be a robber, a highwayman, working somewhere east of here. Ask if anyone’s heard of him, then follow it up.”

“Do you know how stupid I’m going to sound asking if anyone has heard of the Blue Fox?”

“Yes, I know exactly how stupid you’re going to sound.”

“The gods will punish you.”

“I have no doubt of that at all.”

The next order of business was finding Kiera the Thief. I went back out and stopped in a couple of inns, and I dropped the word that I wanted to talk to Kiera. She was waiting for me at a third, a place informally called the Roughhouse, which I’m sure has a story behind it; to all appearances and from all my experience, it’s a quiet little place with lots of booths with tall backs, so you imagine you’re getting more privacy than you are.

I spotted her—well, okay, Loiosh spotted her—in one of the booths as I was waiting to speak to the host, and we joined her: Kiera the Thief. She was short for a Dragaeran, though some of that was that she tended to slump a little. Her hair was dark, her motions graceful, and her smile full of warmth. I still have no idea why she likes me, but we go back to a day when—no, skip it. She was good to me from the moment we met. As I approached the booth, she gave me a good kiss on the mouth—the only Dragaeran I greet like that, by the way—and a hug to go with it. I sat.

“I was just looking for you,” I said.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

I smiled. “I suspected it was all a trick.”

“Hmmm?”

“Never mind.” She had a small glass with something dark in it; I ordered her another and got myself a light tingling wine. When the drinks arrived, I said, “A long time ago, you mentioned something called, if I remember right, the hamper switch.”

“Hamper Load, and you have a good memory, Vlad.”

“How do you do it?”

“Are you going into a new line of work?”

“No, but I have a situation where it might be useful. Can you explain it to me? Slowly, as befits the lethargic Eastern brain?”

She snorted. “All right, and you don’t have to tell me what this is about, but if you feel like doing so, I’m curious.”

“Let me see if I get away with it first. If I do, I’ll explain. If I don’t I’ll try to pretend it never happened.”

“Fair enough.” She brought her drink to her lips, swallowed, carefully set the glass down. She explained how that particular swindle worked; I listened. When I was done listening, I asked questions and listened some more. Being a good listener is one of the most vital skills in being an effective criminal.

“Good,” I said. “I think I have it.”

She nodded. “I believe you do. Remember that the Skin needs to be convincing, and to a degree the Runner; the rest just have to go through the motions.”

“Understood,” I said, and got to my feet.

She smiled at me. “Good luck,” she said.

I got back to the office and Sticks was waiting. “They teleported,” he said.

“Damn.”

“But I have a friend who’s a sorcerer, and I thought you might want to know where they teleported to.”

“And he got there in time?”

“She. And yeah. Imperial Palace, Dragon Wing.”

“I imagine you think you deserve a bonus for that.”

“You have a good imagination, Boss.”

“Melestav, give him seven. Thanks, Sticks. Good work.”

“Always a pleasure,” he said.

“Dragon Wing, Boss?”

“It was either there or Whitecrest Manor.”

“Why?”

“I told you, I recognized him.”

I spent the rest of the day supplying the wants and needs of the good citizens of Adrilankha.

I saw Cawti that night. She liked the candle a lot, and in the warm afterglow of our first hello, I told her about the Blue Fox, Ibronka, and the difficulty in staying ahead of law enforcement. She listened with her whole attention, as she always did, her dark hair shining on the white pillow, her large black eyes fixed on mine so intently I felt like I could fall into them. It took a while to get the story out, because her eyes kept distracting me.

When I was done, she laughed, which made my stomach do funny things.

“Can I help?”

“Um.”

“What?”

“It isn’t exactly, I don’t know the word. You know, the thing about keeping one’s beloved out of danger and all that?”

“Vladimir Taltos, if you aren’t kidding I’m going to bite you somewhere painful.”

“I thought it was romantic.”

“Romantic would be asking for a lock of my hair or something.”

“Okay, can I have a lock of your hair? And yes, I’m kidding.”

“Then I can help?”

“Sure. As long as you keep saying my name.”

“Hmmm?”

“I like it when you say my name.”

She smiled. I wondered if she knew just what she could get me to do with that smile.

I returned it, and she sat up suddenly. “All right, then! What’s the first step?”

“Hmm?”

“Hey. I’m up here.”

“Oh, sorry. The first step. Yes. Wait for the mysterious bag of gold.”

“There must be some set-up before that happens.”

“Well, yes. There’s some information gathering, but I’ll get Kragar to do that.”

“Why does he get to have all the fun?”

“You think that’s fun?”

“Not really, I suppose.”

“Okay, then.”

“What else?”

“Deciding on the Anvil, and opening the Hamper.”

“Oh, perfect! I’m especially trained for those things.”

“I thought so. You have no idea what they mean, right?”

“Right. But I wanted you to get full pleasure from being opaque.”

“And I did. Thank you, m’lady.”

“You’re welcome, m’lord. Now, what’s the Anvil?”

“That’s the person who gets hit by the operation.”

“The target?”

“Right. Also called the Bucket, the Lame, and the Narrow.”

“I didn’t know you knew about those sorts of scams.”

“Oh, I’ve known all about them since yesterday.”

“I see. What’s the Hamper?”

“In this case, something that will hold a bag of tagged coins.”

“Does opening it have some special meaning?”

“That means to set the Anvil up.”

“How do we do that?”

“First step is to pick him.”

“What are you looking for? Stop kissing me and answer the question. No, skip that, keep kissing me. All right, now answer the question.”

“What—?”

“What are you looking for?”

“Love, respect, friendship, loyalty, sensuality, beauty, skill in cutting vegetab—”

“In the Anvil.”

“Oh, right. First of all, someone with the authority—or the clout—to stop the evil and immoral practice of sorcerously marking coins.”

“How many people like that do you think there are?”

“Well, the Empress.”

“Scratch her.”

“And Lord Khaavren, but he’d be a bad choice for this. Um, I’d guess about eight or ten.”

“Let’s make a list.”

So we did, and talked about them for the rest of the day, at the end of which time we’d settled on a Dragonlord named Feorae, because he was perfectly placed within the Imperial hierarchy and because I felt he had too many vowels in his name. I closed my eyes, concentrated, and eventually got hold of Kragar. I set him to learning what he could of the poor bastard, in between learning what he could about Blue-guy. He had a lot to say about it, but eventually agreed.

“What else do you need?” Cawti wanted to know.

“First thing we’ll need is the Skin, because he has to make contact with the Anvil right away.”

“What makes a good Skin?”

Let those who judge goodness or evil in a man note that I let that line pass, and just said, “Charm, warmth, and aristocratic bearing.”

“You’d be perfect.”

“And being Dragaeran.”

“Oh.”

“But thank you.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Not yet.”

“What about your friend Morrolan?”

“I doubt I could convince him to do anything so disloyal.”

“Same with Aliera?”

“She’d probably kill me for asking. What about Norathar—no, forget I mentioned it. Let’s forget about true aristocrats and look for someone who can act the part.”

“Do you know many actors?”

“A few. I don’t think I know any I’d trust, though.”

“What about one of your tags?” said Cawti.

I considered. “Yes, that could work. There’s certainly acting involved in the job, and some of them play roles for the nums.”

“Maybe someone from the Long Carpet, or the Couches? They’re fairly high-class.”

“How did you—oh, right. I keep forgetting.” She’d learned a lot about me, of course, while she and her partner were preparing to kill me. The memory made for an uncomfortable moment, but she squeezed my hand and it passed.

We decided that was enough work, and turned our minds to other things.

The next day I was up early and beat Kragar into the office. I told Melestav to bring me klava and to get hold of a certain Lord Heral-Nocaldi, or H’noc as he was called, who managed the Couches, and let him know I’d be dropping by.

“Should I tell him why?”

“No, let him sweat.”

I let him sweat for about an hour before heading over there. Not for any special reason except that I didn’t like him—we’d had an unpleasant altercation when I’d first started running the area. It was especially unpleasant for him, so I imagine he didn’t like me, either.

I made the walk with no protection this time. Lower Kieron Road was hot and there was an unusual amount of dust. A bird yelled at me as I approached the place, the kind that goes, “kwa-AKA, kwa-AKA.” I don’t know what kind that is, but Loiosh says they taste good.

The place had been a cheap hotel before the Interregnum, then it was improved superficially: scrollwork added high on the walls, expensive sconces, gold trim, high-quality furnishings in the lobby where one of H’noc’s enforcers, a guy named Abror, was standing where he could watch the door. H’noc was also there, sitting and waiting for me. He rose as I entered.

