Steven Brust - Teckla

When the tea was done and appreciated and I had made a respectful hello to Ambrus while Noish-pa did the same to Loiosh, he said, "What troubles you, Vladimir?"

"Everything, Noish-pa."

He looked at me closely. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"No."

"For our family, that is a bad sign."

"Yes."

"What has happened?"

"Do you remember that fellow, Franz, who was killed?"

He nodded.

"Well," I said, "there's another one. I was there when they found her body just now."

He shook his head. "And Cawti is still with these people?"

I nodded. "It's more than that, Noish-pa. They're like children who've found a Morganti dagger. They don't know what they're doing. They just keep going about their business as if they could stand up to the whole Jhereg, not to mention the Empire itself. That wouldn't bother me if Cawti weren't one of them, but I just can't protect her; not forever. I was standing outside their meeting place when the messenger showed up to tell them where to find the body—or so I assume. But he could just as easily have been a sorcerer and destroyed the entire house and everyone in it. I know the guy behind it—he'd do it. They don't seem to understand that and I can''t convince them."

After I'd run down, Noish-pa shifted in his chair, looking thoughtful. Then he said, "You say you know this man, who is doing these things?"

"No: well, but I know of him."

"If he can do this, why hasn't he?"

"It hasn't been worth his effort, yet. It costs money and he won't spend more than he has to."

He nodded. "I'm told they had a gathering yesterday."

"What? Oh, yeah. In a park near here."

"Yes. They had a parade, too. It went by. There were a lot of people."

"Yes." I thought back to the park. "A few thousand, anyway. But so what? What can they do?"

"Perhaps you should speak to this Kelly again, try to convince him."

I said, "Maybe."

After a while he said, "I have never seen you so unhappy, Vladimir."

I said, "It's my work, I suppose, one way or another. We play by rules, you know? If you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone. If somebody gets hurt who isn't part of the organization, it means he was sticking his nose where it didn't belong. That isn't our fault, that's just how it is. Kelly's people did that—they butted in where they shouldn't have. Only they didn't, really. They—I don't know. Damn them to Verra's dungeons, anyway. Sometimes I wish I could just complete Herth's job for him, and sometimes I'd like to—I don't know what. And you know, I can't even get a good enough feel for Herth to send him for a walk. I'm too tied up in this. I ought to hire someone to do it for me, but I just can't. Don't you see that? I have to—" I blinked. I'd been rambling. I'd lost Noish-pa some time before. I wondered what he thought of all that.

He looked at me with a somber expression on his face. Loiosh flew over onto my shoulder and squeezed. I drank some more tea. Noish-pa said, "And Cawti?"

"I don't know. Maybe she feels the same way, and that's why she found these people. She killed me, you know."

His eyes widened. I said, "That's how we met. She was hired to kill me and she did. I've never killed an East—a human. She has. And now she's acting as if—never mind."

He studied me, and I suppose he remembered our last conversation, because he asked, "How long have you been doing this, Vladimir? This killing of people."

He sounded genuinely interested in the answer, so I said, "Years."

He nodded. "It is perhaps time that you thought about it."

I said, "Suppose I'd joined the Phoenix Guard, if they'd have me. One way or another, that's killing people for money. Or enlisted in some Dragonlord's private army, for that matter. What's the difference?"

"Perhaps there is none. I have no answer for you, Vladimir. I only say that perhaps it is time you thought about it."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm thinking about it."

He poured more tea and I drank it and after a while I went home.

…and remove dust and soot from both.

I remember the Wall of Baritt's Tomb.

It wasn't really a tomb, you understand; there was no body inside. The Serioli go in for tombs. They build them either underground or in the middle of mountains, and they put dead people in them. It seems weird to me. The Dragaerans sometimes build monuments to dead big shots like Baritt, and when they build one they call it a tomb because it looks like what the Serioli use and because Dragaerans aren't too bright.

Baritt's Tomb was huge in every dimension, a gray slate monstrosity, with pictures and symbols carved into it. It was stuck way out in the east, high up in the Eastern Mountains near a place where Dragaerans trade with Easterners for eastern red pepper and other things. I got stuck in the middle of a battle there once. I've never forgotten how it felt. One army was made up of Easterners who died, the other was made up of Teckla who died. On the Dragaerans' side were a couple of Dragonlords who were never really in any danger. That's one memory that stays with me. No one was going to hurt Morrolan or Aliera, and they laid about themselves like pip-squeak deities. The other thing I remember was watching all of this happen and almost chewing my lip off from helplessness.

The venture wasn't useless, you understand. I mean, Morrolan got a good fight, Sethra the Younger got Kieron's greatsword while Aliera got one more her size, and I got to learn that you can never go home. But in the battle itself there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to be one of the Teckla or one of the Easterners who were falling like ash from Mount Zerika. I didn't, so I just watched.

That's what came back to me now. Every time I feel helpless, in fact, that memory returns to haunt me. Each scream from each wounded Easterner, or even Teckla, remains with me. I know that Dragons consider assassination to be less "honorable" than butchering Easterners, but I've never quite understood why. That battle showed me what futility was, though. So many deaths for such a small result.

Of course, I finally did… something—but that's another tale. What I remember is the helplessness.

Cawti wasn't speaking to me.

It wasn't that she refused to say anything, it was more that she didn't have anything to say. I walked around the house in bare feet all morning, swatting halfheartedly at jhereg who got in my way and staring out various windows hoping one of them would show something interesting. I threw a couple of knives at our hall target and missed. Eventually I collected Loiosh and walked over to my office, being very careful all the way.

Kragar was waiting for me. He looked unhappy. That was all right; why should he be any different?

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Herth."

"What about him?"

"He doesn't have a mistress, he doesn't eat soup, and he never takes a—"

"What do you mean? You can't find out anything about him?"

"No, I tracked him pretty well. The good news is that he isn't a sorcerer. But other than that, he's like you; he doesn't have any regular schedule. And he doesn't have an office; he works right out of his home. He never visits the same inn twice in a row, and I haven't found any pattern at all to his movements."

I sighed. "I half expected that. Well, keep on it. Eventually something will show up. No one lives a completely random life."

He nodded and walked out.

I put my feet up on the desk, then took them down again. I got up and paced. It hit me once more that Herth was planning to send me for a walk. There was probably someone out there, right now, trying to pin down my movements so he could get me. I looked out my office window but I didn't see anyone standing in the street opposite my door holding a dagger. I sat down again. Even if I managed to get Herth first, whoever it was had still taken the money, was still committed to getting me. I shivered.