Iorich (9 page)

It cost another orb to have food sent up to my room, which had a window from which I could see the upper reaches of the Iorich and the Chreotha Wings, the first with its signature bell tower, the latter with its massive wall of bas-relief jungle plants. I could see them well, because the window was glass. That’s the sort of thing you get for two orbs a night.

The bed was considerably softer than the ground I’d gotten used to sleeping on, and there was even enough room to turn with my arms stretched out. That’s the thing about rooms near the Palace: They’re small; probably designed to make the Palace seem bigger, I don’t know.

“You ever planning to fall asleep, Boss?”

“The walls are too thick. It’s too quiet. I’m used to things chittering and rustling all night.”

He didn’t answer, and somewhere in there I fell asleep and had a confusing dream about thick walls that were in between me and something I wanted, I don’t remember what, and I kept trying to dig through them with the dull edge of a knife. Why the dull edge? How should I know; I was only a spectator.

I woke late the next morning, feeling pretty good. Loiosh and Rocza scouted the area, decided it was safe, and I went out looking for klava. Found some. Drank it. Was happy. I also picked up a warm sweet bun stuffed with kethna, and it was good too. Then, with Loiosh and Rocza taking precautions for me, I made my way back to the Iorich Wing.

The advocate’s door was closed and there was a note pinned to it with the initial
V
in tight, careful script. I took down the note and unfolded it to read, “Running an errand; wait in my office.”

I shrugged and reached for the door handle, and Loiosh said,
“Boss!”

I froze.
“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

My hand brushed Lady Teldra’s hilt, but I didn’t draw. Pulling a Morganti weapon in the House of the Iorich is the sort of thing that gets you talked about, and I wasn’t going to do it if I didn’t have to.

“Something about that note bothers me.”

“If you tell me you’ve suddenly turned into a handwriting expert—”

He didn’t answer; I could feel him thinking, or at least doing something with his mind, probing or sensing in a way that I couldn’t feel. I waited. I hoped no one walked by, because I’d either kill him or feel like an idiot for standing outside of this door not moving. I studied the note again. Was it the same handwriting I’d seen from Perisil? Pretty close. I started to pull out the directions he’d written out for me to compare the writing, but Loiosh spoke before I could.

“There’s someone inside.”

“Okay.”

“It isn’t him.”

“Okay. Anyone else around?”

“A few of the other offices have people in them.”

“Send Rocza ahead.”

She left my shoulder almost before the words were out of my metaphorical mouth. I turned and walked back the way I’d come—not too fast, not too slow, trying to stay alert for any sound, any flicker of movement. It’s the sort of experience that wakes up every particle of your body. If it weren’t for the thrill of the thing, I’d just as soon skip it completely.

“She says it’s clear ahead, Boss.”

The hallway was much, much longer than it had been two minutes before when I was going the other way, and my footsteps were much louder. Two Justicers were walking slowly toward me, deep in conversation, and I gave them an extra look even though I could tell they weren’t Jhereg from the frankly curious glance they gave me. I could feel Loiosh watching them until they were well past.

I reached the stairway at the far end of the hallway with Rocza still scouting ahead. On the main floor I could relax a little; there were uniformed armsmen there, and a few more people as well as more open space; it was a bad place for an assassin to make a move.

The same elderly woman was in the same place near the door. Next to her was a Chreotha with a cart selling food of some sort. I bought a hot and flaky pastry filled with garlicky potato. I stood off to the side eating and thinking.

I fed the remainders to the jhereg; people around pretended not to notice. Lady Teldra would have been proud of them.

I brushed crumbs off my fingers.

“Okay, Boss. Now where?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Yeah, like I said.”

“This is pretty safe, but I think after standing here six or seven hours I’ll start to feel silly.”

“When has that—”

“Of course, it might be fun to stand here until the assassin gives up and leaves, and then give him a big smile as he goes by.”

“Sure, Boss. Whatever floats your castle.”

“The other idea is not to do that.”
I reviewed a list of more
practical possibilities, then approached the woman behind the desk with a short bow. “Is there a common waiting area?”

She frowned. “If you wish to see an advocate, they each have offices.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’d rather wait elsewhere, if you don’t mind.”

She looked like she wanted to ask why, but only gestured to her right, saying, “Fourth door on the right. It should be open.”

“Can a note be delivered to Lord Perisil?”

She frowned again. “Would that be High Counsel Perisil?”

“Yes,” I said, while the ghost of Lady Teldra probably tsked at me for not knowing the proper title and at her for correcting me.

The clerk was kind enough to let me use a piece of coarse paper and a cheap pencil. I wrote a short note and handed it over, not even bothering to fold it. “I do not know the customs of your House,” I said. “I trust this will go to his hand, and nowhere else?”

“That is correct,” she said, a bit contemptuously. She probably hated her job, sitting there hour after hour sending people one way or another. I wondered how long she’d been doing it. Since the Interregnum ended, to look at her.

She took the note and put it casually on her desk under what looked like a piece of polished stone. I turned away from her slowly, scanning the room: A few people, mostly Iorich, were passing by on business of their own. The jhereg got some curious glances.

The place she’d directed me to was big and comfortable, mostly done in a pale blue that was probably calculated to make me feel something or other.

