The Book of Jhereg (68 page)

“
They aren’t mad at you, boss
.”

“
Eh?
”

“
They’re mad at Herth for doing it, and maybe at themselves for having allowed him to
.”

“
How could they have prevented it?
”

“
Don’t ask me
.”

I turned to Paresh, who was closest. “How could you have prevented it?”

He just shook his head. Natalia answered, though, in a strained voice, as if she could barely speak. “We could have built the movement faster and stronger, so they wouldn’t have dared to do this. They should be scared of us by now.”

This wasn’t the time to explain what I thought of that. Instead, I helped them carry Sheryl’s body back to Kelly’s place. We didn’t get more than a few glances as we made our way through the darkening streets. I suppose that says something. The three of them acted as if I should feel honored that they were allowing me to help. I didn’t comment on that, either. We left the body in the hallway while they went in and I left without saying anything.

On the way over to Noish-pa’s I was taken with the irrational fear that I would find him murdered. I’ll save you the suspense and tell you that he was fine, but it’s interesting that I felt that way.

As I walked past the chimes he called out, “Who is there?”

“Vlad,” I said.

We hugged and I sat down next to Ambrus. Noish-pa puttered around putting on tea and talking about the new spice dealer he’d found who still soaked absinthe in mint-water for a fortnight, the way it was supposed to be done. (A fortnight, if you’re interested, is one day less than three weeks. If you think that’s a peculiar period of time for which to have a special term, I can’t blame you.)

When the tea was done and appreciated and I had made a respectful hello
to Ambrus while Noish-pa did the same to Loiosh, he said, “What troubles you, Vladimir?”

“Everything, Noish-pa.”

He looked at me closely. “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

“No.”

“For our family, that is a bad sign.”

“Yes.”

“What has happened?”

“Do you remember that fellow, Franz, who was killed?”

He nodded.

“Well,” I said, “there’s another one. I was there when they found her body just now.”

He shook his head. “And Cawti is still with these people?”

I nodded. “It’s more than that, Noish-pa. They’re like children who’ve found a Morganti dagger. They don’t know what they’re doing. They just keep going about their business as if they could stand up to the whole Jhereg, not to mention the Empire itself. That wouldn’t bother me if Cawti weren’t one of them, but I just can’t protect her; not forever. I was standing outside their meeting place when the messenger showed up to tell them where to find the body—or so I assume. But he could just as easily have been a sorcerer and destroyed the entire house and everyone in it. I know the guy behind it—he’d do it. They don’t seem to understand that and I can’t convince them.”

After I’d run down, Noish-pa shifted in his chair, looking thoughtful. Then he said, “You say you know this man, who is doing these things?”

“Not well, but I know of him.”

“If he can do this, why hasn’t he?”

“It hasn’t been worth his effort, yet. It costs money and he won’t spend more than he has to.”

He nodded. “I’m told they had a gathering yesterday.”

“What? Oh, yeah. In a park near here.”

“Yes. They had a parade, too. It went by. There were a lot of people.”

“Yes.” I thought back to the park. “A few thousand, anyway. But so what? What can they do?”

“Perhaps you should speak to this Kelly again, try to convince him.”

I said, “Maybe.”

After a while he said, “I have never seen you so unhappy, Vladimir.”

I said, “It’s my work, I suppose, one way or another. We play by rules, you know? If you leave us alone, we’ll leave you alone. If somebody gets hurt who isn’t part of the organization, it means he was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. That isn’t our fault, that’s just how it is. Kelly’s people did that—they butted in where they shouldn’t have. Only they didn’t, really. They—I don’t know. Damn them to Verra’s dungeons, anyway. Sometimes I wish I could just complete Herth’s job for him, and sometimes I’d like to—I don’t know what. And you know, I can’t even get a good enough feel for Herth to send him for a walk. I’m too tied up in this. I ought to hire someone to do it for me, but I
just
can’t
. Don’t you see that? I have to—” I blinked. I’d been rambling. I’d lost Noish-pa some time before. I wondered what he thought of all that.

