Steven Brust - Jhegaala

"But he isn't sure."

"Who is supposed to be finding out?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When something like this happens, when someone is killed, who is supposed to be finding out who did it? Who is responsible?"

"Oh. Ah, the Count, I imagine. Or maybe the King. I'm not sure."

"And the Count, who would he assign it to?"

"Well, I guess that would be me."

"You?"

"I guess."

"And instead, he has you following me around and proposing alliances in the dark."

"You have to admit, it was dramatic."

"Not good enough, Dahni. Why there and then?"

"Well, I saw you heading out there. I thought it might give me an edge. I didn't know about your familiars."

"Yeah. How long had you been following me, waiting for an opportunity?"

"Not long. A couple of days."

"A couple of days?"

He nodded.

"Well. Now you've hurt my pride."

"And mine, Boss. I think he may be lying."

" I always think that, Loiosh. And look where it's gotten me."

"You're still breathing."

"You really followed me for two days?"

He nodded. .

"Mind if I test you on it?"

"Go ahead."

I asked some questions about where I'd gone and who I'd seen, and he knew most of the answers. I'd rather not dwell on it. It was humiliating.

"All right," I said when I'd heard enough. "And what conclusions did you come to?"

"My lord?"

"You spent two days following me. What do you think I'm up to?"

He shrugged. "You're good. I haven't been able to come to any conclusions."

"And you told the Count that?"

He nodded.

"And that," I said, "would have relieved any suspicions he might have had."

Dahni looked uncomfortable.

"What if I'd accepted?"

"It was a legitimate offer."

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"Is it still on the table?"

"Not if you slit my throat. That's a deal-breaker."

"Yeah? Tough bargainer."

"Not me. It's the Count. He's pretty hard-nosed about that sort of thing."

I put the knife away. "All right," I said. "If he wants to find and—to find whoever killed the Merss family, I'll help. You know where to find me."

He rubbed his throat. "In the middle of a field in the dark?"

"I was thinking of the inn, myself."

"That'll work."

"Good. Don't get up. I'll let myself out."

I turned my back on him with complete confidence. And I did have complete confidence—complete confidence that Loiosh was watching.

"Well, well. We've learned something, I think."

"Seems like, Boss. I'm surprised."

"I'm slightly stunned myself."

We made it back to the inn without undue incident. It was busy enough that my entrance wasn't remarked. My table was occupied, so I got another, feeling unreasonably resentful about it. The lamb stew hadn't changed, however, and I felt better with a good bowl of it inside of me.

As I scraped up the last bits of stew with good, warm bread (one of my favorite parts of eating stew, and yours too if you have any sense), I ignored the hum of conversation around me and tried to consider what I'd just learned.

A fair bit, really, depending on whether and how much Dahni was telling the truth. I was inclined to believe him on at least a number of points. At any rate, I now understood more of what he was up to. Was he acting on his own? Of course he was; working for Saekeresh, and running a little free-lance business on the side. On a certain level, I couldn't blame him. The question was, what to do about it.

Could I make a good guess on timing? No, not really. At least a day, no matter what. Probably not more than a week. Could be anywhere in that range. Damn, damn, damn.

Yeah, no question, I was going to hurt someone very badly. And I was beginning to get a pretty good idea who it was going to be. In any case, it was best not to mention my latest conclusions to Loiosh, who was already upset at sticking around this place.

He picked up a bit of that thought, I guess. He said, "We should be getting out of here, Boss."

"I know."

"We aren't going to, are we?"

" No. You'll just have to stay alert."

"Can we at least get out of this inn?"

"Where would you suggest we go?"

"The other inn?”

"I just told Dahni he could get a message to me here."

"Boss.”

"Yeah, all right. I'll see if there are any rooms at the other inn."

Presently I did. Either the wind was blowing the stench elsewhere, or I really was getting used to it, because it was a pleasant walk, from one end of the little town to the other. The place wasn't too crowded, and the hostess, a delightfully rotund woman of middle years, was pleased to let me a room at reason able cost. After some consideration, I decided not to tell the host at the Hat that I'd checked out. Loiosh was annoyed because I'd had to consider it. Money changed hands, and a drab little man wearing clothes that were too big for him showed me upstairs.

I got a room with a window that looked out onto the street, and was assured that the Furnace (actually, the "nawp," but I figured out what she meant) wouldn't wake me in the morning, even if I forgot to close the shutter. The bed was narrow and too short, but soft and free of wildlife. There was also a washbasin and a chamber pot right in the room, and I was told that if I opened my door and rang that little bell there, someone would come up and bring me hot water in the morning. Could the person also bring me klava? No, but there was coffee, and it would be cheerfully delivered. Yes, coffee would do, with heavy

1 0

First Student (whispering): I believe our hosts are drunk . Second Student (whispering): What should we do ? Nurse: In the first place, stop whispering. It annoys them when they're passed out .

— Miersen, Six Parts Water Day One, Act III, Scene 2

I have to give this one to Loiosh: Even if no one was going to hit me in the head if I'd stayed at the Hat, I must have been worried about it, because I relaxed that night and I slept hard and long and until nearly noon. The same drab little guy in almost the same clothing brought me hot water and coffee klava and made no comments about the hours I kept.

Having a kettle of coffee brought up to me was so pleasant it almost made up for it being coffee. I drank it all, staring out at the street watching a couple of dogs chase each other. Eventually I dressed, then went down, and the hostess was there, chatting with a couple of middle-aged gentlemen who had that indefinable something that told you they were from somewhere else. She gave me a gap-toothed smile and said, "Good morning, Lord Merss."

"Good morning," I said. I sniffed. Hickory. "Something smells good. Lunch?"

She nodded. "Pig eatin's. We make 'em like nowhere else."

"I'll be back to try them, then." I touched my forehead with the tips of four fingers and went out and into the day. First thing was to visit the Hat and see if any messages had come in. No, no messages, unless the speculative look from the host was a message about the propriety of spending the night away. If so, I chose to disregard it. The lamb stew smelled good, but my loyalty had shifted. I'm just fickle, I guess.

I went back to the Mouse and had lunch. It was good, though I wouldn't have used quite so much hickory, myself. But I took my time with it, letting what I'd learned the night before bounce around in my head, trying to decide how much of whom I should believe. I actually felt pretty good. The anger was still there, but I knew that sooner or later—probably sooner—I was going to track down whoever it was that had caused that anger. Things hadn't come together, but I had enough pieces that eventually I'd see how they fit.