“M’lord, to what do I—”

“Bring me every tag who’s not engaged.”

He hesitated as, no doubt, a lot of questions came into his mind, but he was smart enough not to ask them. He nodded and went off to follow orders. There were no nums waiting, which was reasonable at this hour on a Farmday. There was a wide fountain, about waist high and of an odd yellowish marble; I leaned against it and waited.

Five minutes later, three boys and five girls were lined up in front of me, in all shapes, colors, attitudes—at least as far as Dragaerans go. “Don’t pose,” I said. “Just stand there.” They relaxed, and they still displayed all shapes, colors, and attitudes. The guy on the left caught my eye, because he was giving me a look of unabashed curiosity. He had an oval face, wide-set eyes, and his general appearance was neutral: I couldn’t guess if he’d appeal to a man or a woman, to someone after corrupting innocence, or someone who wanted to be taken along for a new experience. I nodded to him. “What’s your name?”

“Omlo, m’lord,” he said.

I turned to H’noc. “I need to talk to him. The rest of you can go.”

They did. H’noc followed them out. I found a chair and gestured the boy to another.

“You know who I am, Omlo?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Want to make some extra money? All yours, no juice.”

He hesitated. “Why me?” turned out to be his first question.

“You look like you could handle it. It isn’t dangerous. I don’t think.”

At that last, he looked at me quickly, then looked away. “How much money?”

“Fifteen imperials.”

“And you don’t think it’ll be dangerous, m’lord?”

“Shouldn’t be.”

He nodded. “All right.” I could see him spending the money already. “What do I have to do?”

“Do you know where my office is?”

“No, m’lord.”

“Number Six Copper Lane sells psychedelic herbs. Tell the proprietor you want something rare and Eastern that will last until morning. He’ll guide you in to see me.”

“I’ll be there, m’lord.”

“Good. That’s all. Now go make me some money.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

I left him there and returned to the office.

Loiosh, who by now had figured out what I was doing, said, “Boss, even if this works, I don’t think the Empire will appreciate the joke.”

“Everyone thinks that, Loiosh. But consider how long the Empire has been around. Do you know anyone who could survive that long without a sense of humor?”

“I still have no idea why you’re bothering.”

“Because I recognized him.”

“Blue-fellow?”

“That isn’t his real name, you know.”

“I’m shocked, Boss. Where do you know him from?”

“Family resemblance. To someone I’d like to have owe me a favor. If I’m wrong, Kragar will let me know.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

“Melestav!”

He poked his head in. “Yeah?”

“Find me a map of the city.”

He appeared with the map and stood next to me while I studied it. “Looking for something particular?”

“Just trying to remind myself of some of my favorite places.”

“To eat?”

“To not get killed.”

“Odd,” he said, “that I’ve never gone to the trouble to make a list of those.”

I found what I was looking for and gave him the map back, then put the whole thing out of my head. I took care of business until close to noon, when I sent Melestav out to Honlo’s to bring back a difowl roasted in wine and stuffed with tartapples, thyme, and garlic. It arrived about the time Omlo did, and I invited everyone in the office to dig in. Kragar almost snatched the gizzard before I could stop him, but I’d been watching for it. My operation, my gizzard; what else would I have gone to the trouble of acquiring the business for?

When we were done and Loiosh was picking over the bones, I went into the office with Omlo and said, “It’s time to practice.”

He took a chair. “I’m ready, m’lord. What first?”

“Sit,” I told him.

“My lord? I’m sitting.”

“Sit like someone who’s, you know, cocky. Sure of himself. Knows he can get what he wants. More arrogant. Yeah, like that.”

He smiled. “Part of the trade, m’lord.”

“Good. Now stand up and walk to the door. No, not sexy. Confident. Try again. Better. More like you’re going somewhere. Not in a hurry, but—good.”

“That wasn’t too much?”

“No, perfect. Meanwhile, start walking, talking, and looking as aristocratic as you can.”

“I shall, m’lord.”

“Got a minute, Vlad?” Kragar’s head looked weirdly disembodied around the edge of the door. “I have something for you to look at.”

I excused myself and followed him into his office, where he presented me with a three-page report on the Blue Fox: history, origin, family, and activity. I took a few minutes to read it.

“Good work. How did you find all this?”

“I’m just that good.”

“You are, you are.”

“I asked a guy who asked a guy and I got his family. And it turns out the Blue Fox is real. Or was, anyway. It’s all there.”

“You got a bonus coming.”

“I am bathed in a warm glow.”

“I’ll see you when you’ve dried off.”

I went back to work with Omlo; we put in another couple of hours and then called it a day. I told him to return the following day and we’d start work on the hard part—the Load—and then stay with it until we were ready to start the action. He understood; he seemed excited about the whole thing. I liked his attitude; I hoped he wouldn’t end up with holes in him.

That night Cawti and I ate at the Blue Flame and talked about the wedding.

“I don’t have anyone to make a headdress,” said Cawti.

“Noish-pa will find someone,” I said, referring to my grandfather.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She smiled. “All right. Who will stand for you?”

“I’ll ask Morrolan. He probably knows some of the customs.”

“How is he with rhymes?”

“I don’t know. I’ll write them for him, if I have to.”

She smiled. “Will I get to hear them?”

“Of course not. It’s bad luck.”

“After the wedding?”

“All right. What rhymes with Aliera?”

“Now, you know I can’t help.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shall we find a priest of Verra?”

“I’d like that. But then we need a procession. If we do the civil service at the House, and then go to a temple in South Adrilankha, that would be a long walk for everyone.”

“So we’ll bring the Jhereg clerk to us, then we can make the procession as long as we want.”

“Good point,” I said. “Or bring the priest to us. Or both.”

“Or both.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and my heart flip-flopped. She said, “Oh, thinking about weddings, marriage, and all of that, a small, unimportant question just came to mind. What do you think of children?”

“Um,” I said. “Children. I hadn’t thought about it. I mean, other than Loiosh.”

“You are so going to pay for that.”

I felt her laughing. I said, “Seriously, I don’t know. It had never crossed my mind. I need to think about it.”

She nodded and suggested that, just in case, we should work on the process. She paid the shot and we went back to my flat to put this plan into action.

I worked with Omlo again the next day, and saw Cawti again in the evening. We didn’t talk about children again, but we did get serious about the wedding.

I’ve put less planning into killing people.

When Omlo arrived, I had him run through the entire business, including the Load. “Good,” I told him when he’d finished. “But it could stand to be a little smoother.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Try it again.”

I was still working with him a couple of hours later when Melestav poked his head in and told me someone calling himself the Blue Fox would like to see me, and he had a Dzurlord with him. The expression on Melestav’s face as he pronounced the name of my visitor was a precious thing that I will treasure forever. I allowed as to how they could come into my office, and asked him to have Kragar join us.

I rose and sketched a bow. “Blue Fox, Ibronka, this is Omlo, who will be the Skin.”

Omlo looked at me, I think to ask whether he should be in character for these two. I shrugged, so he made a fairly obsequious bow, which the Tiassa and Dzur returned in a sort of casual-to-friendly way.

“Your money,” said the Fox, depositing a purse on my desk. “This isn’t tagged, it’s what I agreed to pay you. The extra should be sufficient to cover the physicker.”

I nodded and put the purse into my lower right-hand drawer. Then I said, “Feel free to find chairs. I’ve got things mostly put together. Omlo here is part of it.”

As they were finding chairs, Omlo said, “If I may ask, m’lord?”

“Yes?”

“What are their positions in this?”

“He’s the Runner, she’s the Dog-man, and I’m the Turner, which completes the crew.” I smiled. “Now we’re ready to get to work.”

Chapter 3

“She’s the what?”

“I’m the which?”

“M’lord, what are those things?”

“I’ll explain.”

“I’d like to hear it, too,” said Kragar. “Do I get to do something?”

“Everyone, this is Kragar. He works for me.”

I could see them all wondering how long he’d been there.

Fox-boy said, “What was it you said our jobs are?”

“You’re going to be the Runner, and the lovely lady by your side will be the Dog-man. If you agree, of course. You’re well suited.”

“Dog-man,” he repeated, glancing at Ibronka. “I’m not sure I like that.”

“It’s not personal, just the term for that job.”

I took a moment to study Blue-boy. I guess, to a Dragaeran, he’d be considered good-looking: his eyes were clear and sharp, his lips thin, hair swept back to show off an unusually distinct noble’s point. And he was one of those people who always seemed to be a little amused by everything. I find such people a touch irritating, but that may only be because I’m one myself. I thought over what I’d learned about him, and wished I knew enough to deduce what exactly was going on.

