Steven Brust - Yendi

Meanwhile, I hired more of these types to protect my own businesses from similar treatment.

Two days later we hit another one, with excellent results. That evening, Temek reported that Laris had dropped out of sight and was apparently running things from some hidden location.

The next morning Narvane, following up a rumor, found Temek’s body in an alley behind the first place we’d hit. He was unrevivifiable.

Three days after that, Varg reported that he’d been approached by one of Laris’s people to cooperate in an attempt to get me. Two days later, Shoen found the individual who’d approached Varg, alone. The guy was coming back from his mistress’s flat. Shoen finalized him. A week after that, two of the wizards who were infiltrating one of Laris’s establishments were blown to pieces in the middle of dinner in a small klava hole, by a spell thrown from the next table.

A week later we pulled another raid on one of Laris’s places. This time we hired twenty-five toughs to help us. Laris had built up his defenses, so six of my people took the trip, but they did the job.

Sometime in there, Laris must have lost his temper. He had to have paid through the nose, but he found a sorcerer who could break through my sorcery protection spells. A week after my raid, my cleaner’s shop went up in flames, along with the cleaner and most of his merchandise. I doubled the protection everywhere else. Two days later, Narvane and Chimov were caught on their way to escort H’noc in to me with his payment. Chimov was quick and lucky, so he was revivifiable; Narvane was not so quick but much luckier, and managed to teleport to a healer. The assassins escaped.

Eight days later, two things happened on the same evening, at nearly the same moment.

First, a wizard sneaked into a building housing a brothel run by Laris, carefully spread more than forty gallons of kerosene, and lit it. The place burned to the ground. The fires were set in front on the second story and in back on the first; no one was even scorched.

Second, Varg came to see me about something important. Melestav informed me; I told him to send Varg in. As Varg opened the door, Melestav noticed something—he still doesn’t know what—and yelled for him to stop. He didn’t, so Melestav put a dagger into his back and Varg fell at my feet. We checked, and found that it wasn’t Varg at all. I gave Melestav a bonus, then went into my office, shut the door, and shook.

Two days later, Laris’s people staged a full-scale raid on my office, complete with burning out the shop. We held them off without losing anyone permanently, but the cost was heavy.

Narvane, who’d taken over from Temek, found one more source of Laris’s income. Four days after the raid on me, we hit it—beat up some customers, hurt some of his protection people, and set fire to the place.

By which time certain parties had had enough of the whole thing.

That day, I was standing in the rubble in front of my office, trying to decide if I needed a new place. Wyrn, Miraf’n, Glowbug, and Chimov surrounded me. Kragar and Melestav were there, too. Glowbug said, “Trouble, boss.”

Miraf’n immediately stepped in front of me, but I had time to catch sight of four Jhereg walking toward the ruined building. It appeared that there was someone in the middle, but I couldn’t be sure.

They reached the place and the four of them stood facing my bodyguards. Then a voice I recognized called out from among them, “Taltos!”

I swallowed, and stepped forward. I bowed. “Greetings, Lord Toronnan.”

“They stay. You come.”

“Come, Lord Toronnan? Where—”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, my lord.” One of these days, bastard, I’m going to do you.

He turned and I began following. He looked back and said, “No. That thing stays, too.” It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying, then: “ Get ready, Kragar. ”

“Ready, boss.”

Out loud, I said, “No. The jhereg stays with me.”

His eyes narrowed and we matched stares. Then he said, “All right.”

I relaxed. We went north to Malak Circle, then headed east on Pier Street. Eventually we came to what had once been an inn, but was now empty, and went inside. Two of his people stopped by the door. Another was waiting inside. He carried a sorcery staff. We stood before him, and Toronnan said, “Do it.”

There was a twisting in my bowels, and I found myself with Toronnan and two of his bodyguards in an area I recognized as Northwest Adrilankha. We were in the hills, where the houses were damn near castles. About twenty yards in front of us was the entrance to a pure white one, the great double doors inlaid with gold. A real pretty place.

“Inside,” said Toronnan.

We walked up the steps. A manservant opened the door. Two Jhereg were just inside, their gray cloaks looking new and well cut. One of them nodded at Toronnan’s enforcers and said, “They can wait here.”

My boss nodded. We proceeded inward. The hall was bigger than the apartment I’d lived in after selling the restaurant. The room it emptied into, like a sewer into a cesspool, was bigger than the apartment I was living in. I saw more gold invested in knickknacks around the place than I’d earned in the last year. None of this went very far to improve my mood. In fact, by the time we were ushered into a small sitting room, I was beginning to feel more belligerent than frightened. Sitting there with Toronnan for more than ten minutes, waiting, didn’t help either.

Then this guy walked in, dressed in the usual black and gray, with bits of gold lacing around the edges. His hair was graying. He looked old, maybe two thousand, but hale. He wasn’t fat—Dragaerans don’t get fat—but he seemed well-fed. His nose was small and flat; his eyes, deep and pale blue. He addressed Toronnan in a low, full, harsh voice: “Is this him?”

Who did he think I was? Mario Greymist? Toronnan only nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Get out.”

Toronnan did so. The big shot stood there staring at me. I was supposed to get nervous, I guess. After a while I yawned. He glared.

“You bored?” he asked.

I shrugged. This guy, whoever he was, could snap his fingers and have me killed. But I wasn’t about to kiss his ass; my life isn’t worth that much.

He pulled a chair out with a foot, sat in it. “So you’re a hardcase,” he said. “I’m convinced. You’ve impressed me. Now, you wanna live, or not?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” I admitted.

“Good. I’m Terion.”

I stood and bowed, then sat. I’d heard of him. He was one of the big, big bosses, one of the five who ran the organization in the city of Adrilankha (and Adrilankha had about ninety percent of the business). So I was impressed.

“How may I serve you, lord?”

“ Aw, c ’ mon, boss. Tell him to jump in chaos, stick out your tongue, and spit in his soup. Go ahead. ”

“You can lay off your attempts to burn down Adrilankha.”

“Lord?”

“Can’t you hear?”

“I assure you, lord, I have no desire to burn down Adrilankha. Just a small part of it.”

He smiled and nodded. Then, with no warning, the smile vanished and his eyes narrowed to slits. He leaned toward me and I felt my blood turn to ice water.

“Don’t play around with me, Easterner. If you’re going to fight it out with this other teckla—Laris—do it in a way that doesn’t bring the whole Empire down on us. I’ve told him, now I’m telling you. If you don’t, I’ll settle it myself. Got that?”

I nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Yes, lord.”

He got up, turned his back on me, and left. I swallowed a couple of times, stood, and walked out of the room. Toronnan was gone, with all of his people. Terion’s servant showed me the door. I did my own teleport back to my office. I told Kragar that we were going to have to change our methods.