Steven Brust - Jhegaala

"Hmmm. Well, the streets you're used to—why are they so narrow?"

"A fair question," I said, "only you claimed to be the one with the answers."

He smiled his smile—it was the sort that makes you think that by smiling he was losing a round. His drink came. He raised it and said, "Welcome to our city and our country, boyore."

I felt my eyebrows climb. "Boyore? Why do you call me that?"

"It's as clear as Doroatya's ankles. You're used to giving orders, and expecting them to be obeyed."

"Am I?" I said. "Interesting."

"Not to mention the rather long piece of steel at your side."

"Yes, I guess that's unusual around here."

"I'll not pass it around, if you don't wish me to; but unless you begin to walk differently, and start looking down a bit more, you can expect the peasants to bow and call you 'my lord' and stand aside when they meet you on the street. But then," he added, "perhaps they'll not meet you at all, what with the streets being so wide."

He laughed a little as if deucedly pleased with his cleverness. I smiled and nodded and sipped my wine.

"Where are you from that women go into bars and streets are narrow?"

"Oh. Sorry, I'd thought it was obvious. I live on the other side of the mountain, the Dragaeran Empire."

"Ah. Yes, I sort of suspected that, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't know if you'd want it known."

"Why not? I can't be the first human to come back here."

"Here? Yes, you're the first one I know of. I've seen a few others in my travels, but they don't stop in Burz. And they don't seem as, well, as aristocratic as you. At least, not until they reach Fenario, or Esania, or Arenthia, and find out they have magic no one else has."

"Mmm. I hadn't thought about that."

"Hadn't you? I assume you have the same sort of magic."

"You seem pretty blasé about magic."

He shrugged. "Not everyone is. You know about the Art we practice; I see signs of it about you. Is it really so different?"

Yes, it was. "No, not really," I said.

He nodded. "I can't tell if you follow the light or the darkness, of course; they, too, aren't as different as many think."

I nodded, wondering what he was talking about. I said, "What generally happens to

"Usually they set themselves up as minor lordlings until someone, ah, put them down, if you know what I mean. No one has done that around here, though; at least, not in my lifetime. Which is good, because the King never turns his attention this far west, and sometimes the King has to be the one to deal with them?"

I nodded. "Well, if that's what you're worried about, you don't need to. I'm not especially interested in becoming a minor lordling. Or a major one, for that matter."

He studied me. "No, I don't imagine you are." I wasn't at all sure how to take that, so I just let it go past.

We drank for a few minutes, then he said, "It's getting late; I should be going."

I said, "Is there any chance you might be able to find out anything about my people?"

"Sure," he said. "I'll ask a few questions, see what I can learn."

"I'd take that as a great kindness," I said. "Where and when shall I meet you?"

"Right here is good. Say, sometime around noon?"

"Lunch is on me," I told him.

He smiled and stood up. "See you then," he said.

As he walked away, I drank more wine and considered. "What do you suppose he is, Loiosh?"

"Not sure, Boss. I suppose there is always the possibility that he's just what he claims to be."

"No," I said. "There isn't.”

2

Lefitt: But that's a body!

Boraan: I had already come to the same conclusion, my dear.

Lefitt: But, how long has it been there?

Boraan: Oh, not more than a week, I should say. Two at the outside.

Lefitt: A week? How can it have been here for a week?

Boraan: Well, the servants must have been dusting it, or you would certainly have noticed and spoken to them quite sharply about it.

—Miersen, Six Parts Water Day One, Act I, Scene 1

Loiosh was silent for a moment, then he said, " Okay, Boss. What did you see that I didn't?"

"Not saw; heard. Or rather, what I didn't hear. What he didn't ask."

It took him a few seconds. Then he said, "Oh. Right. He should have asked what you were doing here."

"Exactly.”

"Maybe he's just polite."

"Loiosh, no one who lives in a small, out-of-the-way town can have a conversation with a stranger without asking what brings him there. It defies the laws of nature."

"Which means he knows, or he thinks he does. You're pretty smart for a mammal."

"Thank you ever so much."

"The jhereg, you think?"

"I intend to assume so until I have a reason not to."

"So, then, what about tomorrow?"

"What's your guess, Loiosh?"

"What we should do is be out of here tonight. But knowing you—"

"And then we'd have him after us and not know where we stood. No. I want him where I can keep an eye on him."

"You're the boss, Boss."

I got up and walked out into the stench and the dark streets, mostly to see if he'd have me followed. As soon as we were outside, Loiosh and Rocza took to the air. I didn't need to tell my familiar what I was doing; we'd been together for a while. My rapier tapped reassuringly at my side. I'd had to reduce the weight I carried before trying the mountains, but I still had a few little surprises concealed about my person; I didn't plan on being easy prey.

The street was pretty quiet, and looked entirely different in the dark. Not sinister, but, well, more like it had secrets it wanted to keep. Lights came from the houses, diffused by the oiled paper. Many were entirely dark, either because there was no light within, or because here in the East, where it is so much brighter during the day, they had perfected shutters. I could hear the tap-crunch of my boots against the well-packed stony dirt of the street. The reek from the paper factory had diminished, though it was still present; it had probably seeped into all the walls and the dirt of the road itself.

"Anyone?"

"Not a soul, Boss."

"Good.”

Sometime while I was walking the wind shifted, and the smell, while still present, became easier to bear. In the stillness, I heard the river lapping against the docks not far away, and chittering of insects. I shivered a little.

This was where my mother had come from; or her people, at any rate. Why had they left? Famine? Disease? Tyranny? Powerful enemies? But whatever had made them leave, this is where they were from, and in a sense, this is where I was from.

And it seemed those who wanted to kill me had tracked me here. How nice.

I found that I was fingering the hilt of the dagger in my left sleeve and stopped doing it. I did, however, touch Spellbreaker, wrapped around my left wrist; where there are Dragaerans, there is sorcery. Spellbreaker's presence was reassuring in spite of the gold Phoenix Stone I bore around my neck, which ought to protect me even if I weren't paying attention. When my life is involved, I like over-protection.

Well, if anyone carried a Morganti blade around here, every witch would know about it. And if a Jhereg—or any Dragaeran—showed up, he'd stand out like Dzur Mountain. I'd once been told that my friend Morrolan had been raised somewhere in human lands, and hadn't known he was Dragaeran—just thought he was a very tall human. I'd never asked him if it was true, but I didn't believe it; the differences were too obvious. No, if a Jhereg showed up in town, I'd know it.