He looked at me with a somber expression on his face. Loiosh flew over onto my shoulder and squeezed. I drank some more tea. Noish-pa said, “And Cawti?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she feels the same way, and that’s why she found these people. She killed me, you know.”

His eyes widened. I said, “That’s how we met. She was hired to kill me and she did. I’ve never killed an East—a human. She has. And now she’s acting as if—never mind.”

He studied me, and I suppose he remembered our last conversation, because he asked, “How long have you been doing this, Vladimir? This killing of people.”

He sounded genuinely interested in the answer, so I said, “Years.”

He nodded. “It is perhaps time that you thought about it.”

I said, “Suppose I’d joined the Phoenix Guard, if they’d have me. One way or another, that’s killing people for money. Or enlisted in some Dragonlord’s private army, for that matter. What’s the difference?”

“Perhaps there is none. I have no answer for you, Vladimir. I only say that perhaps it is time you thought about it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m thinking about it.”

He poured more tea and I drank it and after a while I went home.

I
REMEMBER THE WALL
of Baritt’s Tomb.

It wasn’t really a tomb, you understand; there was no body inside. The Serioli go in for tombs. They build them either underground or in the middle of mountains, and they put dead people in them. It seems weird to me. The Dragaerans sometimes build monuments to dead big shots like Baritt, and when they build one they call it a tomb because it looks like what the Serioli use and because Dragaerans aren’t too bright.

Baritt’s Tomb was huge in every dimension, a grey slate monstrosity, with pictures and symbols carved into it. It was stuck way out in the east, high up in the Eastern Mountains near a place where Dragaerans trade with Easterners for Eastern red pepper and other things. I got stuck in the middle of a battle there once. I’ve never forgotten how it felt. One army was made up of Easterners who died, the other was made up of Teckla who died. On the Dragaerans’ side were a couple of Dragonlords who were never really in any danger. That’s one memory that stays with me. No one was going to hurt Morrolan or Aliera, and they laid about themselves like pip-squeak deities. The other thing I remember was watching all of this happen and almost chewing my lip off from helplessness.

The venture wasn’t useless, you understand. I mean, Morrolan got a good fight, Sethra the Younger got Kieron’s greatsword while Aliera got one more her size, and I got to learn that you can never go home. But in the battle itself there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to be one of the Teckla or one of the Easterners who were falling like ash from Mount Zerika. I didn’t, so I just watched.

That’s what came back to me now. Every time I feel helpless, in fact, that memory returns to haunt me. Each scream from each wounded Easterner, or even Teckla, remains with me. I know that Dragons consider assassination to be less “honorable” than butchering Easterners, but I’ve never quite understood why. That battle showed me what futility was, though. So many deaths for such a small result.

Of course, I finally did . . . something—but that’s another tale. What I remember is the helplessness.

Cawti wasn’t speaking to me.

It wasn’t that she refused to say anything, it was more that she didn’t have anything to say. I walked around the house in bare feet all morning, swatting halfheartedly at jhereg who got in my way and staring out various windows hoping one of them would show something interesting. I threw a couple of knives at our hall target and missed. Eventually I collected Loiosh and walked over to my office, being very careful all the way.

Kragar was waiting for me. He looked unhappy. That was all right; why should he be any different?

“What is it?” I asked him.

“Herth.”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t have a mistress, he doesn’t eat soup, and he never takes a—”

“What do you mean? You can’t find out anything about him?”

“No, I tracked him pretty well. The good news is that he isn’t a sorcerer. But other than that, he’s like you; he doesn’t have any regular schedule. And he doesn’t have an office; he works right out of his home. He never visits the same inn twice in a row, and I haven’t found any pattern at all to his movements.”

I sighed. “I half expected that. Well, keep on it. Eventually something will show up. No one lives a completely random life.”

He nodded and walked out.

