The Book of Jhereg Read online

  The funniest thing about time is when it doesn’t. In those moments when it loses itself, and becomes (as, perhaps, all things must) its opposite, it becomes a thing of even greater power than when it is in its old standard tear-down-the-mountains mood.

  It even has the power to break down the masks behind which hide Dragons turned Jhereg.

  For an instant, then, I looked at Norathar and saw her clearly, she who had once been a Dragonlord. I saw pride, hate, grim resignation, dashed hopes, loyalty, and courage. I turned away, though, because, odd as it may seem to you who have listened to me so patiently and so well, I really don’t like pain.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered, and the world went back to its business again.

  Aliera didn’t answer, so Sethra spoke. “The Dragon Council met, early in the Reign of the Phoenix this Cycle, before the Interregnum, to choose the heir. It was decided that the e’Lanya line should take it when the time comes. The highest family of that line were the Lady Miera, the Lord K’laiyer, and their daughter, Norathar.”

  Norathar shook her head and whispered again. “I have no memories of any of this. I was only a child.”

  “There was an accusation made,” said Sethra, “and Lord K’laiyer, your father, challenged his accuser. There was war, and your parents were killed. You were judged by sorcerers and your bloodlines were found to be impure.”

  “But then—”

  “Aliera scanned you, and the sorcerers who made the first judgment were wrong.”

  I broke in, saying, “How hard is it to make a mistake of that kind?”

  Aliera snapped back to the present and said, “Impossible.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I see,” said Norathar.

  We sat there, each of us looking down, or around the room, waiting for someone to ask the obvious questions. Finally, Norathar did. “Who did the scan, and who made the challenge?”

  “The first scan,” said Sethra, “was done by my apprentice, Sethra the Younger.”

  “Who’s she?” I asked.

  “As I said, my apprentice—one of many. She served her apprenticeship—let me see—about twelve hundred years ago now. When I’d taught her all I could, she did me the honor of taking my name.”

  “Dragonlord?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Sorry to interrupt. You were talking about the scan.”

  “Yes. She brought the results to me, and I brought them to the Dragon Council. The council had a committee of three do another one. Lord Baritt was one—” Morrolan, Aliera, and I exchanged glances here. We’d met his shade in the Paths of the Dead, and had three completely different impressions of the old bas-. . . gentleman. Sethra continued. “Another was of the House of the Athyra, as the expert, and someone from the House of the Lyorn, to make sure everything was right and proper. The committee confirmed it and the council acted as it had to.”

  Norathar asked, “Who made the accusation?”

  “I did,” said Sethra Lavode.

  * * *

  Norathar rose to her feet, her eyes burning into Sethra’s. I could almost feel the energy flowing between them. Norathar said, between clenched teeth, “May I have my sword back, milady?”

  Sethra hadn’t moved. “If you wish,” she said. “However, there are two things I want to say.”

  “Say them.”

  “First, I made the accusation because that was my duty to the House of the Dragon as I saw it. Second, while I’m not as fanatical about it as Lord Morrolan, I dislike killing my guests. Remember who I am, lady!”

  As she said this, she stood and drew Iceflame—a long, straight dagger, perhaps twelve inches of blade. The metal was a light blue, and it emitted a faint glow of that color. Anyone with the psionic sensitivity of a caterpillar would have recognized it as a Morganti weapon, one which kills without chance of revivification. Anyone with any acquaintance with the legends surrounding Sethra Lavode would have recognized it as Iceflame, a Great Weapon, one of the Seventeen. Whatever power it was that hid in, under, and around Dzur Mountain, Iceflame was tied to it. The only other known artifacts with power to match it were the sword Godslayer and the Imperial Orb. Loiosh dived under my cloak. I held my breath.

  At that moment, I felt, rather than saw, a knife fall into Cawti’s hand. I felt a tear in loyalties that was almost physically painful. What should I do if there was a fight? Could I bring myself to stop Cawti, or even warn Sethra? Could I bring myself to allow Sethra to be knifed in the back? Demon Goddess, get me out of this!

