Steven Brust - Orca

“But enough self-indulgence. We have a problem, Vlad and I, and I’m not certain what to do about it.” We had been moving in a large circle because I didn’t want to get too far away from the cottage; now I caught a glimpse of it, blue and ugly, through the trees. Savn didn’t look at it, he just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip. He was doing fine, I suppose. If there was nothing more to life than walking without tripping, I’d pronounce him cured on the spot.

I headed us away from the place, though not quite so far this time. I wondered what Vlad was doing. Buddy bounded about here and there, energetic for as old as he was. A good dog, probably a good companion for a woman like Hwdfr’ jaanci, just as Loiosh was a good companion for an assassin. Or an ex-assassin, or whatever he was now.

Game, that’s what he was. Hunted game. The target of the Organization he’d worked for and been a part of, but, in my opinion, never really belonged in. It’s not his fault, but he’s not human, and he doesn’t have whatever it is within the genes of a human being that makes a Jhereg.

But whether he had ever belonged or not, now they were hunting him, and he was off doing something improbable that might make it easier for them. What? “What do you think he’s up to, Savn? I doubt he’d go after Vonnith again, after how close it was last time. Endra? Reega? I just don’t know. And there’s nothing I can do about it, anyway, except wait and see what he comes up with. I don’t like being responsible for other people, Savn; present company ex-cepted. I don’t like having to rely on them. I think that’s the big difference between me and Vlad: he’s always liked people, and I’ve always liked being by myself. So, of course, the way things worked out, he’s the one who has to take off and spend his short lifetime away from everyone he cares about. Feh. No sense complaining about fate, though, Savn; it never listens. When there’s nothing you can do except worry, that’s a good time to worry. I don’t remember who said that. Maybe me.”

We made our way back to the house, Buddy preceding us through the door. Hwdf rjaanci was washing some sort of tuber that would probably feed us later. Savn sat down near the hearth, facing out, rather than looking at it. Buddy poked his nose at Hwdf rjaanci’s leg, was petted, wagged his tail, and sat down by Savn. I said to Savn, “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

I nodded, pretending that having him respond to a question was the most natural thing in the world, but I realized that my heart was pounding. There was no question, we’d made progress. On the other hand, we deserved to, because we had paid for it. Or, more precisely, others had paid for it.

Fyres was dead.

Stony was dead.

Loftis was dead.

I looked at the boy, who had closed his eyes and was resting easily. At least Vlad wasn’t dead. But there was still too much death. Death follows Vlad around like another familiar, and sometimes I wondered if he even noticed, much less cared. I knew what that felt like, and what it could do to you, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to Kiera the Thief, who had never killed anyone, and who didn’t enjoy being around when things like that were going on, and who especially hated it when she couldn’t do anything about it. But this was too big for Kiera the Thief. Much too big for Kiera. And much, much too big for Vlad.

On the other hand, it was clear he had figured something out, there at the end. What? And why hadn’t he told me? I hate it when he does that. If he managed to return in one piece, though, I’d be able to tell him that there was progress—that the boy had responded to a question that had nothing to do with knives, and that there was probably hope for him. Vlad would think it worth whatever trouble he’d been through; oddly enough, I thought so, too.

Buddy’s head came up, and he padded out the door, his tail giving a couple of perfunctory wags. I heard the sound of a familiar walk, and something in me relaxed, and I was able to look entirely normal an instant later when Vlad walked in, looking smug.

“What?” I said.

“It’s done,” he said.

“What, everything?”

He glanced quickly at Savn and said, “Almost everything. Everything we can take care of, at least.”

“I have good news on that front, too,” I said.

“Tell me,” he said, almost snapping out the words.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“I—all right.” So I told him about Savn not wanting to eat, and Vlad was every bit as pleased about it as I was. Then Hwdf rjaanci came in, and I had to tell her, too, and she grew a smile, too.

When I’d waited as long as I could, I said, “All right, Vlad. Your turn.”

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

Hwdf rjaanci sniffed, and Vlad winked at her. Then we went outside and he told me about his day.

I hid as best I could, which was pretty well, in a doorway across the street from City Hall—maybe the same place you hid, Kiera—and I waited for the day to fade. I didn’t feel especially safe. Loiosh wasn’t fit to fly, so Rocza was doing the watching, and I was getting the information from her through Loiosh, which is too indirect for my taste, and Rocza wasn’t trained for this kind of work. Loiosh attempted to reassure me, without much success.

Eventually Domm left the building. I gritted my teeth and watched him go by. He took a few steps away from the door and teleported. I kept waiting. Things were shutting down and people were going home from work. Had I missed her? Had she gone out a back way, or not been there at all, or teleported from inside the building? These are the questions that inevitably go through your head when you’re doing what I was doing, and you don’t have a partner. When I was with the Jhereg, I made sure people doing this sort of thing always worked in pairs, at least one of whom was a competent sorcerer. I was a competent sorcerer, but as long as I wore the gold Phoenix Stone, it didn’t help a bit, and whenever I removed it, even for an instant, I was risking rather more than my life—the Jhereg are tenacious, I know because I was one, and I was as tenacious as any of them, damn them to Verra’s coldest hell.

Timmer came out, walked a few steps down the street, paused, no doubt to teleport, then stopped as Rocza flew down, almost into her face, then away. She reached for a weapon, frowning, and looked for her; then she saw me walking toward her, hands in front of me and open.

Rocza landed on my shoulder. Timmer waited, her hand still on her blade. “Let’s talk,” I said.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, no, my lady. We have a lot to talk about. If you try to arrest me, which I know you’re thinking about, you’ll get nothing. If you don’t, you’ll find out who killed your associate, and why.”

She looked like she was starting to get angry, so I added, “I didn’t do it. I had no reason to do it. I suspect you don’t know who did. I do. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it, and what I want in return is something I don’t think you’ll-mind giving me at all.”

“Who are you this time?”

“Someone who’s all done playing games, Ensign. I’m not asking you to trust me, you know. Just to listen. Can you afford not to?”

Her face twitched, and she said, “Inside, then.”

“No, not there. Anywhere else, as long as it’s public.”

“All right. This way, then.”

We walked about a quarter of a mile, past two or three public houses, and then we entered one; she was being careful, which I approved of. The place was just starting to fill up, but we found a corner, anyway. She didn’t drink anything, or offer to buy me anything, either. She took out a dagger, set it on the table. She said, “All right, let’s have it. All of it.”