Tiassa Read online

  “Good,” I said. “Now, let me run it down.”

  When he had it, I still had a little time, so I had him wait while I spoke to Kragar about the rest of it. He listened quietly as he always does. When I’d finished, he didn’t say anything. After a bit, I said, “Well?”

  “I’m just trying to remember if I’ve ever heard of anything stupider. I think I have. I’m pretty sure I have. I just want to see if I can—”

  “Okay, okay. What would you suggest instead?”

  “You want me to—”

  “Cut it out. Come up with a better suggestion, help me fill the holes in this one, or at least tell me what they are, all right?”

  “I didn’t mean to say you shouldn’t do it, just that it’s stupid.”

  “Not as stupid as getting married to the girl who killed you.”

  “Well, yeah, that would be … wait. Are you serious? You mean that girl who—”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to marry her?”

  “She asked me. I said yes.”

  “Vlad, have you lost it completely?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He was quiet for a long two minutes. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Uh, congratulations, I guess.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Feel like telling me about it?”

  “Not really. I’d rather we go back to talking about the other stupid idea. You’re saying we should go with it?”

  It took him a moment to recall what we’d been talking about, but then he said, “I can’t come up with anything better.”

  “All right, then.”

  “Who do you want me to grab for this?”

  “We’ll need a sorcerer who specializes in light extraction from candlebud, a smith who can fabricate a four-foot surgical-quality needle, an acrobat who can do both wide-spar and high-rope, a swimmer who is fluent in Serioli, a—”

  “You can stop now, Vlad. I saw that play, too.”

  “Good. I couldn’t remember the other two.”

  “Who do you need?”

  “You. Me. Omlo. Enough muscle to keep me alive during the fun part if things go wrong. Sticks, Shoen, and two others who are reliable.”

  “If we add a couple more, can we keep me alive, too?”

  “We could, but I don’t want to spend that much. Get on it. I have guests arriving soon.”

  4

  They all arrived on time—a small miracle—and took seats.

  “How are things so far?” asked Foxy.

  “Good. Today we do the swap.”

  He looked at Omlo. “Is he ready?”

  “Omlo, are you?”

  “I think so.”

  “So, what do we do next?” asked Kragar.

  We all looked at him. I cleared my throat and said, “Three of them are practicing their parts. You’re going to run out and bring us back some breakfast. Steamed sweet rolls stuffed with kethna. Make sure they’re hot.”

  “I should have seen that coming,” he said.

  “Don’t forget one for Loiosh.”

  He shook his head and walked out.

  “Boss, you’re the best.”

  “Don’t ever forget it.”

  I went over things with them, then did so again, by which time Kragar was back with breakfast. Everyone enjoyed the food—Blue-guy exceptionally so. I liked that; it’s always a pleasure to introduce someone to a delicacy he hadn’t been aware of.

  We ate, went over things once more, then I said, “All right. Unless there are questions, the Runner and the Dog-man might as well get started.”

  “No questions here,” said Ibronka.

  I studied her. “Sorry,” I said.

  “About what?”

  “The lack of action for you.”

  “Sorry? I assumed you’d done it just to annoy me.”

  “I probably would have, if I’d thought of it.”

  She made a sound somewhere between a sniff and a snort.

  I told Omlo, “You should get into position as well. Good luck.”

  “Yes, m’lord. Thank you, m’lord.”

  They set off. Kragar ate another roll, wiped his fingers, and said, “You know, Vlad, the biggest hole with the plan is that it isn’t a plan, it’s about six.”

  “Four. Depending on how it plays out.”

  “That’s all right, then.”

  “You have about half an hour to round everyone up and get them in position.”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to rush me.”

  I led the way to the Cups, about three-quarters of a mile south and east of my office. It was as I remembered it—cramped and crowded on the inside, spacious on the outside. The street it faced was narrow and curved; there was a wide market area just out of sight to the north, or right as you faced the street. Directly across the street was a three-story stonework house—the sort of place that held families of Teckla who for some reason worked in the City. On the wall facing me, someone had created quasi-abstract art in which I could, possibly, make out male genitalia, the face of the Empress, and various obscenities.

  It was early evening, and the inside of the Cups was full of Teckla and a few merchants; the outdoor area, mostly taken up with Lyorn and Hawklords, had plenty of empty tables. I took one, and eventually got someone to bring me a pitcher of iced wine.

  And now, for a while, I can only give you a combination of speculation and what I was told or deduced afterward: I was drinking iced wine when all the fun stuff was happening, and since I didn’t get to see it, neither do you. Sorry.

  So, while I was sitting at the Cups, a host at the Flagpole checked one of the coins he’d been given, and, whether by bell, vibration, changing color, or some other way, he learned that the coin had been tagged.

  Maybe he found a kitchen boy to run an errand. Maybe he had a bell that rang sympathetically in the headquarters of the Phoenix Guards. Or they may have had some other means of communication that hasn’t occurred to me. It doesn’t matter; what matters is that the constabulary were called and told that tagged coins had been passed, which, in the lingo of the trade, kicked the first log. We were moving now, and things would happen in regular sequence—or not. Of course, at the time I didn’t know just what was happening, or exactly when.