He said, “Where does the term come from?”

“I don’t actually know,” I said. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with the way a dog will sit somewhere and do nothing and then bark when something happens.”

“Ever owned a dog?” he asked.

“No.”

“Never mind, then. What are my orders, General?”

“You have the coins?”

He pulled out a medium-sized purse and dropped it on my desk. “Clink,” it said.

“I hope,” I told him, “you didn’t take that from an honest citizen.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I took it from a merchant.”

“And you’re sure the gold is tagged?”

“Spend it,” he said, “and you’ll find out fast enough.”

“That’s exactly the plan,” I told him. “Although it won’t be me who spends it. How much is there?”

“A bit more than four imperials, most of it silver. I hope that’s enough.”

“Plenty. You keep it. You’ll be using it.”

He picked it up again. “To do what?”

“Get arrested, of course.”

“I thought the idea was to avoid that.”

“Yes, well, almost get arrested.”

“Maybe, if it isn’t too much trouble, you could—”

“I will. Just a moment. We’re waiting for someone.”

He started to ask who, then shrugged. In about two minutes Cawti came in. She bowed to them gravely as I said, “Cawti, this is the Blue Fox, and this is Ibronka. This fellow is called Omlo. Everyone, Cawti.”

“A pleasure,” said Cawti. “Ibronka, that’s an Eastern name.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said. From her tone, I’d say she didn’t like Cawti a great deal more than she liked me, which in my opinion indicated a flaw in her character. The Fox-guy rose and bowed like he meant it.

I didn’t have enough chairs, so Cawti perched on my desk, generally facing the guests. Without turning her pleasant and rather phony smile away from them, she said to me, “Are you about to reveal all, Vladimir?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about going over the plan with our new friends.”

She nodded. “Not a bad idea. But then they might see it coming when we betray them to the Empire for the reward.”

“That isn’t all that funny,” said Foxy.

I studied him; the expression on his face was, in spite of his words, amused. I said, “First of all, yes it is. Second, is there a reward for you?”

“Not in this county,” he said.

“That would make transportation a problem,” I said.

“A big problem,” said Ibronka, smiling sweetly the way I smile sweetly.

I said, “How big is the reward? I might need to consider this.”

“It’s gone up and down a few times,” he said, “depending on how busy we’ve been. Right now, I think it’s about twelve hundred imperials.”

“I’m impressed,” I said. And I was, too: I was impressed that he named the same amount Kragar had found; usually they like to understate if they’re scared, or exaggerate if they aren’t.

He made a bowing gesture. “I like to think I’m successful in my field.”

I nodded. “No question, one takes pride in accomplishment.” Ibronka looked carefully blank; Cawti smirked. I said, “For now, we’ll skip the whole betrayal-transportation-reward plan, and go with my original idea. Besides, I’d hate to get a reputation for being untrustworthy.”

Bluey nodded. “Best not to let that happen.”

“I’m going to tell you how this will work. I want Kragar and Cawti here to poke holes in the plan.”

“I thought that was my job, Boss.”

“If you want to fight a duel with Kragar for the privilege, I won’t stop you.”

“All right,” I said. “It’s a simple plan made complicated by the need to not get killed. The idea is to convince the Empire that this method of catching highwaymen is a bad idea. Now—”

“Do you do this sort of thing a lot?”

“What?”

“Convince the Empire to change how it does things.”

“Not as often as you’d think.”

“All right. Go on.”

“We’re going to arrange for the Empire to catch us using tagged coins, then make them wish they hadn’t.”

“Right. I already guessed that part.”

“Then here’s the rest.”

I went over the whole thing, first in general, then more specifically, concentrating on the warning and the false chase. Then I went over it again. Then I said, “Questions?”

Cawti had one. “The first part, the race. What if they pull in help that heads him off before he gets to you?”

I frowned. “Good point. Kragar, get us ten reliable people stationed along the route to get in the way in case the law gets too close.”

“How much am I paying them for this?”

“Enough, but not too much.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Any other questions?”

Fox-fellow had one: “Is this going to work?”

I considered that. “Almost certainly, probably, there’s a good chance, perhaps, and I very much hope so, depending on which part of it we’re discussing. Your end, almost certainly.”

“That’s reassuring,” he said as if it wasn’t.

“And,” said Ibronka, “what about your end? By which I mean, the result.”

“If everything else works, I’m hopeful about that.”

“I’m glad to know your state of mind,” she said as if she weren’t.

Kragar nodded toward Omlo. “Uh, I don’t know you, so no offense, but you don’t look like you could pull off the part. Are you an actor?”

“In a way, m’lord.”

“He’s one of my tags,” I said.

“Ah. All right, then.”

The Blue one said, “What’s a tag?”

“A prostitute,” I said. “They have to be able to act, at least a little, and they’re usually pretty hungry for money.”

He frowned. “I’ve never heard that expression.”

“Years ago,” I said, “street prostitutes used to walk around with a tag on their shoulders, listing their price.”

“Oh.”

Ibronka said, “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.”

I looked at the two of them. “I take it, then, that you find your parts acceptable.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good. The first thing that has to happen is the Skin needs to make contact with the Anvil. Kragar? Find anything?”

“He is exceptionally fond of small sculpted objects, especially jade and silver.”

“Silver sculpted objects?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I have something that should work. It’s in my flat; I’ll send for it. Omlo, in the Dragon Wing there will be an office for Lord Feorae. He is responsible for civic and county investigations. Find somewhere to wait near his office. There’s probably a waiting room just outside of it.”

“My lord, what do I say if someone asks me what I’m doing there?”

“Give him an evasive answer.”

“My lord?”

“You’re an aristocrat. Make yourself look like, I don’t know, a Hawk.” I found a scrap of paper and wrote an address on it, handed it to him. “When we’re done, go there and tell them you’re from me, and you need to pass for a Hawklord—ears, complexion, and everything.”

“I can do that.”

“And can you act the part?”

“I believe so, m’lord.”

“Look vague and distracted most of the time. If you’re asked a question, sniff and look disdainful.”

“And if doing so should incite a challenge, my lord?”

“Don’t sniff that loudly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“If you sniff just loud enough, and hit the disdainful perfectly, you won’t have to wait too long to see him. Then, well, lay it out. You have the item and a sudden need for money.”

“And if he asks me why?”

“Gambling debts.”

He nodded.

“Put the proposition simply. Yes, no, or he’ll think about it. Kragar will give you a psiprint and a description of the object. It’s a silver tiassa, very small and delicate, with sapphires for eyes. I think Feorae will want to buy it, but we’ll see.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“If he says yes, you can get it to him as soon as tomorrow.”

He nodded. Maybe he’d run out of m’lords.

“Are you clear on what you need to do?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Guess he had another.

“As soon as you have the material, head straight over to the Dragon Wing and get started. In the meantime, we’ll just wait here. Shouldn’t take long.”

He nodded, looking a little nervous, like it had just become real to him.

Foxy nodded to Omlo. “Do you like it?”

“My lord?”

“The job. Do you like it?”

“It seems all right so far, m’lord.”

“No, not this job, being a pr—, a tag.”

“Oh. It’s all right.”

“What House are you? I can’t tell from looking at you.”

“Chreotha, m’lord.”

“How did you end up in your line of work?”

“My lord? I’m not sure how to answer that. I guess I just fell into it.”

“That’s it? You fell into it?”

Omlo seemed puzzled. “Yes, my lord.” He looked at me.

“My lord the Fox wants to hear a hard luck story,” I told him.

Omlo frowned. “There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, or was any good at. And the money is all right.”

“Do you have a pimp?”

“No, m’lord. What I earn is all mine after I split with the house.”

“Earn,” he said.

Omlo looked puzzled.

“I just don’t know much about it,” said Blue. “I’m curious. That’s a whole world I’ve never come in contact with, and it makes me curious. What it’s like working in a house, sex with someone you’ve never even met—”

“Or,” I told Omlo, “he might be considering switching careers.”

Ibronka reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Maybe you should drop it,” she said. I couldn’t tell who she was addressing, but if it was me I was willing.

Sometime during the conversation Kragar had returned; I know because it was about then he said, “It’s ready.”

I nodded to Omlo, who rose, bowed, and set off to begin the operation, Kragar leading the way.

“What now?” asked Fox.

“Nothing until we get a solid draw on Feorae.”

“You’re that sure we will?”

“If not, it’ll take longer, or we’ll find a different Anvil. Is there an especial hurry?”

