Yendi Page 8

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  . . . the dzur had scored a long scratch in the jhereg’s wing. The jhereg’s jaws were going for the dzur’s neck, but the dzur nearly had its mouth around the long, snakelike neck of the jhereg. The jhereg was of the normal breed, not one of the nonpoisonous giant ones that dwelt above Deathsgate Falls, yet it was one of the largest I had ever seen, and should be able to give a good fight to—I blinked. The scene hadn’t changed. The orange-red sky was right, but I realized that I was inside, on a bed, in fact. I was looking at a painting that filled the ceiling above me. Someone’s idea of a joke, no doubt, to have me wake up to that sight. Could I view the painting so that it appeared the jhereg was winning? I could and did. It was a nice painting. I took a deep breath and—I was alive!

  I turned my head and looked around the room. It was spacious, as far as I was concerned—twenty-two and a half feet in the direction of the bed, maybe fourteen the other way. No windows, but a nice circulation of air. There was a fireplace centered in the wall my feet pointed to, with a cozy little fire crackling away in it and sending occasional sparks into the room. I twisted and saw that a door was centered in the other wall. Black candles were scattered throughout, providing most of the light. Yet there were enough of them to give the room a bright appearance despite the black walls.

  Black, black, black. The color of sorcery. Lord Morrolan, Castle Black. Yet, he wouldn’t have used black candles unless he were doing witchcraft, and I felt no traces of a spell. Nor would he have a painting like that. So—Dzur Mountain, of course.

  I leaned back against the pillow (goose feathers, a luxury!) and slowly set about moving my limbs. I made each one move, and each finger and toe. They responded normally, but it took some effort. I saw my cloak and clothing neatly folded on a stand three feet from my head. I noticed with amusement that whoever had undressed me had left Spellbreaker wrapped around my wrist, which was why I hadn’t immediately felt undressed.

  I heaved myself to a sitting position. I became aware of a general sense of weakness and pains throughout my body. I welcomed them, as more signs of life, and swung my feet over the edge of the bed.

  “Going to say hello, boss?”

  I spun, and spotted Loiosh high on top of a tall dresser in the far corner of the room. “Good morning, or whatever it is. I’m glad you’re all right.”

  He flew down and landed on my shoulder; licked my ear. “That goes double for me, boss.”

  There was a chamber pot in one corner of the room, which I made a much-needed use of. I dressed slowly, finding several of my more obvious weapons neatly laid out beneath the cloak. Most of the contents of the cloak itself hadn’t been disturbed. Dressing was painful. Enough said.

  There was a soft clap at the door about the time I finished. “Come in.”

  Aliera entered. “Good morning, Vlad. How are you feeling?”

  “Well enough, all things considered.” Morrolan was standing in the doorway behind her. We exchanged nods.

  “We would have been here sooner,” he said, “but we had to visit another of our patients.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “The ‘lady’ who attacked you,” said Aliera.

  “She’s alive?” I swallowed involuntarily. Being killed attempting to do a job is one of the very few things that terminates the agreement between assassin and employer; I’d been hoping that they’d both taken the trip.

  “Both of them are,” she said. “We revivified them.”

  “I see.” That was different. They had the option of resuming the agreement now, or not. I hoped they chose not to.

  “Which reminds me,” said Morrolan. “Vlad, I apologize to you. The Easterner should not have been able to attack you. I caused ruptures in several of her internal organs, which should have sent her into shock at once. It did not occur to me to continue watching her.”

  I nodded. “She’s probably a witch,” I said. “Witchcraft is good for that.” He knew that, of course; I was just needling him. “But it ended up all right. How did things go with the other one?”

  “She is a very good fighter,” said Aliera. “Remarkably good. We fought for more than a minute, and she wounded me twice.”

  It was nicely ironic that Aliera, who specialized in sorcery, had dueled blade to blade with the one, while Morrolan, one of the finest blades in the Empire, had used sorcery. But both were far, far above the norm at either, so it really didn’t matter.

