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Authors: Steven Brust

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BOOK: Iorich
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“Down!”

I hit the ground and rolled and felt something go “whoosh” over my head. Someone was reacting awfully fast for a Teckla, and my muscles cried out to stop it and

“He has backup, Boss! Three of them!”

Sheesh. Was the whole room full of assassins? What was he doing bringing backup along? I never did that. What sort of crappy assassin wants witnesses and needs protection? I’d have given him a piece of my mind if I hadn’t left eight inches of steel in his.

I hoped one of them was the guy I’d picked out; that would make me feel better. There was a lot of screaming going on as I continued my roll; some of the screaming was from my rib. My hand found the hilt of Lady Teldra, and I drew her and came to my feet, knowing somehow I needed to duck to my left, and someone yelled “Morganti,” which was useless, because once I drew that blade, everyone within a mile who had any psychic sensitivity at all must have been aware of it.

She had taken the form of a rapier, which was awfully nice, since that’s what I’m used to fighting with. She fit into my hand like my palm, hilt smooth, and it was like she was weightless. I knew—somehow—that it was safe to take a step backward, and I did, taking my first good look around.

There were several horrified faces, backing away. Brinea, to her credit, was seeing to her people and trying to pull them away and speaking rapidly. Three of what appeared to be Teckla were facing me: each with a fighting knife, one with two of them. They were crouched, alert, and they were staring at Lady Teldra. I didn’t blame them.

We stood there, watching each other for half a heartbeat, when a couple of things happened. First, I realized I didn’t hurt anymore. I almost looked at Lady Teldra myself. You’d think someone would have told me she could do things like that.

The second thing that happened was someone called out, “You will put up your weapons in the name of the Empire.”

I froze.

“What the—?”

“Two of them, Boss; they’ve pulled gold cloaks out of somewhere and are tossing off wigs and such.”

“Great. Half the gathering were assassins, the other half were Phoenix Guards. Perfect.”

For a moment, no one moved, then I heard another voice, this one I recognized. “Vlad, put it away.”

I looked over. “Norathar? Where did
you
come from?”

“Behind that tree over there.”

I wanted to say that hadn’t been the plan, but she probably wouldn’t have appreciated it. I sheathed Lady Teldra with a flourish.

“Now,” she said, “if you gentlemen will put yours up as well, let us all go to the Palace and talk this over. The wagon will be here shortly.”

There was a pause, but I had no doubts about what would happen. These were Jhereg; they knew that, whatever else, you do
not
fight with the Phoenix Guards. You can’t win. After a breath or two, there was a collective sigh and cutlery vanished all over the place. Norathar said, “Who is the leader here?”

I glanced at the corpse and said, “Uh, I’m afraid—”

“No, not him.”

“I am,” said Brinea, in an impressively steady voice. She looked at me but didn’t say anything. Yeah, I know: I’d told
her I was going to just identify him. I’d been lying. I do that sometimes.

I studied the Jhereg who were still alive, standing there like idiots the same way I was. One of them looked familiar. I looked at him more closely, realized where I knew him from, and shook my head. He avoided looking at me. I’m guessing he was disgusted with himself because my disguise had fooled him. I tried to feel smug about that but it wasn’t in me. I hate it when my plan goes blooey, even if the results come out okay.

Oh, and to complete my humiliation, the fellow I’d noticed earlier, and thought might be an assassin, was one of the Phoenix Guards.

Sheesh.

Norathar said, “I’d like everyone’s name as witnesses. After that, you are free to go on about your business. I think the excitement is over, and Lord Caltho will be arriving shortly.”

Briana agreed, and about then a couple of coaches pulled up. The three Jhereg were put into one, still with their weapons and unbound; I got the other. Loiosh and Rocza remained outside, overhead, providing a winged escort.

Norathar climbed in with me, and we started off. I said, “Is there any law against impersonating a Phoenix Guard?”

“Why?”

“One of those Jhereg—the one with the floppy hat—was one of the ones who beat me up.”

“Oh. He can be fined for that, and maybe dunked.”

“All right.” I sighed. “Got through it, anyway.”

“I suppose. But, Vlad, that was pretty sloppy. Now what? You’ve been seen killing someone. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have slipped so far so fast.”

That was unfair. For one thing, it wasn’t fast by my standards; it had been years. For another—

“I’ll point out that I was in disguise, and if you’d done what I said—”

“You’d either be dead, or have three Morganti killings to account for. I don’t know how we’ll keep you away from the Star as it is, but with that—”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. He was a Jhereg assassin.”

Norathar nodded. “Yes, so he was. He turned out to be not only armed, but carrying a seal of the House with him.”

I nodded.

“The only thing is,” said Norathar, “that assassins don’t carry the House seal when they’re working. I happen to know.”

“This one did.”

“You say that like you knew.”

“I had a pretty good idea he would be.”

“How?”

“Because I trust Kiera.”

“She planted—?” She cut herself off before asking the question. Dragon Heir, acting Warlord, and ex-assassin; had to be tough to be her.

I leaned my head against the hard wall of the coach.

