Steven Brust - Jhereg

I let the sorceress fall back. I felt sick again.

The Necromancer stepped up to Morrolan’s body and began working on it. I didn’t watch. The only sounds were the sobbing of the sorceress and, very faintly, our breathing.

After a few minutes, the Necromancer stood up. Her dull, undead eyes looked almost happy for a moment. I looked over at Morrolan, who was breathing now, evenly and deeply. His eyes opened.

Unlike the others, his first reaction was anger. I saw a scowl form on his lips, then confusion. He looked around.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were set up,” I said.

He looked puzzled and shook his head. He held a hand up, and assisted him to his feet. He looked at all of us, his eyes coming to rest on the sorceress, who was still sobbing quietly.

He looked back and forth at Aliera and me for a moment, then asked, “Who is this one?”

“Left Hand,” I explained. “She was retained, I expect, by whoever did the job on you. She was to make sure you couldn’t be revivified. She did it, too. But of course, whoever put the spell on can take it off again, and we convinced her to remove it.”

He looked thoughtfully at her. “She’s pretty good then, eh?”

“Good enough,” said Aliera.

“Then,” said Morrolan, “I suspect she did more than that. Someone hit me as soon as I arrived at that—place.”

“Warehouse,” I said.

“That warehouse. Someone succeeded in stripping away all of my defensive spells. Could that have been you, my lady?”

She looked over at him bleakly, but didn’t respond.

“It must have been,” I said. “Why hire two sorceresses when you only need one?”

He nodded.

I retrieved the dagger from the floor, sheathed it, and handed it to Morrolan. He collects Morganti weapons, and I didn’t ever want to see this one again. He looked at it and nodded. The knife disappeared into his cloak.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

We headed for the exit. Aliera caught my eye, and she couldn’t quite keep the disgust from her face. I looked away.

“What about her? ” I asked Morrolan. “We guaranteed her her soul if she’d help us, but made no promises other than that.”

He nodded, looked back at her, and drew a plain-steel dagger from his belt.

The rest of us went out the door, none of us really desirous of seeing the end of the affair.

13

“The bite of the yendi can never be fully healed.”

Morrolan had caught up to us by the time we reached the library, and his dagger was sheathed. I tried to put the whole incident out of mind. I failed, of course.

In fact—and here’s a funny thing, if you’re in the mood for a laugh—I had done forty-one assassinations at this point, and I had never been bothered by one. I mean, not a bit. But this time, when I actually hadn’t even hurt the bitch, it bothered me so much that for years afterward I’d wake up seeing her face. It could be that she laid some kind of curse on me, but I doubt it. It’s just that, oh, Hell. I don’t want to talk about it.

Fentor was in the library when we arrived. When he saw Morrolan, he almost broke down. He rushed up and fell to his knees, casting his head down. I thought I was going to get sick all over again, but Morrolan was more understanding.

“Get up,” he said gruffly. “Then sit down and tell us about it.”

Fentor nodded and stood. Morrolan guided him to a seat and poured him a glass of wine. He drank it thirstily, failing to appreciate the vintage, while we found seats and poured wine for ourselves. Presently, he was able to speak. “It was this morning, my lord, that I received a message.”

“How?” Morrolan interrupted.

“Psionic.”

“All right, proceed.”

“He identified himself as a Jhereg and he said he had some information to sell me.”

“Indeed? What kind of ‘information?’ ”

“A name, my lord. He said that there was going to be an attempt made on Mellar, who was one of our guests, and that the assassin didn’t care that he was here.” Fentor gave an apologetic shrug, as if to apologize for his contact’s lack of judgment. “He said the assassin was good enough to beat our security system.”

Morrolan looked at me and raised his eyebrow. I was in charge of security, he was saying, in his eloquent way. Could it be beaten?

“Anyone can be assassinated,” I told Morrolan, drily.

He allowed his lips to smile a bit, nodded, and returned his attention to Fentor.

“Did you really think,” Morrolan asked him, “that they were prepared to start another Dragon-Jhereg war?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Let him finish his tale.

“I was afraid he might,” said Fentor. “In any case, I thought it would be a good idea to get the name, just to be safe.”

“He was willing to give you the name of the assassin?” I found myself asking.

He nodded. “He said that he was desperate for money, and had come across it, and knew Morrolan would be interested.”

“I don’t suppose,” said Morrolan, “that it occurred to you to bring this information to me before you tried to do anything yourself?”

Fentor was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Would you have done it, my lord?”

“Most assuredly not,” said Morrolan. “I would hardly submit to anyone’s extortion.” He lifted his chin slightly.

(Be still, my beating stomach.)

Fentor nodded. “I assumed that you would have that reaction, my lord. On the other hand, it’s my job to make sure nothing happens to your guests, and I thought I’d need any advantage I could get, if there really was an assassin who was going to try for Mellar.”

“How much did he want?” I asked.

“Three thousand gold Imperials.”

“Cheap,” I remarked, “given what he was risking.”

“Where did the gold come from?” Morrolan asked.

Fentor shrugged. “I’m not really poor,” he said. “And since I was doing it on my own—”

“I suspected as much,” said Morrolan. “You will be reimbursed.”

Fentor shook his head. “Oh, I still have the gold,” he said. “They never took it.”

I could have told him that. After all, we were dealing with professionals.

Fentor continued. “I arrived at the teleport coordinates they gave me and was hit as soon as I got there. I was blindfolded and then killed. I had no idea what had happened, or why, until I got up, after Aliera revivified me, and saw—” he choked for a minute, and looked away “—and saw your body, my lord. That was when I arranged to have us teleported back.”

I felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him. We probably should have let him know about Morrolan’s corpse a few feet away, but then, I hadn’t exactly been in the mood for polite chit-chat, nor had the time for it.

Morrolan nodded sagely as he finished.

“I’ve temporarily relieved him from duty,” I put in.

Morrolan stood up, and went over to him. He looked down on Fentor for a moment, then he said, “All right. I approve of the motivations behind your actions. I understand and sympathize with your reasoning. But there is not to be a repetition of this action in the future. Is this understood?”

“Yes, my lord. And thank you.”

Morrolan clapped him on the shoulder. “Very well,” he said. “You are restored to full duty. Get back to work.”

Fentor bowed and left. Morrolan shut the door behind him after seeing him out, sat down, and sipped his wine.

“No doubt,” he said, “you are all hoping to hear what happened to me.”

“You guessed it,” I said.

He shrugged. “I received a message, from the same individual who contacted Fentor, most likely. Fentor, he claimed, was being held. I was instructed ,” he said the word as if it tasted bad, “to withdraw my protection of the Lord Mellar and remove him from my home. They told me that if I didn’t, they would kill Fentor. They threatened to use a Morganti blade on him if I made any attempt to rescue him.”