  I nodded. “When was it?”

  Aliera said, “We performed the revivification as soon as we had you back. You’ve slept for two days.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you—or was it Sethra?—for revivifying me.”

  “It was I,” said Aliera, “and no thanks are necessary.”

  “How hard was it?”

  She shook her head. “The most difficult I’ve ever tried. I thought we’d lost you. It was quite a task to repair your body, even before the revivification. Then I made four tries before it worked. I slept for half a day afterwards.”

  It was only then that I remembered the dream I’d had. I started to mention it, but Aliera was continuing.

  “I think you should be resting now. Try to stay on your back for at least a day. Also, don’t—”

  This reminded me of something else, so I interrupted. “Excuse me, Aliera, but—how did you and Morrolan happen to be there?”

  “ . . . Morrolan dragged me along. Ask him.”

  I turned and let my eyebrows do so.

  “Kragar,” he said. “He explained that you required immediate assistance, but he didn’t know the form. I happened to be with Aliera at the time. It seems we were nearly too late. And, to repeat, I apologize for my sloppiness with the Easterner.”

  I brushed it aside. “All right. I’ll take your advice now, Aliera. I think I’d like to sleep.”

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I checked the relevant part of me, then nodded. “A bit. Perhaps when I wake up.”

  “All right. I’ll speak to Sethra about it. Do you feel any nausea, or would you be up to a full meal?”

  “I feel fine,” I told her. “Just tired.”

  “Good.”

  I bowed to each of them and sat back on the bed as they left.

  “You’re no more tired than I am, boss.”

  “True. But I am sore. Quiet for a minute.”

  I reached out for contact with Kragar. It took a while, but eventually he responded.

  “Vlad! Welcome back!”

  “Thanks. It’s nice to be alive again.”

  “I imagine. Aliera told me you’d taken the trip, but they’d brought you back. I was beginning to worry, though. It’s been three days.”

  “I know. How are Varg and Glowbug?”

  “Glowbug is okay; the dagger caught his kidney, but we got to him in time.” He paused. “Varg didn’t make it. The revivification failed.”

  I cursed, then asked, “How’s our income?”

  “A trickle.”

  “Hmph. How about standing funds?”

  “Around nine thousand left.”

  “Okay. Thirty-five hundred each for anyone who brings me Wyrn and Miraf’n.”

  “Boss, they’re going to be protected, you’ll never—”

  “Fine. Then I won’t have to pay anything. But put the word out.”

  Mental shrug. “Okay,” he said. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Tighten up. I mean, everybody. No action until I’m back, but I don’t want anybody out alone, ever. Got that?”

  “Got it.”

  “And blow another thousand on bumping up the protection on every place we have. I don’t want any more surprises.”

  “Check. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “What tipped you off?”

  “I got a message from one of those people we’ve been trying to cultivate as friends. It seems that the thing was arranged in an upstairs room of his tavern, and he decided
to help us out.”

  “Well I’ll be . . . . Give him two hundred.”

  “I gave him one-fifty already.”

  “Good. Kragar . . . all the Phoenix Guards disappeared, went away, just about the time I left the office. I can’t believe that’s a coincidence, and I can’t believe they have the Empress helping them out—or the commander of the Phoenix Guards, for that matter. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Our contact said that he heard it would be ‘taken care of.’ ”

  “Hmmmm. I see. Check up on it, all right?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good. And do you know who those two were? The ones who got me? They were damn good. They did half the job anyway, even after Morrolan and Aliera showed up.”

  There was a pause. “Boss? You don’t know?”

  “What are you talking about? How could I know?”

  “Think about it, boss. Two assassins. Female. One Dragaeran, one Easterner. One with a greatsword, one with daggers. How many teams like that are there?”

  “Oh . . . I—uh, I’ll be talking to you later, Kragar.”

  “Sure, Vlad.”

  And the contact was broken.