“Not as long as my money holds out.”

“If you need a loan, I have some names for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where do you stay in town?”

“With friends. Why?”

“If you tell me how to reach these friends, I’ll let you know when we’re ready to start.”

He looked at Ibronka, who stared back at him; I suppose there was a fair bit of conversation I couldn’t hear, but then he said, “Ironstone Manor, home of the Lady Lewchin, House of the Issola.”

“I can get a message there.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

He and Ibronka gave us each a bow. I called Melestav to escort them out of the office, then went back to my flat, found the tiassa still wrapped in its cloth, and brought it back.

Kragar, having finished guiding Omlo, had returned. I gave it to him with instructions to write up a description and have a psiprint done. He said, “It’s a pretty thing, Vlad. Sure you’re willing to lose it?”

“It’s in a good cause,” I said. “Get the material to Omlo, then send him on his way.”

“Right.”

“You know what to do with the case?”

“Yep.”

“Good, then.”

“By the way, Vlad, I didn’t want to contradict you in front of the civilians, but the tags weren’t worn on the shoulders. Around the wrist like a bracelet.”

I stared at him. “You mean, I was right about where the term comes from? I was just making it up.”

“I know,” he said. “So am I.”

“Be funny if we were right.”

“Not that funny.”

“If you were in town after a successful robbery, where would you go to spark the dark?”

“Somewhere not in town.”

“Right. Failing that?”

“I don’t know. Someplace not too low, not too high. Big enough for a party, but—”

“Not in general. Name the place.”

“What do I win if I guess it?”

“Loiosh won’t eat you.”

“I don’t think you can guarantee—”

“Can’t pass that up.” He shrugged. “The Flagpole?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that should work. Good call.”

He glanced at Loiosh through narrowed eyes. “You heard that, right?”

“Tell him I think he’s really cute when he acts tough.”

“I think I won’t.”

Kragar left me alone. I laid out a map of the city, and drew circles over the two significant places, then a line connecting them. I studied the various paths until I had one that would work, then went back out onto the streets, heading for Malak Circle, feeling pretty happy about things. I knew what everyone was supposed to do, and we had even gotten started. The only things that were a little hazy were the consequences, and I’ve never especially concerned myself with those.

I took my time walking across town until I reached the Flagpole, a public house that overcharged for everything. I went in, received scowls because I was human or Jhereg or both, and studied the place.

First of all, yes, it felt right: if I had to bet on some particular place checking for tagged coins, I’d be willing to lay good odds on this one. From the look of things, its fortunes had changed a few times over the centuries. The main room was a big square, with a large bar forming a circle, with an island in the middle full of glasses and bottles. There were a lot of windows, all of them big and with the look as if they’d once had glass. The tables were of varying sizes and quality; same with the chairs. The floor was cracked and chipped marble, and the place smelled of ales and pilsners. There were nine patrons at six tables, Teckla except for a pair of Chreotha. All of them were old. It seemed about right for the middle of the day in a place that didn’t serve food.

There were two hosts—no doubt there would be more when the place was busier. One of them was kind enough to pour me a cup of stout. I found a table, sat, and pretended to drink the awful stuff while I looked around.

Yes, there were decent escape routes. The Phoenix Guards would come in the main door. They might have one covering the back, but that wouldn’t matter; it would take too many of them to secure all the windows, and even if they tried, the Dog-man would see it in plenty of time. If we had bad luck, and there were already guards in the place, it would be even easier, because the door would be available. Good.

It took me about a minute to learn everything I had to, but I stayed for a while because not to would have attracted attention. There were no convenient floor plants to dump the stout into, so I forced myself to drink half of it. I should have asked for more money for this job.

I left the Flagpole and headed back to my office, thinking about Cawti.

I need to tell you about the place they jumped me. Right about where Garshos connects with North Garshos there is an area where, because of some strange confusion or dispute among the lords of the city, a stretch of some sixty or seventy feet is not actually part of any district. The only effect of this is that the row of three apartment buildings there—three, three, and four stories, respectively—has no effective garbage pickup. The garbage builds up in one corner, just off Garshos, until, usually once or twice a week, they burn it. The rest of the time, it stinks. When they’re burning it, it stinks, too. Not my favorite part of town.

It was stinking pretty bad that day, because the pile was ten or eleven feet high. There were two Jhereg toughs hidden behind it. Across the street from the trash heap, there was a grocer’s with an open front; the other two Jhereg were inspecting vegetables, with their backs to me about ten feet away. For a job that had to have been done with minimal planning, it wasn’t a bad set-up.

The two of them turned around; presumably they had a lookout giving them timing, but I never saw him. I did see the first pair of Jhereg tough guys start turning toward me, and then things happened fast.

“Two behind you, Boss. I’m on ’em.”

I took a step toward them, because stepping into an attack always throws off the other guy’s timing and distance. I had time to notice that they were carrying lepips, which meant they wanted to beat me, not kill me. I would have been relieved if I’d had time.

I pulled a knife from each boot and tossed them underhanded at the two in front of me—one missed, the other poked a guy in the side; both of them flinched. I drew my blade and slashed at the nearest, ruining his pretty face, which gave me time to skewer the other in the middle of his body. He dropped his lepip and doubled over; must have gotten a good spot. I slashed at the first again, but missed when he fell backward.

I took the opportunity to turn around, which was just as well; one of them had gotten past Loiosh and was coming at me. I didn’t like the idea of his heavy lepip against my little rapier, so I pulled three shuriken from inside my cloak and sent them in his direction. One shuriken scratched his forehead, one missed, and the last almost clipped Loiosh’s wing where he was tagging around the other one’s head.

“Boss.…”

“Sorry.”

The scratch on the forehead was enough to disorient the guy a little. It got worse for him when I raised my rapier like I was going to bring it down on his head, and even worse when I let a dagger fall into my left hand and then put it into his stomach. He indicated that he was no longer interested in the contest, though he didn’t say it in so many words.

I turned toward the one who’d fallen over. He was just starting to get up. I raised my weapon and said, “Don’t.” He looked at me, then relaxed again. That left the one Loiosh was dancing with. I turned my attention to that one, but he was running away as fast as he could.

I took a couple of steps forward and stood over the one lying on his back. I don’t think I’d have known him even if his face weren’t bleeding, not to mention contorted; he didn’t look very happy. I put the point of my rapier at his left eye and said, “Feel like telling me who gave the orders?”

He was vehement in the expression of his feelings; no, he didn’t feel like telling me anything. The others wouldn’t either; it was a waste of time to ask them, so I cleaned my blade on his cloak, patted his shoulder, and walked away.

“Who, Boss?”

“I’m wondering that myself.”

I checked my clothing as well as I could; it had come out of it more or less intact, but I stopped at the fountain near Boiden Square Market and splashed some water on my face. I wasn’t shaking too bad, and after standing in the market for half an hour or so the shaking was gone completely.

“Any idea how to figure it out, Boss?”

“Not yet.”

I went back to the office and nodded to Melestav, who nodded back. I guess there were no visible signs of what I’d just been through or he’d have raised his eyebrow or something. I sat behind my desk, told myself I was fine, and spent a few hours dealing with business and trying not to worry too much about how Omlo was doing with Feorae or who had just wanted to inflict harm on me, and why. I did spend some time thinking about how I was going to play it with Foxy after it went down, but I couldn’t come to any hard conclusions; some things you just can’t plan until you get there. And there were still too many things I didn’t know.

Omlo returned early in the evening. He came sauntering into my office like a Dzurlord into a parlor. He had the dark complexion, narrow eyes, and wore the black clothing of a Hawklord. He looked good. “Ah, Lord Taltos,” he said, before I could open my mouth. “I suppose you’d like to hear the results of my little venture.” He pulled a chair up close to my desk, sat in it, and put his feet up. It would have annoyed me if it weren’t so funny, especially when he yawned.

I kept my face straight and said, “If you’d be good enough to tell me, m’lord.”

He blushed and dropped character and said, “He went for it, my lord. It went almost perfectly.”

“Almost?”

“He met my price too easily; I should have asked for more money.”

I chuckled. “Good work. Take a moment to relax, and we’ll go over your next part—it’s the tricky one.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

I stuck my head out of the office and had Melestav send word to Ironstone Manor for the rest of the crew to be here in the morning; then I returned to Omlo and said, “So, how was it?”

He smiled bashfully. “I may change careers, m’lord.”

I grinned. “You like being a confidence artist?”

“An actor.”

“Ah. A bit of a drop in money and prestige, but I suspect you’ll do well. I can probably give you some help with that, in fact.”

