Steven Brust - Yendi

“ I ’ ve located Countess Neorenti. ”

“ Good work, Fentor. I ’ m pleased. What about the Athyra? ”

“ Milord, are you certain about her name? Baroness Tierella? ”

“ I think so. I could check on it a little more, I suppose. Why? Can ’ t find her? ”

“ I ’ ve checked the records as thoroughly as I can. Milord. There has never been anyone named ‘ Tierella ’ in the House of the Athyra, ‘ Baroness ’ or anything else. ”

I sighed. Why does life have to be so Verra-be-damned complicated?

“ Okay, Fentor. I ’ ll worry about it tomorrow. Get some sleep. ”

“ Thank you, milord. ”

The contact was broken. Cawti was awake, and snuggled closer to me.

“What is it, Vladimir?”

“More trouble,” I said. “Let’s forget it for now.”

“Mmmmmmm,” she said.

“ Loiosh .”

“ Yeah, boss? ”

“ You are provisionally forgiven .”

“ Yeah, I know .”

A few brief, happy hours later we were up and functional. Cawti offered to buy me breakfast and I accepted. Before we left, she wandered around the rooms, looking into nooks and crannies. She commented on a cheap print of an expensive Katana sketch of Dzur Mountain, sneered good-naturedly at some imitation Eastern cut glass, and would have continued all day if I hadn’t finally said, “Let me know when you’re through with the inspection. I’m getting hungry.”

“Hm? Oh. Sorry.” She gave the flat another look. “It’s just that I suddenly feel as if this were home.”

I felt a lump in my throat as she took my arm and guided me to the door.

“Where shall we eat? Vladimir?”

“What? Oh. Uh, anywhere’s fine. There’s a place just a couple of doors up that has clean silver and klava that you don’t need a spoon for.”

“Sounds good.”

Loiosh settled on my shoulder and we went down to the street. It was about four hours after dawn, and a few things were just beginning to get going, but there was little street traffic. We went into Tsedik’s and Cawti bought me two greasy sausages, a pair of burned chicken eggs, warmed bread, and adequate klava to wash it down with. She had the same.

I said, “I just realized that I haven’t cooked a meal for you yet.”

“I was wondering when you’d get around to it.” She smiled.

“You know I cook? Oh. Yeah.” She continued eating. I said, “I really ought to do a job on your background, just to make us even, you know.”

“I told you most of it last night, Vladimir.”

“Doesn’t count,” I sniffed. “Not the same thing.”

Midway through the meal, I noted the time and decided to do some business. “Excuse me,” I said to Cawti.

“ Morrolan . . . ”

“ Yes, Vlad? ”

“ The Athyra you gave me isn’t .”

“ I beg your pardon? ”

“ She isn’t an Athyra .”

“ What is she, pray? ”

“ As far as I know, she doesn’t exist .”

There was a pause. “ I shall look into this and inform you of the results .”

“ Okay. ”

I sighed, and the rest of the meal passed in silence. We kept it short, because being in a public restaurant without bodyguards can be dangerous. All it would take would be a waiter who knew what was going on to get a message to Laris’s people, and they could send someone in to nail me. Cawti understood this, so she didn’t make any comment when I rushed a bit.

She understood it so well, in fact, that she stepped out of the place ahead of me, just to make sure there was no one around. Loiosh did the same thing.

“ Boss, stay back! ” And, “Vladimir!”

And, for the first time in my life, I froze in a crisis. Why? Because all of my instincts and training told me to dive and get away from the door, but my reason told me that Cawti was facing an assassin.

I stood there like an idiot while Cawti rushed out, and then there was someone in front of me, holding a wizard’s staff. He gestured, and then Spellbreaker was in my hand and swinging toward him before I knew what I was doing. I felt a tingling in my arm and knew that I’d intercepted something. I saw the guy in front of me curse, but before he could do anything else there was a dagger sticking out of the side of his neck. Whatever Cawti was doing, she apparently had time to keep an eye on the door. As I scrambled through, drawing a stiletto, I managed a psionic “ Help! ” to Kragar. Then I saw three more of them. Sheesh!

One was yelling and trying to fight off Loiosh. Another was dueling, sword to sword, with Cawti. The third spotted me as I emerged and his hand flicked out. I dived toward him, rolling (this is not easy with a sword at your hip), and whatever he threw missed. I lashed out with both feet, but he danced back out of the way. There was a knife in his left hand, set for throwing. I hoped he’d miss any vital spots.

Then the knife fell from his hand as a dagger blossomed from his wrist. I took the opportunity to roll up and do unto him what he’d been about to do unto me. I considered his heart an adequate vital spot; I didn’t miss it.

A quick glance at Cawti showed me that she was doing all right against her man, who apparently wasn’t used to a swordsman who presented only the side. I drew my rapier and took two steps toward the one Loiosh was engaging. He gave Loiosh a last swipe, turned to face me, raised his blade, and took the point of my rapier in his left eye. I turned back to Cawti. She was cleaning her weapon.

“Let’s move, troops,” I said, as Loiosh returned to my shoulder.

“Good idea. Can you teleport?”

“Not when I’m this excited. You?”

“No.”

“How about walking, then. Back to my office.”

Cawti cleaned her blade, while I dropped mine where it was. Then I led us back into Tsedik’s and out the back door, and we began a leisurely stroll back to the office. If we walked fast, we’d attract even more attention than we already had, but I don’t know if there is anything in the world more difficult than trying to stroll while your heart is racing and the adrenaline is pumping through your system. I was trembling like a teckla, and the knowledge that this made me an even easier target didn’t help.

We had gone less than a block toward the office when four more Jhereg showed up: Glowbug, N’aal, Shoen, and Sticks.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I managed. They all greeted me. I refrained from telling N’aal that he looked well, because he might have thought I was mocking him. He didn’t seem resentful, though.

We made it back to the office without incident. I contrived to be alone when I finally lost my breakfast. It hadn’t been that good, anyway.

I’ve known Dragaerans, and I mean known, not just heard of, who can eat a meal, go out and have an incredibly close brush with death, then come home and eat another meal. You might run into one of these jokers an hour later and ask if anything interesting has been happening, and he’ll shrug and say, “Not really.”

I don’t know if I admire these types or just feel sorry for them, but I’m sure not like that. I have a variety of reactions to almost dying and none of them involves being plussed. It’s especially bad when it comes as the result of an assassination attempt, because such attempts are, by nature, unexpected.

But my reactions, as I said, vary. Sometimes I become paranoid for a few hours or days, sometimes I become aggressive and belligerent. This time, I sat very still at my desk for a long time. I was shaken and I was scared. The sight of those four— four— kept running through my mind.