The Book of Jhereg (33 page)

Loiosh hissed.

“I asked you to desist, Vlad,” said Morrolan sharply.

I dropped it. “I’ll be leaving, then,” I said, bowing my head.

“Very well. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

I nodded. Unfortunately for him, I remembered the remark.

* * *

Do you know what the single biggest difference between a Dragaeran and an Easterner is? It isn’t that they are so much taller and stronger than we are; I’m living proof that size and strength aren’t that important. It isn’t that they live two or three thousand years compared to our fifty or sixty; in the crowd I hang around with, no one expects to die of old age anyway. It isn’t even that they have a natural link with the Imperial Orb that allows them to use sorcery; Easterners (such as my late, unlamented father) can buy titles in the House of the Jhereg, or swear fealty to some noble, move out to the countryside and become a Teckla—thereby becoming citizens and getting the link.

No, the biggest difference that I’ve found is this: a Dragaeran can teleport without feeling sick to his stomach afterwards.

I arrived in the street outside my office about ready to throw up. I took a few deep breaths and waited while my gut settled down. I had had one of Morrolan’s sorcerers do the actual spell. I can do it myself, but I’m not very good; a rough landing makes things even worse.

My offices at this time were on Copper Lane, in back of a small gambling operation, which was in back of a psychedelic herb shop. My offices consisted of three rooms. One was a screening room, where Melestav, my receptionist-bodyguard, sat. To his right was Kragar’s office and the files, and behind Melestav was my actual office. Kragar had a small desk and one hard wooden chair—there wasn’t room for anything else. The screening room had four chairs that were almost comfortable. My desk was a bit bigger than Kragar’s, smaller than Melestav’s, and had a well-padded swivel chair facing the door. Next to the door were two comfortable chairs, one of which would be occupied by Kragar when he showed up.

I told Melestav to let Kragar know I was in and sat down at my desk to wait.

“Uh, boss?”

“Oh.” I sighed as I realized that, once again, Kragar had sneaked in without my seeing him. He claims that he doesn’t do it on purpose—that he’s just naturally sneaky.

“What have you found out, Kragar?”

“Nothing I didn’t tell you before.”

“Okay. Let’s go blow some money.”

“Both of us?”

“No. You stay out of sight, in case they get rude.”

“Okay.”

As we went out I ran a hand through my hair. This let me rub my arm against the right side of my cloak, so I could make sure that various pieces of hardware were in place. With my left hand I adjusted the collar, letting me check a few more on that side.

Out on the street, I gave a quick look around, then walked the block and a half up to Malak Circle. Copper Lane is what is called a one-and-a-half-cart street, which makes it wider than many. The buildings are packed tightly together, and most of them have windows only on the upper stories. Malak Circle is a turnaround, with a fountain that hasn’t worked as long as I can remember. Copper Lane ends there. Lower Kieron Road enters from the left as you approach from Copper Lane, and leaves again, slightly wider, ahead, and to the right.

“Okay, Kragar,” I said, “where—” I stopped. “Kragar?”

“Right in front of you, boss.”

“Oh. Where is it?”

“First door to the left of the Fountain Tavern. Inside, up the stairs, and to the right.”

“Okay, Stay alert.”

“Check.”

“
Loiosh, try to find a window you can look in. If not, just stay in touch
.”

“
Right, boss
.” He flew off.

I went in, up a narrow stairway with no handrail, and came to the top. I took a deep breath, checked my weapons once more, and clapped.

The door opened at once. The guy who stood there was dressed in black and gray for House Jhereg, and had a broadsword strapped to his side. He was damn near seven and a half feet tall and broader than is usual for a Dragaeran. He looked down at me and said, “Sorry, Whiskers. Humans only,” and shut the door. Dragaerans often seem confused about who the “humans” are.

Being called “Whiskers” didn’t bother me—I’d deliberately grown a mustache because Dragaerans can’t. But to be shut out of a game that shouldn’t even be here without my permission displeased me immensely.

I quickly checked the door and found that it was bound with sorcery. I gave a flick of my right wrist and Spellbreaker, two feet of thin gold chain, came
into my hand. I lashed out at the door and felt the spell fail. I put the chain away as the door was flung open again.