“My lord? Are you serious?”

“Are you?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“Then so am I,” I told him.

“My lord,” he said, “I’d be very grateful.”

“It’s nothing. No trouble for me. Meantime, let’s work up the next part. We have a day to get ready, so let’s be at it. The timing is tricky, but it shouldn’t be too tricky.”

He nodded. “I’m ready, m’lord.”

“All right, we’ll start with the transfer. Here’s how it’s going to work.…”

In an hour he had it. In two, he was good at it. So we kept at it for about six, with a break for some food. During the break, Omlo said hesitantly, “My lord?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean it? About helping me?”

“With an acting career? Sure. There are two companies that operate in this area, and they both like the idea of me being well disposed toward them.”

He made grateful sounding mutters for a while.

I said, “But you know, the theater isn’t the same as just putting on a role like you did today, or like you’ve been doing. Having a big audience is different.”

“I know, my lord. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, though. Ever since my paener used to take me to the Marketday Players on Settler.”

I nodded. “What House are you, Omlo? I mean, when you aren’t pretending?”

“Chreotha, my lord.”

“I’m surprised.”

“My lord?”

“You said that before, in front of the civilians. I just assumed you were lying.”

“My lord? Why?”

I shrugged. “So, what do your people do?”

“My father does ceramics, my mother works with pewter.”

“And you ended up in one of my brothels.”

“My lord?”

“It’s just a curious thing, that’s all. What do you think our friends are up to?”

“My lord?”

“Blue-boy and Ibronka. What do you think their game is?” He looked blank, so I said, “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to know; I’m mostly thinking aloud. Wondering what they really want.”

“You think they lied to you, m’lord?”

“I know they lied about some things, so that makes me think they’re lying about more.”

“My lord, what did they lie to you about?”

I started to answer, but stopped before the words were out of my mouth. “What did he lie to you about?”

“My lord?”

“You didn’t ask what he lied about, you asked what he lied to me about. I want to know what he lied to you about.”

“Oh. He said he didn’t know anything about the life, my lord.”

“He was lying? You’ve seen him?”

“The two of them, in the house, the Couches.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

The question seemed to surprise him. “My lord, we never publicly recognize a num unless the num invites us to. That’s just, that’s how it works.”

“Hmm. All right. But you did see them?”

“A few times in passing. I never entertained them.”

“When were they there?”

He squinted. “The first time, maybe half a year ago. Then two or three times after that. The last time was last month. Not since then.”

“Who entertained them?”

“Neritha. She was good with threesomes.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“I think she’s a Tsalmoth. She started there three years ago, just after I did.”

“What’s she like?”

He rubbed his chin. “Nice enough, but kind of hard. Not the kind who was making a career of it, but more like she wanted to get a score together and go somewhere.”

“She’s still there?”

“No, my lord. I haven’t seen her in, I think, about three months. She was just gone one day. I heard she was caught stealing from nums.”

“I’ll bet H’noc loved that. Any word on what he might have done to her?”

“No, my lord.”

“She have a pimp?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Addicted to anything?”

He shook his head.

I nodded. “So, that answers some questions. And asks some more. I’ll total them up later and see which is higher. Just a minute.”

I left him there while I found Kragar, to whom I said, “I don’t think you have enough to do.”

He rolled his eyes. “Vlad, you’ve already got me—”

“This one is easy. Get the story of a tag named Neritha, at the Couches, who was probably caught stealing from nums. That’s all.”

“Any reason I can’t just ask H’noc?”

“No. Yes. Try to find out some other way.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

I went back and worked with Omlo for another hour or two then let him go, confident that he had his part down. I hung around for about an hour after that, until Kragar showed up.

He said, “The most surprising thing is that it really was simple. She was caught stealing, and—”

“How?”

“Num complained, H’noc checked it.”

“Heh. Good for him. What did he do?”

“Broke her arms, broke her legs, gave her a case of the drips, and kicked her.”

“The drips. Nasty. When did this happen?”

“Nine weeks ago. I’m sure she’s fine by now. Do you need me to find her?”

“Set someone on it in case, but don’t put a lot into it. I’m guessing there’s no need.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“Yes. Touch Omlo and let him know I need him here early tomorrow. Real early. Seventh hour.”

“Care to grab some food after I do that?”

“Why not? Nothing else to do. You paying, what with all the bonuses I just gave you?”

“Keep dreaming, Vlad.”

I didn’t see Cawti that night; she was spending time with her ex-partner, Norathar, who—no, skip it, it’s too long a story. So without her there, I passed a bitter night alone with my guilt for all the evil I’ve done. Okay, not really; I had two glasses of Fenarian brandy (because Dragaeran brandy tastes like the stuff you use to clean the klava press), read a chapter of Devin’s Trial of the Bell Ringer, and went to sleep. But I did miss her.

I got to the office very early the next day, but Omlo was there before I’d finished my second cup of klava. I had extra klava brought in for him.

“Run through it all,” I told him. “Just words. Talk it.”

He nodded, sipped his klava, and spoke in a slow, measured stream. When he was finished, I said, “Good. That’s good. You have it.”

He bobbed his head.

I had some more klava and said, “You want to make some extra money?”

He looked suspicious; it was like he was getting to know me or something.

I said, “I’ll lay it out for you. You don’t have to do this, but if you decide to, we have to go over it fast, because you need to be solid with it before the rest of the crew shows up.”

“Is it dangerous, my lord?”

I took a moment to decide how to answer; but as the Shereba players say, if you’re going to hesitate that long, pass. “Yes,” I said.

“How dangerous?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“M’lord, may I wait until you know before deciding?”

I chuckled. “That’s only fair, I suppose. The trouble is, we don’t have that kind of time. Foxy and Ibronka will be here in a couple of hours, and if you’re going to do this, you need to be solid on it by then. I don’t think the heat will go to you, and if it does, I think I can protect you. But I can’t promise. Tiassa are almost as unpredictable as Tsalmoth, and Dzur are as bad-tempered as Dragons. Do you understand?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“So take all the time you need to decide, up to five minutes. The job pays one hundred imperials.”

His eyes widened at the amount, but greed did not instantly overcome him, the way it would have a Jhereg, or an Orca. He sat and thought about it. After about four minutes, he nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Now, let me run it down.”

When he had it, I still had a little time, so I had him wait while I spoke to Kragar about the rest of it. He listened quietly as he always does. When I’d finished, he didn’t say anything. After a bit, I said, “Well?”

“I’m just trying to remember if I’ve ever heard of anything stupider. I think I have. I’m pretty sure I have. I just want to see if I can—”

“Okay, okay. What would you suggest instead?”

“You want me to—”

“Cut it out. Come up with a better suggestion, help me fill the holes in this one, or at least tell me what they are, all right?”

“I didn’t mean to say you shouldn’t do it, just that it’s stupid.”

“Not as stupid as getting married to the girl who killed you.”

“Well, yeah, that would be … wait. Are you serious? You mean that girl who—”

“Yeah.”

“You want to marry her?”

“She asked me. I said yes.”

“Vlad, have you lost it completely?”

“Pretty much.”

He was quiet for a long two minutes. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Uh, congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Feel like telling me about it?”

“Not really. I’d rather we go back to talking about the other stupid idea. You’re saying we should go with it?”

It took him a moment to recall what we’d been talking about, but then he said, “I can’t come up with anything better.”

“All right, then.”

“Who do you want me to grab for this?”

“We’ll need a sorcerer who specializes in light extraction from candlebud, a smith who can fabricate a four-foot surgical-quality needle, an acrobat who can do both wide-spar and high-rope, a swimmer who is fluent in Serioli, a—”

“You can stop now, Vlad. I saw that play, too.”

“Good. I couldn’t remember the other two.”

“Who do you need?”

“You. Me. Omlo. Enough muscle to keep me alive during the fun part if things go wrong. Sticks, Shoen, and two others who are reliable.”

“If we add a couple more, can we keep me alive, too?”

“We could, but I don’t want to spend that much. Get on it. I have guests arriving soon.”

Chapter 4

They all arrived on time—a small miracle—and took seats.

“How are things so far?” asked Foxy.

“Good. Today we do the swap.”

He looked at Omlo. “Is he ready?”

“Omlo, are you?”

“I think so.”

“So, what do we do next?” asked Kragar.

We all looked at him. I cleared my throat and said, “Three of them are practicing their parts. You’re going to run out and bring us back some breakfast. Steamed sweet rolls stuffed with kethna. Make sure they’re hot.”

