Steven Brust - Taltos

Still, I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose.

My first reaction was that we’d stepped outside, and in a way I was right, but it was no outside I’d ever seen before. There were stars, such as my grandfather had shown me, and they were bright and hard, all over the place, and so many of them....

Presently I realized that my neck was hurting and that the air was cold. Morrolan, next to me, was still gawking at the stars. I said, “Morrolan.”

He said, “I’d forgotten what they were like.” Then he shook his head and looked around. I did the same at just about the same time, and we saw, seated on thrones, the Lords of Judgment.

Two of them were right in front of us; others were off to the sides, forming what may have been a massive circle of thrones, chairs, and like that. Some of them were grouped close together, in pairs or trios, while others seemed all alone. The creature directly before me, perhaps fifty feet away, was huge and green. Morrolan began walking toward it. As we came closer, I saw that it was covered with scalelike hide, and its eyes were huge and deep-set. I recognized this being as Barlan, and an urge to prostrate myself came over me; I still have no idea why. I resisted.

Next to him was one who looked like a Dragaeran, dressed in a gown of shifting colors, with a haughty face and hair like fine mist. I looked at her hands, and, yes, each finger had an extra joint. Here was the Demon Goddess of my ancestors, Verra. I looked to her right, half expecting to see the sisters legends claimed she had. I think I saw them, too—one was small and always in shadow, and next to her was one whose skin and hair flowed like water. I avoided looking at either of them. I controlled my shaking and forced myself to follow Morrolan.

There were others, but I hardly remember them, save one who seemed to be dressed in fire, and another who seemed always to be fading into and out of existence. How many? I can’t say. I remember the few I’ve mentioned, and I know there were others. I retain the impression that there were thousands of them, perhaps millions, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust my senses fully.

Morrolan seemed to be steering us to a point between Verra and Barlan. As we neared them, it seemed that their gigantic size was illusory. We stopped when we were perhaps fifteen feet from them, and they appeared large, but hardly inhuman. At least in size. Barlan was covered with green scales and had those frightening huge pale green eyes. And Verra’s hair still shimmered, and her clothing refused to stop changing color, form, and material. Nevertheless, they seemed more like beings I might be able to talk to than some of the others in the area.

They acknowledged us at the same moment.

Morrolan bowed, but not as low as he had to Baritt. I didn’t try to figure it out; I just bowed myself, very low indeed. Verra looked back and forth between the two of us, then over at Barlan. She seemed to be smiling. I couldn’t tell about him.

Then she looked back at us. Her voice, when she spoke, was deep and resonating, and very odd. It was as if her words would echo in my mind, only there was no gap in time between hearing them in my mind and in my ears. The result was an unnatural sort of piercing clarity to everything she said. It was such a strange phenomenon that I had to stop and remember her words, which were: “This is a surprise.”

Barlan said nothing. Verra turned to him, then back to us. “What are your names?”

Morrolan said, “I am Morrolan e’Drien, Duke of the House of the Dragon.”

I swallowed and said, “Vladimir Taltos, Baronet of the House of the Jhereg.”

“Well, well, well,” said Verra. Her smile was strange and twisted and full of irony. She said, “It would seem that you are both alive.”

I said, “How could you tell?”

Her smile grew a bit wider. She said, “When you’ve been in the business as long as I have—”

Barlan spoke, saying, “State your errand.”

“We have come to beg for a life.”

Verra’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed? For whom?”

“My cousin,” said Morrolan, indicating the staff.

Barlan held his hand out, and Morrolan stepped forward and gave him the staff. Morrolan stepped back.

“You must care for her a great deal,” said Verra, “since by coming here you have forfeited your right to return.”

I swallowed again. I think Verra noticed this, because she looked at me and said, “Your case is less clear, as Easterners do not belong here at all.”

I licked my lips and refrained from comment.

Verra turned back to Morrolan and said, “Well?”

“Yes?”

“Is she worth your life?”

Morrolan said, “It is necessary. Her name is Aliera e’Kieron, and she is the Dragon heir to the throne.”

Verra’s head snapped back, and she stared straight into Morrolan’s face. There is something terrifying about seeing a god shocked.

After a little while, Verra said, “So, she has been found.”

Morrolan nodded.

Verra gestured toward me. “Is that where the Easterner comes in?”

“He was involved in recovering her.”

“I see.”

“Now that she has been found, we ask that she be allowed to resume her life at the point where—”

“Spare me the details,” said Verra. Morrolan shut up.

Barlan said, “What you ask is impossible.”

Verra said, “Is it?”

“It is also forbidden,” said Barlan.

“Tough cookies,” said Verra.

Barlan said, “By our positions here we have certain responsibilities. One of them is to uphold—”

“Spare me the lecture,” said Verra. “You know who Aliera is.”

“If she is sufficiently important, we may ask to convene—”

“By which time the Easterner will have been here too long to return. And his little jhereg, too.” I hardly reacted to this at the time, because I was too amazed by the spectacle of the gods arguing. But I did notice it, and I noted that Verra was aware of Loiosh even though my familiar was inside my cloak.

Barlan said, “That is not our concern.”

Verra said, “A convocation will also be boring.”

“You would break our trust to avoid boredom?”

“You damn betcha, feather-breath.”

Barlan stood. Verra stood. They glared at each other for a moment, then vanished in a shower of golden sparks.

It is not only the case that Dragaerans have never learned to cook; it is also true, and far more surprising, that most of them will admit it. That is why Eastern restaurants are so popular, and the best of them is Valabar’s.

Valabar and Sons has existed for an impossibly long time. It was here in Adrilankha before the Interregnum made this city the Imperial Capital. That’s hundreds of years, run by the same family. The same family of humans. It was, according to all reports, the first actual restaurant within the Empire; the first place that existed as a business just to serve meals, rather than a tavern that had food, or a hotel that supplied board for a fee.

There must be some sort of unwritten law about the place that those in power know, something that says, “Whatever we’re going to do to Easterners, leave Valabar’s alone.” It’s that good.

It is a very simple place on the inside, with white linen tablecloths and simple furnishings, but none of the decoration that most places have. The waiters are pleasant and charming and very efficient, and almost as difficult to notice as Kragar when they are slipping up on you to refill your wine glass.

They have no menus; instead your waiter stands there and recites the list of what the chef, always called “Mr. Valabar” no matter how many Valabars are working there at the moment, is willing to prepare today.

My date for the evening, Mara, was the most gorgeous blonde I’d ever met, with a rather nasty wit that I enjoyed when it wasn’t turned on me. Kragar’s date was a Dragaeran lady whose name I can’t remember, but whose House was Jhereg. She was one of the tags in a local brothel, and she had a nice laugh.