Steven Brust - Jhegaala

I paced, and stared at the mill across the river, and listened to water lap against the dock. As I stood there, the Furnace rose, and the shadows became shorter. It was becoming warm, and I thought about going back to the inn and getting a lighter cloak, but transferring even those few surprises I still carried with me seemed like too much work. I really wanted someone to attack me, so I could hit something and watch it bleed. The sight of the Merss farm, burned and smoking, fixed itself in my mind's eye, superimposed over the river and the smoking mill.

A sort of boat—long and ungainly—set out from the mill and began to work its way downriver, mostly drifting with the current. There were two or three figures on it; though what they were doing I couldn't say. I watched it until it was out of sight, then turned my back on the river.

A few women, some with babes, went into shops along the street; a few children played here and there. Everything looked innocent. Whatever was going on, it was well concealed.

Damn this town. Damn this country.

All right, then.

I could allow myself a certain amount of moaning and complaining and wishing the world were something other than it is, but enough is enough. Besides, I had to tell myself to stop feeling sorry for myself before Loiosh got around to it.

Sometimes if you can find a thread, you can take it and start following it to see where it leads. When I thought about it, I realized that the trouble wasn't lack of threads, but rather too many. So: Pick one, grab hold, see where it goes, and hope someone tries to stop me because that will give me someone to take my frustrations out on.

Dahni.

He'd come out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, talking in all sorts of vague circumlocutions. He wanted me to do something but wouldn't say what it was: therefore, he knew something, and I needed to know it.

"Loiosh."

" Dahni's house, Boss? Keep a watch on it?"

"Yep.”

"On my way."

I could have gone back to the inn and waited there, but I was getting tired of the bloody place; and besides, I had the feeling that the host and I were reaching the point where something would happen, and unless he turned out to be a key player in all of this (after all, anyone might be), that would just be a waste of perfectly good violence. So I went over to the west side of a warehouse a few steps from where I'd been watching the mill, squatted down in its shade, and waited.

After about half an hour, Loiosh said, "Either he isn't here, or he's asleep. I haven't heard a sound"

"All right. Stay with it.”

That's how I spent the morning and the afternoon. Well, how Loiosh spent it; I was able to run off and get some bread and sausage, whereas he was stuck there. I mention this because Loiosh did. Repeatedly. I gave Rocza some sausage and sent her to Loiosh, but this just barely diminished the remarks I was getting. When Rocza returned she seemed amused, which meant that either I was finally beginning to get some level of rapport with her, or I was imagining things. I'd call it fifty-fifty.

But for the most part, I just sat there, under the shade, watching nothing happen in several directions. This time, there wasn't a friendly tag showing up to offer me her services and sell me information. Information aside, I'd have welcomed the distraction.

As it got toward evening the wind shifted, now coming directly at me from the mill. You can imagine how pleased I was about that. But then half an hour or so later it shifted again, now blowing back toward the mountains, which doesn't make sense, but I've never claimed to understand weather.

Loiosh wanted to know how long he was going to have to sit there. So did I, which answer pleased him about as much as you'd expect. We were getting on each other's nerves, I guess; which is surprising only when you consider how rarely it had happened over the years. I was aware of it, and tried not to push things; for his part, he did his job.

There was still plenty of light left in the day when he said, "Here he is, Boss. Just coming home."

"Walking?"

"Nope. A small coach and two men, Boss. Unmarked."

" Hmm. Means nothing."

"Boss? I think I recognize the guy driving it."

"Give me a look. Ah. Good one, chum.”

"Who—?"

"Can't really see the red hair in this light, but he was one of the Count's men-at-arms outside the manor."

"Okay, Boss. Now what?"

"Now I get to say 'ah ha.'"

" Good. Say it. Then you can explain what it means ."

"I haven't gotten that far yet. One ah ha at a time."

"I'm just saying, it doesn't prove he's working for the Count. He might have been on an errand to—"

"I know. But it's something to start with."

"Sure, Boss. Do I watch for Dahni to leave again, or are you visiting him at home?"

"I'll be right there.”

"Boss, you might want to wait until full dark; it's awfully exposed here. Lots of shacks in the same place, all looking at each other, and people coming and going."

"You know that leaves you stuck there watching until I can make it?"

He sighed into my mind, which I took as a yes, so I settled back to wait some more. Presently, as the darkness came, the docks across the river began to come to life as the boatmen prepared to bring the mill workers back to this side of the river. I wondered why none of them seemed to have built houses on that side, and saved themselves the trip twice a day. Maybe because of the stench, or because the Count forbade it. The latter was more likely.

They poured out of the place like small insects with a predator in the nest—emerging from all the holes, desperate to reach the boats and get away from the place. From what I could see, there was pushing and shoving and maybe a few fights as some were left behind until the return trip. And now there were I a few more people—women showing off their ankles—out on the street, walking past me and some of them giving me quick Speculative glances. The boats began to arrive, and there were the sounds of talking and laughing and cursing and the trampling of feet. Twenty minutes later, the second boatloads arrived, and this was repeated on a slightly smaller scale, finally falling silence as the darkness thickened.

Sometime, watch it get dark in a lightless city—preferably somewhere like the East where the Furnace blazes in such plain sight that you can't bear to look at it. It's different than in a place with Enclouding, and also different from the country. The shadows of the buildings and the occasional lonely tree gradually get longer and longer until they blend in with other buildings, with other shadows, and with the night itself, and you realize that dark has quite fallen, and you are in a new place, in a town in the night.

Loiosh guided me there, using Rocza's eyes and giving me directions. Occasionally a bit of light spilled from a house, so I could see my way for a few steps, or sometimes someone would come along swinging a lamp, used by everyone in town with any sense—that is to say, everyone but me. But for the most part Loiosh guided me. The greater part of my effort went into staying quiet; you'd be surprised how much harder it is to stay quiet when you can't see anything. Or maybe you wouldn't.

When I reached the house, Loiosh gave his wings a quick flap so I could identify where he was. He usually flies as quietly as an owl, but can make noise if he wants. I asked him about that once and he said owls are stupid, which hadn't been what I was asking about at all, so I dropped the subject.

He landed on my shoulder. There was a tiny bit of light leaking from a shuttered window.