“I should have seen that coming,” he said.

“Don’t forget one for Loiosh.”

He shook his head and walked out.

“Boss, you’re the best.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

I went over things with them, then did so again, by which time Kragar was back with breakfast. Everyone enjoyed the food—Blue-guy exceptionally so. I liked that; it’s always a pleasure to introduce someone to a delicacy he hadn’t been aware of.

We ate, went over things once more, then I said, “All right. Unless there are questions, the Runner and the Dog-man might as well get started.”

“No questions here,” said Ibronka.

I studied her. “Sorry,” I said.

“About what?”

“The lack of action for you.”

“Sorry? I assumed you’d done it just to annoy me.”

“I probably would have, if I’d thought of it.”

She made a sound somewhere between a sniff and a snort.

I told Omlo, “You should get into position as well. Good luck.”

“Yes, m’lord. Thank you, m’lord.”

They set off. Kragar ate another roll, wiped his fingers, and said, “You know, Vlad, the biggest hole with the plan is that it isn’t a plan, it’s about six.”

“Four. Depending on how it plays out.”

“That’s all right, then.”

“You have about half an hour to round everyone up and get them in position.”

“Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to rush me.”

I led the way to the Cups, about three-quarters of a mile south and east of my office. It was as I remembered it—cramped and crowded on the inside, spacious on the outside. The street it faced was narrow and curved; there was a wide market area just out of sight to the north, or right as you faced the street. Directly across the street was a three-story stonework house—the sort of place that held families of Teckla who for some reason worked in the City. On the wall facing me, someone had created quasi-abstract art in which I could, possibly, make out male genitalia, the face of the Empress, and various obscenities.

It was early evening, and the inside of the Cups was full of Teckla and a few merchants; the outdoor area, mostly taken up with Lyorn and Hawklords, had plenty of empty tables. I took one, and eventually got someone to bring me a pitcher of iced wine.

And now, for a while, I can only give you a combination of speculation and what I was told or deduced afterward: I was drinking iced wine when all the fun stuff was happening, and since I didn’t get to see it, neither do you. Sorry.

So, while I was sitting at the Cups, a host at the Flagpole checked one of the coins he’d been given, and, whether by bell, vibration, changing color, or some other way, he learned that the coin had been tagged.

Maybe he found a kitchen boy to run an errand. Maybe he had a bell that rang sympathetically in the headquarters of the Phoenix Guards. Or they may have had some other means of communication that hasn’t occurred to me. It doesn’t matter; what matters is that the constabulary were called and told that tagged coins had been passed, which, in the lingo of the trade, kicked the first log. We were moving now, and things would happen in regular sequence—or not. Of course, at the time I didn’t know just what was happening, or exactly when.

The Phoenix Guards showed up—two of them, I later learned. Ibronka spotted them easily, warned Blue, and he was through a window and gone.

I wish I’d been able to see the race. From what I heard, Foxy started out with a good lead, and had to slow down a bit to avoid losing them completely.

I was told none of the guys I’d set up to interfere with the chase were needed. Wasted money, unless you believe that if I hadn’t hired them I’d have needed them. I sort of believe that.

Blue found me at the Cups and sat down across from me.

“Any problems?” I said.

“None so far.” He set the bag of coins on the table.

“Good,” I said, as Omlo arrived from behind me, scooped up the bag, and walked away; never saying a word or even acknowledging our presence—just like a damned Hawklord. Blue-boy walked off in the other direction. So far as I could tell, no one had noticed anything.

I remained at the table and had some more wine.

I was only there for a couple of minutes after Omlo left when Ibronka showed up. She sat down across from me and said, “Well?”

“As far as I know. I imagine My Lord the Fox will be a while yet. Meantime, we wait. What shall we chat about?”

“We could discuss what your corpse will look like after it has been left to rot on the beach for a month or two.”

“I’m going to assume that means you’d rather not engage in small talk while we wait.”

Around the time we were having that conversation, Bluey had let himself be caught. If he’d been a Jhereg, it wouldn’t have mattered as much that he didn’t have tagged coins on him—they’d have either planted something on him or beaten him. But he was a Tiassa, so eventually they let him go.

Not fair, if you ask me.

Just to remind you, I didn’t know about any of this at the time. I knew what was supposed to happen, and I learned later what actually did happen, and since at this point they were the same, that’s what I’m telling you, all right? Turn that thing off for a minute, I need some water.

Where was I? Right. Fox-boy was taken and, after an hour or so of questions, released. Meanwhile, Omlo proceeded to his meeting, now carrying several imperials’ worth of tagged gold. The meeting was set for Feorae’s office in the Dragon Wing of the Palace—a bit that pleased me. It’s always worth a little extra to have one on a Dragonlord, even if you can’t let anyone know.

Omlo made it to Feorae’s office pretty close to when he said he would—close enough for a Hawklord, anyway. Omlo pulled out a case, opened it, and carefully removed a lovely silver tiassa with sapphires for eyes. Feorae studied it and tried not to show how excited he was. Omlo accepted six hundred and forty imperials in gold and pushed the case toward Feorae, leaving a little present in it as he did so. He rose, bowed, and left. The good lord Feorae studied his new prize for a few minutes; then, being a conscientious administrator, he put the tiassa back in its case, put the case on a shelf of the room where he kept his treasures, then went back to doing the work the Empire paid him to do.

And he continued doing it until the Phoenix Guards came to see him.

The first I knew of any of this was when Blue arrived at the table. He and Ibronka kissed while I signaled for more wine and another cup. I poured for each of them out of the pitcher.

“Good stuff,” said Fox when he tasted it. “I like the fruit.”

“An Eastern drink,” I said. “Wine, fruit, and fizzy water. Good for hot days.”

“It isn’t all that hot anymore.”

“No, but I imagine it will be before we’re done talking.” He cocked an eyebrow. I asked him how it went.

“Like you said,” he told me. “They said I’d been detected with coins that had been used in a robbery. I was offended. They asked if they could search me. I said they couldn’t. They insisted, and brought in some friends in case I chose to resist. I protested, but gave in to overwhelming numbers—” He chuckled here and exchanged a grin with Ibronka. “—and let them.”

“Of course, they didn’t find any coins.”

“Of course not.”

“Must have made them suspicious, what with you running and all.”

He nodded. “I had the impression they didn’t believe me. I was offended.”

“Did you challenge them to a duel?”

“I thought about it. They asked me where I had gotten the coins. I said that if there had been any coins, which I wasn’t admitting, I’d received them from Lord Feorae, who kept them in a small case that also held a silver tiassa. I had no idea why he kept money there, and I did not choose to tell them what I was being paid for.”

“Perfect.”

“What happens now?”

“If everything goes right, Omlo should come strutting in like an Amro bull and announce that everything worked.”

Blueboy chuckled. “I can’t imagine the boy strutting.”

“Playing the part. He’s good at it.”

Out on the street, people walked by, mostly Teckla on their way home from menial jobs.

“What did you mean,” said Fox, “about it getting hot. That sounded, uh, what’s the word, love?”

“Ominous,” said Ibronka.

“Right. Ominous.”

“Didn’t mean to be ominous. I was aiming for dire, but with this wind, sometimes my distance shots go wide.”

Omlo appeared just then, still acting the part of the Hawklord, giving Ibronka a bow, Blue-boy a nod, and me a glance; then he sat down without any invitation, stretched, and put his hands behind his neck. I called for another cup and poured him some wine.

“Told you,” I said.

“You were right,” said Blue.

“Care to tell us about it, Lord—uh, I don’t know what name you gave yourself.”

Omlo became himself again. “Chypan, m’lord. It went as you said it would.”

“So he has the tiassa.”

“And the case.”

I nodded. “And by now, the Phoenix Guards have Feorae, and are wondering what to do with him.”

Blue nodded. “Hard to arrest for tagged coins the man in charge of carrying out arrests for possession of tagged coins.”

Omlo said, “Is there any chance—”

“No,” I said. “You’re safe. Though I’d run off and change clothes pretty fast. You wouldn’t want to be recognized by any of our fine law enforcement officers.”

“Yes, m’lord. I’ll be right back.”

“And so,” Foxy said when he’d left, “now we just wait for the results? They get so embarrassed that they stop tagging coins?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“You’re being evasive, Lord Taltos,” said Ibronka.

The Blue Fox frowned at her, then looked at me.

“Pretty,” I said, “and smart, too. You’re a lucky guy.”

His eyes narrowed. “What haven’t you told us?”

“What haven’t you told me?”

“No, you answer our question,” said Ibronka.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t I’ll eviscerate you.”

