Steven Brust - Jhereg

“No good,” I said. “Who’s going to do the teleport then? We can’t do it ourselves, remember, because that’s using magic against a guest at Castle Black. I’m convinced that it will be one of the two bodyguards who does the teleport, so they can make it untraceable at the same time.”

“Even if Mellar asks you to do it?”

I looked at Aliera, who nodded. “Even then,” she said. “He has to leave under his own power, or by the hand of one of his own people, or Morrolan will almost certainly take offense.”

“Well—I suppose. But there has to be some way that we can get help to you.”

I shrugged. “Sure, it could be that they don’t get their trace-blocks up fast enough, so you could find me then. And I expect that Aliera will be able to find me with Pathfinder—after she recovers.” I carefully didn’t add “if she recovers.”

“And how long,” said Kragar, “will that take?”

“Who can say?” said Aliera. “Nothing like this has ever been done before, so far as I know.”

Cawti looked grim. “And there isn’t any way we’re going to be able to find you ourselves?”

“Well,” I said, “it would be nice if you tried. But I’m sure that some kind of block will be put up, and the guy doing it is good. Without having Pathfinder, you’ll have to spend quite a while breaking down his spell.”

Cawti looked away. “From what I hear, Vlad, you aren’t in the same class with him as a fighter.”

“I’m aware of that. But I fight Eastern-style, remember? And my intention is to take him before he even knows that I’m not who I’m supposed to be.”

“Which reminds me,” said Aliera. “If it does come down to a fight, you’re going to have to keep him busy the whole time.”

“I expect that he’ll take care of that,” I said drily. “But why?”

“Because if he realizes what has just happened—and the way you spoke of him, he will—he’ll just teleport right back to Castle Black if you give him the chance to.”

Great. “You’re right,” I admitted. “He probably will. How long will it take him, do you think?”

“To do the teleport? If I’m right in my assessment, it will take him only two or three seconds.”

“So I can’t allow him more than two seconds of breathing time during the fight.” I shrugged. “That’s all right. As I said, I don’t expect him to allow me any breathing time, if it comes down to a fight. But I’m hoping it won’t.”

“By the way,” said Kragar, “what happens if he turns to you and tells you to teleport him out?”

“I’m hoping he’ll ask the other guy—which is a fifty-fifty chance. If he does turn to me, I’ll do a dumb and stupid look and pretend that I’m in a state of shock. That should be believable.”

Daymar snapped his fingers. “The Necromancer!” he said. “She won’t have to trace the teleport; she can use her own ways of getting to you.”

“Not without psionic contact,” I said. “And chances are that whatever blocks they put up against tracing the teleport will block out general tracing spells as well—and that means that you won’t be able to contact me, and I won’t be able to contact you.”

“Oh,” said Daymar.

“Well,” I asked the room in general, “can anyone think of any alternatives? Anything I might have missed?”

There was silence.

“I didn’t think so,” I said. “All right, that’s what we’ve got. Let’s get to work.”

Kragar left to procure the daggers. The others went off to practice their parts. I went into the weapons closet and found two identical knives. They were long, thin stilettos, with seven inches of blade.

I picked one up and sharpened it carefully, spending over an hour on it. I wouldn’t have to coat this one with nonreflective black paint, I decided, since there wasn’t going to be much sneaking around involved here after I had it in my hand.

It isn’t that I’m not willing to use any weapon I can get at to finish a job; it’s just that I feel that I’m better off if I have a blade in mind from the beginning and know it exactly. That is why I picked out two identical weapons. After sharpening the one, I wouldn’t touch it again until I left for Castle Black tomorrow. That way, it would have very little, if any, association with me. Since it had so little of my “feel” about it, I could safely leave it right at the scene. This is much safer than being caught later with it on me—since there is no way to disguise the link between murder weapon and victim.

I picked up the duplicate, felt the weight and balance, and held it for a while. I took a few cuts and lunges with the thing in either hand, and then concentrated for a while on using my left hand with it.

I drew my rapier and fenced a little, practicing flipping it at a target on the wall between parry and riposte. In fact, I would never plan on throwing a knife at someone if this were a standard job, but in this case, it might be necessary.

I took out a few pieces of wood, then, and set them against the wall, and plunged the knife into them several times, alternating strokes. I used every type of attack I could think of, each several times.

I was satisfied. It was a good blade. Not very good for cutting, but it was unlikely that the death blow would be a cut. It threw well enough—although not perfectly—and it fit very well into my hand for any kind of stabbing motion that I was likely to make.

I picked out a sheath for it, and, after some thought, secured it to the outside of my left leg, just above the knee. The knife was a bit too long to be concealed effectively, but my cloak would cover it up pretty well, and it was perfectly placed for maximum speed of draw if I were fencing. Well, no; around the back of my neck would have been better for that, but then I’d have it in my hand in somewhat of an overhand position, which wouldn’t be as good as an underhanded grip for stabbing in the middle of a bind, for example.

Loiosh watched my preparations in silence for a while, then he said, “ There is one problem with your plan, boss. ”

“ That being? ”

“ The ‘distraction’ part. ”

“ What about it? ”

“ If I’m busy distracting people, that means I’m not along when you take off. ”

“ I know. ”

“ Well, I don’t like it! ”

“ To be perfectly honest with you, old friend, neither do I. ”

17

“No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.”

Every citizen of the Dragaeran Empire has a permanent link to the Imperial Orb, which circles the head of the Empress with colors that change to reflect the sovereign’s mood at the moment.

This one link serves many functions at the same time. Perhaps the most important one, to most people, is that it allows the use of the power from the Great Sea of Chaos (as distinct from the lesser one that Adron created), which provides the energy for sorcery. To anyone skilled enough, this power can be shaped, molded, and used for just about anything—depending, of course, on the skill of the user.

One of its less important functions, to most people, is that one need only concentrate briefly in the proper way, and one knows precisely what time it is, according to the Imperial Clock.

I have, I will admit, some small skill in sorcery. I mean, I can start a fire with it, or teleport if I have to, or kill someone with it—if he isn’t very good, and I get lucky. On the other hand, I only rarely have a use for it. But the Imperial Clock has been a friend that I could count on for years.