Hawk

7

It wasn’t, really. I mean, it wasn’t anything exciting, dangerous, or even terribly interesting. I made my way to the Palace district and looked up an advocate named Perisil I’d had dealings with before. After a few pleasantries, he asked what I wanted.

I said, “I’ve come up with a way to eavesdrop on psychic communication. I need to make sure it’s illegal.”

He blinked at me. “You need it to be illegal?”

“If I’m going to sell it to-never mind. Can you find a way in which it’s against the law?”

He coughed. “Several, probably.”

“Good. I like having options. Run them down for me?”

“This is outside my field.”

“I know. But I need help.”

We went back and forth for a while, until he said, “I think what you want will be in the Imperial trade laws.”

“All right. Can you point me toward an expert on Imperial trade laws?”

He shook his head. “There aren’t any experts. It’s too complicated.”

“Then-”

“Here. Let me look something up.”

He found a book among his shelves, paged through it, nodded, and showed me a passage.

“Um.”

“I’ll explain,” he said.

He explained about the relationship between Imperial Secrets and commerce, and I nodded. “That’ll do it,” I said. “Can I borrow that?”

He put a bookmark in the page and handed me the book. I thanked him, and paid him for his time. I’d never before paid so much to sit and listen to someone talk. On the other hand, I had employed tags who made more for that service.

Loiosh and Rocza guided me back to the tunnel into my-that is, Kragar’s office.

Kragar said, “Should I order in some food? Sorry.”

“Bastard,” I said, and sat down again. “Yes. I’ll cover it. Jesco’s?”

“Someplace you’ve never eaten. Just in case.”

“Good idea.”

We ended up with a big bowl of rice with saffron and duck. I’d never had it before, and liked it a lot; Loiosh expressed the opinion that we should never eat anything else ever again. We sat around, ate, talked, and it hit me that I missed the times Kragar and I used to just sit and talk; and that, whatever happened, there wouldn’t be many more occasions like this. Then I stopped thinking about it-that’s the sort of crap that can get you killed. Kragar came up with a bottle of a white wine from Guinchen that I’d never had before. He put his feet up on my desk.

“We’ve been through some shit here, haven’t we?” he said.

“Shut up.”

He looked amused but didn’t say anything.

“I need to figure out a way to see my kid,” I said.

He rubbed his lower lip. “Shouldn’t it wait until this is over?”

“Too much chance I’ll be dead by then.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Vlad.”

“What, fatalistic? I’ve always been a fatalist.”

“No, you’ve always talked like a fatalist. You’ve never acted like one.”

“Asshole,” I said.

He smirked and poured wine, then shut up and let me think.

Every time something in the Jhereg changes, everyone gets nervous and starts looking around. All negotiations come down to a balancing act between making trouble you don’t need and can’t afford, and looking weak. How much do you let someone push you around? How much pushing do you do? Where do you draw the line? Once negotiations are over and settled, everyone relaxes, because then you can get back to just doing business-until another ripple comes through that means there’s more or less of some limited and valuable thing, and everyone has to settle who gets how much.

I intended to cause a pretty big splash.

A little later Kragar raised his glass to me, drained it, and left me to decide on the next step.

Sorry. Left us to decide on the next step. Loiosh, as it happened, had a lot to say on the subject, none of it productive. I’ll spare you the details. In the end, we went out through the tunnel and I found Kiera’s drop spot, and, as promised, the lockpick was there. It fit neatly into my palm-just a pretty usual-looking hook pick, very small. It felt a little cold, and I might have sensed some magic in it if I weren’t wearing the Phoenix Stone. I was sure it would work; I could find my own torsion wrench easily enough. I wanted to take a moment to study it, but I was outside and nervous, so I went back into the tunnel, and emerged once more in Kragar’s office.

There were a couple of lounging toughs keeping track of the place. They nodded to me and I nodded back. I turned toward the room I was sleeping in and stopped, staring. After a moment, I said, “Hello, Cawti.”

“Hello, Vlad.”

“How did you know to find me here?”

“Kragar sent me a message.”

“Oh. Where is-”

“Norathar is watching him.”

I nodded, then wasn’t sure what to say.

She said, “We’re going to try to set up a time for you to see him, but I wanted-”

“I understand,” I said. “All right. Uh, should we sit down?”

“Probably.”

We found a couple of chairs. I was weirdly aware of the distance between us as we carried them into an empty room.

“You had an Imperial Guardsman outside your house.”

Her lips tightened and she nodded. “I’m working on that.”

