Steven Brust - Dzur

“Spellbreaker. It’s now part of Lady Teldra. And I was touching Lady Teldra, and the altar at the same time. Somehow Lady Teldra broke whatever enchantment was messing up my head.”

“How could it do that?”

“I have no idea?”

“Oh. Well, good then. That’s settled.”

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I should have paid the boy to clean the ceiling, too. Shadows from the chair, and Loiosh, and Rocza all flickered across the walls as the candle flame danced. Loiosh must have blown it out. Or maybe flapped it out. All of which means that eventually I must have fallen asleep. 6. Sertalia Cheese

You make cheese out of the milk of some animal like a cow or a goat.

Okay, now you know everything I know about cheesemaking.

No doubt there is a whole art to it, and I’m told that the Teckla in every region of the Empire have their own special sorts of cheese, but or the life of me I have no idea what the subtle differences are, or how they might go about flavoring them, or why one sort crumbles when you look at it funny, while another hangs together like roofing mud.

What we were served after the soup was a Valabar tradition called Sertalia—a very soft cheese that you spread, rather than slice, and that had a flavoring reminiscent of wild savory, and a bit of sweetness. It also produced just the least tingle on the tip of the tongue.

It was served on a cracker about which nothing can be said, because it had no flavor at all—it was a blank slate upon which could be written whatever sort of cheese one wished.

They placed the crackers, on their little plates, and the cheese in their little tubs with little knives, on the table right before the fish; in other words, right before the first real, substantial part of the meal—before the meat, if I might use a metaphor in an almost literal sense. It’s your last, deep breath before the plunge, and it comes just when you’ve adjusted to the water.

But don’t eat very many. There is a great deal left to come, and you can’t fill up now, or you’ll have no room to be surprised by what is surprising, and delighted by what is delightful.

I slept badly, waking up several times. This is unusual for me, but I was in an unusual situation. However, each time I woke I felt Loiosh and Rocza’s presence, which was reassuring. At some point, though I don’t remember doing it, I must have removed Lady Tel­dra’s sheath from my belt and set it next to me on the bed. When I finally woke to see morning filtering in through the little window, my hand was on the hilt, and my thoughts were of the time she had found me in the middle of nowhere, asking for my help, and setting off the train of events that had led to her death.

There was a terrible sadness there, but it didn’t come from her; it was all mine. While I felt her presence, it wasn’t as if she had any thoughts or feelings, although Sethra had implied that someday she would “wake up.” I wondered what that would be like. It could get awful crowded inside my head, what with one thing and another.

I got up and said, “Klava. I must find klava.”

A few minutes later I was dressed as Sandor. I didn’t see anyone as I left the inn, and not too many as I made my way to a klava vendor down the street. He also had fresh muffins. Ten minutes later, I was ready to face the world, more or less.

“Okay, Boss. What’s the plan? Or am I asking too much?”

“You’re asking too much.”

It was just a few steps back to Six Corners and the little shop. I walked in and called out, “Jakoub!”

He emerged from the back area, frowned at me, and said, “What is it?”

I thought his tone rather brusque, almost impatient. I said, “I believe you have some things for me.”

He looked at me from under the frown, I think finding something familiar about my voice. I took my beret off, and the change in his facial expression was quite gratifying; I guess I really can do a decent disguise. “My lo—”

“Yes, yes. Do you have my things?”

“They’re ready, m’lord.”

“Excellent. I’ll wear the boots, but wrap the sheath up in something.”

“At once, m’lord.”

Sandor had never expected to be treated with that much respect.

Jakoub reached under the counter, and produced the boots, as promised, then went off to get my new sheath. I went around the counter and sat on his stool, pulled off my old boots, and put the new ones on. Even as I was struggling with the left, the right was fitting itself to me, adjusting to the form of my foot. It tickled, especially when it worked its way up my calf. Jakoub watched my face carefully to see if I was happy with them, or else to catch me giggling.

We hardened, cold-blooded killers don’t giggle very much.

It took only about two minutes for both of them to finish their adjustments; Jakoub really was very good at what he did. He returned with the sheath. I inspected it, making sure all the nice lit­tle extras were in place and worked the way I expected them to. They did. I nodded and returned it to him. He bowed and wrapped it in the sort of paper they wrap fresh fish in at the market.

“Will that be all, m’lord?”

“Not quite,” I said. He tensed only a little, and waited.

“On what day do you make deliveries to that house on Stranger’s Road?”

“Homeday, m’lord.”

“Do you ever run into anyone else making deliveries that day?”

“Occasionally, m’lord.”

“So I can assume that there are several people showing up there with money every day. That is, you know nothing to con­tradict that?”

“No, m’lord.”

I looked at him, trying to see if he was holding anything back. I can never tell, but I always look anyway. I nodded and tossed him a few extra coins, then left his shop.

A quick trip to the room to drop off the sheath was enough time to convince me I was going to like the boots. Jakoub did good work. I hoped I wouldn’t have to kill him. I headed out, in-tending to go back to Stranger’s Road to see who else would show up there. I made it about halfway.

“Boss—”

“Hmm?”

“Someone’s ...”

“Loiosh?”

“I ...”

My stomach did a flip-flop and my brain shut down, but my feet took over, leading me into the first small side street I came to, and then into a doorway, so I was pretty much out of sight.

“Can you come to me?”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a flutter of wings, and Rocza landed on my left shoulder, Loiosh on my right. I felt a lit­tle better for a moment, until I realized that I was picking up feel­ings of panic from Rocza. If Rocza was scared, I was scared.

“Loiosh, what is it?”

“Fighting ....”

He wobbled on my shoulder, and gripped it harder. I tried to think to Rocza, to ask her what was going on, but I didn’t sense that she understood. I felt her fear and confusion, an echo of my own. I touched Lady Teldra’s hilt. Then I must have drawn her, because she was in my hand, and I was looking around the empty street. A tingling—not unlike what I used to feel from Spellbreaker—ran up my wrist, my arm, my shoulder, to—

“Thanks, Boss. That helped. I’m okay now.”

“What helped? What did what? What happened?”

“Someone tried to find me.”

“And you stopped him? How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I. And I almost couldn’t.”

“Can you tell me anything about what sort of spell it was?”