Steven Brust - Taltos

“You are standing on your own, I see.”

“Yes,” she said. “And now that I do so, I can explain how proud I am to be descended from one who mocks the injured.”

“I am glad you’re proud, Aliera e’Kieron.”

She drew herself up as best she could. “Don’t—”

“Do not think to instruct me,” he said. “You haven’t earned it.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “I know you, Kieron. And if you don’t know me, it’s only because you’re as blind as you always were.”

He stared at her but allowed no muscle in his face to change. Then he looked right at me and I felt my spine turn to water. I kept it off my face. He said, “Very well, then, Aliera; what about him?”

“He isn’t your concern,” said Aliera.

I leaned over to Morrolan and said, “I love being spoken of as if—”

“Shut up, Vlad.”

“Polite bastards, all of them.”

“I know, boss.”

Kieron said to Aliera, “Are you quite certain he isn’t my concern?”

“Yes,” said Aliera. I wished I knew what this was about.

Kieron said, “Well, then, perhaps not. Would you care to sit?”

“No,” she said.

“Then what would you like?”

Her legs were still a bit unsteady as she approached him. She stopped about six inches away from him and said, “You may escort us out of the Paths, to make up for your lack of courtesy.”

He started to smile, stopped. He said, “I do not choose to leave again. I have done—”

“Nothing for two hundred thousand years. Isn’t that long enough?”

“It is not .your place to judge—”

“Keep still. If you’re determined to continue to allow history to pass you by, give me your sword. I’ll fight my own way out, and put it to the use for which it was intended. You may be finished with it, but I don’t think it has finished its task.”

Kieron’s teeth were clenched and the fires of Verra’s hell burned in his gaze.

He said, “Very well, Aliera e’Kieron. If you think you can wield it, you can take it.”

Now, if some of this conversation doesn’t make sense to you, I can only say that it doesn’t make sense to me, either. For that matter, judging from the occasional glances I took at Morrolan’s face, he wasn’t doing much better at understanding it than I. But I’m telling you as best I can remember it, and you’ll just have to be as satisfied with it as I am.

Aliera said, “I can wield it.”

“Then I charge you to use it well, and to return to this place rather than give it to another or let it be taken from you.”

“And if I don’t?” she said, I think just to be contrary.

“Then I’ll come and take it.”

“Perhaps,” said Aliera, “that’s what I want.”

They matched stares for a little longer, then Kieron unstrapped swordbelt and sword and scabbard and passed the whole thing over to Aliera. It was quite a bit taller than she was; I wondered how she’d even be able to carry it.

She took it into her hand without appearing to have difficulty, though. When she had it she didn’t even bow to Kieron, she merely turned on her heel and walked out the door, a bit shakily, but without faltering. We followed her.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re going home. All of us. Let him stop us who can.”

It didn’t sound practical, but it was still the best idea I’d heard that day.

The information Feet had “to start with” consisted of fourteen pages of parchment, all tightly written by, apparently, a professional scribe, though that seemed unlikely. It consisted of a list of Raiet’s friends and how often he visited them, his favorite places to eat out and what he liked to order at each, his history in the Organization (which made this an amazingly incriminating document itself), and more like that. There was much detail about his mistress and where she lived (there’s no custom against nailing someone at his mistress’s place, unlike his own home). I’d never had any interest in knowing so much about someone. Toward the end were several notes such as, “Not a sorcerer. Good in a knife fight; very quick. Hardly a swordsman.” This stuff ought not to matter but was good to know.

On the other hand, this made me wonder if, perhaps, this wasn’t the sort of thing I should be trying to find out about all of my targets. I mean, sure, killing someone with a Morganti weapon is as serious as it gets, but any assassination is, well, a matter of life and death.

In addition to the parchment, Feet gave me a large purse containing more money than I’d ever seen in my life, most of it in fifty-imperial coins.

And he gave me a box. As soon as I touched it, I felt for the first time, albeit distantly, that peculiar hollow humming echo within the mind. I shuddered and realized just what I’d gotten myself into.

It was, of course, far too late to back out.

Tromp tromp tromp. Hear us march, ever onward, onward, doom uncertain, toward the unknown terrors of death, heads high, weapons ready ...

What a load of crap.

We made our way through the corridors of the Halls of Judgment as well as we could, which wasn’t very. What had been a single straight, wide corridor had somehow turned into a twisty maze of little passages, all the same. We must have wandered those halls for two or three hours, getting more and more lost, with none of us willing to admit it. We tried marking the walls with the points of our swords, keeping to the left-hand paths, but nothing worked. And the really odd thing was that none of the passages led anywhere except to other passages. That is, there were no rooms, stairways, doors, or anything else.

The purple robes we asked to lead us out just looked at us blankly. Aliera had buckled Kieron’s greatsword onto her back and was grimly not feeling the weight. Morrolan was equally grim about not feeling anything. Neither Loiosh nor I felt like talking. No one else had any good suggestions, either. I was getting tired.

We stopped and rested, leaning against a wall. Aliera tried to sit down on the floor and discovered that the greatsword on her back made this impossible. She looked disgusted. I think she was close to tears. So was I for that matter.

We talked quietly for a while, mostly complaining. Then Morrolan said, “All right. This isn’t working. We are going to have to find the gods and convince them to let us go.”

“No,” said Aliera. “The gods will prevent you from leaving.”

“The gods do not have to prevent me from leaving; these halls are doing a quite sufficient job of that.”

Aliera didn’t answer.

Morrolan said, “I suspect we could wander these halls forever without finding a way out. We need to ask someone, and I, for one, can think of no better expert than Verra.”

“No,” said Aliera.

“Are you lost, then?” came a new voice. We turned, and there was Baritt once again. He seemed pleased. I scowled but kept my mouth shut.

“Who are you?” asked Aliera.

Morrolan said, “This is Baritt.”

Baritt said, “And you?”

“I am Aliera.”

His eyes widened. “Indeed? Well, this is, indeed, droll. And you are trying to return to living lands, are you not? Well then, I crave a favor. If you succeed, and I am still alive, don’t visit me. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Aliera said, “My Lord, we are—”

“Yes, I know. I cannot help you. There is no way out except the one you know. Any purple robe can guide you back there. I am sorry.”

And he did actually seem to be sorry, too, but he was looking at Aliera as he said it.

Aliera scowled and her nostrils flared. She said, “Very well, then,” and we left Baritt standing there.

Finding a purple robe in that place was about as difficult as finding a Teckla in the market. And, yes, the purple robe was willing to escort us back to see the gods. She seemed to have no trouble finding the large passage. The thought crossed my mind that we could just turn around and take this passage out the way we’d come. I didn’t suggest it because I had the feeling it wouldn’t work.