The guy’s eyes narrowed and he started moving toward me. I smiled at him. “I’d like to speak to the proprietor, if I may.”

“I see,” he said, “that you’re going to need help getting down the stairs.” He moved toward me again.

I shook my head. “It’s sad that you can’t cooperate with a simple request, dead man.”

He moved in, and my right sleeve dagger was in my hand. Then I was past him, ducking under his arms. Six inches of steel were buried, at an upward angle, between his fourth and fifth ribs, twisted to notch on the sternum. I stepped into the room as I heard vague moaning and coughing noises from behind me, followed by the sound of a falling body. Contrary to popular myth, the guy would probably remain alive for over an hour. But contrary to another popular myth, he would be in shock and so wouldn’t be able to do anything to keep himself alive.

The room was small, with only one window. There were three tables of s’yang stones in action, one with five players, the other two with four. Most of the players seemed to be Teckla, a couple of Jhereg, and there was one Tsalmoth. There were two other Jhereg there, just as Kragar had told me, who seemed to be working for the place. They were both moving at me quickly, one was drawing his sword. Oh me, oh my.

I put a table between myself and one of them, then kicked it over toward him. At that moment, the window broke and Loiosh flew straight at the other. I could forget about that guy for a few minutes, anyway.

The one I’d kicked the table at, scattering coins and stones and customers, stumbled a bit. I drew my rapier and cut his wrist as his arm was flailing around in front of me. He dropped the blade, and I stepped in and kicked him between the legs. He moaned and doubled over. I brought the pommel of my blade down on his head and he dropped.

I moved to the other one. “
Enough, Loiosh. Let him alone, and watch my back
.”

“
Right, boss
.”

The guy tried to get his blade out as I approached and Loiosh left him, but mine was already out. I touched his throat with the point and smiled. “I’d like to speak to the manager,” I said.

He stopped moving. He looked at me coldly, with no trace of fear in his eyes. “He’s not here.”

“Tell me who he is and you’ll live,” I said. “Don’t, and you’ll die.”

He remained silent. I moved the point of my blade up until it was opposite his left eye. The threat was clear: if his brain was destroyed, he wouldn’t be in any condition to be revivified. There was still no sign of fear, but he said, “Laris.”

“Thank you,” I told him. “Lie down on the floor.”

He did so. I turned to the customers. “This place is closed,” I said. They began heading for the door.

At that moment, there was a woosh of displaced air, and five more Jhereg were in the room, swords drawn. Oops. Without a word being spoken, Loiosh was on my shoulder.

“
Kragar, take off
.”

“
Right
”

I drew recklessly on my link and tried to teleport, but failed. I sometimes wish teleport blocks could be outlawed. I lunged at one of them, scattered a handful of sharp pointy things with my left hand, and jumped through the already broken window. I heard cursing sounds behind me.

I tried a quick levitation spell, which must have worked a little bit since landing didn’t hurt. I kept moving, in case they had sharp pointy things, too. I tried the teleport again, and it worked.

I found myself on my back, right outside the door to the shop containing my offices. I threw up.

I climbed to my feet, dusted off my cloak, and went inside. The proprietor was looking at me curiously.

“There’s a mess on the street outside,” I told him. “Clean it up.”

* * *

“Laris, eh boss?” said Kragar a bit later. “One of our next-door neighbors. He controls about ten square blocks. He only has a couple of operations that face our territory, so far.”

I put my feet up on my desk. “More than twice as much area as I have,” I mused.

“It looked like he was expecting trouble, didn’t it?”

I nodded. “So, is he just testing us, or is he really trying to move in on me?”

Kragar shrugged. “Hard to say for sure, but I think he wants to move in.”

“Okay,” I said, sounding a lot calmer than I felt. “Can we talk him out of it, or is it war?”

“Are we up to a war?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I’ve only had my own area for half a year. We should have been expecting something like this. Damn.”

He nodded.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, how many enforcers do we have on our payroll?”

“Six, not counting the ones who are permanently assigned to someplace.”

“How are our finances?”