  Norathar stared back at Sethra and said, “Cawti, don’t.” Cawti sighed quietly, and I breathed a prayer of thanks to Verra. Then Norathar said to Sethra, “I’d like my sword, if you please.”

  “You won’t hear my reasons, then?” asked Sethra, her voice even.

  “All right,” said Norathar. “Speak.”

  “Thank you.” Sethra put Iceflame away. I exhaled. Sethra sat down and, after a moment, so did Norathar, but her eyes never left Sethra’s.

  “I was told,” said the Dark Lady of Dzur Mountain, “that your ancestry was questionable. To be blunt, I received word that you were a bastard. I’m sorry, but that’s what I was told.”

  I listened intently. Bastardy among Dragaerans is far more rare than among Easterners, because a Dragaeran can’t conceive accidentally—or so I’ve been told. In general, the only illegitimate children are those who have one sterile parent (sterility is nearly impossible to cure, and not uncommon among Dragaerans). Bastard, as an insult, is far more deadly to a Dragaeran than to an Easterner.

  “I was further told,” she continued, “that your true father was not a Dragon.” Norathar still didn’t move, but she was gripping the table with her right hand. “You were the oldest child of the Dragon Heir. It was necessary to bring this to the attention of the council, if it was true.

  “I could,” she went on, “have sneaked into your parents’ home with my apprentice, who is skilled in genetic scanning.” Aliera gave a barely audible sniff here. I imagine she had her own opinion of Sethra the Younger’s abilities. “I chose not to, however. I confronted Lord K’laiyer. He held himself insulted and refused to allow the scan. He declared war and sent an army after me.”

  She sighed. “I’ve lost count of how many armies have tried to take Dzur Mountain. If it’s any consolation, he was a masterful tactician, certainly worthy of the e’Lanya line. But I had the assistance of several friends, a hired army, and Dzur Mountain itself. He gave me a bit of trouble, but the issue was never in doubt. By the end of the engagement, both of your parents were dead.”

  “How?” asked Norathar through clenched teeth. A good question, too. Why weren’t they revivified?

  “I don’t know. They were in the battle, but I didn’t kill them personally. They both had massive head injuries, due to sorcery. Beyond that, I can’t tell you.”

  Norathar nodded, almost imperceptibly. Sethra continued. “I formally took possession of their castle, of course. We found you there. You were about four years old, I think. I had my apprentice do the scan, and you know the rest. I turned your castle over to the House. I don’t know what became of it, or your parents’ possessions. Perhaps there are relatives. . . .”

  Norathar nodded again. “Thank you,” she said. “But this hardly changes—”

  “There’s another thing. If my apprentice made a mistake, it reflects on me. Further, it is obvious that my actions were the immediate cause of all this. I trust Aliera’s abilities with genetics more than anyone else’s—and she says you are the product of Dragonlords on both sides, with e’Lanya dominant. I want to know what happened. I intend to investigate. If I kill you, that will make it more difficult. If you destroy me, of course, that will make it impossible. I would appreciate it if you would withhold any challenge until I’ve made this investigation. Then, if you wish, I will entertain a challenge on any terms you name.”

  “Any terms?” asked Norathar. “Including plain steel?”

  S
ethra snorted. “Including a Jhereg duel, if you wish.”

  The least shadow of a smile crossed Norathar’s lips as she seated herself. “I accept your terms,” she said. Cawti and I relaxed. Morrolan and Aliera, as far as I could tell, had been interested but unworried.

  Morrolan cleared his throat and said, “Well then, perhaps we should discuss just how we’re going to proceed.”

  Sethra said, “Tell me this: if there was a plot of some kind, could Baritt have been involved?”

  Aliera said “No” at the same instant that Morrolan said “Yes.” I chuckled. Aliera shrugged and said, “Well, maybe.”