  * * * *

  When you talk about assassins, good ones, the name Mario Greymist has a place by itself. He is the best there is, ever has been, or, as far as I’m concerned, ever could be. But after Mario, there are several names that come to mind, among those few who know such things: the ones who are good, dependable, command high rates, and are feared by anyone thinking of making a powerful enemy within the organization.

  Most assassins work alone. I mean, murder is a very private thing. But there are a few teams. One of these teams is on the list I mentioned above. I’d heard of them, and their names have been linked to a score of jobs in the last five years. None of these tales is certain, and most are probably wrong, but still . . . . This team involved a Dragaeran, using a greatsword with all the skill of a Dragonlord, and an Easterner using a dagger. Both were women—and the Right Hand of the Jhereg has very few women. (There’s Kiera the Thief, and maybe a few others, but they are a rarity.) This pair of assassins called themselves “The Sword of the Jhereg” and “The Dagger of the Jhereg,” and no one knew anything about where they’d come from. It was very hard to get hold of them—usually, if you wanted them, you just put the word out on the streets and hoped they’d hear and be interested.

  It should be pointed out that the most I’ve ever been offered for an assassination is six thousand gold, and these two won’t even talk to you for less than eight or nine. It had never occurred to me to send them after Laris, because they’d have wanted at least twenty thousand, and there was no way I could raise that kind of cash without committing everything to the one shot—a stupid thing to do since anyone can fail. (I haven’t yet, but I’ve been lucky.)

  I wondered how much I was worth, and where Laris had found the funds. I discovered that I was shaking, which was stupid, since the threat was over. Unless they decided to complete the job. I continued shaking.

  “You okay, boss?”

  “Not really. Let’s take a walk.”

  I stepped out of the room into the cold, black stone halls of Dzur Mountain. I knew where I was at once. To my right would be the library, where I’d first met Sethra. To my left would be more bedrooms. On impulse, I turned to the left. There were doors on either side of the hall. The hall continued past them. I stopped. Could the assassins be in one of these? Or one in each? I decided to keep walking; there was nothing to be gained by seeing them. I mean, as an assassin, I never had anything to say to my targets; as a target, what was I going to say to my assassins? Plead for my life? Sure. No, there was no point in . . . I discovered that I hadn’t moved. I sighed.

  “I guess there’s just a time for doing dumb things, Loiosh.”

  I opened the door as quietly as I could and looked inside.

  She was awake and looking at me. Her face was calm, her eyes expressionless. No question about it, she was as human as I was. Her eyes moved down to my right hand, which I discovered was gripping a dagger at my belt. She didn’t seem to be frightened.

  She was sitting up, a blue nightgown showing her pale skin in the dim light of a single set of candles. Her hair was dark brown, almost black. Her eyes were darker yet, a vibrant contrast with the shade of her skin. The nightgown was intended to be modest, but it was also intended for a Dragaeran, so it fell rather low on her. She showed no embarrassment.

  Her eyes traveled from the dagger to my face. We studied each other for a time; then I forced my hand to relax, and release its grip on the weapon.

  Dammit! I was the one who was armed, she was the one who was helpless. There was no reason for me to be afraid of her. I managed to speak.

  “Have you a name?” My voice sounded dry, almost cracked.

  “Yes,” she said, in a soft contralto.

  I waited for her to continue. When she showed no signs of doing so, I said, “Will you tell me what it is?”

  “No.”

  I nodded. The Dagger of the Jhereg wished to be called the Dagger of the Jhereg. So be it.

  “How did your partner evade Loiosh?” I asked.

  “She didn’t. I gave her some herbs so she wouldn’t be affected by the poison, and she just ignored him.”

  I waited for Loiosh to make some remark about that; when he didn’t, I said, “How much was my head worth to you?”

  “You’d be flattered.”

  She continued looking at me. The candles flickered and did things to her hair, and face, and neck, and the shadows of her breasts against the back wall. I swallowed.

  Then she said, “We’ve returned the payment.”