I put my feet up on the desk, then took them down again. I got up and paced. It hit me once more that Herth was planning to send me for a walk. There was probably someone out there, right now, trying to pin down my movements so he could get me. I looked out my office window but I didn’t see anyone standing in the street opposite my door holding a dagger. I sat down again. Even if I managed to get Herth first, whoever it was had still taken the money, was still committed to getting me. I shivered.

There was one thing, at least: I could relax about Cawti for a while. Herth had given them another subtle warning. He wouldn’t do anything else until he saw what effect that had. This meant that I could work on keeping myself alive. How? Well, I could gain some time by killing whoever was after me, which would force Herth to go to the bother of finding another assassin.

Good idea, Vlad. Now, how you gonna do it?

I thought of a way. Loiosh didn’t like it. I asked him if he had any other suggestions and he didn’t. I decided to do it at once, before I could consider how stupid it was. I got up and walked out of the office without speaking to anyone.

* * *

Loiosh tried to spot him as I wandered around the neighborhood, checking on my businesses, but didn’t manage. Either I wasn’t being followed, or the guy was skilled. I spent the late morning and early afternoon at this. My own effort wasn’t so much directed at spotting my assassin as at looking as if I felt safe. Trying to appear calm under such circumstances is not easy.

Finally, as the afternoon wore on, I headed back for the Easterners’ section.
There, at the same time as I had on the previous two days, I stationed myself near Kelly’s headquarters and I waited. I had no more than passing interest in who went in and out of there, but I noticed that it was quite active. Cawti showed up with my friend Gregory, each of them carrying large boxes. Easterners and Teckla I didn’t recognize ran in and out of the place all day. As I said, though, I didn’t watch too closely. I was waiting for the assassin to make his move.

This was not the perfect place to get me, you understand; I was mostly hidden by the corner of a building and could see nearly everywhere around me. Loiosh watched over my head. But it was the only place I’d been going to at a regular time over the past few days. If I could keep this up, he’d realize that it was his best shot at me. He’d take it, and maybe I could kill him, which would give me a rest while Herth found someone else.

The unfortunate part was that I had no idea when he’d move. Staying alert for an attack for several hours is not easy, especially when what you want is to go charging out and hurt someone just for the sake of doing so.

Easterners and Teckla continued to come and go from Kelly’s place. As the afternoon wore on, they would leave carrying large stacks of paper. One of them, a Teckla I didn’t recognize, had a pot and brushes as well as the sheets of paper, and he started gluing them up on the walls of buildings. Passersby stopped to read them, then went on their way.

I spent several hours there and the presumed assassin never showed. That was all right; he probably wasn’t in a hurry. It was also possible he had a better idea for where to shine me. I was especially careful as I began to walk home. I arrived without incident.

Cawti still wasn’t home when I dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The next day I got up without waking her. I cleaned up the place a bit, made some klava, and sat around drinking it and shadow-fencing. Loiosh was involved in some sort of deep conversation with Rocza until Cawti got up a bit later and took her out. Cawti left without saying a word. I stayed around the house until late in the afternoon, when I went back to that same spot.

The previous day I’d noticed that Kelly’s people had seemed busy. Today the place was empty. There was no activity of any kind. After a while, I carefully left my little niche and looked at one of the posters they’d been gluing up the day before. It announced a rally, to be held today, and said something about ending oppression and murder.

I thought about finding the rally but decided I didn’t want to deal with one of those again. I went back to my spot and waited. It was just about then that they began to show up. Kelly came back first, along with Paresh. Then several I didn’t recognize, then Cawti, then more I didn’t recognize. Most of them were Easterners, but there were a few Teckla.

They kept coming, too. There was a constant stream of traffic through that little place, and still more milling around outside. It made me so curious that a couple of times I caught myself paying more attention to them than to the
probable assassin who was probably watching me. This would be—what?—the fourth day I’d stationed myself there. If the assassin were reckless, he’d have taken me on the third. If he were exceptionally careful, he’d wait another couple of days, or for a place more to his liking. What would I have done? Interesting question. I would either have waited for a better place, or made my move today. I almost smiled, thinking of it that way. Today is the day I would have killed myself if I’d been paid to.