Steven Brust - Yendi

“ Yeah? ”

“ N’aal is here .”

“ Send him in .”

He came in. “Boss, I—”

“Just a minute. Three things. First, good work taking out the one. Second, next time I’ll expect you to spot them before they spot me. Three, next time I’m almost nailed like that, if you’re around, keep your bleeding wiseass remarks to yourself or I’ll cut your bleeding throat for you. Got it?”

“Yeah, boss. Sorry.”

“Okay. What d’you want?”

“I thought you’d want these.” He tossed my shuriken, complete with bloodstains, on my desk. “I remember hearing that you don’t like them left around, and—”

I stood up, walked around my desk, and slipped a dagger out from my cloak. Before N’aal could react, I put it in him, between the forth and fifth ribs, angled up. A look of shock came into his face as I stepped out of the way. Then he fell.

I turned to Kragar, still gripped by fear and icy rage. Also, my back and side hurt like the Great Sea of Chaos. “Kragar, you are a very fine administrative assistant. But if you ever want to run an area, make it as far from me as possible, or else learn how to keep discipline. That guy’s no fool; he should know better than to walk in here with a murder weapon, with the corpse’s blood still on it. In the four days I’ve been gone, you’ve managed to convince everyone around here that they don’t have to think anymore, and as a result I almost got butchered out there. You son-of-a-bitch, this is my life we’re talking about!”

“ Take it easy, boss. Don’t —”

“ Shut up. ”

“Now,” I continued, “see if you can get him revivified. Out of your pocket. If not, you may have the honor of giving his next of kin the bonus. Understand?”

Kragar nodded, looking genuinely crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Vlad,” he said, and seemed to be looking for something else to say.

I went back to my desk, sat down, leaned back and shook my head. Kragar wasn’t incompetent, at most things. I really didn ’ t want to lose him. After this, I should probably do something to show I trusted him. I sighed. “Okay, let’s forget it. I’m back now. There’s something I want you to do.”

“Yeah?”

“N’aal was not completely wrong. I should not have left the shuriken in the body; but he should not have brought them back to me. I don’t know that the Empire ever employs witches, but if it does, a witch could trace that weapon back to its wielder.”

Kragar listened silently. He knew nothing about witchcraft.

“It has to do with body aura,” I explained. “Anything that’s been around me for any length of time is going to pick up a sort of psychic ‘scent’ that a witch can identify.”

“So, what do you do about it? You can’t count on always taking the weapon with you.”

“I know. So what I’m going to do is to start changing weapons every couple of days or so, so that nothing is on me long enough to pick up my aura. I’m going to make a list of all my weapons. I want you to go around and get ones to match. I’ll put the ones I’m done with in a box, and you can use them for trade next time, which should cut down on the cost a bit. Okay?”

He looked startled. Well, I wasn’t surprised. I was putting a lot of trust in him to tell him what weapons I had concealed about me, even if, as he would suspect, I were keeping a few back. But he nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Come back in an hour and I’ll have the list made up. Memorize and destroy it.”

“Check, boss.”

“Good. Now go away.”

“ Boss . . . ”

“ Sorry I snapped at you, Loiosh. And good work with that assassin. ”

“ Thanks, boss. And don’t worry about it. I understand .”

Loiosh had always been understanding, I decided. It was only then, as I began writing, that it really hit me just how close I’d come once again. I reached the trash bucket just before my stomach emptied itself. I got a glass of water and rinsed out my mouth, then had Melestav empty and clean the bucket. I sat there shaking for some time before I got to work on the list for Kragar.

I gave Kragar the list, and he took off to fill it. Shortly after that I got a message from Melestav.

“ Boss . . . there are some people here to see you .”

“ Who? ”

“ People in uniform .”

“ Oh shit. Well, I shouldn ’ t be surprised. ” I made sure there was nothing incriminating on my desk. “ Okay, send them in. ”

“ How bad do you suppose this is going to be, Loiosh? ”

“ You can always claim self-defense, boss. ”

The door opened and two Dragaerans dressed in the golden uniforms of the House of Phoenix came marching in. One looked around the office contemptuously, as if to say, “So this is how the scum live.” The other looked at me with a similar expression, as if to say, “So this is the scum.”

“Greetings, my lords,” I said. “How may I serve the Empire?”

The one who was looking at me said, “You are Baronet Vlad of Taltos?” He pronounced it “Taltoss,” instead of “Taltosh,” so he must have had written orders, for whatever that was worth.

“Baronet Taltos will do,” I said. “I am at your service, lords.”

The other one turned his glance to me, snorted, and said, “I’ll bet.”

The first one asked me, “What do you know about it?”

“About what, my lord?”

He shot a glance at the other, who closed the door of my office. I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, knowing what was coming. Well, it happens sometimes. When the door was shut, the one who’d been doing most of the talking pulled a dagger from his belt.

I swallowed and said, “My lord, I’d like to help—” which was as far as I got before the hilt of the dagger, held in his palm, smashed into the side of my head. I went flying out of the chair and landed in the comer.

“ Loiosh, don’t do anything .”

There was a pause then, “ I know, boss, but— ”

“ Nothing! ”

“ Okay, boss. Hang in there .”

The one who’d just hit me was standing over me now. He said, “Two men were murdered just outside of the door of this place, Jhereg.” He made it sound like a curse. “What do you know about it?”

“Lord,” I said, “I don’t know oomph! ” as his foot took me in the stomach. I’d seen it just in time to move forward, so he missed my solar plexus.

The other one came up then. “Did you hear him, Menthar? He don’t know oomph. How about that?” He spat on me. “I think we should take him to the barracks. What do you think?”

Menthar muttered something and kept looking at me. “I’ve heard you’re a tough one, Whiskers. Is that true?”

“No, lord,” I told him.

He nodded and said to the other one, “This isn’t a Jhereg; this is a Teckla. Look at him squirm. Doesn’t it make you sick?”

His partner said, “What about those two murders, Teckla? You sure you don’t know anything about them?” He reached down and hauled me up, so that I was against the back wall. “You real sure?”

I said, “I don’t know what—” and he caught me under the chin with the pommel of his dagger, which had been hidden in his hand. My head cracked against the wall and I felt my jaw break. I must have lost consciousness for an instant, because I don’t remember sliding to the floor.

Then Menthar said, “You hold him for me.”

The other guard agreed. “But be careful. Easterners are fragile. Remember the last one.”

“I’ll be careful.” He looked at me and smiled. “Last chance,” he said. “What do you know about those two dead men outside?”