  Morrolan snorted. “In any case,” he said, “is it likely that they could fool an Athyra? And would an Athyra be involved in a plot of this type? Not to mention a Lyorn? If this was a plot, as you say, they would have had to convince the Athyra to help, and I have trouble believing they could do that. And there is no Lyorn in the world who would go along with it—that is why they’re included in things like that.”

  Sethra nodded to herself.

  I said, “Excuse me, but what is the procedure for getting a Lyorn and an Athyra to help with something like this? I mean, do you just walk over to the House of the Lyorn and yell, ‘We’re doing a genetic investigation, anyone want to help?’ What do you do?”

  Sethra said, “With the House of the Lyorn, it is an official request, through the Empire, for the assistance of the House. With the Athyra, someone will propose a wizard he knows or has heard of, and the council approves it.”

  “And the House of the Lyorn is likely to choose someone who’s familiar with this kind of thing,” I added.

  Sethra nodded.

  “Okay,” I said. “But—Aliera, how hard would it be to fool a genetic scan?”

  “A complicated illusion spell would do it,” she said slowly. “If whoever did the scan was incompetent.”

  “What if he wasn’t?”

  “He wouldn’t be fooled.”

  “Could Sethra the Younger be fooled?”

  “Easily.” She snorted.

  I shot a glance at Sethra Lavode; she didn’t seem convinced. I set it aside for the moment. “What about Baritt?”

  “No,” said Aliera.

  Morrolan agreed. “Whatever he is—was—he was most assuredly not incompetent.”

  “So,” I continued, “if someone did a spell to make it look like she wasn’t a full Dragon, Baritt must have been in on it. The Lyorn could have been fooled.”

  “Vlad,” said Morrolan, “the Athyra would have to have been in on it, too—and you’ll have to convince me of that.”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted. “But one thing at a time. Sethra, how did Sethra the Younger first hear about this?”

  “I don’t know, Vlad. It was more than four hundred years ago.”

  “At your age, Sethra, that’s almost yesterday.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Then her eyes moved up and to the left as she tried to remember. “She said that she heard through a friend who’d been drinking with Lady Miera. She said that Lady Miera had told her friend about it, and her friend told her.”

  “And the friend’s name?”

  She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She rested her hands on top of her head, leaned her head back, and rolled her eyes straight up. We sat there, hardly daring to breathe. Suddenly she straightened up. “Vlad, it was Baritt!”

  Why, I wondered, doesn’t this surprise me?

  I shook my head. “If you people want to find out what Baritt knows about this, I can tell you where to find him, but don’t expect me to go along with you. I’ve been to Deathsgate once; that will last a lifetime—at least. I’ve got my own problems. There’s a guy who’s trying to send me there. Figuratively speaking,” I added. “I understand they don’t allow Easterners in.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “Sethra, do you remember who the Lyorn was?”

  “I never knew,” she said. “My part of it was over, and I wanted nothing more to do with it. I wasn’t along when they did the second scan.”

  “Oh. So I suppose you don’t know who the Athyra was, either.”

  “Right.”

  “It’ll all be in the records,” Aliera put in. “We can find out.”

  I nodded. “Then I don’t think there’s anything more to do about this at the moment, right?”

  There were nods from Sethra, Aliera, and Morrolan. Norathar and Cawti had been watching us the entire time without any expression. It occurred to me that it was odd for me to have taken the lead in this investigation into the history of the House of the Dragon. But then, in a certain sense, investigation is one of the things I’m good at. Cawti could have done it as well, but she had even less interest than I did.

  “The next question,” said Morrolan, “is how we’re going to present this to the Dragon Council. I would suggest that Aliera and I appear before them and—”

  Aliera interrupted. “Perhaps later would be better for this. It’s really a matter to be discussed among Dragons.”

  There was a brief, uncomfortable silence; then Cawti stood up. “Excuse me,” she said. “I believe that I’d like to retire now.”

  Sethra stood and bowed an acknowledgment as Cawti left. Then Sethra sat down again, and Morrolan said, “I wonder what troubles her?”

