The Book of Jhereg (24 page)

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “On the other hand, there are other kinds of pressures we could bring to bear.”

“In two days, Cawti? I don’t think so.”

She nodded, and gently stroked my forehead. “And,” she said, “even if we did, I don’t suppose it would really help. If we can’t take him anyway, it won’t do any good to convince one of the bodyguards to step back at the right time.”

Cling! I had it! Not much, perhaps, but I suddenly knew what had been bothering me. I sat up on the couch, startling Loiosh, who hissed his indignation at me.

I leaned over and kissed Cawti, long and hard.

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathlessly. “Not, you understand, that I mind.”

I gripped her hand, and locked eyes, and concentrated, letting her share my thoughts. She seemed a bit startled at first, but quickly settled into it. I brought up the memory of standing at the entranceway, and past it, running, and the sight of the dead assassin with a Morganti dagger in his hand. I played over the whole thing, remembering expressions, glimpses of the room, and things only an assassin would have noticed—as well as things an assassin should have noticed if they’d been there.

“
Hey, boss, want to run by the part of me getting the guy one more time?
”

“
Shut up, Loiosh
.”

Cawti nodded as it unfolded, and shared it with me. We reached the point where Morrolan handed me the dagger, and I broke out of it.

“There,” I said, “does anything strike you as odd?”

She thought it over. “Well, Mellar seemed pretty calm for someone who has almost been killed, and with a Morganti dagger. But other than that . . .”

I brushed it aside. “Chances are, he never realized that it was Morganti. Yes, it was odd, but I don’t mean that.”

“Then I don’t see what you’re referring to.”

“I’m referring to the strange action of the bodyguards at the assassination attempt.”

“But the bodyguards did nothing at the assassination attempt.”

“That was the strange action.”

She nodded, slowly.

I continued. “If the Dragon guard had been just a little bit slower, Mellar would have been cut down. I can’t reconcile that with our conclusion that they are competent. I suppose Mellar might have had time to get a weapon out, or something, but he sure didn’t look like it. The bodyguards were just nowhere to be seen. If they’re as good as we think they are, they should have been all over the assassin before Morrolan’s guard had time to show steel.”

“
Ahem!
”

“Or Loiosh had time to strike,” I added.

“
They couldn’t be
that
fast
.”

Cawti looked thoughtful. “Could it be that they just weren’t around? That Mellar sent them on some kind of errand?”

“That, my dear, is exactly what I’m thinking. And if so, I’d very much like to find out what it was that they were doing.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said, “it could be that they were there, and were good enough to see that Morrolan’s guard was going to stop him.”

“That is also possible,” I said. “But if they’re that good, I’m really scared.”

“Do you know if they are still with him?”

“Good point,” I said. “Just a minute while I check.”

I contacted one of Morrolan’s people in the banquet hall, asked, and was answered. “They’re still around,” I said.

“Which means that they weren’t bought off by the Demon, or the assassin. Whatever reason they had for their ‘strange action,’ it was good enough for Mellar.”

I nodded. “And that, my dearest love, is a good place to start looking tomorrow. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

She gave me her wide-eyed-innocent look. “What did you have in mind, my lord?”

“What makes you think I have something in mind?”

“You always do. Are you trying to tell me that you don’t have everything planned out?” She walked into the bedroom.

“Nothing,” I said, “has been planned out since I started this damned job. We’ll just have to improvise.”

* * *

I gave myself two days to complete the thing. I was aware that I was being unduly optimistic.

I arrived at the office somewhat early the next morning, hoping to spend the day looking for a solid plan, or at least the shade of a direction. I was congratulating myself on having beaten Kragar, who is normally an early riser, when I heard him coughing gently. He was seated opposite me, with his smug little, I’ve-been-sitting-here-for-ten-minutes-now look.

I gave him a moderate-to-dangerous Jhereg sneer and said, “What did you find out?”

“Well,” he said, “why don’t we start out with the bad news, before we get to the bad news, the bad news, or the other bad news.”

“Damn. You’re just full of high spirits today, aren’t you?”

He shrugged.

“Okay,” I said, “what’s the bad news?”

“There have been rumors,” he stated.