“Excellent.”

“Then that’s something, anyway. Suggestions?”

He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Vlad. Would it do any good to talk to him?”

“How should I know? We don’t know enough about him.”

“So that,” he said, “ought to be our first step. Find out everything we can.”

“If he gives us time,” I said.

Kragar nodded.

“
We have another problem, boss
.”

“
What’s that, Loiosh?
”

“
I’ll bet you’re really horny, now
.”

“
Oh, shut up
.”

W
HEN I ENTERED THE
organization, some three years before, I was working for a guy named Nielar as what we call a “muscle.” He controlled a small gambling operation on North Garshos Street. He paid his dues to Welok the Blade.

Welok was a sort of mid-level boss. His area went from Potter’s Market Street in the north to Millennial in the south, and from Prance in the west to One-Claw in the east.

All of these areas were pretty tentative and, when I went to work for Nielar, the northern edge, along Potter’s, was
very
tentative. The first time I “worked,” and the third, were to further the Blade’s desire to make this border more certain. His northern neighbor was a peaceable kind of guy named Rolaan, who was trying to negotiate with Welok because he wanted Potter’s but didn’t want a war. Rolaan became more peaceable after he fell from his third-floor office one day. His lieutenant, Feet Charno, was even more peaceable, so the problem was resolved nicely. I’ve always suspected Feet of arranging Rolaan’s death, because otherwise I can’t account for Welok’s leaving Charno alone, but I never found out for sure.

That was three years ago. About then I stopped working for Nielar, and went to work for the Blade himself. The Blade’s boss was Toronnan, who ran things from the docks in the east to the “Little Deathsgate” area in the west, and from the river in the south to Issola Street in the north.

About a year and a half after Rolaan took the trip to Deathsgate Falls, Welok had a dispute with someone in the Left Hand of the Jhereg. I think the someone was working in the same territory as Welok (our interests don’t usually overlap), but I don’t know exactly what the problem was. One day Welok just vanished, and his spot was filled by one of his lieutenants—a guy named Tagichatn, whose name I still can’t pronounce right.

I’d been working as a troubleshooter for the Blade, but this new guy didn’t think much of Easterners. My first day, I walked into his office, a little place on Copper Lane between Garshos and Malak Circle. I explained what I’d been doing for Welok, and asked him if he wanted to be called “lord,” or “boss,” or if I should try to figure out how to say his name. He said, “Call me God-boss,” and we were off.

Inside of a week I loathed him. Inside of a month, another ex-lieutenant of Welok’s broke away and started running his own territory right in the middle of Tagichatn’s. This was Laris.

Two months of “God-boss” was all I could take. Many of us who worked for him noticed that he made no move against Laris. This was taken as a sign of weakness. Eventually, someone either inside or outside of Tagichatn’s organization would make use of this. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t decided to commit suicide—by stabbing himself in the left eye.

He died late one night. That same night I made contact with Kragar, who’d worked with me for Nielar, and off and on for Welok. Recently, Kragar had been working as a bouncer in a tavern on Pier Street. I said, “I just inherited a piece of property. How would you like to help me hold it?”

He said, “Is it dangerous?”

I said, “Damn right it’s dangerous.”

He said, “No thanks, Vlad.”

I said, “You start at fifty gold a week. If we’re still around after two weeks, you get seventy-five plus ten percent of what I make.”

He said, “One hundred after two weeks, plus fifteen percent of the gross.”

“Seventy-five. Fifteen percent of the net.”

“Ninety. Fifteen percent of the net before you split with upstairs.”

“Seventy-five. Ten percent before I split.”

“Done.”

The next morning Tagichatn’s secretary came in and found Kragar and me set up in the offices. I said, “You can work for me if you want. Say yes, and you get a ten percent raise. Say no, and you walk out of here alive. Say yes and try to cross me, and I’ll feed you to the orcas.”

He said no. I said, “See you.”

Then I went to an enforcer named Melestav who also hated our ex-boss and who I’d worked with a couple of times. I’d heard he did “work,” and I knew he was careful. I said, “The boss wants you to be his personal secretary and bodyguard.”