She said, “He had three toughs with him for backup.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I hadn’t expected that.”

“I had.”

I opened my eyes. “Why?”

“Because they were going to assassinate a public figure in a crowded room. You’re used to—that is, you were used to a different sort of thing.”

“I did jobs in public.”

“Different sort of thing than taking out a guy in the middle
of a restaurant. With a public figure like that, if you’re going to get out of it alive and unidentified, you need people to create enough confusion to get away.”

Great. Now I was getting lessons in assassination from the Warlord of the Empire. “You could have told me,” I said.

She shrugged. “How did you identify him?”

I explained about the knife.

“How do you know the guy you got was the one going to do the work, not one of the backups?”

“Why do I care?”

She inhaled deeply, then let her breath out slowly and nodded.

“Give me a moment,” she said. “I’ll find out what happened with the rest.”

A bit later she said, “Morrolan brought the advocate in to see the Empress, presented the petition. The Empress is now meeting with the Justicer and Imperial Advocate. Morrolan is confident the charges will be dismissed.”

I nodded. “And the investigation?”

“Aliera did nothing wrong as Warlord; she has nothing to fear from an investigation.”

“All right.”

“As opposed to you.”

“Me? I killed an assassin.”

“You also publicly brandished a Morganti weapon. Which I ought to take from you, only I know better.” She looked disgusted.

“Oh, right; carrying a Morganti weapon is illegal, isn’t it?”

“Very much illegal.”

“In spite of Aliera, Morrolan, Sethra—”

“Yes, in spite of that.”

“Just like use of Elder Sorcery is illegal, but no one cares unless—say, I just thought of something. The law against carrying a Morganti weapon, do you happen to know if it is a Codified Tradition, a Statute, or an Edict?”

She frowned. “I believe it’s an Edict. Why?”

“I have a good advocate,” I said.

17

1. There were regrettable and even reprehensible actions taken by Imperial soldiers in the village of Tirma on Lyorn 2, 252.
2. Responsibility for these actions must end with the individuals directly involved (see Appendix 23 for names and suggested charges).
3. Any attempt to lay responsibility for this incident on higher levels of the Imperial military order will be inconsistent with justice, and in addition may have long-term negative consequences for the Imperial army, and cannot therefore be recommended (see Part One, point 1).

 

I signed and sealed the oaths saying that as an Imperial Count I promised not to go anywhere until my case had been dealt with, then was permitted to leave the Iorich Wing. My destination was conveniently close, and by now familiar.

I ran into Daymar on the way to Perisil’s office. I was going to ask him where Kragar was, but I bethought myself to take a look around and there he was. I studied Daymar in his black
and gray, and thought about telling him he made a good Jhereg, but he didn’t so I didn’t.

I said, “How did it go?”

“Went well,” said Kragar. “I gave her a good runaround about rumors of new laws, and how could I profit from them, and she gave me a good runaround not answering me. I don’t think she suspected anything.”

“She will when someone asks her why she was out of touch right when they needed her to get to the Empress.”

“They might.” He didn’t seem concerned.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m like you, Vlad; it just tickles me to have Aliera owe me one.”

That was a motivation I could understand.

We reached the office. The door was open, and Morrolan and Perisil were there. I introduced Perisil to Daymar and to Kragar, whom he hadn’t noticed come in.

Perisil said, “I’ve just gotten word from the Justicer. They’re releasing Aliera.”

“Good.”

“And they’ll be investigating the events in Tirma.”

“Okay.”

“And Her Majesty wants to see you.”

“Oh,” I said. I cleared my throat. “When does Aliera get out?”

“They’ve already dispatched the release order; she should be out within the hour.”

“Good.”

“Good work, Vlad,” said Morrolan.

“And you. All of us.”

“I should have more chairs,” said Perisil.

“Will Aliera be joining us here?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said.

I nodded. “Because she’d prefer to sit, I’m sure.” That earned me a look from Morrolan.

It was like the old days in Morrolan’s library, except it wasn’t. For one thing, Aliera wasn’t there. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to see her. Most likely, she wouldn’t want to see me. She knew and I knew that, what with one thing and another, thanks weren’t appropriate; but you can’t help when obligation makes you uncomfortable.

But more than that was the uncomfortable feeling that, while it was over, it wasn’t over. We couldn’t all relax and laugh and make fun of each other, because there was too much unfinished. What would happen with the Imperial investigation? Would the Left Hand go after Cawti, as they’d threatened? When would the Jhereg finally get me? And then there was the unresolved matter of—

“Kragar,” I said. “Do something for me?”

“Hmmm?”

“Some asshole was just arrested for impersonating a Phoenix Guard. He was one of the ones who beat me. Find him, learn who his friends were, and break a few bones.”

He nodded. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Me? Fine.”

“Oh, you healed?”

“I . . . yeah.”

He let it go. He knows me. They all know me. Sometimes that’s not entirely comfortable. I know them, too, but I don’t mind that part so much.

Morrolan said, “I’ve just heard from Aliera. She went home. Care to join us?”

BOOK: Iorich
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