Steven Brust - Teckla

Sticks dropped my legs at the top of the stairs and clapped. I heard a child say, "I'll leave these here." There was a rustling sound, and the child said, "No, that's all right," and there were soft footsteps descending. After waiting for someone to answer the clap, Sticks opened the door and I was dragged inside.

"Now what?" said Glowbug.

I could hear barely concealed distaste in Kragar's voice as he said, "We need to get him cleaned up, I think, and—Cawti!"

"Loiosh told me to come home right away. What—Vlad?"

"He needs to be cleaned up and put to bed, I think."

"Are you all right, Vlad?"

Loiosh flew off my shoulder. Probably to Cawti, but I was staring in the other direction just then so I couldn't tell. Cawti was silent for a moment, then she said, "Put him in the bath. Through here." It sounded as if she was having trouble keeping her voice steady.

After a while there was hot water on me, and Cawti's hands were gentle. I learned that I'd soiled myself somewhere in there, as well as throwing up all over my chest and stomach. Kragar came into the room and he and Cawti got me standing and dried me off, then got me into the bed and left me there. Loiosh, silent now, sat next to me, his head on my cheek. Rocza made scratching sounds on the bedpost to my left.

From the next room, I could hear Cawti saying, "Thank you, Kragar."

Kragar said, "Thank Loiosh." Then their voices dropped and I could only hear mutterings for a while.

Later, the door to the flat closed and I heard Cawti make her way into the bathroom, and the sound of the pump. After a while she came back into the bedroom and put a damp cloth over my forehead. She put Spellbreaker around my left wrist and covered me with blankets. I settled back into the bedding and waited to die.

It was funny. I'd always wondered what my last thoughts would be, if I had time to think them. It turned out that my last thoughts were of how I was thinking my last thoughts. That was funny. I chuckled somewhere, deep down inside of me where I can't be hurt. If Aliera was right about reincarnation, perhaps my next life would be better. No. I knew Aliera was right. My next life probably wouldn't be any better than this one. Well, I don't know. Maybe you learn something each life. What had I learned in this lifetime? That it's always the good guys against the bad guys, and you can never tell who the good guys are, so you settle for killing the bad guys. We're all bad guys. No. Loiosh isn't a bad guy. Cawti isn't—well—oh, what's the use? I should just—

-I realized with some surprise that I was still alive. It occurred to me then that I might not die. I felt my heart speed up. Was it possible? A certain sense of what I could only call reality began to seep in then, and I knew I was going to live. I still couldn't accept it emotionally—I didn't really believe it—but I somehow knew it. I reached for my right sleeve dagger but it was gone. Then I remembered that I was naked. I lifted my head and saw the bundle of my clothing and weapons, with the rapier jutting out, over in the corner, and I knew I couldn't reach it. I felt Spellbreaker around my left wrist. Would that do? How? I could hardly strangle myself. Maybe I could bash myself over the head.

I worked my left arm free and stared at the thin gold chain. When I first found it, Sethra Lavode had suggested I find a name for it. She was evasive when I asked why. Now I looked at it closely, wrapped tightly about my wrist, clinging, but never squeezing, I let my arm fall off the side of the bed and it uncoiled and fell into my hand. I lifted it, and it worked itself into a pose, hanging in midair like a coiled yendi. As I moved my hand, the rest of it didn't move, as if the other end was fixed in space, twelve inches above me.

What are you ? I asked it. You have saved my life more than once, but I don't really know what you are. Are you a weapon? Can you kill me now ?

It coiled and uncoiled then, as if it were considering the matter. I had never seen it do that before. The trick of hanging in midair it had been doing when I had first found it, but that had been under Dzur Mountain, where strange things are normal. Or was it in the Paths of the Dead? I couldn't remember any more. Did it mean to take me back there now? Easterners aren't allowed into the Paths of the Dead, but was I really an Easterner? What was an Easterner, really? Were they different from Dragaerans? Who cared? That was easy, Easterners cared and Dragaerans cared. Who didn't care? Kelly didn't care. Did the Lords of Judgment care?

Spellbreaker formed shapes in the air before me, twisting and coiling like a dancer. I barely noticed when Loiosh flew out of the room. It was still dancing for me a few minutes later when Cawti returned, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Drink this, Vlad," she said, her voice trembling. Spellbreaker dipped low, then climbed high. I wondered what would happen if I let go of the end I was holding, but didn't want to take the chance that it would stop. I felt a cup pressed against my lip and hot tea dribbled into my mouth and onto my chest. I swallowed by reflex and noticed an odd taste. It occurred to me that perhaps Cawti was poisoning me. When the cup came again, I drank greedily, still watching Spellbreaker's dance.

When the cup was empty, I lay back, waiting for oblivion. There was some part of me that was mildly surprised when it came.

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I don't remember actually waking up. I stared at the ceiling for a long time without focusing on it. Awareness of sensations increased slowly—the smooth linen of finely woven sheets, the scent of Cawti's hair next to my face, her warm, dry hand in mine. With my other hand I touched myself, face and body, and I blinked. Loiosh's tail was draped across my neck—feather-light and scaly.

" Boss ?" Tentative.

" Yes, Loiosh. I'm here ."

He rested his head against my cheek. I smelled Adrilankha's morning in the breeze through the window. I licked my lips, squeezed my eyes tightly shut, and opened them. Memory returned, piercing as a needle. I winced, then trembled. After a moment I turned toward Cawti. She was awake and looking at me. Her eyes were red. I said, "Some of us will do anything for sympathy." My voice cracked as I said it. She squeezed my hand.

After a moment, she chuckled softly. "I'm trying to find a way to say, 'Are you all right?' that doesn't sound like you ought to be put away somewhere." I squeezed her hand. Loiosh stirred and flapped around the room once. Rocza stirred from somewhere and hissed.

"If you mean am I about to kill myself, the answer is no." Then I said, "You didn't sleep, did you?" She made a gesture that I took as, "No, I didn't." I said, "Maybe you should." She looked at me with swimming red eyes. I said, "You know, this doesn't really solve anything."

"I know," she said, and this time it was her voice that broke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About—what happened yesterday? No. It's too close. What did you give me? It was a poison, wasn't it?"

"In the tea? Yes. Tsiolin, but just a mild dose so you'd sleep."

I nodded. She moved over next to me and I held her. I stared at the ceiling a while longer. It was made of beaded ceiling board, and Cawti had painted it a very pale green. "Green?" I had said at the time. "It represents growth and fertility," she had explained. "Ah ha," I had said and we went on to other things. Now it just looked green. But she was holding me. Make of this what you will.

I got up and took care of morning things. When I looked back in, Cawti was sleeping. I went out with Loiosh and sat in Kigg's for a while and drank klava. I was very careful to watch all around as I left home. I've never been attacked when I was ready for it; it's always come unexpectedly. That's odd only because of the amount of time I seem to spend expecting to be attacked. I wondered what it would be like not to have to worry about that. If these Easterners had their way, and their daydreams turned out real, that might happen. But it wouldn't matter to me, anyway. I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't careful to watch around me as much as possible. Even when I was young there were too many kids who didn't like Easterners. I was stuck as I was, whatever happened. But still—