“You know, Boss, for someone who hates waiting—”

“Oh, shut up.”

Not that he wasn’t right. I found a chair against a wall because all of the chairs were against a wall. I stretched my legs out, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. Somewhere below me, there was a Jhereg expecting me to walk into Perisil’s office so I could be killed. Was Perisil in on it? Unlikely. The Jhereg don’t like to use advocates for illegal stuff; and besides, if he’d been in on it the note wouldn’t have looked funny.

Here’s the thing: Anyone can be shined. That’s just how it is. If you want someone bad enough, you can get him. But if he knows you’re after him, he can pretty much keep out of trouble as long as he stays alert. Which makes the question simple: How long can someone stay alert, always watching alleyways, aware of anyone who is carefully not looking at you, keeping an eye out for a good place to make a move. How long can you keep that up?

For most people, the answer is: hours, maybe a day or two.

But it turns out that you can do it a lot longer if you have a pair of jhereg taking shifts for you.

Did that mean I was safe? Not hardly. Sooner or later they were bound to get me. But thanks to Loiosh and Rocza, I had a pretty reasonable chance of making it later rather than sooner as long as I didn’t do too many stupid things.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong; I’ve gone for months without doing anything stupid. Did I just survive this time because the assassin got sloppy? Maybe. I’d like to think that if it were me I’d have been more careful with the note. Perhaps not, though. No one can do everything perfectly; mistakes happen. But we’re assassins: when we make mistakes, people live.

From time to time someone would come into the room, wait for a while, be met by someone, and leave. I guess I was
there for a couple of hours before Perisil came in. He nodded to me, and said, “You could have waited in my office.”

I stood up, nodded, and followed him back down the stairs. We didn’t see anyone in the long hallway. He walked in, took a seat behind his desk, and gave me a questioning look. I decided it was a safe bet that if there’d been an assassin standing there holding a knife, he’d have reacted somehow, so I went in after him and took a seat.

“Want to explain?” he said.

“Explain what?”

“Never mind, then.”

“You saw Aliera?”

“Just got back. She’s very, ah, proud,” he said.

“If you aren’t stating the obvious, then I’m missing the point.”

“I’m stating the obvious.”

“All right.”

“Mostly.” He sat down behind the desk as if he’d just been through a battle. It was a very familiar motion, although when I sat down like that, the battle had usually been more physical.

“Want to tell me about it?” I said.

“I got her to agree to let me defend her.”

“Well done.”

“But she won’t cooperate in the endeavor.”

“That would be a problem.”

“Yes.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Think about it.”

“I’ve tried that with Aliera.”

“Not much luck?”

“She isn’t subject to what passes for logical thought in most people.”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Have you learned anything?”

“The Empress was hit with some sort of disaster that reflects badly on her.”

“With whom?”

“Knowing the Empress, probably history. She’s never seemed to care much about public opinion.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Not very. Not yet.”

“You think it might be Tirma?”

“Maybe. Hard to say, since this is the first I’ve ever heard of Tirma.”

“Oh. That’s right, you’ve been out of the city, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I only heard about Aliera’s arrest by a fluke.”

“Tirma is a village in the far northwest. There was some unrest there, and a request for Imperial troops. No one knows what happened, but some peasants were slaughtered.”

“Innocent ones?”

“Some say.”

“I’ll bet Kelly has a lot to say on the subject.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. How does arresting Aliera help? A distraction?”

“Maybe.”

He looked like he was thinking, so I let him alone. After a minute or two he said, “The bigger question is, how does Aliera think it helps?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Assuming all our speculations are right.”

“We have to find out for sure.”

“You’re telling me that’s my job.”

“I’m saying I expect your help.”

I grunted. “I guess that’s fair.”

He nodded.

I suppose I could have told him that the Jhereg already knew I was back in town, and it wouldn’t be safe for me to go sniffing around places. But then what? I mean, it had to be done.

“Sure, Boss. But do you have to be the one to do it?”

“Seems like.”

“Why?”

“No one else is.”

“Right, Boss. Why?”

“Oh.”

“. . .and until then, I’m not going to be able to—”

“Sorry, I was distracted. Start over?”

He gave me an odd look. “I was saying that I need something I can take to a Justicer.”

“What do you mean, take to a Justicer?”

“I mean sending a Petition of Release, or make a case for Dishonorable Prosecution.”

“Dishonorable Prosecution? They have that?”

“It’s in the books.”

“How many times has it been brought?”

“Successfully?”

“At all.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Successfully?”

“Never.”

“You’d bring that against the Empress?”

“Against the Empire, but, in effect, yes.”

“Forget it. Aliera will never permit it.”

He nodded as if he’d come to the same conclusion. “Probably true, but I want to have it there anyway.”

“Whatever you think,” I said.

“What I think is that this is very odd.”

“Seems like it to me, too. The Empress prosecuting a friend isn’t—”

“No, that’s not what’s odd; Emperors do what they have to do, and being a friend to an Emperor sometimes means losing your head. It’s always been like that.”

“All right, then. What’s odd?”

“The law they’re prosecuting her with. It isn’t intended to be used against high nobles whose House is near the top of the Cycle.”