“Oh, joy. How accurate are they?”

“Not very. No one has quite put together the rumors of something unusual going on with Mellar, and the ones about the Jhereg’s having financial trouble.”

“Can it wait two days?”

He looked doubtful. “Maybe. Somebody’s going to have to start answering questions soon, though. Tomorrow would be better, and today would be better still.”

“Let me put it this way: will the day after tomorrow be too late?”

He looked thoughtful. “Probably,” he said at last.

I shook my head. “Well, at any rate, it isn’t me who’s going to have to answer the questions.”

“There is that,” he agreed. “Oh, and one piece of good news.”

“Really? Well, break out the kilinara, by Verra’s hair! We’ll have a bloody celebration.”

“
I’ll bring the dead teckla
.”

“Don’t drink yourself into a stupor yet. All it is, is that we’ve gotten that sorceress you wanted.”

“The one who was spreading rumors? Already? Good! Give the assassin a bonus.”

“I already have. He said it was half luck—she just happened to be in the perfect place, and he took her right away.”

“Good. You
make
luck like that, though. Remember the guy.”

“I will.”

“Okay, now for the rest. Did you find out anything about Mellar’s background?”

“Plenty,” he said, taking out his notebook and flipping it open. “But, so far as I can tell, none of it is going to be of any real help to us.”

“Forget about that for now; let’s at least try to get some idea of who the hell he really is; then we’ll see if that gives us anything to work with.”

Kragar nodded, found his place, and began reading. “His mother lived the happy and fulfilling life of a Dragon-Dzur half-breed. She wound up a whore. His father, it seems, was into a whole lot of different things, but was certainly an assassin. Reasonably competent, too. As far as I can tell, his father died during the fall of the city of Dragaera. We think the same thing happened to his mother. He hid out during the Eastern invasions, and showed up again after Zerika took the throne. He tried to claim kinship with the House of the Dragon and was rejected, of course. He tried the same thing with the House of the Dzur, with the same results.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, “you mean this was before he fought his way in?”

“Right. Oh, by the way, his real name is Leareth—or rather that was the name he was born with. That was the name he used the first time he joined the Jhereg.”

“The first time?”

“Right. It took one hell of a lot of digging to find out, but we did. He was using the name Leareth, of course, and there are no references to anyone of that name in Jhereg records.”

“Then how—”

“Lyorn records. It cost us about two thousand gold to do, by the way. And, it turns out, ‘someone’ had managed to bribe a few Lyorns. A lot of records that should have mentioned him, or his family, weren’t there. Part of it was just luck that we ran across something that he’d missed, or couldn’t get access to. The rest was clever planning, brilliant execution—”

“Money,” I said.

“Right. And I found a young Lyorn lady who couldn’t resist my obvious charms.”

“I’m surprised she noticed you.”

“Ah! They never do, until it’s too late, you know.”

I was impressed, in any case, both with Kragar, and with Mellar. Bribing Lyorns to get access to records isn’t easy, and bribing them to actually alter records is almost unheard of. It would be like bribing an assassin to give you the name of the guy who gave him the contract.

“Actually,” Kragar continued, “he didn’t officially join House Jhereg then,
which was one reason we had so much trouble. He worked for it on a straight free-lance basis.”

“‘Worked’?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t believe this, Kragar! How many assassins are we going to run into? I’m beginning to feel like I’m one of a horde.”

“Yeah. It just isn’t safe to walk the streets at night, is it?” he smirked.

I gestured toward the wine cabinet. It was a bit early for me, but I felt the need of something to help me keep up with the shocks. “Was he good?” I asked.

“Competent,” he agreed, as he poured us each a glass of Baritt’s Valley white. “He did only small-time stuff, but never muffed one. It seems that he never took on anything that was worth over three thousand.”

“That’s enough to make a living,” I said.

“I guess so. On the other hand, he also didn’t spend very much time at it. He didn’t take on ‘work’ more than once or twice a year, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Here’s the killer, if you’ll excuse the expression: all the time he was working for the Jhereg, he was spending most of his free time studying swordsmanship.”

“Really?”

“Really. And, get this, he was studying under Lord Onarr.”