“All right. I just wanted to be sure you had a good reason.”

She leaned forward and started to say something, but Bluey put a hand on her shoulder, and she sat back, still looking at me. I decided I would really prefer it if she didn’t decide to kill me.

“Right. It’s pretty simple. The whole thing you came to me with was nonsense to begin with.”

“What do you mean?” asked the guy with the funny name.

“The idea of the Empire trying to stop robbery by sorcerously marking coins is reasonable, but you being worried about it isn’t. In a year or two there will be so many tagged coins floating around that they’d go nuts trying to separate the innocent from the guilty.”

“Then why did they do it?”

“They don’t worry about there being a bit of robbery on the highways, they just have to make it look like they’re worried about robbery on the highways, so the merchant Houses don’t raise too much of a fuss. They’re always coming up with ways to try to make the roads safe. Remember when they had teleporting squads of Phoenix Guards? How long did that last? A year? And before that, they tried using ravens to watch the roads. And Phoenix Guards dressed up as merchants. All sorts of crazy things. So I asked myself, why would you even be worrying about it when it will go away by itself?”

Ibronka was staring hard. I ignored her. “So, I wondered what you were really after. I thought it over, and did a little checking. I was wrong about you. I thought you’d made up the part about being a highwayman; but it turns out that you actually were one, a few hundred years ago. I was surprised.”

“So you know who I am,” he said.

“I knew who you were when we met. You’re the Viscount of Adrilankha. That’s why I agreed to do the job in the first place: I thought it would be useful to have your mother owe me a favor. Your father, too, for that matter.”

“I see.” He didn’t look very happy. “Well, I wouldn’t think anyone would owe you a favor if that escapade we just pulled off didn’t do anything. And you’ve just explained why there was no need to convince the Empire to stop tagging coins. So—just what is it that we did?”

I shook my head. “That part’s easy. What bothered me was: Why?”

All expression was gone from his face. He said, “Did you find out?”

“Nothing more than theories.”

“And you think I’m going to tell you.”

“Probably.”

“Careful, Boss. She looks like she’s ready to move.”

“I’ve noticed. Think she’s a sorcerer, too, Loiosh?”

“Don’t know. She’s a Dzur, so probably.”

I felt the weight of Spellbreaker around my left wrist, but left it there.

“The first time we met,” I said, “you were trying to make me attack you.”

“Yeah? Why didn’t you?”

“Because I figured out you wanted me to. I’m just contrary that way.”

“So what does your contrariness want now?”

“There’s an ancient Eastern sport called fox hunting. The best hunters, I’m told, used to have a remarkable collection of tails.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “now isn’t the best time to turn my bait.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“You were saying something about why you think we did whatever you think we did.”

“I know,” I said, choosing my words carefully so that it wouldn’t sound like I was choosing my words carefully, “that people do stupid things. I’ve done stupid things. It happens.”

“What’s your point, Jhereg?”

“Nothing is more stupid than falling in love with a tag.”

His hand jerked toward his blade, but stopped and he sat back. He glared. It was a good glare; I was impressed. I took another chance: “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to call your lover stupid. These things happen.”

He remained motionless, still glaring.

“Tags don’t fall in love,” I said.

He snorted. “Right. Their profession means they aren’t human.”

I ignored the potential confusion over what “human” meant and said, “My mistake. Tags do fall in love. But they don’t fall in love with nums.”

“Nums?”

“Numbers. Clients. It doesn’t happen. That means it’s all one-way.”

“If you’re giving me advice on—”

“Foxy, shut up before you say something stupid. You went out for some fun, and you or your lover or both of you fell for the tag. It happens. But it doesn’t go the other way. Maybe she likes you two, but that’s as far as it goes. That’s as far as it can go. If you don’t figure that out, you’ll both end up more miserable than you already are.”

Ibronka stood up; her hand was shaking. She really wanted to kill me. “Stop it,” I told her. “You’re only upset because you know I’m right. I don’t like you any more than you like me, but I’m telling you the truth. Tags don’t fall for nums. You know that.”

Fox-boy, still glaring, one hand on Ibronka’s arm, said, “If I already know it, why are you saying it?”

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re coming after me.”

“Because you had her beaten, and cursed.”

“Actually, H’noc did, as you know.”

“He works for you.”

“True enough.” I shrugged. “She worked for me, too. And she stole from nums. That’s what happens when you do that. And there are healers, you know. By now—”

“Not the point,” he said.

“No,” I said. “I suppose it isn’t.” I sighed. “You understand, I hope, that you’re an idiot.”

Oddly, that did nothing to reduce the glare he was still sending at me. Fortunately, I’m used to being glared at, and it no longer gives me the night sweats.

I leaned back. “You went through all that work because a tag who stole from a num got slapped around a little. What was my man supposed to do, give her a bonus? So you arrange to have me beaten—nice move, by the way, two for one, and then—what—you wanted to get me arrested? You know what happens if I go down for possession of tagged coins? A fine, a few lashes, maybe a little time. Then I’m right back here. What’s your point, anyway?”

“I’ve heard all I want to,” he said.

“If you’d talked me into attacking you the first time we met, you weren’t even planning to kill me, were you? Just cut me up a bit.” I shook my head. “Like I said, you’re an idiot.”

“If you want to pay in full,” said Ibronka, “it isn’t too late.”

“Yes, it is,” said Blue-boy. “He wouldn’t be talking like this if he didn’t have his people all around us. They’ll cut us down before we have time to draw, love.” He looked at me. “Right?”

I looked back at him and nodded once.

Ibronka said, “It might be worth the attempt.”

The Viscount shook his head.

“Stay alert. If it happens, it’ll be fast.”

“I was about to tell you that, Boss. I’m on the Dzur.”

I signaled for another pitcher. No one had spoken by the time it arrived, but after I’d poured us each another cup, Ibronka sat down. Fox-guy said, “So, what do we do about this?”

“I don’t know. The wine is good. We can just enjoy one another’s company. Talk a little. Exchange thoughts. Do you think any of the new foot-tax will actually end up helping the poor? And just who counts as the ‘poor’ anyway? Or we could talk about the new Botanical Garden they’re building near the Tsalmoth Wing. I’d like to see a section of roses. What would you like?”

Ibronka said, “I think I have a good chance of taking your head off before your people drop me.”

“Okay, then, you pick the topic.”

“Or maybe instead of taking it off, I’ll split it down the middle. Like a melon, you know? If I do it just right, both halves will sort of tilt away from each other. It’s the cutest thing.”

“I’d be sad to miss it.”

“There’s something I’m not getting,” said the guy in the blue cloak. “You’ve set up this meeting. You don’t want to kill us, or you wouldn’t do it this way, but you can certainly protect yourself. Or you at least think you can, which is the same thing.”

“Philosophically, that’s—”

“So, why are we here?”

“We really are getting philosophical, aren’t we?”

“You enjoy banter as much as I do, but you’ve just been…” He cocked his head, then straightened up suddenly. “You’re waiting for something.” He stood. “Let’s go, love.”

“Too late,” I observed, gesturing over Foxy’s left shoulder at the gentleman who was approaching. He wore the black and silver of the House of the Dragon, and had the high cheekbones and characteristic bridged nose. His eyes were dark, and he didn’t look altogether pleased.

As he approached, I rose and bowed. “Lord Feorae, I presume.”

“You presume wrong,” he said coldly. “My name is Donnel, and I have the honor to serve the Lord High Investigator of Adrilankha.”

I nodded to Blue-boy. “The Lord High Investigator is Feorae. This guy works for him.”

“I picked up on that.”

“Of course you did.” I turned back to Donnel. “I am Vl—”

“I know who you are,” he said. His voice hadn’t warmed up. “That was a nice move you made. My lord the Lord High Investigator is at present entangled with the Phoenix Guards. It will take some time to get that straightened out. In the meantime, you, Jhereg, may come along with me now, or wait until the Phoenix Guards appear to escort you. But I assure you, if you wait for them, it will be more unpleasant for you.”

I felt my eyebrows climb. “Me? What did I do?”

“You didn’t think we could trace the coins?”

I sighed. “I had hoped not.”

Foxy chuckled. “Not what you were hoping for, perhaps? The wrong person getting arrested?”

I shrugged. “You take your best shot. I’ll live.”

Donnel turned to the Fox. “And as for you, sir, I have nothing to say. This is between you and your father.”

Blue-boy stared off into space. “My father will understand. My mother will be disappointed, however.” Then he turned to me. “Have a pleasant time with the magistrates, Lord Taltos.”