“There were also a couple of Jhereg.”

“Wait. You were there?”

“Yeah. Three days ago.”

“They tried to kill you?”

“Yeah.”

“Outside of my house?”

I nodded. “Where my son lives.” I released the arm of the chair and flexed my hand.

Her nostrils flared. I could see her register the information-the threat to her, the threat to Vlad Norathar. Her jaw tightened.

I said, “I’m working on it, but-”

I broke off and waited. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry, Vladimir, but it isn’t safe for you to try to see him anymore.”

I nodded.

Her eyes were deep-set, and such a warm brown. I said, “I’m starting a project. I need to fix this.”

“Is this project related to the rumors I’ve heard?”

“What do the rumors say?”

“There’s a lot of money involved.”

After working to get the rumors started, I guess I couldn’t complain that they were floating around. “And that’s what brought you here?”

“No, seeing you brought me here.”

“All right.”

“Vladimir, what are you working on?”

“A plan. If it works, it’ll get the Jhereg off me. For good.”

It crossed my mind that, even if this didn’t work, it was worth the effort just for the look on the face of everyone I told.

“Can you do it?” she said.

“I think so.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes. Go somewhere safe until this is over. Don’t let anything happen to the boy, or yourself. That will take a huge load off my mind. It will help.”

I’m pretty sure that isn’t what she had in mind when she offered to help, but after a moment, she nodded. “I’ll go stay with Norathar.”

“Perfect,” I said. Then, “How’s the boy?”

“As well as he was a month ago. He may be starting to miss you.”

I felt a smile grow. “Good.”

She gave me that pressed-lip smile that means she’s pretending to think it isn’t funny. There was a moment, but then I looked away and so did she.

Let’s just not dwell on it, okay?

“What else is going on?”

She filled me in on details, mostly antics about Vlad Norathar, which I’d tell you about, because they prove what a remarkable kid he is, but they’re private so you’ll just have to trust me. Eventually, Cawti said that she should be going.

I nodded. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” she said.

I avoided watching her walk away, because that would have just made everything worse. After she’d left, I sat there for a while. I could have thanked Loiosh for not saying anything, but it wasn’t necessary. Once again, though for different reasons, it took me a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Look at it this way: An organization like the Jhereg operates by supplying things that people want but the law doesn’t want them to have, or that are cheaper or better in their illegal versions. The Jhereg has a reputation for using violence casually and effectively. Speaking as someone who spent years providing that violence, I can say that the effectively part is true, but the casually part is a little exaggerated.

There are reasons for the violence, and also reasons for it to be exaggerated. People who break the law every day tend to be a bit casual about smacking someone with the hilt of a dagger or breaking his leg with a lepip. You learn to be casual about it by being around it, or you’re around it because you’re the sort of person who doesn’t mind that, or both. Also, since we-pardon me, they-can’t count on the Empire to make sure everyone in the organization follows the rules, they have to do it themselves. Last, on the rare occasions someone not in the Jhereg comes into conflict with their interests, it’s useful to have a reputation for ruthlessness. If you scare someone enough, you usually don’t have to do the thing he’s afraid of.

That’s where the violence comes from, and why it serves the Jhereg’s interest for it to be exaggerated. But remember that violence costs money-either because you’re paying someone to commit the violence, or because the existence of violence is bad for business, or both.

See, what a Jhereg wants is money. Money lets you live better, keeps you safe, and lets everyone know how good or important you are in case that’s what matters to you. You need violence-or the threat of violence-to protect the money, but it’s the money that matters. That’s what I was counting on.

It isn’t that simple, though.

Suppose you’re running a few gambling operations and maybe a brothel or two and handling some loans. Someone comes into your area and messes up a game, robs a brothel, and threatens your people. If he then comes up to you and wants to make it right by paying you money, you aren’t going to be inclined to take it. Money’s good, but not if everyone around sees him pushing you around and getting away with it-that sort of thing will see you out of business fast. And maybe out of business in the permanent, embalming-gloss-on-your-skin sort of way.

Of course, the guy might offer you so much money that you’d consider taking it anyway. But it would have to be boatloads of gold. I mean big boats: the real cargo skybenders, not the canal skiffs.

That was, more or less, the position I’d gotten myself into, except that I didn’t have big boatloads of gold. Instead, I had something I hoped was just as good.

If I was wrong, I’d find out.

* * *

I slept well enough to make me realize that sleep had been rough for the last few years. It was good. I smelled klava, which brought me into Kragar’s office, where he grunted and pointed me to a covered glass. It was still hot.