I sat up in my chair so suddenly that I almost dumped Loiosh, who complained rather bitterly about the abuse. “Oh, ho!” I said. “So that’s how he got so good with the blade that he could beat seventeen Dzur heroes!”

He nodded grimly.

I asked, “Do you have any guesses as to why Onarr was willing to take him on as a student?”

“No guesses—I know exactly. It’s a real sweet story, too. Onarr’s wife apparently contracted one of the plagues during the Interregnum. Mellar, or I guess he was called Leareth then, found a witch to cure it. As you know, sorcery was inoperable then, and there were damn few Easterner witches willing to work on Dragaerans, and even fewer Dragaerans who knew witchcraft.”

“I know all about it,” I said shortly.

Kragar stopped and gave me a look.

“My father died of one of the Plagues,” I explained. “
After
the Interregnum, when they were pretty much beaten. He didn’t know sorcery. I did, but not quite enough. We could have cured him with witchcraft, either myself or my grandfather, but he wouldn’t let us. Witchcraft was too ‘Eastern,’ you see. Dad wanted to be a Dragaeran. That’s why he bought a title in the Jhereg and made me study Dragaeran-style swordsmanship and sorcery. And, of course, after dumping all of our money out the window, there wasn’t any left to hire a sorcerer. I’d have died of the same plague if my grandfather hadn’t cured me.”

Kragar spoke softly. “I didn’t know that, Vlad.”

“Anyway, go on,” I said abruptly.

“Well,” he continued, “if you haven’t guessed it already it was Mellar who had arranged with a witch to give Onarr’s wife the plague in the first place. So he comes up, just as she’s dying, saves her, and Onarr is very, very grateful. Onarr is so grateful, in fact, that he’s willing to teach swordsmanship to a houseless cross-breed. Nice story, isn’t it?”

“Interesting. Some elegant moves, there.”

“Isn’t it interesting? You’ll note the timing, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. He started this before he tried to join the House of the Dzur the first time, or the House of the Dragon.”

“Right. Which means, unless I miss my guess, that he knew exactly what would happen when he tried to claim membership.”

I nodded. “That puts a bit of a different light on things, doesn’t it? It makes his attempting to join the Dragon and the Dzur not so much confusing, as downright mystifying.”

Kragar nodded.

“And another thing,” I said. “It would appear that his planning goes back a lot longer than the ten years we were thinking of. It’s more like two hundred.”

“Longer than that,” said Kragar.

“Oh, that’s right. He started during the Interregnum, didn’t he? Three hundred, then? Maybe four hundred?”

“That’s right. Impressive, isn’t it?”

I agreed. “So continue.”

“Well, he worked with Onarr for close to a hundred years, in secret. Then he fought his way into the House of the Dzur when he felt he was ready, and from there you know the story.”

I thought it over a bit, trying to sort it out. It was too early to see if there was anything there that I could use, but I wanted to try to understand him as well as I could.

“Did you ever find any clues about why he wanted to get into the Dzur, the second time, when he fought his way in?”

Kragar shook his head.

“Okay. That’s something I’d like to find out. What about sorcery? Has he studied it at all?”

“As far as I can tell, only a little.”

“Witchcraft?”

“No way.”

“Well, so we have something, anyway, for all the good it will do us.”

I sipped my wine, as the information began to sink in, or rather, as much of it as I could handle just then. Studied under Onarr, eh? And fought his way into the Dzur, only to leave and join—or rather, rejoin—the Jhereg, and get to the top, and then lighten the whole council. Why? Just to show that he could do it? Well, he was part Dzur, but I still couldn’t quite see it. And that business with Onarr, and all that plotting and scheming. Strange.

“You know, Kragar, if it ever comes down to any kind of straight fight with this guy, I think I’m in trouble.”

He snorted. “You have a talent for understatement. He’ll carve you into stew.”

I shrugged. “On the other hand, remember that I use Eastern-style fencing. That could throw him off a bit, since he’s one of you hack-hack-cut types.”

“A damn good one!”

“Yeah.”

We sat there for a while, in silence, sipping our wine. Then Kragar asked, “What did you find? Anything new?”