I stood and unbuckled my sword belt, passing the rapier over to the constable. To Foxy I said, “Can I expect you to be at the flogging, at least? It will help to look into your smiling face.”

“Sorry,” he said, “public punishments aren’t my thing.”

“I’ll be there,” said Ibronka. “If they give you more than fifty. Otherwise it isn’t worth my time.”

I smiled. “When I’m done with this, maybe we’ll finish our conversation.”

“Maybe we will,” said Foxy.

“Loiosh, take off; it’ll save trouble.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.” He launched himself from my shoulder and flew in a high circle before heading back toward my part of the city.

Donnel took hold of my arm above the elbow. I wanted to glance back at the Blue Fox and Ibronka, but I resisted the temptation.

Donnel led me away.

Chapter 5

As we got around the corner, Kragar said, “Where to now, Vlad?”

I jumped, cursed, and said, “Back to the office. You can send the muscle home.”

“All right.”

“Omlo, you can break character now; we’re safe.”

My captor released me and said, “Yes, my lord.” He handed me back my sword belt and I strapped it on.

“See there? You didn’t even die.”

“When they looked at me, I was sure they could see through my disguise.”

“You managed it,” I said. “And even if you hadn’t, I had a few people there, ready to jump in.” There was no reason to tell him that the people were there to keep me alive, and would probably have let him get cut to pieces.

We made it back to the office without incident, and Cawti was waiting there. I suggested everyone sit down.

“Very cute,” said Kragar.

“What?”

“The stupid grin on your face when you saw your assassin.”

“Her name is Cawti,” I said. “And the only reason I don’t kill you is that I’m going to let her have the pleasure.”

“Sometime,” she agreed, “when you aren’t expecting it.”

“Not until you’re married, I hope. I wouldn’t want to miss the wedding.”

“Oh, of course,” she said.

“Goodness, Vlad. She even has your threatening smile.”

“It’s an Eastern thing.”

I sat down behind my desk.

Omlo said, “My lord? Is it over?”

I nodded. “Yes. All finished. At least for a while.”

“A while?” said Kragar.

“Until Foxy and his little friend figure out that I haven’t been arrested and won’t be fined and flogged. Then they might come back for me. Or maybe not. And you,” I added, addressing Omlo, “should expect a visit from the Phoenix Guards.”

“I—”

“Don’t worry. You delivered some gold from the Viscount of Adrilankha to a Hawklord named, uh, whatever you called yourself. You received three copper pieces for this service. That’s all you know. They won’t spend much time with you.”

“My lord,” said Omlo, “can you explain?”

“Explain what?”

“Why we just did, ah, whatever it was we did.”

“Oh. Our friend the Fox wanted me arrested and flogged and such because I owned the brothel where Neritha was beaten. They had an attachment to her. So we just convinced them that I’ve been arrested.”

“But then, if it was all a fake, why did we go through all of that with Lord Feorae?”

“In the second place, to make it look good. In the third, just because it’s fun to mess with the Phoenix Guards. In the first, because when Feorae sorts everything out, they’ll do a trace, and the trail will lead back to you, and then to His Excellency the Viscount of Adrilankha, also known as the Blue Fox.”

“But you—”

“I never touched the bag of gold,” I said.

“Boss, you’re really irritating when you’re smug.”

“Shut up.”

Omlo considered this. “What happens then?”

“To him? Nothing. But word will get back to his mother and father, and now they owe me, because they’ll know I could have made things uncomfortable and embarrassing for all of them, and I didn’t.”

“When,” said Kragar, “did you figure out they didn’t really want to hire you about the tagged coins?”

“It didn’t make sense from the beginning,” I said. “What’s the point of working to beat a system that will collapse on its own? He had to be setting me up for something. I suppose I wasn’t absolutely sure about it until I saw your report on him, and learned he hadn’t been a highwayman for a long time.”

“And how does this fit in with Byrna?”

“My guess is they went looking for someone who was in trouble with me. It shouldn’t be too hard to find if you’re willing to be friendly, spend money, and listen a lot in the right places.”

Cawti said, “You know, Vlad, we really need to be aware that, once they realize what you pulled, they will come after us again.”

I very much liked that “we” and “us.” I said, “Maybe. But I have a theory that getting me in hot water was secondary. The main thing they wanted was something else, and they’ll get that.”

Kragar knew what his job was: “What’s that?” he asked.

“The next order of business. Omlo, unless you have more questions, I won’t need you for this part. It’s just as well you don’t know about it.”

He stood and bowed. “You have my thanks, my lord.”

“I’ll see you on the stage,” I said.

He smiled and backed out, still bowing—like you do for royalty. Nice touch, I thought.

When he’d gone, Kragar said, “Well?”

“The last bit is firing H’noc.”

“For what?”

“For trying to have me beaten.”

Cawti nodded. Kragar frowned. “When did he do that?”

“A few days ago. I didn’t mention it because it didn’t work out for him.”

“How do you know it was him?”

“Because nothing else makes sense. Who else has a reason to attack me?”

“Everyone who knows you, Vlad. But what reason does he have?”

“Fox-boy got him to do it. I don’t know, a bribe or a threat. I’ll confirm it before I actually fire him.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He was the one who actually beat Neritha, so Fox-boy and Ibronka are going to want him to pay. What better way to make him pay than to have me do it for them?”

“Oh,” said Kragar. “And he could be that sure you’d figure it out?”

“Yeah. He studied me enough to know I’m not an idiot.”

“I guess I should study you more.”

“Heh.”

Cawti said, “Can I help with the firing?”

“Sure. You and Kragar can escort me there, and then hang around outside and make sure I’m not interrupted.”

“When are we doing this?” asked Kragar.

“Now,” I said, and stood up.

On the way over, Kragar said, “When you fire H’noc, who are you going to get to run the place?”

“You want it?”

“No.”

“Think Melestav will want it?”

“I doubt it.”

“Maybe Tessie.”

“He’d be good. Experienced.”

“Yeah.”

We reached the Couches and I walked in like I owned the place, partly on account of I did. The muscle at the door was someone I didn’t recognize, but he evidently recognized me. He bowed and said, “My lord, how may I—”

“H’noc,” I said. “Here. Now.” There were a couple of nums hanging around, drinking and waiting to pick out their tags. They looked at me. I didn’t much care.

He went off to get H’noc. I told the two nums that the business was closed for now, but they were welcome back tomorrow. I suggested that they leave right away. The Dragonlord looked like he might want to make an issue of it, but then he just shrugged and left. When they were gone, I moved to the back of the room and leaned against the wall, looking tough. H’noc arrived at once, flanked by the tough guy who’d been at the door, and another, taller and broader and equally dangerous-looking. I said, “You two: Go.”

They looked at H’noc for instructions. I said, “Don’t look at him, look at me. I’m saying to go away. Do it now.”

They hesitated. Then first one and then the other turned and walked away. H’noc said, “My lord, if I have somehow—”

“Let’s take a walk,” I said.

Cawti and Kragar were behind us as I led him around to an alley behind the Couches; then they pulled back out of sight. H’noc didn’t look altogether happy.

I drew and placed the point of my weapon under his chin. “You,” I said, “are fired. Depending on how you answer my question, you might also be dead. Do you want to be dead? I think you don’t want to be dead. If I’m wrong, tell me. Do you want to be dead?”

Ask someone a question with an obvious answer, and then insist he answer you. It’s kind of humiliating, because it drums home to the guy just what position he’s in. I know a few tricks like that, and I keep learning more.

H’noc said, “Ask your question.”

“How did he talk you into it?”

He looked even less happy than he had, but he glared instead of cowering. Good decision: if neither is going to do any good, you might as well take your best shot at not being laughed at.

I pressed a little with my rapier. His head went back and a bead of blood appeared and ran down his neck. I said, “I know you wouldn’t do it for money, not from a civilian. So what was it?”

“If I tell you, I get to live?”

“Yes.”

“All right. He said if I didn’t he’d shut me down.”

“Now, just how was he going to do that?”

“His mother is the Countess of Whitecrest.”

“He used his family influence? That’s cheating. Why didn’t you think to come to me with this problem?”

“My place, my problem.”

“My place,” I said. “Though right now I agree it’s your problem, too.”

He made a point of glancing down the length of my blade, then back up to meet my eyes. “Seems like,” he said.

“All right,” I said. “That’s all I need to know.”

“He said you wouldn’t find out. Ooops, I guess.”

“I guess.”

I’d told him that if he answered my question, he’d get to live. But, like I said, I lie sometimes.