I didn’t remember Kragar being unpleasant in the morning, but that may have been because I’d been the boss, or else because he never used to get in that early. In any case, he didn’t say a word, so I took my klava off and spent some quality time sharpening my cutlery. When I was done, I practiced a few draws-left sleeve to right hand, left boot, cloak both sides, and right-hand shoulder. I was horribly out of practice.

A couple of hours later I was less out of practice-some things come back pretty quickly. Kragar had a target set up, which let me throw some knives at things that weren’t trying to hurt me, and I did all right.

All in all, I was feeling a little better about my ability to survive. I was considering what my next move should be when the Jhereg made it for me.

I mean, as horribly unsafe places go, I figured I was in a fairly safe one: they couldn’t get at me while I was in Kragar’s office except by buying someone or infiltrating someone. Oh, I suppose they could have staged a military-style assault or blown up the building, but, seriously, they don’t do that kind of thing. The Empire gets touchy about it. So, yeah, I figured I was fairly safe, Loiosh’s snide remarks to the contrary.

I was pacing back and forth in the room I slept in, talking over details of my plan with Loiosh, when I heard excited voices and heavy boots from just outside the door. I touched Lady Teldra’s hilt and ran toward the sounds.

I counted six of Kragar’s people standing in front of the desk that Melestav used to sit at before I killed him. Two of them had weapons out, the rest were staring at the floor. There was a lot of blood on the floor. And a body.

“All right,” one of them said. “He’s safe here. Find a healer.”

He?

I started to get closer, but one of the bodyguards gave me a look, so I changed my mind.

I said, “Is it Kragar?”

The bodyguard was a broad-shouldered guy with thin lips and a tall forehead. He hesitated, then nodded.

“How is he?” I said.

“Took one in the back, got his heart. He’s still breathing. We’ve sent for a physicker.”

“How did they even notice him?”

The guy shrugged.

“Where did they get him?”

“Malak Circle.”

I moved forward; this time he let me.

Kragar was facedown, and, yeah, he was still breathing, but that was a kill-shot. I should know; I’ve made enough of them. It was just a matter of time, and not very much of it. I didn’t think there was anything a physicker could do. It’s really hard to get someone with a knife, point-first, one shot, and make it a kill. Just because I’ve done it so often doesn’t mean it’s easy. This was done by someone who knew what he was doing.

For a long, long moment I just stood there, paralyzed, staring at him. Then I stirred. Dying, but not yet dead. Maybe, maybe. I drew Lady Teldra and everyone spun to me.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Just a precaution. Drop the teleport block.”

They didn’t look reassured. Or agreeable to my idea. One of them started to speak. I said, “There’s no time to argue. Do it.”

Still holding Lady Teldra, I slipped the amulet off my neck and put it away. I could hear Loiosh start to say something, and then stop as he recognized the futility.

Yeah, right then, in various places around Adrilankha, sorcerers-and probably hired sorceresses-were going, “Oh, so that’s where he is.”

So what.

I put the amulet into its case and recalled a certain face, and voice, and, above all, attitude. She was short, bad-tempered, very good at any number of things.

“Vlad? I’m rather busy just at the-”

“Aliera, Kragar is hurt. Dying.”

“Yes?” she said. “And?”

“And I need to save him.”

“Best of luck with that.”

“Aliera.”

“What?”

“It’s Kragar.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“Aliera, he was hit because he’s been helping me.”

There was a pause. Then a psychic sigh. “Are you with him?”

“Yes.”

The was a pop of displaced air, and she said, “Fine, then. But you owe me.”

Before she was done talking, Kragar’s bodyguards had drawn their weapons. Aliera gestured, and they all went flying back against the far wall. I don’t mean the weapons, I mean the bodyguards.

“It’s all right,” I told them. “She’s here to help. And owe you? What about saving your life?”

“My life is nothing,” she said. “This is humiliating.”

The bodyguards stood up. They still had their weapons out, and were watching Aliera, but not moving.

“Fine,” I said. “I owe you.”

She nodded.

“Guys,” I said. “Put the weapons away, all right? Seriously. Don’t piss off the Dragon. It never ends well.”

The bowlegged one with thick eyebrows said, “Yeah, all right,” and they made their weapons vanish. Aliera paid no attention; she stepped forward and knelt next to Kragar.

She looked him over, then glanced back at me. “You are paying for getting the blood out of this gown.”