  Typical.

  “The end of a partnership,” Norathar said, and it seemed that there were new lines of pain around her eyes and jaw. But then, she was a Dragonlord now, so she could show her feelings. She stood, bowed, and followed Cawti out of the room.

  I followed them with my eyes, then glanced at the table. The food was cold and the wine was warm. If there had been an onion, it would have been rotten clear through.

  11

  “A quick game, boss?”

  THEY LEFT ME ALONE at the table, so I thought about onions for a while. I was still thinking about them when I felt someone reaching for me psionically.

  “Who is it?”

  “Fentor, at Castle Black, milord. I have the information you wanted.”

  “On the riot? Good, let’s have it.”

  “It was confined to three blocks, near—”

  “I know where it was. Go on.”

  “Yes, milord. It was a row of flats, all owned by the same person. He’d started raising rents about four weeks before, and letting things deteriorate, and then began beating Easterners who were slow in paying.”

  “I see. Who owned the flats?”

  “A Jhereg, lord. His name is—”

  “Laris.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  I sighed. “Had he owned the property for long?”

  There was a pause. “It didn’t occur to me to check, lord.”

  “Do so. And find out who he bought it from.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Is there anything more?”

  “Not yet, milord, but we’re still working on it.”

  “Good. Another thing, too: I suspect someone triggered the riot deliberately. Try to find out.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  We broke the contact. The conversation made me realize, among other things, that I’d been neglecting my own affairs again. I got in touch with Kragar and told him to expect me in two minutes. Then I made contact with Sethra, explained that I had to leave, and would she be good enough to teleport me back to my office? She would and did.

  I didn’t have to tell her where it was, either. Sometimes I wonder about her.

  * * *

  Kragar was waiting for me, along with Glowbug and someone I didn’t recognize. We went into the still-unrepaired building, and I told Kragar to come into the office with me. I shut the door, looked around, and didn’t see him. I opened up the door again and said, “Kragar, I said to—”

  “Boss?”

  I turned, and saw him this time.

  “Damn it, Kragar, stop doing that.”

  “Doing what, Vlad?”

  “Never mind. Cut it out, Loiosh.”
<
br />   “I didn’t say a thing, boss.”

  “You were laughing up your wing.”

  I sat down and put my feet up on the desk. “Who’s the new guy?”

  “An enforcer. We need another one, and we can almost afford it. He knows he’s staying on subject to your approval.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Stadol.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He’s called ‘Sticks.’”

  “Oh. So that’s Sticks.” I yelled, “Melestav, send Sticks in.”

  The door opened and he walked in.

  “Sit,” I told him.

  He did.

  Sticks might have gotten his name because he looked like one, but that can be said of almost all Dragaerans. Still, he was taller and thinner than most, and carried himself as if every bone in his body were jelly. His arms swung easily when he walked, and his knees sagged a bit. He had sandy hair, straight, and worn to his ears. One lock dangled over his forehead and looked like it would get in his eyes. He periodically threw his head to the side to clear it, but it flopped down almost right away.

  In fact, the nickname came from his preference for using two three-foot clubs. He beat people up with them.

  I said, “I’m Vlad Taltos.” He nodded. “You want to work for me?”

  “Sure,” he said. “The money’s good.”

  “That’s because things are hot right now. You know about that?”

  He nodded again.

  “You ever ‘work’?”

  “No. No future in it.”

  “That’s debatable. I’ve heard of you doing some muscle a few years back. What have you been doing since?”

  He shrugged. “I have some connections with a few minstrels, and with some taverns. I help introduce them, and they give me a percentage. It’s a living.”

  “Then why leave it?”

  “No future in it.”

  “. . . Okay. You’re in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s it for now.”

  He made a slow climb to his feet and ambled out. I turned back to Kragar. It took me a moment to find him, then I asked him: “Anything new?”

  “No. I’m working on the patron angle, but I haven’t come up with anything.”