Steven Brust - Jhegaala

This is where it will happen, if it happens. Here, right here. It will or it won't; I will it to will.

—it happens quickly; I leave my perch and make a slow circle, so he/I can see better. Fighting men—

Soldiers

—too many to count—

Thirty or thirty-five

—moving around all over—

Some covering the rear; the captain seems cold and efficient, knows his stuff

— door knocked in, things flying, wood chips everywhere, nice! A few people gather to watch—

Pouring in neatly and efficiently; not a lot of room for mistakes. Good.

—no door, may as well see if I can fly in and watch the fun—

"Careful!"

— hee, yeah, good times! No blood, though, just—

Yes, make them lie on the floor. I'd rather kill them all, but I'm just in that kind of mood.

— lots of shouting and yelling—

Threats of repercussions, but I wish them luck with that. Unless the witches take a hand, and they'll have their own problems soon.

— and there's the one, arms held behind him, ohhhh, fangs deep, deep in—

"No!"

—not protesting, wants to tear and bite and rage, know that feeling, me too—

Yeah, the bastard is glaring. Poor son-of-a-bitch. That's right, grit your teeth and demand to see the Count. See the Count? You want to see the Count? I am Vladimir, Count of Szurke by the grace of Her Imperial Majesty Zerika the Fourth; you can see me, you low-life son of a thrice-poxed street whore. We'll see how that works out for you.

— now, finally exchanging words with a man, harsh words, nearly spitting—

The captain is doing his job—well, okay, my job—he ignores the complaints and gives the order for Chayoor to be taken to the manor—

— He walks between two others—

Looking absurd as he tries to keep his dignity

— out the door—

To the manor, and onto the next act of our little play. If he even makes it that far.

— There's an open window, so out and around, stay close to the building, and far above eye level, because they hardly ever look up. There they are, walking toward a big clunky machine with four horses in front of it—

A coach with iron bars, yes of course. And the driver is in the uniform of a man-at arms, no coachman for the criminal.

— And they are leading him in, and he suddenly twitches as if I'd poisoned him, but I didn't go near him! Honest!—

They didn't wait. Good. Die slow, you butchering, murdering, heartless, child-killing bastard. Die slow and in agony. Feel your heart stop, know what is happening and that you can't prevent it. See your life ooze away, and think about the crimes you've committed to bring this about, and may you rot forever in Verra's prismatic hells.

— men all confused, staring at the one who claws at his chest and turns red, he is breathing smoke, I can see it and smell it, a harsh acidic-smelling smoke—

They picked the same way Zollie was made to look, and that I faked. Lack of creativity, or just a sense of irony? I don't much care. Yes, Loiosh, stay with him, I want to see every second of his death agony.

— eyes popping, face a terrible twisted thing, head shaking back and forth—

Yes, you miserable son-o-a-bitch, yes. Feel every second .

—and finally, at last, he is still, eyes open and staring at the sky—

I take a moment to relish, to enjoy. It heals my soul. It is nearly as good as I imagined it would be, though I'd have liked it to have lasted longer. If there is price for revenge, I'll pay it, and pay it again. Whatever horrid destructive thing this is supposed to do to my soul must have been done long ago, or else if it just now happened I didn't notice.

— they stand around the body, looking all about them for what isn't there—

They look helpless. But they know what happened. Time to move on, Loiosh, it's all over here.

—and up and over the town, people and food and places getting small, smaller, tiny—

"Boss?"

"You knew that would happen?"

"Not that quickly. I w asn't sure I'd have the pleasure of watching."

Now — "The Coven. They're trying to cut their losses. They're trying to figure out if they can blame this on someone else, or maybe just get out of town."

"Will it work?"

"It might have, if I had let it"

— her form flying up, couldn't help but loop once, chase each other, only quickly, then she was gone, and claws grip hard into wood —

Yeah, there's the smug bastard, standing now, talking, gesticulating, and glancing at the door. He's heard something of what's happened, but still doesn't know.

— and he goes outside; so do I, up, seeing him again, circling once, just a harmless jhereg high in the sky, nothing here to see, then back —

He's standing outside the Guild hall, staring at Chayoor's body. Will he panic, or think it through? Doesn't matter either way.

— standing, staring at the body, circle now, high up, no need to take chances —

Looks like he's thinking it through. Fine. Think all you want, bastard. I remember when you first walked up to me and introduced yourself. I knew then something was wrong with you. But you shouldn't go trampling over people's lives like that; sometimes they take offense, and sometimes they can do something about it. And now you're putting it all together, making sense of it, realizing what must have happened. Are you realizing, too, that it's too late to do anything about it? How are you feeling about now?

— And he turns and walks eastward, fast, almost running, pace increasing, now he is running, only I fly much faster—

Yes, toward the woods. Probably the same place he was before. No other choice, either; whether he panicked, or reasoned it out, he has to run to his Coven. And it seems he did both. He figured out what was going on, and his reaction was right; in the same way a man is right to scream when his leg is being twisted to the breaking point. Or so they tell me.

— under the eaves of the woods, trees appearing as white streams of air that flow about them showing the path—

Oh, a different place, then. They have more than one, or different entrances?

— and bushes move, and a hole, air flowing hot from it, but there is room to—

"No! That's enough! Wait there"

"Okay, Boss. Whatever you say"

But I knew how he felt; I wanted to get my fangs into him, too.

17

Boraan: Now, now, my dear. Don't take on so. You know there will always be another body.

[Curtain] —Miersen, Six Parts Wate r Day Two, Act IV, Scene 6

I realized that Meehayi was there, and had been talking for some time.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I was distracted."

"I was telling you what happened."

"The Count has broken the Guild and arrested its leaders. Chayoor is dead, apparently killed by witchcraft. Are we ready to go yet?"

He stared at me.

I love doing that to people. It's a weakness.

"How did you—?"

"Are we ready to leave?"

"Almost," he said. "I'm just waiting for Father Noij to let me know the boat is ready. How did you know what had happened?"

"I have sources," I said. "I suspect people are also out looking for the Coven."