Steven Brust - Dzur

“Vaasci,” he said.

“How do you get hold of him?”

He hesitated only a second, then said, “Back room. The Twig on Falworth Hill.”

“Good. Now listen. I’m going to talk to your friend Vaasci. If it turns out that he’s expecting me, I’m going to come back here and decorate Ristall Market with your intestines. By the time I’m done talking to him, you might want to be out of town, because I’m going to tell him you gave me his name, and that might irri­tate him, if he’s still alive.”

“You—”

I hauled my foot back to kick him again and he shut up.

I said, “In case you haven’t picked up on it, I don’t like you very much. You’re better off not giving me any reason to like you less. Feel free to tell your buddies about me, though. If they leave town, it’ll give me less to do. And if they come after me, I’ll enjoy it enough that I won’t care about the extra work.”

Loiosh resumed his place on my shoulder. I turned my back on Josef and walked out.

South Adrilankha smelled unusually sweet.

“Boss, you know you’re a bully.”

“Yeah.”

“And worse, you enjoy it.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve missed being a bully all these years.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud to know you.”

“Uh huh.”

I headed generally west until I found a market that was open. I got some klava from a street vendor, paying an extra few coppers for a glass to drink it out of. I stood there drinking it. Right out in the open, looking like me, two jhereg on my shoulders. The klava was wonderful.

“So, okay, that was the easy part, right, Boss?”

“You nervous?”

As I said it, Rocza shifted on my left shoulder. “A little,” said Loiosh.

“What about?”

“Standing here like this.”

“Okay. We’ll walk.”

We did; aimlessly, but generally west, veering a bit northward now and then. It was still early, and I didn’t figure Vaasci to be the early type. At least, I never had been when I’d been with the Organization.

“Okay, Boss. Can you explain something to me?”

“Probably not, but I’ll try.”

“Are you deliberately giving that Easterner time to do what you told him not to?”

“You mean, time to alert Vaasci? Yes.”

“You didn’t explain that part of the plan to me.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Mind telling me why?”

“I don’t think I can explain.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll try, though. First, I want to know if he will. I mean, if Josef actually gets the message to Vaasci, that will tell me whether there’s a loyalty, or maybe just that Josef is more afraid of Vaasci than he is of me. I need to know that.”

“At the mere cost of walking into a trap?”

“Heh. Like we’ve never done that before?”

“Not on purpose. Well, not often on purpose.”

“Second ... it’s harder to say.”

“You’re hoping for the chance to kill someone?”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re hoping someone will try to kill you?”

“That’s closer.”

“Boss—”

“Kicking that bastard in the face gave me a taste, Loiosh. I need more than a taste.”

“Boss, I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like you to make decisions based on—”

“I know. Have you ever been half asleep, where you aren’t sure if you’re dreaming or not?”

“I don’t dream, Boss.”

“Yeah, well, I said it was hard to explain.”

“Boss—”

“The thing is, if you’re in a situation where you don’t know if you’re dreaming, you try to wake yourself up to see.”

“I’ll take your word for that.”

“And if that doesn’t work, you play it as if it’s really happening, because what other choice do you have?”

“Half asleep is no time to make decisions.”

“I never said it was.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Besides, there’s still useful information to be gathered. So there’s a practical side of this.”

“Right. Useful information. Okay, Boss?’

“Then again, I could get to the Demon Goddess, wave Lady Tel­dra in her face, and say, ‘You caused this problem, now fix it.’ I have to admit, I like the idea of the Demon Goddess appearing in the middle of a Council meeting and setting the Jhereg straight?”

“I like it too, Boss. But I doubt it’s practical.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to get to her Halls, for one thing.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Uh ... come to think of it, maybe I do.”

“Boss—”

“Never mind, Loiosh.”

I finished my klava and handed the cheap glass to an old beggar, along with a couple of copper pieces. You see a fair num­ber of beggars in South Adrilankha; I’ve never seen one in the City. Maybe Dragaerans kill their beggars. I wouldn’t put it past them.

I walked the streets aimlessly for a while. At the time, I was just thinking about giving Vaasci time to show up. On reflection, maybe I was tempting fate and the Jhereg. But no one took a run at me.

“I’m trying to decide if it’s time to cross over to the City and have that talk.”

“Boss, what’s the point in pulling a weapon before you have a target?”

“I have a target, Loiosh.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The thing is, that’s going to really set things popping.”

“Yes, it will.”

“The timing is going to be tricky.”

“Yes, it will.”

“Especially because I don’t know how long the, uh, weapon is going to take. I mean, I have no idea. A day? A year? Something in between?”

“Well, you could always tell him to make it fast.”

“You’re funny.”

“You make a good example, Boss.”

“And then, really, when you’re calculating how someone will react to something, you never know. I mean, I think I know what he’ll do, but what if I’m wrong?”

“Yeah. What if.”

“So I’m trying to figure out—”

“You’re scared, right, Boss?”

“Not scared exactly. Call it nervous.”

“Uh huh.”

I juggled this and that in my head. It was a couple of hours af­ter noon. I said, “All right, Loiosh. Let’s head over there.”

“To the City?”

“No. We’ll hold off on that part.”

“Oh, the fun part.”

“Uh huh.”

He and Rocza launched themselves into the air, and we set off.

Falworth Hill overlooks the Stone Bridge, which, someone once told me, is the bridge the Empress would take if she ever crossed the river. It is the place where the elite among Easterners live next to, or, at least, not too far from, Dragaerans in that odd in-between station in life where they are willing to rub shoulders with us. I’ve met a few of them; they are mostly Chreotha and Tsalmoth, with a few odd Iorich here and there. They’re strange. To Easterners who live on Falworth Hill, they are either gen­uinely friendly or they fake it enthusiastically. To other Eastern­ers, they are even worse than your typical Dragonlord, if you can imagine it.