I didn’t say anything. In particular, I didn’t point out that Aliera probably had gotten blood on everything she owned at one time or another. Loiosh did, but only to me.

“Nice knife-work,” said Aliera. “And there’s a staydead spell on it, too.”

“A staydead spell?” I said. “Did you just make that up?”

“The term. Not the spell.”

“I kind of like it,” I said. “The term. Not the spell. Can you keep him from dying?”

“Not if you keep distracting me,” she said.

Her fingers dug into Kragar’s back at various points around the knife. Then she slid a hand under his chest, and her shoulders tensed. I felt the swirl of sorcerous energy, which reminded me to put my amulet back on, after which I didn’t feel it anymore. I resheathed Lady Teldra.

“Good work, Boss. Now that they already know exactly where you are, you cleverly vanish, and stay right where you were. That’ll fool ’em.”

I ignored him, Aliera ignored everyone and kept working-pressing her fingers around the wound, mostly; at least, that’s all I could see. I unclenched my hands. A moment later I unclenched them again. I kept watching, waiting.

I almost strained my neck trying to simultaneously stay out of Aliera’s way and watch what she was doing. It was futile because, from what was visible, she wasn’t doing anything. Of course, in reality, she was doing a great deal; I hoped it was enough. Loiosh shifted his weight back and forth on my left shoulder. Sometimes when he does that it means he’s nervous; other times it’s comforting to me. I’m not sure what the difference is, but he always seems to; on this occasion it was a comfort.

I needed some.

Kragar coughed, which I thought was a good sign until Aliera said something un-ladylike and muttered about stupid lungs.

There was a disturbance at the stairway, and lots of weapons were suddenly out-including mine, I discovered. It turned out to be the physicker, who was summarily sent back to where he’d come from. We all put our weapons away. Aliera never stopped working. Or muttering under breath. Her back was to me, but I’d have bet big that she was scowling.

After about three minutes she stopped and glanced back at me. “I’m losing him,” she said.

“Isn’t there anything-”

“Yes, there is. Get everyone out of here.”

When Aliera uses that tone, I don’t argue. The others gave her looks, but shuffled out of the room. She didn’t seem to mind if I stayed, so I did. When they were gone, she fiddled with her necklace and removed a tiny, round stone of dark blue, of a type instantly recognizable to anyone familiar with Elder Sorcery. And to me as well. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Good thing you had everyone leave, Aliera. It wouldn’t do to break the law in front of a bunch of Jhereg thugs.”

She glared at me. “Do you want him saved or not, Vlad?”

“Yes, my lady. Shutting up, my lady.”

She turned her attention back to Kragar.

I took a step closer. She put the stone on the small of his back and as she pressed her fingers into his back, the stone darkened, some red creeping into it, and light played across its surface.

Kragar said, “What-” and screamed.

“Lie still,” said Aliera. “Better, go back to sleep.”

His head dropped back to the floor. Aliera used a term of strong approbation under her breath. “I’d worry about brain damage,” she said, “only-never mind.”

Ten minutes later, I made my contribution to the event: I found a cloth and wiped the sweat from Aliera’s forehead. Glad to help.

“Death is a process,” said Aliera.

“Yeah,” I said.

“In some sense, one could say he’s dead. But what’s really happening is that his heart is unable to pump blood. So I have to artificially force the circulation while repairing it.”

The knife rose about an inch. She kept working.

“There aren’t many sorcerers who could manage to do that while repairing the heart, keeping the arteries intact, preventing the other organs from shutting down, and making certain the pathways from the brain don’t die out before they’re needed again. It isn’t easy. Just so you know.”

“I know,” I said.

A few minutes later she pulled the knife out and set it aside. Blood rushed from Kragar’s back for an instant, but Aliera ran her finger along the wound and it closed up. Then she placed her palm over it and held it there. A moment later, I noticed that the blue stone had vanished.

Aliera sat back. “Done,” she said.

“He isn’t awake.”

“I used a sleep spell. The screaming was annoying.”

“But you can wake him up, can’t you?”

“But then he’ll say something, and I’ll kill him, and all of this work will be wasted.”

“Ah. Well, thank you.”

She nodded and stood up. She gestured toward Kragar and vanished. He stirred.

“Ouch,” he suggested.

“Yeah, I imagine. Be right back. Don’t move.”

I went into the next room-actually, his office-and let his people know that it was safe to come out. They did, giving me odd looks which I ignored.

Kragar turned himself over, then tried to stand up; failed. A couple of his guys helped him up and assisted him to a chair. He looked very, very pale.