  The Phoenix Guards showed up—two of them, I later learned. Ibronka spotted them easily, warned Blue, and he was through a window and gone.

  I wish I’d been able to see the race. From what I heard, Foxy started out with a good lead, and had to slow down a bit to avoid losing them completely.

  I was told none of the guys I’d set up to interfere with the chase were needed. Wasted money, unless you believe that if I hadn’t hired them I’d have needed them. I sort of believe that.

  Blue found me at the Cups and sat down across from me.

  “Any problems?” I said.

  “None so far.” He set the bag of coins on the table.

  “Good,” I said, as Omlo arrived from behind me, scooped up the bag, and walked away; never saying a word or even acknowledging our presence—just like a damned Hawklord. Blue-boy walked off in the other direction. So far as I could tell, no one had noticed anything.

  I remained at the table and had some more wine.

  I was only there for a couple of minutes after Omlo left when Ibronka showed up. She sat down across from me and said, “Well?”

  “As far as I know. I imagine My Lord the Fox will be a while yet. Meantime, we wait. What shall we chat about?”

  “We could discuss what your corpse will look like after it has been left to rot on the beach for a month or two.”

  “I’m going to assume that means you’d rather not engage in small talk while we wait.”

  Around the time we were having that conversation, Bluey had let himself be caught. If he’d been a Jhereg, it wouldn’t have mattered as much that he didn’t have tagged coins on him—they’d have either planted something on him or beaten him. But he was a Tiassa, so eventually they le
t him go.

  Not fair, if you ask me.

  Just to remind you, I didn’t know about any of this at the time. I knew what was supposed to happen, and I learned later what actually did happen, and since at this point they were the same, that’s what I’m telling you, all right? Turn that thing off for a minute, I need some water.

  Where was I? Right. Fox-boy was taken and, after an hour or so of questions, released. Meanwhile, Omlo proceeded to his meeting, now carrying several imperials’ worth of tagged gold. The meeting was set for Feorae’s office in the Dragon Wing of the Palace—a bit that pleased me. It’s always worth a little extra to have one on a Dragonlord, even if you can’t let anyone know.

  Omlo made it to Feorae’s office pretty close to when he said he would—close enough for a Hawklord, anyway. Omlo pulled out a case, opened it, and carefully removed a lovely silver tiassa with sapphires for eyes. Feorae studied it and tried not to show how excited he was. Omlo accepted six hundred and forty imperials in gold and pushed the case toward Feorae, leaving a little present in it as he did so. He rose, bowed, and left. The good lord Feorae studied his new prize for a few minutes; then, being a conscientious administrator, he put the tiassa back in its case, put the case on a shelf of the room where he kept his treasures, then went back to doing the work the Empire paid him to do.

  And he continued doing it until the Phoenix Guards came to see him.

  The first I knew of any of this was when Blue arrived at the table. He and Ibronka kissed while I signaled for more wine and another cup. I poured for each of them out of the pitcher.

  “Good stuff,” said Fox when he tasted it. “I like the fruit.”

  “An Eastern drink,” I said. “Wine, fruit, and fizzy water. Good for hot days.”

  “It isn’t all that hot anymore.”

  “No, but I imagine it will be before we’re done talking.” He cocked an eyebrow. I asked him how it went.

  “Like you said,” he told me. “They said I’d been detected with coins that had been used in a robbery. I was offended. They asked if they could search me. I said they couldn’t. They insisted, and brought in some friends in case I chose to resist. I protested, but gave in to overwhelming numbers—” He chuckled here and exchanged a grin with Ibronka. “—and let them.”

  “Of course, they didn’t find any coins.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Must have made them suspicious, what with you running and all.”

  He nodded. “I had the impression they didn’t believe me. I was offended.”

  “Did you challenge them to a duel?”

  “I thought about it. They asked me where I had gotten the coins. I said that if there had been any coins, which I wasn’t admitting, I’d received them from Lord Feorae, who kept them in a small case that also held a silver tiassa. I had no idea why he kept money there, and I did not choose to tell them what I was being paid for.”

  “Perfect.”

  “What happens now?”

  “If everything goes right, Omlo should come strutting in like an Amro bull and announce that everything worked.”

  Blueboy chuckled. “I can’t imagine the boy strutting.”

  “Playing the part. He’s good at it.”

  Out on the street, people walked by, mostly Teckla on their way home from menial jobs.

  “What did you mean,” said Fox, “about it getting hot. That sounded, uh, what’s the word, love?”

  “Ominous,” said Ibronka.

  “Right. Ominous.”

  “Didn’t mean to be ominous. I was aiming for dire, but with this wind, sometimes my distance shots go wide.”

  Omlo appeared just then, still acting the part of the Hawklord, giving Ibronka a bow, Blue-boy a nod, and me a glance; then he sat down without any invitation, stretched, and put his hands behind his neck. I called for another cup and poured him some wine.

  “Told you,” I said.

  “You were right,” said Blue.

  “Care to tell us about it, Lord—uh, I don’t know what name you gave yourself.”

