Steven Brust - Jhegaala

But I did sleep; I guess that's the important thing.

Steminastria

The steminastria, which can last for several weeks depending on food supply, is the most active of stages, in the sense that it is constantly moving, and constantly eating, never leaving the pond in which it was born. In seasons where there is great competition, or little food, the steminastria will often die rather than transform. . . . One of the more unusual features of the steminastria is that at this stage, when it eats far more than at any other stage (at least nine times its own weight every day), it is a pure vegetarian — living on the underwater plants and lichen. We still do not know exactly what triggers the transition to its next stage, unless it is simply that the enormous quantity of food it consumes causes it to reach a point where it must transform before it literally bursts. . . . High on the list of the steminastria's natural enemies must be itself, when considering its reckless disregard for the size and characteristics of its predators, even when based on its own experiences…

— Oscaani: Fauna of the Middle South: A Brief Survey, Volume 6, Chapter 17

5

Boraan (determined): Search! Hunt! Find it ! First Student (frightened): What if it isn't anywhere ? Lefitt (calm): Then it will take rather longer .

— Miersen, Six Parts Water Day Two, Act III, Scene 5

When I woke up, I hurt.

My shoulders, my arms, my back, my legs.

Why my legs? I don't know. What do I look like, a physicker?

I lay in bed moaning for what seemed a long time. If the Jhereg had found me then, they'd have had an easy target. I'm not even sure I'd have minded.

Eventually I moaned, moved, moaned, sat up, moaned, swung my legs down to the floor, and moaned.

"If I so much as suspect you are even thinking about laughing, by Verra's tits and toenails, Loiosh, I will—"

"Never entered my mind, Boss"

Putting on my boots was a test of my manhood; I just barely passed. Then I moaned some more. Eventually, I made my way to the stairs, and then down them, one at a time, slowly.

"Boss, how far can you go?"

" As far as I have to."

Inchay looked up. "Coffee?"

"Brandy," I said. "The foulest you have."

He looked startled, but didn't argue. I took the cup, downed it in one shot, and shook my head. "That's better," I said. "Now I'll have some coffee." I made my way over to a table and sat down.

After about an hour of drinking coffee I started to feel like maybe I could move. I mentally ran through the inventory of witchcraft supplies I had with me. Not many, but they'd do, and I didn't feel like going back to the shop in town and trying to actually purchase anything; I'd either kill the first merchant who looked at me wrong, or, worse, be unable to.

Okay, I had what I needed; I didn't doubt my ability to make the spell work. The only question was: Where should I do it? I didn't want to cast right there at the inn, because I had to take the amulet off, and it was bad enough giving the Jhereg a chance—slim but present—of finding the area where I was; handing them the inn I was staying at was just making their life a little too easy. I could maybe find a place out of town, but being surrounded, by people—humans—was part of my protection.

I hated that I had to do this; that I was being forced to take this risk, just because of blisters and stupid body aches that I gotten—

No, no.

Not going to be able to do any sort of spell while having dismemberment fantasies. The Art involves channeling and controlling emotion, but the emotion needs to correspond to the spell, and the emotions I was feeling right then didn't have a whole lot to do with healing.

I remembered pleasant days with Cawti, which made me a bit melancholy—okay, maybe more than a bit—but that's always a good cure for rage. I thought about what went wrong, and what went right, and made stupid plans in my head to win her back. Funny, that; they always involved rescuing her, when I knew damned well that rescuing her had been one of the problems. No one likes being rescued. The only thing worse is, well, not being rescued.

So, yeah, I played tricks with my own head until I felt like maybe I could do a Working, and by the time I'd done that, I knew where I could do it, too. And, besides, the thought made me chuckle. Loiosh would have a lot to say about it, and that made me chuckle too.

"What are you planning, Boss?"

"Just a spell, Loiosh. You'll see."

I stood up and made my way—still slowly and painfully, but maybe a little better— out of the door, and began walking down the street. Slowly.

" Loiosh , I hurt."

"We can stop for cheese."

"Oh, shut up.”

Eventually, I made it to the other end, to the other inn, and went into the stable. The stable-boy was there; he seemed to be in his early twenties, and had deep-set eyes and thin lips. He said, "Greetings, my lord, may I—" He stopped and stared at his hand, into which I had just placed three silver coins. "My lord?"

I gestured to the stable. "I need to use the space there for about an hour."

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"The stable?"

I nodded.

"You need to use ..."

"The space. Don't let anyone in. For an hour."

He looked at me, a thousand questions on his lips, then at the coins in his hand, then said, "Ah, the horses—"

"Will not be harmed." He had a sense of responsibility. How about that? "I won't touch them, or even go near them."

He heard the ring of truth in my voice, or the ring of metal in his hand, or something. He nodded abruptly. "Yes, my lord."

I added a fourth coin. "And there's no need to mention this to anyone."

"Of course not, my lord. An hour, you said?"

"An hour."

He bowed clumsily, and I went into the stable and locked it after myself.

"Here?"

"Why not?"

"How can you defend your self here?"

"I'm hoping I won't need to."

"Um, going to let me in on this?" He was genuinely nervous; I could tell because Rocza seemed jumpy.

"Look, chum, what exactly are we worried about?"

"The Jhereg finding you."

"Right. Now, either they already know where I am, in which case it's pointless to worry about it, or they don't. If they don't, then, if they get lucky, they'll be able to trace me while I have the amulet off doing the witchcraft spell. If they trace me, what will they do?"

"Uh... kill you?"

"They'll have to come to Burz to do it."

"Well, yeah."

"Know any Dragaerans liable to have this little Eastern town memorized enough to teleport to it?"

"Probably not, Boss. Going to bet your life that some sorceress from the Left Hand can't work around that?"

"No, but I'll bet my life that if an assassin does show up, I'll be ready. I'm doing a spell, not falling asleep. I'm in the middle of an open space. There's no way he can come at me without you seeing him.”

"And if he's invisible?"

"Look around."

"What?"

"Horses, Loiosh. They'll smell him. Keep an eye on the horses during the spell. If the horses suddenly get jumpy, and start looking where there isn't anyone, I'll stop the spell and, ah, kill him." I made a mental note to make up more Nesiffa powder; I didn't mention to Loiosh that I was out of it.

" Boss, sometimes I wonder about you. Okay, and if they track you, but don't come immediately?"