Steven Brust - Jhereg

He looked thoughtful. “Probably,” he said at last.

I shook my head. “Well, at any rate, it isn’t me who’s going to have to answer the questions.”

“There is that,” he agreed. “Oh, and one piece of good news.”

“Really? Well, break out the kilinara, by Verra’s hair! We’ll have a bloody celebration.”

“ I’ll bring the dead teckla. ”

“Don’t drink yourself into a stupor yet. All it is, is that we’ve gotten that sorceress you wanted.”

“The one who was spreading rumors? Already? Good! give the assassin a bonus.”

“I already have. He said it was half luck—she just happened to be in the perfect place, and he took her right away.”

“Good. You make luck like that, though. Remember the guy.”

“I will.”

“Okay, now for the rest. Did you find out anything about Mellar’s background?”

“Plenty,” he said, taking out his notebook and flipping it open. “But, so far as I can tell, none of it is going to be of any real help to us.”

“Forget about that for now; let’s at least try to get some idea of who the hell he really is; then we’ll see if that gives us anything to work with.”

Kragar nodded, found his place, and began reading. “His mother lived the happy and fulfilling life of a Dragon-Dzur halfbreed. She wound up a whore. His father, it seems, was into a whole lot of different things, but was certainly an assassin. Reasonably competent, too. As far as I can tell, his father died during the fall of the city of Dragaera. We think the same thing happened to his mother. He hid out during the Eastern invasions, and showed up again after Zerika took the throne. He tried to claim kinship with the House of the Dragon and was rejected, of course. He tried the same thing with the House of the Dzur, with the same results.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, “you mean this was before he fought his way in?”

“Right. Oh, by the way, his real name is Leareth—or rather that was the name he was born with. That was the name he used the first time he joined the Jhereg.”

“The first time?”

“Right. It took one hell of a lot of digging to find out, but we did. He was using the name Leareth, of course, and there are no references to anyone of that name in Jhereg records.”

“Then how—”

“Lyorn records. It cost us about two thousand gold to do, by the way. And, it turns out, ‘someone’ had managed to bribe a few Lyorns. A lot of records that should have mentioned him, or his family, weren’t there. Part of it was just luck that we ran across something that he’d missed, or couldn’t get access to. The rest was clever planning, brilliant execution—”

“Money,” I said.

“Right. And I found a young Lyorn lady who couldn’t resist my obvious charms.”

“I’m surprised she noticed you.”

“Ah! They never do, until it’s too late, you know.”

I was impressed, in any case, both with Kragar, and with Mellar. Bribing Lyorns to get access to records isn’t easy, and bribing them to actually alter records is almost unheard of. It would be like bribing an assassin to give you the name of the guy who gave him the contract.

“Actually,” Kragar continued, “he didn’t officially join House Jhereg then, which was one reason we had so much trouble. He worked for it on a straight free-lance basis.”

“ ‘Worked?’ ”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t believe this, Kragar! How many assassins are we going to run into? I’m beginning to feel like I’m one of a horde.”

“Yeah. It just isn’t safe to walk the streets at night, is it?” he smirked.

I gestured toward the wine cabinet. It was a bit early for me, but I felt the need of something to help me keep up with the shocks. “Was he good?” I asked.

“Competent,” he agreed, as he poured us each a glass of Baritt’s Valley white. “He did only small-time stuff, but never muffed one. It seems that he never took on anything that was worth over three thousand.”

“That’s enough to make a living,” I said.

“I guess so. On the other hand, he also didn’t spend very much time at it. He didn’t take on ‘work’ more than once or twice a year, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Here’s the killer, if you’ll excuse the expression: all the time he was working for the Jhereg, he was spending most of his free time studying swordsmanship.”

“Really?”

“Really. And, get this, he was studying under Lord Onarr.”

I sat up in my chair so suddenly that I almost dumped Loiosh, who complained rather bitterly about the abuse. “Oh, ho!” I said. “So that’s how he got so good with the blade that he could beat seventeen Dzur heroes!”

He nodded grimly.

I asked, “Do you have any guesses as to why Onarr was willing to take him on as a student?”

“No guesses—I know exactly. It’s a real sweet story, too. Onarr’s wife apparently contracted one of the plagues during the Interregnum. Mellar, or I guess he was called Leareth then, found a witch to cure it. As you know, sorcery was inoperable then, and there were damn few Easterner witches willing to work on Dragaerans, and even fewer Dragaerans who knew witchcraft.”

“I know all about it,” I said shortly.

Kragar stopped and gave me a look.

“My father died of one of the Plagues,” I explained. “ After the Interregnum, when they were pretty much beaten. He didn’t know sorcery. I did, but not quite enough. We could have cured him with witchcraft, either myself or my grandfather, but he wouldn’t let us. Witchcraft was too ‘Eastern,’ you see. Dad wanted to be a Dragaeran. That’s why he bought a title in the Jhereg and made me study Dragaeran-style swordsmanship and sorcery. And, of course, after dumping all of our money out the window, there wasn’t any left to hire a sorcerer. I’d have died of the same plague if my grandfather hadn’t cured me.”

Kragar spoke softly. “I didn’t know that, Vlad.”

“Anyway, go on,” I said abruptly.

“Well,” he continued, “if you haven’t guessed it already it was Mellar who had arranged with a witch to give Onarr’s wife the plague in the first place. So he comes up, just as she’s dying, saves her, and Onarr is very, very grateful. Onarr is so grateful, in fact, that he’s willing to teach swordsmanship to a houseless cross-breed. Nice story, isn’t it?”

“Interesting. Some elegant moves, there.”

“Isn’t it interesting? You’ll note the timing, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. He started this before he tried to join the House of the Dzur the first time, or the House of the Dragon.”

“Right. Which means, unless I miss my guess, that he knew exactly what would happen when he tried to claim membership.”

I nodded. “That puts a bit of a different light on things, doesn’t it? It makes his attempting to join the Dragon and the Dzur not so much confusing, as downright mystifying.”

Kragar nodded.

“And another thing,” I said. “It would appear that his planning goes back a lot longer than the twelve years we were thinking of. It’s more like two hundred.”

“Longer than that,” said Kragar.

“Oh, that’s right. He started during the Interregnum, didn’t he? Three hundred, then? Maybe four hundred?”

“That’s right. Impressive, isn’t it?”

I agreed. “So continue.”

“Well, he worked with Onarr for close to a hundred years, in secret. Then he fought his way into the House of the Dzur when he felt he was ready, and from there you know the story.”

I thought it over a bit, trying to sort it out. It was too early to see if there was anything there that I could use, but I wanted to try to understand him as well as I could.