  Omlo became himself again. “Chypan, m’lord. It went as you said it would.”

  “So he has the tiassa.”

  “And the case.”

  I nodded. “And by now, the Phoenix Guards have Feorae, and are wondering what to do with him.”

  Blue nodded. “Hard to arrest for tagged coins the man in charge of carrying out arrests for possession of tagged coins.”

  Omlo said, “Is there any chance—”

  “No,” I said. “You’re safe. Though I’d run off and change clothes pretty fast. You wouldn’t want to be recognized by any of our fine law enforcement officers.”

  “Yes, m’lord. I’ll be right back.”

  “And so,” Foxy said when he’d left, “now we just wait for the results? They get so embarrassed that they stop tagging coins?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “You’re being evasive, Lord Taltos,” said Ibronka.

  The Blue Fox frowned at her, then looked at me.

  “Pretty,” I said, “and smart, too. You’re a lucky guy.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What haven’t you told us?”

  “What haven’t you told me?”

  “No, you answer our question,” said Ibronka.

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t I’ll eviscerate you.”

  “All right. I just wanted to be sure you had a good reason.”

  She leaned forward and started to say something, but Bluey put a hand on her shoulder, and she sat back, still looking at me. I decided I would really prefer it if she didn’t decide to kill me.

  “Right. It’s pretty simple. The whole thing you came to me with was nonsense to begin with.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the guy with the funny name.

  “The idea of the Empire trying to stop robbery by sorcerously marking coins is reasonable, but you being worried about it isn’t. In a year or two there will be so many tagged coins floating around that they’d go nuts trying to separate the innocent from the guilty.”

  “Then why did they do it?”

  “They don’t worry about there being a bit of robbery on the highways, they just have to make it look like they’re worried about robbery on the highways, so the merchant Houses don’t raise too much of a fuss. They’re always coming up with ways to try to make the roads safe. Remember when they had teleporting squads of Phoenix Guards? How long did that last? A year? And before that, they tried using ravens to watch the roads. And Phoenix Guards dressed up as merchants. All sorts of crazy things. So I asked myself, why would you even be worrying about it when it will go away by itself?”

  Ibronka was staring hard. I ignored her. “So, I wondered what you were really after. I thought it over, and did a little checking. I was wrong about you. I thought you’d made up the part about being a highwayman; but it turns out that you actually were one, a few hundred years ago. I was surprised.”

  “So you know who I am,” he said.

  “I knew who you were when we met. You’re the Viscount of Adrilankha. That’s why I agreed to do the job in the first place: I thought it would be useful to have your mother owe me a favor. Your father, too, for that matter.”

  “I see.” He didn’t look very happy. “Well, I wouldn’t think anyone would owe you a favor if that escapade we just pulled off didn’t do anything. And you’ve just explained why there was no need to convince the Empire to stop tagging coins. So—just what is it that we did?”

  I shook my head. “That part’s easy. What bothered me was: Why?”

  All expression was gone from his face. He said, “Did you find out?”

  “Nothing more than theories.”

  “And you think I’m going to tell you.”

  “Probably.”

  “Careful, Boss. She looks like she’s ready to move.”

  “I’ve noticed. Think she’s a sorcerer, too, Loiosh?”

  “Don’t know. She’s a Dzur,
so probably.”

  I felt the weight of Spellbreaker around my left wrist, but left it there.

  “The first time we met,” I said, “you were trying to make me attack you.”

  “Yeah? Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I figured out you wanted me to. I’m just contrary that way.”

  “So what does your contrariness want now?”

  “There’s an ancient Eastern sport called fox hunting. The best hunters, I’m told, used to have a remarkable collection of tails.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “now isn’t the best time to turn my bait.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  “You were saying something about why you think we did whatever you think we did.”

  “I know,” I said, choosing my words carefully so that it wouldn’t sound like I was choosing my words carefully, “that people do stupid things. I’ve done stupid things. It happens.”

  “What’s your point, Jhereg?”

  “Nothing is more stupid than falling in love with a tag.”

  His hand jerked toward his blade, but stopped and he sat back. He glared. It was a good glare; I was impressed. I took another chance: “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to call your lover stupid. These things happen.”

  He remained motionless, still glaring.

  “Tags don’t fall in love,” I said.

  He snorted. “Right. Their profession means they aren’t human.”

  I ignored the potential confusion over what “human” meant and said, “My mistake. Tags do fall in love. But they don’t fall in love with nums.”

  “Nums?”

  “Numbers. Clients. It doesn’t happen. That means it’s all one-way.”

  “If you’re giving me advice on—”

  “Foxy, shut up before you say something stupid. You went out for some fun, and you or your lover or both of you fell for the tag. It happens. But it doesn’t go the other way. Maybe she likes you two, but that’s as far as it goes. That’s as far as it can go. If you don’t figure that out, you’ll both end up more miserable than you already are.”

  Ibronka stood up; her hand was shaking. She really wanted to kill me. “Stop it,” I told her. “You’re only upset because you know I’m right. I don’t like you any more than you like me, but I’m telling you the truth. Tags don’t fall for nums. You know that.”