Steven Brust - Dzur

“You’re in disguise,” he said, as if it were a joke.

“Yes, I am,” I said, as if it weren’t. “I half thought you’d be playing somewhere tonight.”

“Tomorrow.”

I nodded. “How have things been?”

“With me? Glorious. Ever heard of Bastrai?”

“The violinist? Sure, even I’ve heard of him.”

“I went over to hear him at the Twisted Sheet, and when he was done, I ended up playing all night with his backup musicians.”

“That must have been fun.”

“It was wonderful.” He grinned.

“I need to introduce you to a fellow I know named Aibynn. He’s from the Island.”

“He play?”

“He’s a drummer.”

Ric nodded, but didn’t seem terribly excited; I guess he knew a lot of drummers.

We drank some brandy. Ricard sat back and looked half seri­ous; which is about as serious as Ricard gets, barring catastrophe. “What’s going on, Vlad?”

“I need help.”

“Does this have something to do with your business?”

“No. Well, yeah, among other things. It’s pretty complicated.”

Ricard knew what I used to do, at least some of it, but we never talked about it.

He nodded. “Could it get me killed?”

I considered carefully. “I don’t think so. Not for what I want you to do, and if you stay out of the rest of it.”

“Okay. What do you need?”

“I take it you know a lot of people.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What with playing and all that, you meet a lot of people, that’s all.”

“Well, yes.”

“Friends, acquaintances, just folks you run into, get their names, maybe hang out in an inn, or on the boat.”

“Uh huh.”

“I need to speak to some of them.”

“Uh ... what sort of people?”

“People who need money, and don’t mind taking some risks for it.”

“So, this could get them killed?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “How much money?”

“Enough for each them to buy a little piece of farmland.”

His eyes widened again, then he grinned. “Can I get in on this?”

“No. It can get them killed.”

He drink some more brandy. “How likely is it?”

“To get them killed? I don’t think very, but I might be wrong.”

“Well—”

“No, Ricard. If you need that much money, I’ll give it to you, but I don’t want you involved in this. I couldn’t stand it if, you know.”

He sighed and nodded. “Okay, then. Other than wanting money, and me not caring too much if anything happens to them, are there any other qualifications you need?”

“Well, it would help if they aren’t complete idiots.”

“Most people are, you know.”

I grinned. That was one of the things we liked to argue about when too drunk to be coherent. “Find some of the exceptions,” I said.

He smiled. “I can do that. Where is Loiosh?”

“Flying around. If he’s seen with me, there goes my disguise.”

“Well, give him my best.”

“I will. I have. He returns his reptilian regards, admitting that he is unworthy of your attention, yet eternally grateful for the honor you show him.”

Ric laughed. Loiosh said, “Boss, you are so going to get it.”

“ All right, then,” I said. “Can I buy you some dinner?”

“Sounds good. Let me get dressed.”

“When we’re out, call me Sandor.”

“Sandor,” he repeated. “Okay. I’ll try to remember.”

We went out and down the street, to a place that catered mostly to dockworkers. We each had a roasted fowl covered in wine, and dark bread. It was simple, but good. Ricard didn’t say much during the meal. I finally said, “Something bothering you, Ric?”

“Hmmm? No, just thinking about that list you want.”

“Ah. Good. Think you can come up with names for me?”

“Oh, yes. Easy. Do you just want the list, or should I get them together for you?”

“Good question. I think I’d like to see them one at a time.”

He nodded, and flashed me a grin. “I could get to enjoy this sneaking-around stuff.”

“You remind me of that last guy I ate with.”

“Oh?”

“He was a Dzur, so it isn’t his fault. But he liked Valabar’s.”

“You ate at Valabar’s and didn’t tell me?”

“It was sort of last-minute.”

“How was it?”

“Just like you remember it, only better.”

He nodded. “Next time?”

“You bet. On me.”

“Other than that, how have things been?”

I don’t know why I said what I did, because I’ve always thought of Ric as the sort of friend you had good times with, not the sort you dumped your troubles on. But he asked, and I heard myself say, “I’ve discovered, or maybe realized, that my Goddess has been messing with my memories.”

“Huh?”

“My Goddess—”

“The Demon Goddess?”

“Yeah. Her.”

“What did ... I mean, what’s happened?”

“Memories have been going away and coming back. It’s been going on for years, I guess, but something happened, and I’ve managed to put some of it together. Mostly little things, but the Demon Goddess did it, and it makes me very badly want to kill her, and I’m not entirely sure that I couldn’t do it. In fact, I think I could. I want to. I—”

“Vlad!”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

I sighed. “Yeah, well. With luck, she isn’t listening. Actually, the way I’m feeling right now, I half hope she is.”

“Not before I have a chance to get clear of the neighborhood, please.”

I shrugged.

He said, “About this memory stuff. How do you know the Goddess is behind it?”

“I just know.”

“You just know.”

“Yeah.”

“What sort of things—?”

“It’s little stuff, but it’s stuff that ... well, did I ever tell you that I had been to the Paths of the Dead?”

He stared at me, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. “No, you somehow didn’t mention that.”

I nodded. “It was several years ago, and—”

“Why? Not to mention, how?”

“It was business-related.”

“Some business you’re in.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that same thought from time to time. Anyway, I visited the Paths of the Dead, and there are pieces of that journey that keep going away and coming back. Pieces I shouldn’t be able to forget.”

“Heh. Go figure.”

“Another time, I got into a jam, and called on her.”

“I’ve done that. Did she answer?”

“Yes.”

He stared at me again. “Vlad, that isn’t a joke, is it?”

“No.”

He sat back in his chair. “You have some sort of life, my friend.”

“I guess. Anyway, there are pieces of that visit—”

“Visit?”

“Yeah, odd word choice, I guess. She brought me to her halls. Or else she made me think she had, which comes out to the same thing, I suppose. And there are pieces of that visit that I’ve only just started remembering.”

“Like what?”

“She cut my palm.”

“Huh?”

“While I was talking to her, she took a knife, had me hold out my left hand, and made a cut on my palm. Then she collected some of the blood in a sort of vial or something. I don’t know what she did with it.”

“So, she has some of your blood.”

“Yes.”

“She is supposed to be a goddess of witches.”

“No, that’s one of her sisters.”

“You sure?”

“Sure? Dealing with the Demon Goddess? I’m not sure about anything.”

“The beginning of wisdom. What else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

He flashed a smile and waited for me to continue.

“Near Deathgate Falls is a statue of Kieron the Conqueror, a general from the early days of—”