The Book of Jhereg (29 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“
That being?
”

“
The ‘distraction’ part
.”

“
What about it?
”

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

“
I know
.”

“
Well, I don’t like it!
”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here we go, I said to myself.

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

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

“
Know your part, Loiosh?
”

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

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

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

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

Good. He was mine, now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least,” I replied, smiling.

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

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

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

I pretended surprise.

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

I turned my back on him and walked away.

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

“
Now, Loiosh!
”

“
On my way, boss
.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“
Now, Aliera!
”

“
Here I come!
”

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

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

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

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

Speaking of too far away . . .

“
Loiosh?
”

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

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

“
But
—”

“
No
.”

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

Good luck, boss
.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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