Steven Brust - Jhereg

I began to feel a little nervous about the whole thing. I had gathered in that room a master thief, a high noble of the House of the Hawk, a Dragonlord who traced her lineage back to Kieron himself, and a highly skilled assassin. And Kragar. I was just a bit troubled. Who was I to use these people as if they were common Jhereg to be hired and sent out?

I caught Aliera’s eye. She’was looking at me steadily and confidently. Cawti, also, was waiting patiently for me to describe how we were going to get out of this.

That’s who I was, of course. Cawti’s husband, Aliera’s friend, and more . . . and the one who knew, possibly, how to handle this situation.

I cleared my throat, took a sip of wine, and organized my thoughts. “My friends,” I said, “I would like to thank each of you for coming here, and agreeing to help me out on this. With some of you, it is, of course, in your own best interest, for one reason or another, that this matter be favorably settled. And to you, I would like to add that I am honored that you are trusting me to handle it. To those of you with no direct interest, I am deeply grateful that you are willing to help me at all. I give you my assurance that I won’t forget this.”

“ Get to the point. ”

“ Shut up, Loiosh. ”

“As to the problem, well, most of you know what it is, to one degree or another. Put simply, a high noble in the Jhereg is under the protection of Lord Morrolan, and it is necessary that he be killed, and not later than tomorrow at that, or,” I paused for another sip of wine and for effect, “or events will occur to the severe detriment of some of us.”

Aliera snorted at the understatement. Kiera chuckled.

“The important thing to remember is the time limit. For reasons that I would prefer not to go into, we have only today and tomorrow. Today would be much better, but I’m afraid that we’re going to have to take today to iron out difficulties, and to practice our parts.

“Now, it is important to some of us,” I looked quickly at Aliera, but her face betrayed no emotion, “that nothing be done which would compromise Morrolan’s reputation as a host. That is, we can’t do anything to this person, Mellar, while he is a guest at Castle Black, nor can we force him to leave by threats or by magic, such as mind-control.”

I looked around the room. I still had everyone’s attention. “I think I’ve found a method. Allow me to demonstrate what I have in mind, first, so we can get the hard part down before I go on with the rest of it. Kragar, stand up for a moment, please.”

He did so. I came around the desk and drew my rapier. His eyebrows arched, but he said nothing.

“Assume for a moment,” I said, “that you have weapons secreted about your person at every conceivable point.”

He smiled a little. Assume, hell!

“Draw your blade,” I continued, “and get into a guard position.”

He did so, standing full forward, with his blade pointed straight at my eyes, level with his own head. His blade was a lot heavier and somewhat longer than mine, and it formed a straight line from his eyes to mine. His palm was down, his elbow out. There was a certain grace apparent, although I still consider the Eastern en garde position to be more elegant.

I stood for a moment, then attacked, simulating the Dragaeran move for a straight head cut. I came at his head, just below the line of his blade, giving me a sharp angle up.

He made the obvious parry, dropping his elbow so that his sword also angled up, even more sharply than mine. Also, the strong of his blade was matched against the weak of mine. This lined him up very well for a cut down at my head; however, before he could take it, I moved in and . . .

I felt something strike my stomach, lightly. I looked down, and saw his left hand there. Had this been a real fight, there would have been a dagger clutched in that hand. Had we been alone, he would probably have used a real dagger and avoided hitting me with it, but he wasn’t keen on letting all of these people in on where he kept his extra blades. I resumed a normal position, saluted him, and sheathed my blade.

“Where,” I asked, “did you get the dagger from?”

“Left forearm sheath,” he said, with no hesitation.

“Good. Is there anywhere else you could have gotten it from that would have worked as well?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “I was assuming a spring-loaded type of forearm sheath, set for left-hand use. If he has it set for a right-hand draw, which is just as common, then I’d expect a simple waist sheath would be the one he’d go for. Either way it would be fast. I can use the fact that the whole left side of your body is undefended, and I can attack with the same motion I draw with. An upper thigh sheath would mean dropping my arm lower than I have to, there isn’t any reason to go cross-body, and anything else is worse.”

I nodded. “Okay. Cawti, anything to add, or do you agree?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, he’s right. It would be one of those two.”

“Good. Kragar, I want you to secure two Morganti daggers.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. How strong do you want them?”

“Strong enough for anyone to tell that they are Morganti, but not so strong that they are apparent when they’re sitting in their sheaths; okay?”

“Okay, I can find a couple like that. And, let me guess, you want one to be the right size for a waist sheath, and the other to be the right size for a forearm sheath.”

“You’ve got it. Let me see for a minute . . . ” I had looked very closely for the weapons Mellar was carrying, but I hadn’t been so much concerned with how big they were as where they were. I tried to remember . . . Where was that little bulge? Ah, yes. And when he had turned from talking to the Hawklord, I had seen how much hilt from the waist sheath? Right. It looked like a standard bone hilt. How long a blade would make it balance right? And how wide? I’d have to guess, but I felt I could come pretty close.

“Waist sheath,” I announced. “Overall length, approximately fourteen inches, of which half is blade. Just a fraction over an inch wide at the widest. Forearm sheath: call it nine inches overall. The blade is about five-and-a-half inches long, and about three-quarters of an inch wide near the guard.” I stopped. “Any problem?”

He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Vlad. I should be able to get them, but I can’t count on it. I’ll talk to my supplier, and see what he has, but you’re being damn precise.”

“I know. Do the best you can. Remember, they don’t have to be untraceable this time.”

“That will help.”

“Good.”

I turned to Kiera. “Now, the big question. Can you lighten Mellar of a pair of daggers without his noticing, and, more of a problem, without his bodyguard noticing? I’m referring, of course, to the waist and forearm daggers.”

She just smiled in answer.

“Okay, now; can you return them again? Can you put them back without his noticing?”

Her brows came together. “ ‘Return them?’ I don’t know . . . I think so . . . maybe. I take it you mean substituting two new ones for the ones he has, right?”

I nodded.

“And,” I added, “remember that they’re going to be Morganti daggers, so they have to stay unnoticeable during the switch.”

She brushed it off. “If I can do it at all, the fact that they’re Morganti won’t make any difference.” She took on a vacant expression for a moment, and I noticed her hand twitching, as she mentally went through the motions that would be needed. “The waist dagger,” she said finally, “can be done. About the other one . . . ” she continued to look thoughtful. “Vlad, do you know if he has a spring-loaded mechanism for the left-hand, or just a reverse right-hand draw setup?”