  I felt a sense of relief, as if the Imperial Executioner had been handed a stay just as he raised his staff. I felt it show on my face and cursed my weakness.

  Her eyes came to rest on Loiosh, then she held out her hand. He hesitated and twitched nervously on my shoulders.

  “Boss . . . ”

  “Up to you, chum.”

  He flew over to her and wrapped his talons around her wrist. She scratched under his chin, going with the scales.

  “The jhereg is beautiful,” she said.

  “His name is Loiosh.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, of course. You must have found out quite a bit about me.”

  “Not enough, apparently. How did Morrolan and Aliera find out, by the way?”

  “Sorry.”

  She nodded. “You . . . have a talent for making people underestimate you.”

  “Thank you very much.” I walked into the room and let the door swing shut behind me. With a careful effort to appear casual, I sat at the edge of the bed. “So, what now?”

  She shrugged, which was worth coming in just to see. “I don’t know. Morrolan and Aliera tried to mind-probe me before. It didn’t work, so I don’t know what they’ll try next. Do you?”

  I was startled. “What were they trying to find out?”

  “Who hired us.”

  I laughed. “They could have just asked me. Don’t worry. They aren’t bad types, for Dragonlords.”

  She smiled back at me, ironically. “And you’ll protect me, right?”

  “Sure. Why not? You’ve given the money back, even though you didn’t have to, which is proof that you aren’t coming after me again. And we Easterners ought to stick together, don’t you think?”

  She caught the point of that, and dropped her eyes. “I’ve never ‘worked’ on a human before, Vlad. I almost didn’t take it, but . . . ” She shrugged again. I wondered how I could make her keep doing that.

  “I’m glad Aliera is good at revivification,” I said.

  “I suppose so.”

  “For both our sakes,” I added, because I meant it. She looked at me carefully. There was a moment when time did strange things. If I had thrown my stones right, I could have kissed her then. So I did. Loiosh flew off her arm as our lips met, lightly. It was hardly an int
ense kiss, but I discovered that I’d closed my eyes. Odd.

  She continued looking at me, as if she could read something in my face. Then she said, very deliberately, “My name is Cawti.”

  I nodded, and our mouths met again. Her arms went around my neck. When we came up for air, I reached up and slid the nightgown over her shoulders and down to her hips. She pulled her arms free and began working at the clasp of my cloak. I decided that this was insane. She would never have a better chance of getting one of my daggers and finishing me. Verra! I thought to myself, I think I’ve lost it.

  My cloak dropped to the floor, and she helped me take off my jerkin. I paused to remove my boots and stockings, then we fell back together, and the sensation of her small, strong body against mine, her breasts against my chest and her breathing in my ear, my hand on the small of her back, her hand behind my neck—I’d never felt anything like it before, and I wanted to just stay like that, forever, and not take it any further.

  My body, however, had its own set of rules, and let me know of them. I began stroking her lower spine. She pulled my head away and kissed me; this time we both meant business. I tasted her tongue, and that was nice too. I heard myself making small moaning sounds as my lips traveled down to her throat, then to the valley between her breasts. I kissed each one, carefully, and went back to her lips. She started fumbling for the catch to my breeches, but I interfered by finding her buttocks with my right hand and crushing her to me again.

  We drew back and looked at each other once more. Then we paused long enough to send Loiosh out of the room, because love, like murder, shouldn’t have witnesses.

  Chapter Eight

  “I’ll stay here and clean up the blood.”

  It is sad but true that there are a strictly limited number of times when waking up with the thought, “Hey, I’m alive!” is really astonishing. I hadn’t quite hit the limit yet, so I had the obligatory reaction, followed by, “Dear Verra, I hurt.”

  My side, where the broadsword had taken me, felt hot and feverish, and the area around my kidney, where my lover had put her dagger into me, itched, burned, and ached. I moaned. Then I became aware of the sound of voices, outside the room and perhaps a bit down the hall.