“Remember the part about not moving?” I said. “That was moving.”

“What happened?” he said.

The guy with the shoulders picked up the knife and handed it to him. He stared at it, but didn’t touch it. After a moment he looked at me and said, “Did they miss?”

I shook my head. “Aliera,” I said.

“Really?” He laughed, then winced. “She must have loved that. What did you have to promise her?”

“That she could kill you when you were done helping me.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“Kragar, how did they notice you?”

“Vlad, you notice me. Sometimes. Eventually. I mean, it isn’t impossible. Just tricky.”

“Heh. I’d always figured … never mind. Does it hurt?”

“Not really. More like a stiff back than real pain. I’m exhausted, though. Did Aliera leave any instructions?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Of course not. Well, if I keel over, I leave you that funny chair you left me.”

“Who was it? Who got you?”

“How should I know? It was in the back.”

“Other than helping me, have you done anything to piss anyone off?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“All right.”

“Vlad, it isn’t going to help for you to blow your top.”

“I’m not going to-”

“How does your hand feel?”

“My-”

I forced myself to relax the grip on my rapier. Now that I thought about it, the hand was sort of cramping up. Painfully. “My hand is fine,” I said.

“Uh-huh.” He grimaced. “So’s my back. But there’s no point in being mad because they took a shot at me. They know I’m helping you, they want to get you. It’s how things work.” He punctuated it with a shrug, then winced.

“I’m not mad.”

“Or short,” he agreed.

I called him a name; he nodded.

“Give me the knife,” I said.

He looked at me. “You can find who did it?”

“They don’t usually protect against witchcraft. It’s worth trying.”

“Okay, Vlad. But I don’t know what that will give us. It’ll just be hired muscle.”

“I have some ideas.”

“All right. Take it.”

“Is my lab still intact?”

“Never touched it.”

“See you in a while,” I said.

He nodded and closed his eyes.

I started to walk away, stopped, looked at him sitting there. I had all kinds of thoughts and memories. I don’t know how long I stood there.

Eventually, I decided that if he opened his eyes again and saw me there, it’d be uncomfortable for both of us, and Barlen preserve me from ever being uncomfortable.

I walked out and headed down the back stairway.

Back when the office and the area were mine, I’d had a special place in the basement for performing witchcraft, which I called by a traditional Eastern term I don’t understand. It was much as I’d left it, give or take a few layers of dust. I stood there for a few minutes, sneezing at old memories.

“Been a while, Boss. Sure you’re up to this?”

“This is you building my confidence, right?”

“You’re pissed off, and trying to do a spell, that’s-”

“Loiosh, I’m fine. You-”

“This is my job, Boss.”

After a while I said, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? All right.”

“Take some time, Boss.”

“Okay. But we don’t have a lot-”

“We can take half an hour.”

“All right.”

So I sat on the dusty floor and leaned my head back and pretended I was trying to sleep. At least they hadn’t tried to make it a Morganti killing; that was something. Morganti is ugly. That’s how the Jhereg wanted me. Dead, dead, dead: no soul to reincarnate or go to Deathgate, just the end of everything. A big void. I couldn’t conceive of it; I couldn’t help trying.

I remembered a guy named Faloth back in 241. He was an enforcer with more pride than sense, and when he couldn’t pay off his debt, he’d hinted that he’d go to the Empire if he wasn’t left alone. Worse, when he wasn’t left alone, he actually did. He made a serious amount of trouble for a lot of people.

Turns out, the reason he needed the money in the first place was to buy presents for his lover, a Chreotha who had too-expensive tastes. After the Jhereg had threatened him, he started visiting her at different times, and taking different routes; sometimes even teleporting to be really safe. Only he couldn’t teleport, so he had to have it done for him by a sorcerer who lived just one street over from him. I caught him just outside the sorcerer’s door. It was very fast. It has to be. I mean, it always has to be fast, because you don’t want the target to have a chance to fight back. But with a Morganti weapon, it needs to be exceptionally fast, because anyone can sense the power that comes out of those things. You have to keep it in a sheath with special enchantments, and then draw and use it fast. I had the sheath on my left hip for a cross draw. And I was fast enough, taking him in the left eye and into his brain. He looked surprised. They always look surprised.

I don’t know who or what will finally get me, but I’m pretty sure that when it happens I’ll look surprised. And, if it’s Morganti, after that will be nothing, nothing, nothing.

“Okay, Loiosh. I think I’m ready.”

“Let’s go then, Boss.”