Steven Brust - Jhereg

What is a Great Weapon? That’s a good question. I wondered the same thing myself as I watched Aliera concentrating, her eyes narrowed to slits, and her hand steadily holding the pulsating blade.

As far as my knowledge goes, however, there is this: a Morganti weapon, made by one of the small, strange race called Serioli that dwell in the jungles and mountains of Dragaera, is capable of destroying the soul of the person it kills. They are, all of them, strange and frightening things, endowed with a kind of sentience. They come in differing degrees of power, and some are enchanted in other ways.

But there are a few—legend says seventeen—that go beyond “a kind of sentience.” These are the Great Weapons. They are, all of them, powerful. They all have enough sentience to actually decide whether or not to destroy the soul of the victim. Each has its own abilities, skills, and powers. And each one, it is said, is linked to the soul of the one who bears it. It can, and will, do anything necessary to preserve its bearer, if he is the One chosen for it. And the things those weapons can do . . .

Aliera tugged at my sleeve and nodded when I looked up. There was a twist down in my bowels, the walls vanished, and I felt sick, as usual. We were standing in what appeared to be an unused warehouse. Aliera gave a gasp, and I followed her glance.

Morrolan’s body was lying on the floor a few feet from us. There was a dark red spot on his chest. I approached him, feeling sicker than ever. I dropped to my knee next to him and saw that he wasn’t breathing.

Aliera sheathed Pathfinder and dropped down beside me. She ran her hands over Morrolan’s body once, her face closed with concentration. Then she sat back and shook her head.

“Unrevivifiable?” I asked.

She nodded. Her eyes were cold and gray. Mourning, if there was to be any, would come later.

12

“Tread lightly near thine own traps.”

“Is there anything we can do, Aliera?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Bide.” She carefully ran her hands once more over Morrolan’s body, while I made a cursory survey of the warehouse. I didn’t find anything, but there were several areas that I couldn’t see.

“I can’t break it,” she said at last.

“Break what?”

“The spell preventing revivification.”

“Oh.”

“However, the sorcerer who put it on could, if it’s done soon enough. We’ll have to find him quickly.”

“Her,” I corrected automatically.

She was up in an instant, staring at me. “ You know who did it? ”

“Not exactly,” I said. “But I think we’re safe in limiting it to the Left Hand of the Jhereg, and most of them are female.”

She looked puzzled. “Why would the Jhereg want to kill Morrolan?”

I shook my head. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to find that sorceress.”

“Any suggestions as to how we do this?”

“Pathfinder?”

“Has nothing to work with. I need a psionic image, or at least a face or a name. I’ve checked around the room, but I’m not able to pick up anything.”

“You generally don’t with Jhereg. If she’s competent, she wouldn’t have had to feel any strong emotions in order to do what she did.”

She nodded. I began looking around the room, hoping to find some kind of clue. Loiosh was faster, however. He flew around the perimeter and quickly spotted something.

“ Over here, boss.’ ”

Aliera and I rushed over there, and almost tripped over another body, lying face down on the floor. I turned it over and saw Fentor’s face staring up at me. His throat had been cut by a wide-bladed knife, used skillfully and with precision. The jugular had been neatly slit.

I turned to Aliera, to ask if he was revivifiable, but she was already checking. I stepped back to give her room.

She nodded, once, then laid her left hand on his throat. She held it there for a moment and removed it. The wound was closed, and from where I stood I could only barely make out a faint scar.

She continued checking over his body and turned it over to make sure that there was nothing on his back. She turned it over again and laid both of her hands on his chest. She closed her eyes, and I could see the lines of tension on her face.

Fentor started breathing.

I let the air out of my lungs, realizing that I’d been holding it in.

His eyes fluttered open. Fear, recognition, relief, puzzlement, understanding.

I wondered what my own face had looked like, that time Aliera had brought me back to life.

He reached up with his right hand and touched his throat; he shivered. He saw me, but had no reaction that indicated guilt. Good; he hadn’t been bought off, at least. I’d have liked to have given him time to recover, but we couldn’t afford it. Every second we waited made it that much less likely that we could find the sorceress who had finished off Morrolan. And we had to find her and make her—

I reached out for contact with Kragar. After a long time, or so it seemed, I reached him.

“ What is it, boss? ”

“ Can you get a fix on me? ”

“ It’ll take a while. Problems? ”

“ You guessed it. I need a Morganti blade. Don’t bother making it untraceable this time, just make it strong. ”

“ Check. Sword, or dagger? ”

“ Dagger, if possible, but a sword will do. ”

“ Okay. And you want it sent to where you are? ”

“ Right. And hurry. ”

“ All right. Leave our link open, so I can trace down it. ”

“ Right. ”

I turned back to Fentor. “What happened? Briefly.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“I was sitting at the security office, when—”

“No,” I interrupted. “We don’t have time for the whole thing right now. Just what happened after you got here.”

He nodded. “Okay. I showed up, was slugged. When I woke up I was blindfolded. I heard some talking, but I couldn’t make out anything anyone said. I tried to reach you, and then Morrolan, but they had some kind of block up. I sat there for about fifteen minutes and tried to get out. Someone touched me on the throat with a knife to let me know I was being watched, so I stopped. I felt someone teleport in, around then, and then someone cut my throat.” He winced and turned away. When he turned back, his face was composed again. “That’s all I know.”

“So we still don’t have anything,” I said.

“Not necessarily,” said Aliera. She turned to Fentor. “You say you heard voices?”

He nodded.

“Were any of them female?”

He squinted for a moment, trying to remember, then nodded.

“Yes. There was definitely a woman there.”

She reached forward again and placed her hand on his forehead.

“Now,” she instructed, “think about that voice. Concentrate on it. Try to hear it in your mind.”

He realized what was going on and looked over at me, his eyes wide. No one, no matter how innocent, enjoys being mind-probed.

“Do it,” I said. “Cooperate.”

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

After about a minute, Aliera opened her eyes and looked up. “I think I’ve got it,” she said. She drew Pathfinder, and Fentor gasped and tried to draw away.

At about that moment, there was a small popping sound, and I heard Kragar’s pseudo-voice say, “ Okay, here it is. ”

I saw a sheathed dagger at my feet.

“ Good work ,” I told him, and cut the link before he could get around to asking any questions.